He said, "All right. I tell you now. Take it down."
"But the thing is impossible. A barrier against the kettle? A temporal barrier?"
"Are you telling me you didn't put one up?"
"I didn't. By Time, I swear it."
"Then-then--" Harlan felt himself grow pale. "Then the Council did it. They know of all this and they've taken action independently of you and-and by all of Time and Reality, they can whistle for their ad and for Cooper, for Mallansohn and all of Eternity. They'll have none of it. None of it."
"Wait. Wait." Twissell yanked despairingly at Harlan's elbow. "Keep hold of yourself. Think, boy, think. The Council put up no barrier."
"It's there."
"But they can't have put up such a barrier. No one could have. It's theoretically impossible."
"You don't know it all. It's there."
"I know more than anyone else on the Council and such a thing is impossible."
"But it's there."
"But if it is--"
And Harlan grew sufficiently aware of his surroundings to realize that there was a kind of abject fear in Twissell's eyes; a fear that had not been there even when he first learned of Cooper's misdirection and of the impending end of Eternity.
16. The Hidden Centuries
Andrew Harlan watched the men at work with abstracted eyes. They ignored him politely because he was a Technician. Ordinarily he would have ignored them somewhat less politely because they were Maintenance men. But now he watched them and, in his misery, he even caught himself envying them.
They were service personnel from the Department of Intertemporal Transportation, in dun-gray uniforms with shoulder patches showing a red, double-headed arrow against a black background. They used intricate force-field equipment to test the kettle motors and the degrees of hyper-freedom along the kettleways. They had, Harlan imagined, little theoretical knowledge of temporal engineering, but it was obvious that they had a vast practical knowledge of the subject.
Harlan had not learned much concerning Maintenance when he was a Cub. Or, to put it more accurately, he had not really wished to learn. Cubs who did not make the grade were put into Maintenance. The "unspecialized profession" (as the euphemism had it) was the hallmark of failure and the average Cub automatically avoided the subject.
Yet now, as he watched the Maintenance men at work, they seemed to Harlan to be quietly, tensionlessly efficient, reasonably happy.
Why not? They outnumbered the Specialists, the "true Eternals," ten to one. They had a society of their own, residential levels devoted to them, pleasures of their own. Their labor was fixed at so many hours per physioday and there was no social pressure in their case to make them relate their spare-time activity to their profession. They had time, as Specialists did not, to devote to the literature and film dramatizations culled out of the various Realities.
It was they, after all, who probably had the better-rounded personalities. It was the Specialist's life which was harried and affected, artificial in comparison with the sweet and simple life in Maintenance.
Maintenance was the foundation of Eternity. Strange that such an obvious fact had not struck him earlier. They supervised the importation of food and water from Time, the disposal of waste, the functioning of the power plants. They kept all the machinery of Eternity running smoothly. If every Specialist were to die of a stroke on the spot, Maintenance could keep Eternity going indefinitely. Yet were Maintenance to disappear, the Specialists would have to abandon Eternity in days or die miserably.
Did Maintenance men resent the loss of their homewhens, or their womanless, childless lives? Was security from poverty, disease, and Reality Change sufficient compensation? Were their views ever consuited on any matter of importance? Harlan felt some of the fire of the social reformer within him.
Senior Computer Twissell broke Harlan's train of thought by bustling in at a half run, looking even more haunted than he had an hour before, when he had left, with Maintenance already at work.
Harlan thought: How does he keep it up? He's an old man.
Twissell glanced about him with birdlike brightness as the men automatically straightened up to respectful attention.
He said, "What about the kettleways?"
One of the men responded, "Nothing wrong, sir. The ways are clear, the fields mesh."
"You've checked everything?"
"Yes, sir. As far upwhen as the Department's stations go."
Twissell said, "Then go."
There was no mistaking the brusque insistence of his dismissal. They bowed respectfully, turned, and hastened out briskly.
Twissell and Harlan were alone in the kettleways.
Twissell turned to him. "You'll stay here. Please."
Harlan shook his head. "I must go."
Twissell said, "Surely you understand. If anything happens to me, you still know how to find Cooper. If anything happens to you, what can I or any Eternal or any combination of Eternals do alone?"
Harlan shook his head again.
Twissell put a cigarette between his lips. He said, "Sennor is suspicious. He's called me several times in the last two physiodays. Why am I in seclusion, he wants to know. When he finds out I've ordered a complete overhaul of the kettleway machinery… I must go now, Harlan. I can't delay."
"I don't want delay. I'm ready."
"You insist on going?"
"If there's no barrier, there'll be no danger. Even if there is, I've been there already and come back. What are you afraid of, Computer?"
"I don't want to risk anything I don't have to."
"Then use your logic, Computer. Make the decision that I'm to go with you. If Eternity still exists after that, then it means that the circle can still be closed. It means we'll survive. If it's a wrong decision, then Eternity will pass into nonexistence, but it will anyway if I don't go, because without Noys, I'll make no move to get Cooper. I swear it."
Twissell said, "I'll bring her back to you."
"If it is so simple and safe, there will be no harm if I come along."
Twissell was in an obvious torture of hesitation. He said gruffly, "Well, then, come!"
And Eternity survived.
Twissell's haunted look did not disappear once they were within the kettle. He stared at the skimming figures of the temporometer. Even the scaler gauge, which measured in units of Kilocenturies, and which the men had adjusted for this particular purpose, was clicking at minute intervals.
He said, "You should not have come."
Harlan shrugged. "Why not?"
"It disturbs me. No sensible reason. Call it a long-standing superstition of mine. It makes me restless." He clasped his hands together, holding them tightly.
Harlan said, "I don't understand you."
Twissell seemed eager to talk, as though to exorcise some mental demon. He said, "Maybe you'll appreciate this, at that. You're the expert on the Primitive. How long did man exist in the Primitive?"
Harlan said, "Ten thousand Centuries. Fifteen thousand, maybe."
"Yes. Beginning as a kind of primitive apelike creature and ending as Homo sapiens. Right?"
"It's common knowledge. Yes."
"Then it must be common knowledge that evolution proceeds at a fairly rapid pace. Fifteen thousand Centuries from ape to Homo sapiens."
"Well?"
"Well, I'm from a Century in the 30,000's--"
(Harlan could not help starting. He had never known Twissell's homewhen or known of anyone who did.)
"I'm from a Century in the 30,000's," Twissell said again, "and you're from the 95th. The time between our homewhens is twice the total length of time of man's existence in the Primitive, yet what change is there between us? I was born with four fewer teeth than you, and without an appendix. The physiological differences about end with that. Our metabolism is almost the same. The major difference is that your body can synthesize the steroid nucleus and my body can't, so that I require cholesterol in my diet and you don't. I was able to breed with a woman of the 575th. That's how undifferentiated with time the species is."