Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [21]
“I would think so.”
“Then Ivy used the converter to go back five minutes, to a time before we looked in the briefcase. The intention was that she’d remove the book.”
“So it should have been empty when you opened it.”
“Yes. But had it been empty when we opened it, then Ivy would have done nothing. Either way, we’d have had a paradox. We would have changed reality.”
“So what happened?”
“I found her dead in the office.”
“What? How?”
“The doctors said it was a heart attack.”
“My God.”
“She was twenty-seven. In perfect health, as far as anyone knew.” He sighed. “It was my fault, Adrian.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I should have realized there might be a factor, something built into the continuum that prevents our screwing around with it. No paradox allowed.”
“But we’ve both traveled in time. I did it tonight. This was a conversation that did not take place. And here we are.”
“How can you say it didn’t take place? It is taking place. I did not live through a variant of this evening in which I called you, agreed to meet you and Jerry at Servio’s, and you didn’t show up here with a converter.
“Listen, son, if we went back to watch the signing of the Magna Carta, then we were part of the event. If photographers had been there, taking pictures, they would have gotten us, as well as the other witnesses. There never would have been a Magna Carta event that we did not attend. I think—I can’t be sure, but I think—it’s only when we violate the time flow, when we create a situation we know could not have existed, that a corrective sets in.”
“A corrective.”
“Call it a principle that maintains chronological integrity. That prevents modifications to history. It disallows paradoxes. Negates contradictions.”
“A chronological integrity principle.”
“Yes.”
“You mean a cardiac principle. Threaten the prescribed chain of events, and your heart gives out.”
“It need not be so dire. I hope not. But yes, I think you’re correct.”
Shel sat quietly, trying to absorb it all. “What was the book? Why did you smile when you mentioned it?”
“It was one of my favorites. The Library of America edition of Tom Paine.”
“Why’s that funny?”
“The first essay is ‘Common Sense.’ ”
“DAD, if you were actually to go back to talk to Galileo—”
“Yes.”
“How’s your Italian?”
“Not bad. I’ve been doing a crash course.”
“Have you done anything like this yet? Have you actually been anywhere?”
“Only a couple of experimental trips.”
“Nothing long distance?”
“No. But let’s get to the point. You’re here because I didn’t come back from this, right?”
“Yes.”
He pursed his lips. Not to worry. Everything’s under control. “Okay.”
“Dad, I don’t think you understand. You’re going back there to Renaissance Italy, or wherever, and something happened. Happens. Probably the Inquisition gets you, too.”
“No,” he said. “Nothing will happen.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because when I’m done with my visit, instead of coming back here, I’ll return in, say, two weeks.”
Shel’s head was starting to spin again. “Then the reason you disappeared is because I warned you you’d disappear.”
“Sure.” He grinned.
“Wouldn’t it be simpler, and safer, not to go?”
“It’s perfectly safe, Adrian. Because I know what I’m doing.”
“What would have happened if I hadn’t shown up here?”
“Pointless question, son. You did, and that’s all that matters.”
Shel listened to a car approach, slow down, and pull into a driveway across the street.
“Now, I’m still missing as of when? When did you leave your base time?”
“Base time?”
“Your present.”
“Um. Thursday, the twenty-f ourth.”
“Morning? Night?”
“Morning.”
“Okay. That’s the day I’ll come back. In the evening.” He produced a Q-pod, a converter, and did something to it. “Make it nine o’clock. In the evening. I’ll call you as soon as I get in.”
“Okay,” said Shel. “Good. That’ll work.” A sense of relief flooded through him.
“One other thing: You need to keep quiet about this, Adrian. Tell nobody.”
“Okay.”
Mission accomplished. Shel got up, as did his father. They embraced. “It’s good to see you again,