CHAPTER 4

STEALING TIME

Christopher Stasheff

CHAPTER 4

Of course. One already had—and not even for being a member of his organization! Or could that have been the real purpose?

"Just who are these enemies?" Ada demanded.

"Two rival time-travel organizations," Yorick informed her.

"Bunch of blasted claim-jumpers," Angus snapped. "Infringed on my patent, that's what they did."

"He never filed for a patent," Yorick explained.

"Well, of course not!" Angus said. "Put a working time machine on public file, where everyone can see it and rush right off to build their own? Ridiculous! In two shakes you'd have thousands of ignorant adventurers dashing off to medieval Europe, or ancient Egypt, or any other place that took their fancies! Think of the damage they could do! Of the pile of paradoxes building up, the changes in history, the chaos of historical forces! We'd all be living in sod houses and hunting rabbits for dinner!"

Ada shivered. Even allowing for excesses of rhetoric, the picture McAran painted was devastatingly probable. A horde of amateurs and time-tourists might well bring down civilization overnight—or prevent it from ever rising.

"That's why he didn't file for a patent," Yorick explained.

"But the moral issue's still there!" Angus snapped. "It's my machine, blast it! I should be the only one who gets to say who uses it and who doesn't! Instead, these two Johnny-come-lately organizations find out how it works and build their own, and even with just two of them, they're constantly trying to meddle with history."

"Which you are not?" Ada asked.

"Not a bit!" Angus said. "I'm much too aware of how disastrous any changes could be. But they're not, blast them! SPITE is trying to sabotage governments all up and down the time line to bring down anarchy, and VETO is trying to help every little dictator or autocrat who shows up, hoping they can prevent democracy from starting."

"And only your organization stops them?" Ada asked, wide- eyed.

"They cancel each other out most of the time," Yorick said. "For example, SPITE tried to arrange a fatal hunting accident for Charlemagne while he was still a boy, but VETO had a tutor with him trying to fill him with the theory of total control over the people. The assassin's arrow got the tutor instead of Charlemagne, but the prince absorbed just enough of the theory to establish his short-lived empire."

"Fascinating!" Ada said. "But what are SPITE and VETO?"

"SPITE stands for the Society for the Prevention of Integration of Telepathic Entities," Angus explained. "Hundreds of years in the future, people will figure out how to keep a democratic government binding together scores of planets in dozens of solar systems functioning, by using telepaths for instant communication. The anarchists set up SPITE to prevent that, but once it was formed, its agents started ranging back and forth through history, trying to prevent any kind of government from ever forming. VETO stands for the Vigilant Exterminators of Telepathic Organisms. A future dictator set it up for the same purpose—getting rid of that future interstellar democracy—only they wanted to do it by killing off every telepath they found."

"You remember the medieval witch-hunts?" Yorick asked. "Some totalitarian VETO agents thought they'd found the occasional telepath."

"But what is a totalitarian?" Ada asked.

"A Twentieth Century word for a dictator," Angus said. "When you read our history, you'll be appalled. One dictator was an arch-conservative and went into partnership with big business. We had another one who was an ultra-radical. They both accomplished the same thing—total control over the people, absolute dictatorship, and the slaughter of millions of their own citizens."

Ada's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp; her eyes widened in horror.

"The one started a war he couldn't win," Angus said. "The other died of old age, but he had a string of successors before one of them was enlightened enough to break up the empire and allow the separate states to start their own governments."

"And he was one of yours?"

"Wish I could claim that," Angus said, "but no—he was just a very enlightened man. The Twenty-First Century seems to have spawned its own set of would-be dictators, but they've never amounted to much—and a few times there, GRIPE can take the credit."

"So your organization tries to promote democracy," Ada said slowly.

"No, we just try to protect people from dictatorship on the one hand and anarchy on the other," Angus said, "but it comes out the same in the long run. Give the people a chance, and they'll work out some form of self-government."

"I was going to argue the merits of a constitutional monarchy," Ada said slowly, "but when you phrase it as self-government, I can't really object."

Angus nodded. "Constitutional monarchy is first cousin to democracy."

"Grandmother, I would say," Ada said with a smile. "But this episode with Charlemagne, and the other attempts to meddle with history—how do you know about them?"

"Because we have agents planted all up and down the time line." Angus nodded at Yorick. "He was the first one."

"Well, I will be." Yorick grinned. "Apparently I'm going to go back to the Stone Age to retire, Ms. Rector."

"Back?" Ada asked in astonishment.

"Back," Yorick confirmed. "I'm a Neanderthal."

"Surely not!"

Yorick grinned. "We're not really that different from you folks—one of those fascinating tidbits the anthropologists are going to discover in the late Twentieth Century."

"Anthrop - apologist." Ada puzzled it out. "The study of man?"

"Well, of humanity," Angus amended. "That's right, it wasn't a formal science in the 1890s."

"But you're planning to send this civilized man back to live in a cave?"

"Not 'send,'" Angus protested.

"I won't know how it happens until it does," Yorick said. "Doesn't sound that bad to me, actually—Michigan should be a nice place to retire about 20,000 BCE. I'm looking forward to it—and also looking forward to being the first one to host Doc Angus in my mind."

"In your mind?" Ada stared.

"My first experiment in time travel," Angus said, with a dismissive wave of the hand. "I figured out how to make the mind travel independently of the body. Once I'd done that, I was able to set up a network of observers all up and down the time line untill 1850. After that, there's so much written history that if there's anything we need to check on, we can just send an agent back."

"But before that time, records don't give you enough of a hint as to what happened?"

Angus nodded. "We tend to pick people who aren't too deeply enmeshed in events, able to observe more or less objectively."

"Lonely people," Ada observed with a bitter smile. "Ones who aren't too well liked?"

"Something like that." Angus gave her a bleak smile. "They're glad to feel they belong to something bigger than themselves. It also lessens our chances of getting an enemy agent by accident."

"Surely they aren't a physical danger?"

"Oh, they can get very physical," Yorick said softly. "Shootouts in the American West, pitched battles in the Middle Ages, pirates against bandits in 1930s China... They'll kill each other any chance they can get, Ms. Rector."

"Us, too." Angus nodded. "In fact, if there's one thing SPITE and VETO can agree on, it's the need to eliminate us. You can imagine what one good-sized bomb could do to our snug little hideaway here."

Ada shuddered. "Yes, I suppose it's important that you keep the existence of this cavern a secret."

"Very important," Angus agreed. "Only Yorick and I know where it is."

"But don't I..." Ada stopped, then gave them a sour smile. "No. I only know it's a cavern inside a mountain, somewhere in North America’s Rocky Mountains—but that does cover rather a large amount of territory, doesn’t it?."

"You can't tell what you don’t know," Yorick told her.

Ada thought of the implications and shuddered again.

"We can't take the chance that our enemies might ambush us at home," Angus said apologetically. "Destroying the time machine would put a crimp in our operation."

"Yes," Ada said, "I can see that it would."

"Nothing terminal, you understand," Yorick said. "After all, if Doc Angus could build one time machine, he can build a dozen, and we can send out agents from any point in history—or from any place on Earth, for that matter. Of course, it’s easier after 1950 – before that, we don’t have the tools to make the tools."

"Not terribly difficult to relocate," Ada said slowly.

"Not now," Angus said. "After we've built all the facilities in here and packed in equipment, it would be a major undertaking—but something we certainly could do if we had to."

"It would cost a lot in time and money, though," Yorick said. "Of course, we can arrange to have all the time we need.”

The thought made Ada a bit dizzy.

"But that's not the only reason for secrecy," Angus explained. "There are dozens of organizations that would love to get their hands on time travel."

Ada's eyes widened. "My heavens! The Army!"

Yorick nodded. "The French would love a chance to fix what went wrong at Waterloo."

"I assure you, sir, that the British would have their own time-travelers there to counter them!" Ada snapped.

"Exactly," Doc Angus said, "and the first thing you know, the time travelers would outnumber the genuine soldiers."

"Surely you don't really have so many!"

"Not right now," Angus said, "but over the next few hundred years, GRIPE will have thousands of agents—and no matter where they're based, they can all be sent to one point in time."

"But we're fussy," Yorick said. "We don't want to change the time-stream, so we recruit people who don't have any effects after the time we pick them up."

"Such as a London spinster who disappeared one day," Ada said, scowling.

"Exactly," Yorick said, "or a Neanderthal boy who’d been cast out of his tribe—but the army wouldn't be so picky. It would just recruit all the men it wanted from its own time and place and send them to, let's say, Waterloo."

"Or Poitiers, or Agincourt, or Sterling Bridge," Angus put in.

"But historical records only show a few hundred English archers at Agincourt."

"That only shows that no one has really wanted to change it that badly yet," Angus said.

"You mean—all of history could become a series of never-ending battles?"

"Or major events being changed, then changed back," Angus said, "and who knows what the world would look like then?"

"But the businessmen could be worse," Yorick said.

Ada frowned. "I don't see..." Then she caught herself. "Money from the present being invested in the past?"

"No problem if it's only a few million," Angus said, "but if all the banks start doing it?"

Ada's mind reeled at the implications.

"Actually, I had in mind business using the past as a resource," Yorick said. "You know—setting up factories where there's a good supply of cheap labor."

"Such as?"

"Twenty thousand BCE. Not hard to convince a bunch of aboriginal Europeans that their work on an assembly line is a way of worshipping the gods."

"Or the meat-packing industry harvesting aurochs." Angus pursed his lips. "Y' know, we haven’t checked to find out why they became extinct."

"Or one of the big oil conglomerates trying to eliminate the competition by sending an assassin back to kill off John D. Rockefeller before he could start Standard Oil."

Ada frowned. "Surely that wouldn't be allowed." She wondered who Rockefeller was, or why he would want to standardize oil.

Then she caught herself. "No—who would prohibit it? And if they did, who could possibly enforce it?"

"Difficult to figure out which modern nation has jurisdiction when France is still part of the Roman Empire," Angus said, "or the Anglo-Saxons haven't started invading England."

"And the other two time-travel organizations aren't above trying to kill off other time agents when they find them—including us," Yorick said. "Hate to say it, Ms. Rector, but as a founding member of GRIPE, you'd be a marked woman."

"Perhaps I should reconsider," Ada said in a faint voice.

"Don't do anything you'll regret," Yorick said.

"But I don't have that many options, do I?" Ada asked with a sardonic smile.

"Plenty of options," Angus contradicted. "We can drop you in 1980s Paris, Ms. Rector—nice place to live. There are a lot of small cities in the U.S. or England that would be great, too. You'd need to read a few history books, of course, and you'd have to earn your own living, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem."

The thought was attractive—until Ada remembered that she'd be completely alone. Here, at least, she had two friends—or two men who seemed friendly enough. Still, she wasn't at all certain. In fact, she felt very much lost.

Yorick sensed her near-panic and hastened to reassure her. "Of course, we'd rather you stayed with us.

"We definitely would," Angus said, "because, you see, if our best protection is secrecy, especially keeping the location of Headquarters a secret, buying the mountain we're inside of is absolutely vital."

Ada felt a sharp sense of disappointment that amazed her. Had she hoped for some other reason from this undersized, deformed man?

Yes. Apparently she had.

Yorick tried to distract her. "Can't have people building housing developments on our roof, can we?"

"Or sinking wells," Angus said darkly.

"That's why we have to have a lawyer," Yorick said.

"Also to keep our work here legally separate from the research I'm being paid to do by a company called ICBM," Angus explained. "They pay me well, very well indeed, and right now, the money for building the time machine and financing our expeditions back into history is coming from that job."

"Plus, it's going to be a handy cover story for explaining why he needs to buy so many electronic parts," Yorick said, "and if the locals become curious about why this mountain is sprouting windmills, ICBM research is a good excuse—especially when they're obviously costing more than the amount of electricity they generate."

Ada ignored the words she didn't know yet, assuming she'd learn the meanings soon enough, and concentrated on the ones she did know. "You had better make sure the business stays unprofitable, or only moderately so. If you became wildly successful, you would attract a great deal of unwanted attention."

Angus's eyes widened. "We would, wouldn't we? Hadn't thought of that."

Yorick turned to him. "What if one of the conglomerates decided on a hostile takeover?"

Angus turned away, shuddering.

"We really do need a lawyer, don't we?" Yorick said.

"Yeah, we sure do." Angus looked up at Ada. "Think you know enough about us to want the job?"

For a moment, the sense of unreality made Ada dizzy—but excitement rose to drown it out. Could women really be admitted to the bar in this future world? Of course, or Dr. McAran and Yorick wouldn't have recruited her. What sense in going to the trouble and, yes, danger of gathering her in if she would not be allowed to do the job they intended?

Why go to the trouble at all?

"Why should you choose me?" she asked slowly. "It's not as though I had a reputation as a legal genius."

"Maybe more of a reputation than you thought." Angus lifted a book from the table. Looking, Ada saw the title, something about famous disappearances, and stared. "I've been written up?"

The police were baffled," Angus explained. "There was no evidence of anything having happened to you. You had disappeared without a trace."

"But the book does say that you knew law," Yorick explained. "In fact, your guardian said you'd jumped to conclusions about a fire that burned down a factory."

"He would." Ada's lips thinned.

"So you had all the requirements for an attorney for a time-travel organization," Angus explained. "You knew the law—and if you died, you managed it without affecting the time stream."

"You mean I left no one behind to grieve," Ada said slowly, "no one on whom I had any effect whatsoever."

"I wouldn't have put it that way..."

"Why not, if it's true?" Loss chilled her; she felt hollowed out, absurd, without meaning.

"But you can have an effect on our future," Yorick said softly.

Angus nodded. "And with us, an effect on everyone’s future—and maybe even on the past."

‘Everyone’ somehow seemed less satisfying than these two men here before her, immediate—even caring, in their own ways.

Then his mention of the past struck her. "You mean—I could visit ancient Athens? See the building of the Great Pyramid? Even..." She caught her breath. "...the magi riding into Bethlehem?"

"If you're very careful not to disturb anything there, not make any impact on history—yes." Angus turned away. "Hold on, I'll get the photographs."

Ada stared after him as he limped out of the room. "Photographs?"

"We took along a hidden camera," Yorick explained.

"You've been there!"

"We couldn't resist visiting some of the high spots—and Angus couldn't resist bringing along his latest invention, a really tiny camera that took excellent pictures."

Ada turned to Yorick and said, rather slowly, "I suppose he's... romantically involved?"

Yorrick’s shoulders shook with an inner laugh, but he managed to answer with a straight face. "Not now and never will be, Ms. Rector. He's not exactly a lady's man."

Ada couldn't believe it. "Doesn't he know how devastatingly attractive he is?"

"No, and he wouldn't believe it if you told him." Yorick turned somber. "He forces himself to confront the unpleasant things in life, Ms. Rector. He says he's deformed and won't allow any nicer words for it. He can't believe any woman would ever find him attractive."

"But his face is an eagle's, with all the nobility of that majestic bird!" She frowned. "Surely some woman should tell him. He ought to know!"

"Not now and never will," Yorick said, "and if you told him, he'd never believe you. It's the crooked shoulder and the thick sole, you see. Maybe you can see beyond them, but he can't."

"But his mind is so fascinating, and his face so compelling!" Ada remembered herself and lowered her gaze. "Of course, I know I'm nothing to look at, myself. I'm… dowdy. That's the word for it, dowdy and dun-colored. I've a frog's mouth, and my face is so gaunt..."

"Oh, you're pretty enough, all right." Yorick sounded rather severe. "Don't be so quick to deny it—though it would help if you didn't believe you were plain."

Ada looked up. "How can I believe anything else?"

Yorick shrugged. “Tastes change, Ms. Rector, and even the great beauties of your time don't look much more than pretty now. Your ‘gaunt’ face is fashionable today. You have big beautiful eyes, and your wide mouth is voluptuous by today's standards.”

"Don't tell me you think I'm beautiful!"

"By the standards of the 1950s?" Yorick nodded. "Of course, when I grew up, we preferred women with a bit more substance to them."

"Substance?" Ada asked, puzzled.

"You gotta remember, I'm a Neanderthal, and all you Sap Saps look kinda puny to me. It's not just a matter of you not having enough curves in the right places—your kind scarcely have places!”

Ada realized she was smiling. "Exactly what is your taste in women, Mr... What is your last name?"

"Don't really have one," Yorick said, "though I go by 'Andrew Thal' if I have to. Just call me Yorick."

"Only if you will call me Ada—after all, we shall be working associates, shan't we? But you were going to tell me your taste in women."

"Six feet tall at least," Yorick said, "with the shoulders of an aurochs and legs like pillars. Where I come from, that's considered dainty."

Ada tried to hide a smile, even though she knew he was trying to draw one from her. "And her face?"

Yorick shrugged. "Beetling brows, no chin, mouth a yard wide and out in front of the nose—you know, like me, only better.

Ada felt a stab of sympathy and reached out to the big man but, didn't dare touch. "I'm... I'm sorry you can't find one of your own kind."

"Not the right one, maybe—but there's dozens of us Neanderthals who are GRIPE agents, or will be," Yorick said. "Besides, I've been around your kind long enough so your faces are growing on me, if you just weren’t so puny. Angus tells me I'll meet the right woman when I'm in my forties. I figure it'll be worth the wait."

Ada was rather taken aback; she wasn't used to the idea of live Neanderthals. One, perhaps, but dozens? "I... I'm glad. But with Dr. McAran... you don't suppose..."

"I don't," Yorick said, "and don't break your heart trying. You have to love yourself before you can love someone else, and he doesn't."

"But wouldn't the love of a good woman... I mean, if he thinks highly of her, and she loves him, wouldn't that prove there's something good in him, enough so that he could learn to love himself?

"No. I'm sorry, but that's the way he is. The other kids did too good a job on him, when he was in junior high. The only women he'll fall in love with are ones who are guaranteed not to love him."

Ada could have cried aloud at the injustice of it. Instead, she said, "I can't be the only one. How many hearts will he break?"

"None that he'll be aware of," Yorick assured her. "He'll never realize any woman is in love with him… and if it does register, he'll do his best to deny it."

"I can try, though, can't I?"

"I can't stop you," Yorick said slowly, "but I will warn you that you're setting yourself up for a heartbreak."

Ada answered with a sardonic smile. "I've developed a rather thick skin, Mr... Yorick. Tell me what I have to do to look pretty!"

"If you insist," Yorick sighed. "Use a shampoo that will give your hair body—we have them, here in the 1950s. Learn to use cosmetics—they're for all women now, not just actresses and courtesans. Get the women you go to school with to teach you modern hair styles and dressing fashions."

"School?" Ada frowned. "That's right, I shall want a bit more education. History alone... What else?"

"Ask them, when you meet them." Yorick was beginning to seem uncomfortable. "Oh, and you might want to dye your hair yellow."

"Yellow? Is that a fashion, too?"

Angus returned right then, carrying a thick album. "Here they are."

Ada turned to him, abashed and trying not to show it.

Angus sat down at the table and opened the book. "Here's the Parthenon, right after they finished it."

Ada stared at a facade she had seen pictured a thousand times, then realized it was intact. She sat down, mesmerized as he turned the pages with a running commentary on his travels.

Yorick leaned back against the time machine with folded arms, watching with a smile that wasn't entirely free of irony.

"And this?" Ada frowned, her fingertip on a picture of a half-timbered house. "Rather ordinary, isn't it?"

"Very," Angus agreed, "but that little boy who's riding the hobbyhorse in the front yard is William Shakespeare."

Ada stared.

"I couldn't resist," Angus said apologetically.

"He should have, though," Yorick said.

"Odd to think the Bard was once a boy," Ada said slowly, "but he did have a home and a loving mother and father, or course."

"Not 'of course,'" Yorick said. "He was one of the lucky ones."

Ada looked up, surprised by the sudden bitterness in his voice, then looked down at the picture again. "It shouldn't be a matter of fortune. Every child should have loving parents." She blinked away tears.

Angus read her correctly, for once. "Women have other options besides home and children now, Ms. Rector. It's still a good way to spend your life, but it's a choice."

"For some." Ada couldn't keep the bitterness out of her own voice. "I've grown up expecting it, and so did my parents. Rather disappointing for them." She shrugged off a wave of despair, lifted her chin, and asked, "Is there really any more future for me here than in my own time and place?"

"Of course there is." Angus's words were abrupt, but his tone was actually trying for understanding and sympathy. "You can have a very productive and profitable future here, helping us develop GRIPE as the world's best-kept secret."

Yorick turned away, and Ada managed a smile; he was so terribly earnest in his attempt to reassure. She nodded slowly; a career as GRIPE's solicitor might not have been all she'd really had in mind, but it did sound exciting. "I find the prospect of being able to practice law openly quite exhilarating." But she frowned at a memory. "My guardian, though—I was a sore trial to him, I'm sure, but he'll nonetheless be frantic when I don't return home. Can't I..."

She broke off, seeing Angus turn his head from side to side, his face grim. "It's not in the history books, Ms. Rector..."

"Ada," she said absently.

"Ada," Angus agreed. "If you had told him, it would be a matter of public record—and what could you tell him? That you'd run off to join an organization he's never heard of? That you'll be traveling in time?"

"I see," she said slowly. "He would worry more rather than less."

Yorick turned back, nodding. "At least this way, he can grieve, then move on with his life."

"But his daughter Melanie, my best friend, and her little sister Alma, and her brother Jack—what of them?"

"Even if they don't show up in the history books, the lawyer you will be can go back and check the public records in England to see what happened to them," Angus said, "and if anything went wrong, we'll send you back to fix it."

"And the factory?" Ada's eyes burned. "The brave new company that gave employment to a score of East-end families? I must learn why it burned down, Dr. McAran..."

"Angus," he interrupted.

"Angus." In spite of her anger, Ada smiled. "If it was the grand company trying to eliminate a competitor, I intend to bring it to justice!"

Angus didn’t laugh or remind her that, even if she had a Twentieth Century law degree, she still wouldn't be able to practice in Victorian London. "We'll put them high on our agenda, Ada, right after you've been admitted to the bar."

"Might not be necessary, though," Yorick pointed out.

Angus looked up in surprise, then smiled. "Yes. Those two men who were at the fire site with us." He turned back to Ada. "A very good private detective may already have taken an interest in the case, Ada. When you've passed your bar exam, we'll go check the newspapers and see what kind of havoc he had managed to bring down on whose heads."

"Well. Thank you." Ada lifted her chin. "I must thank you, indeed, not only for saving my life, but for making a career possible."

"We can't pass the bar exam for you, though," Angus said with a smile.

"I think I shall manage that rather well, thank you," Ada said sharply, then softened her tone. "I am determined to do the best I can for GRIPE, Dr... Angus." She kept her gaze resolutely on McAran, trying not to see the sympathy in Yorick's eyes. "I shall be delighted to accept your offer of employment."

"Great!" Angus rubbed his hands with glee. "We'd better see about getting you into law school then, hadn't we?"

"School?" Ada asked, at a loss.

"The American system has changed a bit since the 1890s, Ada," Yorick said. "You don't just get a job in a law office and read in their library in your off moments. You have to have a graduate degree from a college that teaches the subject."

"Indeed." Ada pursed her lips. "Then it will be something of a problem that I do not have an undergraduate degree."

"Whoever.... oh," Angus said. "That's right—women's education was just beginning when you finished your teen years, wasn't it?"

"Not quite soon enough for me," Ada said dryly.

"Well, that's no problem." Even so, Angus frowned as he said it. "We can have the future GRIPE forge an excellent diploma from a minor London college."

"Forge?" Ada stared.

"Of course," Angus said. "No point in taking courses in subjects you already know, is there? But if you're feeling scruples about forging, we could have an agent in the future buy one in an estate sale..."

Ada suppressed a shudder and said, "That would require my changing my name, wouldn't it? I'm rather fond of the one I have."

"Okay, then, we can..." Angus broke off to frown up at Yorick, who was touching his elbow. "What?"

"Ang," the big man said, "she wants to do it the honest way."

"Quite so," Ada affirmed.

"You mean just enroll as an undergraduate?" Angus frowned. "Seems like a waste of time, but if you'd rather, we can arrange it. In fact, you can apply for admission, then skip ahead to the future to find out if you've been accepted. But you'd have to have a high-school diploma first."

"Then I shall earn one," Ada said firmly, but undercut the effect a little by asking, "You mean a secondary school?"

"We call them 'high schools' here," Yorick explained.

"They're for teenagers, not grown-ups." Angus kept the frown. "Though I suppose you could go to night school."

"Most high schools offered classes at night, in the 1950s," Yorick explained, "or we could jump you ahead to the 1970s, where you could attend a junior college and earn your G.E.D."

"That sounds quite satisfactory." Ada could wait to discover what a ‘junior college’ and a ‘G.E.D.’ were; she was sure she grasped the concept.

"Still a waste of time," Angus growled.

"Time, as I believe you pointed out, Dr. McAran, is one commodity of which you have plenty," Ada reminded him, "and it won't be a waste. Surely I will need to know the history of your century, at the very least."

"I suppose so." Angus frowned. "But brace yourself—some of it's pretty ugly."

"All the more reason why I must know it, if I'm to practice law for an organization that sends people traveling in time." Ada frowned. "Or do you fear that, if I learned what events have given rise to your amazing invention, I might no longer wish to fulfill the position?"

"It's not an irreversible commitment." Angus held up a palm as though to stop her. "If you decide not to go to law school, or even pass your bar exam and then decide you don't want the job, you'll be perfectly free to turn it down—and with a college degree, you won't have too much trouble finding a job in the 1970s..."

"Uh, maybe the Eighties," Yorick said. "Remember, the boys up the line have told us there's going to be that little problem with the economy in the mid-Seventies?"

"Good point." Angus nodded. 'Better to start working on your G.E.D. in 1975, Ada. You'll graduate law school into a much better job market. I will ask that you pay back the cost of your education, but there won't be any time limit on that."

"I hadn't thought of the cost." Ada kept her frown. "Still, I doubt there would be any cause for concern over me quitting to settle down and raise a family, Dr.... Angus. I'm hardly attractive enough to interest a prospective husband."

"You, not attractive?" Angus scowled. "Ridiculous! You're downright beautiful, Ada."

Ada caught her breath and stared at him.

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