He turned back to meet Blunt's eyes.
"After all," he said, "this has been a transition period in history, as Kirk has, no doubt, often told other people besides myself. It's been a time of stress and strain, and in such times things tend to become dramatic. Actually, each generation likes to think of itself as at the pivot point in history, that in its time the great decision is made which puts man either on the true road or the false. But things aren't really that serious. Truthfully, the way of mankind is too massive to be kinked, suddenly; it only changes direction in a long and gradual bend over many generations."
Paul turned to the World Engineer.
"Kirk," he said, "as I say, I'm not trying to convince anyone. But certainly you can see I'm talking sense?"
Kirk Tyne's head came up with decision.
"Yes," he said sharply, "I can." He looked at Blunt and back to Paul. "Everything you say makes sense. Everybody has one person who can put the Indian sign on them. With me it's always been Walt." He turned to Blunt. "Because I always admired you, Walt. I wanted to believe in you. And as a result you were able to con me into thinking that the world was upside down and just about to be inside out. It took someone with his feet on the ground, like Paul here, to bring me back to Earth. Of course, our centuries-old technical civilization wasn't the sort of thing that could be hoodooed out of existence by black magic overnight. But you almost had me thinking it could."
He stepped up to Paul and held out his hand. Paul took it.
"Everybody owes you a lot," said Kirk, shaking Paul's hand. "But I, most of all. I want you to know I haven't any doubts where you're concerned. I'll get the services back in action immediately. Come on, Eat." He turned to Blunt, hesitated, shook his head, and turning away again, walked toward the door. Blunt smiled grimly after him.
Eaton White came forward from his position at the window. As he passed by Paul, he hesitated, turned to Paul, and opened his mouth as if to speak. Then he turned and went on out, after Kirk. Jase followed.
"Jim," said Paul gently, looking across at the black-clad hotel agent, still holding his helpless arm across his chest with his other hand, "you probably have responsibilities calling."
Butler snapped his head around at the sound of his first name like a man coming out of a dream. His eyes were like gun-muzzles trained on Paul.
"Yes," he interrupted. "Responsibilities. But not the sort you think. You've been the instrument of a revelation to me - the revelation of the New Jerusalem. The future may hold more than many think."
He turned and walked upright away, still holding his arm, until he passed through the door, and turning, vanished.
"Good-by, Walt," said a voice. Paul and Kantele turned to see that McLeod had come up and put his hand on Blunt's shoulder. Blunt, still leaning on his cane, turned his face sideways toward that hand.
"You, too?" he asked a little huskily.
"You'll be all right, Walt," said McLeod. "Truth is, I've been thinking of it for some time."
"For the last six weeks - I know," said Blunt with a wolf's grin. "No, no, go on, Burt. There's nothing to stay here for now, anyway."
Burt squeezed the caped shoulder, looked across it compassionately at Paul, and went toward the door. The three who were left watched him out in silence.
When Burt had gone, Blunt swung about a little on his cane and looked sardonically at Paul.
"Do I have to love you, too?" he asked.
"No," said Paul. "No, of course not! I wouldn't ask that."
"Then, damn you," said Blunt. "Damn you and may you rot in hell until judgment day!"
"Paul smiled sadly.
"You won't tell me why?" asked Blunt.
"If I could," said Paul, "I would. But it's a matter of language. I don't have words for you." He hesitated. "You could take it on faith."
"Yes," said Blunt, suddenly and heavily as if the strength had gone out of him. "I could take it on faith, if I were bigger." He straightened up suddenly and looked with a deep, penetrating curiosity at Paul.
"Empath," he said. "I should have suspected it sooner. But where did the talent come from?"
"From your plans for me," said Paul. "I told the truth. It's a high wall that separates the inner parts of one identity from the inner being of another. From having the experience of no wall between you and me, I could learn to tear down the walls between myself and all others."
"But why?" said Blunt. "Why would you want to?"
Paul smiled again.
"Partly," he said, "because unlimited power or strength is a little like credit. In the beginning it seems that enough of it would do anything. But, when you achieve it, you find that it, too, is limited. There are areas in which it's helpless, like other things. Can you hammer out a roughness in a delicate piece of carved jade?"
Blunt shook his head.
"I don't see how it applies," he said.
"It's just that I have some things in common," said Paul. "And Kirk was very nearly right. It's not possible to change the future except by changing the present And the only way to change the present is to return to the past and change that."
"Return?" asked Blunt. "Change?" Blunt's eyes had lost their earlier hardness. They were now fully alive. He leaned on his cane and looked directly at Paul. "Who could change the past?"
"Perhaps," said Paul, "someone with intuition."
"Intuition?"
"Yes. Someone," Paul said, "who could see a tree in a garden. And who knew that if that tree were to be cut down, then some years in time and some light-years in distance away, another man's life would be changed. A man, say, who has conscious intuitive process and can immediately realize all the end possibilities of an action the moment he considers it. Someone like that could step back into time, perhaps, and make changes without risk of error."
Blunt's face was perfectly still.
"You aren't me, at all," Blunt said. "You never were me. I think it was you who animated Paul Formain's body, not me at all. Who are you?"
"Once," said Paul, "I was a professional soldier."
"And an Intuit?" asked Blunt. "And now an Empath as well?" His voice was a little harsh. "What next?"
"An identity," said Paul slowly, "needs to be a dynamic, not a static, quantity. If it is static, it becomes helpless within the pattern of its existence. This is a lesson man eventually will have to learn. But if it is dynamic, it may direct its existence as a mining machine is directed, through the otherwise impassable fusion of rocky elements known as reality. From being dominated and imprisoned by them, it can pass to dominating and making use of them, and with its existence plow through, pulverize, and handle reality until it separates out those uniquely real and valuable parts of it which the identity wishes to make its own."
Blunt nodded, slowly, like an old man. It was not clear whether he had understood and was agreeing, or whether he had given up the attempt to understand and was merely being agreeable.
"They all would have their futures," he said. "That's what you told them, wasn't it?" He stopped nodding and looked at Paul for the first time with eyes that were a little faded. "But not me."
"Of course, you," said Paul. "Yours was the greatest vision, and simply the one furthest from realization, that was all."
Blunt nodded again.
"Not," he said, "in my lifetime. No."
"I'm sorry," said Paul. "No."
"Yes," said Blunt. He took a deep breath and straightened up. "I had plans for you," he said. "Plans rooted in ignorance. I had everything set up for you." He glanced at Kantele. "It was almost like having a..." He checked himself, threw back his head, and took a firmer grip on his cane. "I planned to retire after tonight, anyway."