Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [37]
“You’re quite right,” said Dave. “Actually, however, we had a different reason for seeking you out, sir.”
“Really? And what might that be?”
“Adrian here is looking for his father, Michael. Michael has always been interested in your work, and we believe he came to Arcetri expressly to see you. Unfortunately, he has gone missing. We hoped you might be able to help us find him.”
“And his last name?”
“Shelborne,” said Shel. “Professor Michael Shelborne. Do you know him?”
Galileo considered it, and shook his head no. “Unfortunately not. I don’t think I ever met him. You say he’s a scholar?”
“Yes.”
“Many scholars come here. Now that the priests have decided I’m too old to be a threat to them. When would he have come?”
“We’re not sure,” said Dave, taking the photo from Shel. “We have a picture of him here. May we show it to your son and your servant? Maybe one of them would remember.”
Galileo seemed not to have heard. A small table stood on one side of the armchair. Geppo placed a glass of wine on it and guided his master’s hand to its stem. He explored it with his fingers before lifting it. At last he raised it to the level of those blind eyes. “To all of us who are lost,” he said. “But you say you have a picture of him? You mean an oil painting?”
“Something like that,” said Dave.
“Well, of course you may.”
Vincenzo’s eyebrows rose when he looked. “What is this?” he asked.
“It’s a portrait. As I said.”
Vincenzo held it close to an oil lamp. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It is quite sharp, isn’t it?”
He sat admiring the photo. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ve never seen this person.” He handed it to Geppo, who was equally mystified.
“Maybe,” said Shel, “he hasn’t gotten here yet.”
“It’s possible,” said Dave in English. “But if he waits much longer, his subject won’t be breathing when he does show up.”
“I’m sorry we can’t help you,” Galileo said. “If he comes, we will tell him you were here.”
CHAPTER 10
The grandfather paradox is simply a way of pointing to the fact that if the familiar laws of classical relativistic physics are supposed to hold true in a chronology-violating space-time, then consistency constraints emerge.
—JOHN EARMAN, BANGS, CRUNCHES, WHIMPERS, AND SHRIEKS
MICHAEL Shelborne had apparently changed his mind about Galileo. He’d gone somewhere else. But where? Shel suspected he might find him among the witnesses at the signing of the Magna Carta, say. Or watching Washington’s troops come ashore on the road to Trenton. Or any of several thousand other possibilities.
Unfortunately, he had not left a notebook or a journal. He admired Tom Paine, and it seemed probable he’d go back at some point to meet him. Like Shel, he was a Jack Benny fan, and it was possible Benny would get to say hello to an unusual visitor. But there was no practical way to pinpoint the time of any such meeting.
It was Friday night, almost a week since they’d made the Italian trip. Shel was sitting, drinking coffee, running over possibilities, scratching ideas onto a legal pad. He kept coming back to one reality. There was no need to go into the historical past to find his father. He didn’t know with any precision where he’d been before he came back to Philadelphia. But he knew with absolute certainty where he’d been on the evening of Monday, October 15: He’d been home, talking with Shel, first on the cell phone, then inside the house. After Shel had left, he’d made up his mind where he wanted to go, and took off. All that was necessary was to repeat the visit. Wait until the earlier Shel was out of the house, and then go in and talk sense to him.
No paradox there. And it should be easy.
Do it now.
He got into his car, drove to his father’s house, and parked in the driveway. Then he set the converter to take him back to 10:55 P.M., October 15, climbed out of the automobile, listened for a few seconds to the chirping of crickets, and pressed the button. The concrete, the trees, the side of the house, and the crickets faded out and came back. The