Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [22]
He laughed. “Nice to know you care, son.”
“So, where’ve you been, exactly? Where were the experimental trips?”
“I sat up front and watched Beethoven play the Pathétique. And I went to Broadway for Over the Top.”
“Over the Top?”
“Fred and Adele Astaire.”
“Who?”
“Before your time, lad.”
“When was that? Over the Top?”
“Nineteen seventeen.” He actually looked apologetic. “I probably shouldn’t be doing it. But it’s been hard to resist.”
“How about if I come?”
“To talk to Galileo?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“How’s your Italian?”
CHAPTER 6
. . . To the gods alone
Is it given never to grow old or die,
But all else melts before relentless Time.
—SOPHOCLES, OEDIPUS AT COLONUS
SHEL returned to Thursday morning, October 25, retrieved his car from the driveway, and went home. He came away from the conversation with mixed feelings. An overwhelming pride in his father’s achievement. Exhilaration at the knowledge that he, too, had traveled in time, had literally gone back into the previous week. Misgivings that his father was going ahead with his intention to travel to Renaissance Italy. Or wherever he finally decided to go.
He called the office and told them he’d be late. He stopped for breakfast at Maggie’s and thought about calling Dave to tell him what had happened. But that meant flying in the face of his father’s insistence that he keep the existence of the converters quiet. Anyhow, Dave would think he’d lost his mind.
When he arrived at the office, Linda didn’t want to let him in. “Have you been to see the psychiatrist yet?” she asked. She tried to make it sound like a joke, but her expression clashed with that notion.
“He’s a psychologist,” Shel said.
“What did he say?”
“I’m supposed to be over there at eleven thirty.”
“Okay. Good. Why don’t you take the rest of the morning? Go to Starbucks or something. Relax. See the doctor, then come back.”
“Linda,” he said, “I’m okay.”
“I know that, Shel. But I think maybe you’ve been under too much stress lately. I mean, something like this could happen to anybody.”
In fact, Shel had forgotten about Dr. Benson. “I’ll be fine, Linda,” he told her. “Look, I’ve got work to do, and I’m not delusional.”
“You’re sure?”
“How long have you known me?”
“I’m sorry, Shel. But yesterday was a little scary.”
“I know. Look, I’ll sit quietly in my offic e and play with the computer for an hour. Then I’ll go see Dr. Benson. Okay?”
BENSON must have been eighty. He wasn’t much taller than his desk, and he looked as if he didn’t eat enough. But he had a leisurely manner that put Shel, despite his reservations, at ease. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he said.
The truth, Dr. Benson, is that I have a time machine. Got it right here in my briefcase. “Doctor, my father is Michael Shelborne, the physicist who disappeared two weeks ago.” He gave a fictionalized account of the last few days. Stress over the loss of his father had left him confused, and he’d lost a day out of his memory. “But I remember it now. It came back to me.”
Benson asked more questions. Had anything like this happened to him before? What sort of relationship did he have with his father? Was there a woman in his father’s life? He asked what day it was. (He almost got Shel there.) Who was the current occupant of the White House?
Then it was over. “These things happen all the time, Dr. Shelborne,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. You’ve undergone a severe shock, and sometimes, when that happens, people simply want to get away from it. So we push it out of our memory. Or, we may forget other things instead.” He smiled. “You’ll be fine.”
Shel drove back to the office and described the conversation to Linda. She was relieved, and said, “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
DURING the afternoon, Shel’s spirits improved. Linda seemed to have forgotten his odd behavior, and everything returned to normal. He spent most of his time thinking about the converter, where he’d like to go, what he’d like to see. The Wright Brothers, maybe. The “I Have a Dream” speech. And he