Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [86]
“You know,” said Paine, “the world really does need such a book. Something that will make a stand for reason rather than the ravings of lunatics.” He cleared his throat. “It would need a provocative title, though.”
Shel thought about it. Smiled. “How about The Age of Reason?”
CHAPTER 23
My stern chase after time is, to borrow a simile from Tom Paine, like the race of a man with a wooden leg after a horse.
—JOHN QUINCY ADAMS
THEY left Joseph Kirkbride’s home and walked away from the town into the woods. To a place where they couldn’t be seen. “Somebody sees us come out of there,” said Dave, “and vanish, it would create some problems for them.”
“You mean where Paine gets picked up for witchcraft and never completes The American Crisis? He hasn’t finished it yet, has he?”
“I don’t think so. He’s published the first four parts. I don’t know what else has actually been written.”
“So the rest of it goes by the board, and the Revolution fails. We go back to a country run by the U.K. That’s the way these things usually work on television.”
“That’s the way.”
“I don’t think,” said Shel, “we’d need to worry about a witchcraft trial. This is south Jersey, not New England.”
“You saw those people at the wedding. I wouldn’t be too sure.”
They seemed safely lost among the trees. “Ready to go?” asked Shel.
Dave’s converter was clipped to his belt. He lifted the lid. “All set.”
“See you at home.”
Dave pressed the button and watched the trees and sky begin to fade, watched the familiar walls of Shel’s den take shape. The leaves and twigs underfoot were replaced by soft carpet.
He looked for Shel.
And waited.
Come on, Adrian.
HE set the converter to return to the point of origin, and went back to the forest. Shel was standing there, holding the unit in his hand, and impatiently stabbing at it with his index finger. “It doesn’t want to work,” he said. “I had a problem with it earlier, too.”
“What’s wrong?”
“How the hell would I know?” He sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree and removed the power pack. “It got dropped a couple of times while we were dealing with those farmers. Something’s probably loose. But let me try a test.” He handed the power pack to Dave. “See if you can make yours work with that.”
Dave exchanged the power packs, hit the button, and went back to the town house. Moments later he’d returned to the forest. “It’s okay,” he said.
Shel scratched one ear and looked at his own unit. “Okay. So now it’s official. It’s broken.”
“I’ve got room for a hitchhiker.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re sure there isn’t another converter at home somewhere?”
“None that I know of.”
Dave put a hand on his unit. “So we try it with this one and find out what happens.”
Shel ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay,” he said finally.
Dave moved next to him and grabbed hold of his belt. “Ready?”
“Okay.”
Dave hit the key. The road and the countryside faded. And came back.
“Try again,” said Shel.
Dave tried again. It left them still standing in the woods.
“Well.” Shel looked distinctly unhappy. “What now?”
“I don’t know.”
Shel sat back down on the log. He closed his eyes for a few moments, then brightened. “I have an idea.”
DAVE returned once more to the town house. He took the converter off his belt, tied it to a cushion, set it to return to the woods, and sent it on its way.
Except that it didn’t move. It and the cushion remained solid and immobile on the floor. He tried it a second time, with the same result.
Damn.
He went back to the forest, looked at Shel, and shook his head. “What happened?” asked Shel.
“Nothing. Apparently it doesn’t like to transport pillows.”
Shel lifted his hands at the sky. “Why me, Lord?”
“I guess,” said Dave, “it won’t work unless somebody’s connected to it.”
“It’s a fail-safe, Dave.”
“How do you mean?”
“They’ve built something in to prevent its activating accidentally. Like if you drop it.”
“How would you do that?”
“Damned if I know. But that’s what they