Far Exile
Copyright 2009 by Henry Melton

A tall blonde man in a rumpled black suit and tie woke up and staggered on his feet, striking his head against the hard glass window.  He put out his thick-fingered right hand to steady himself and closed his eyes against the sudden vertigo.

When his yellow-gray eyes opened back up, he steadied himself with a wide stance and stared out at the landscape beyond the huge glass expanse.

"This isn't San Francisco."  He shook his head and reached absently into his coat pocket.

Three tall spires, taller than any of the skyscrapers he had seen in New York after the war, rose like dagger's blades, not from streets, but from a lush forest covering rounded hills.  One was gold.  One was silver.  The closest was cobalt blue.

His pocket was empty.  After a quick check, he determined that all of his pockets were empty.

"I've been robbed."  His voice sounded no anger.  It was just one more unexplained fact.

He touched the frame of the window.  It felt like metal.  Just outside, it appeared that the building he was in was red, not like copper, but with a duller texture.  The window had to be several hundred feet above the trees below.  He nodded.  He was in a red tower, just like the others.

Footsteps echoed from across the large room.  Two people were hurrying his direction, coming into the light.

The man looked forty, wearing a dark beard, about five-eight, trim.  His face was deep tan, with a bone structure that was puzzling.  At first glance, he looked European, perhaps Greek, but his first assessment didn't hold.  The clothes were tailored robes, with subdued brown patterns.

The man in the black suit paid more attention to the girl.  Other than her red hair and pale blue eyes, she held a family resemblance to the man.  She appeared half his age, dressed like no woman he had ever seen.  The outer blue robe, in spite of being as transparent as a thin silk scarf, was textured in elegant patterns that flagged her as a child of wealth.  But the undergarment was as brief and revealing as what he had seen on the Bowery stage.

He kept his eyes on her pleasant open smile, and nodded to the man.

"Are you the Visitor?" she asked as they approached.  A lilt in her voice gave her an accent he couldn't place.

"Possibly, Miss.  I seem to be lost."

"That's because...."

The man beside her held up a hand, palm forward.  "Explanations will come," he said firmly, stopping her.

"We welcome you to the Ninth City, Visitor."  He bowed his head.  "I am Griditch.  This is Alanda."

"I am Samuel."  He mimicked the bow.  "If you have any of those explanations, I'm ready for 'em.  I've never heard of the Ninth City.  I've never seen a place like this."  Sam gestured at the towers visible out the window.  He reached his hand to his pocket and then dropped it to his side when he remembered it was empty.

Alanda looked at Griditch.  He nodded.  "That is to be expected, Samuel.  None of the Hundred Cities existed in your century."

Sam frowned.  "My century?  I don't understand."

The girl couldn't contain herself.  "Time-travel, of course!  You've been brought from the deep past here to help us."

"Alanda!"  Griditch frowned.  He turned to Sam.  "I apologize for her youthful enthusiasm.  We had agreed," he looked back at her, "to let me ease you into full comprehension."

Sam waved his hand to dismiss his host's distress.  He reached for his pocket again, and frowned when it was still empty.

"Just a minute!"  His jaw worked as he looked back out the window at the impossibly tall, colorful towers.  "I'd think the both of you are crazy as loons.  Except for those."

He pointed at Griditch.  "Tell me what this 'time-travel' is.  I was working late at the office and suddenly I was here.  What happened to me?"

Alanda interrupted, "Surely, you understand time-travel?"

Sam shook his head, with no expression other than a mild anger.

The man gestured down the long hallway.  "Why don't we move to more comfortable surroundings while I try to explain?"  The hall led into the interior of the building, away from the windows.

By the time they had reached an expansive atrium, with a waterfall passing from many floors above and vanishing into a misty portal in the floor, Sam was ready to call a halt to Griditch's explanations.

"Well, I can't say's how I understand one word in ten, but I get the idea.  You kidnapped me from my time and brought me here."

Alanda nodded cheerfully, "Right!  Time and place."  She draped herself across a mossy-green bench and curled little bare feet up under her robe.  "The translator tells me that your 'San Francisco' was a city on the western coast of 'North America'.  All that land is under the lava flows now.

"Alanda!"

Sam gestured at her, "Oh, let her talk.  I can at least understand what she's saying."  He frowned at his fingers.  When Griditch sat as well, he plopped down on the closest bench.  It was too low to the ground.  It forced him to slouch against the backrest.  But the cushion was very comfortable.

"I wish you had managed to kidnap my tobacco pouch along with me.  I'm dying for a cigarette."

His greeters exchanged horrified looks.

Sam shook his head.  "That's a figure of speech.  I want a cigarette.  Being without won't kill me.  I'll just be very irritable.  Do you think you could get me some tobacco?  And papers and matches, too."

Griditch hummed and said, "I'll ask."  The three of them sat quietly for several seconds, before Sam turned to Alanda.

She smiled like a timid schoolgirl, totally innocent of how her dress made her look.  He had to smile back.

"Why am I here, Angel?  When I was with the AEF during the Great War, a Limey corporal told me the legend of King Arthur -- how he was supposed to come back after centuries to help his people, but I'm no great warrior.  I don't even remember dying.  Why'd you choose me?"

She looked puzzled.  "I don't know this 'King' person.  But Flick chose you.  I'm sure there's a good reason."

Griditch cleared his throat.  "I have bad news."

Alanda nodded, "Yes.  There are no cigarettes."

Sam looked from one to the other.  "Are you people mind-readers?"

She smiled, "Oh, no.  Not really.  But we do communicate with Flick.  When Griditch asked Flick if cigarettes were available, Flick searched the literary archives.  Various tobacco products were mentioned for two hundred years after your time.  There were references to a plague, which wiped out the plant.  Synthetic nicotine was used for five hundred years after that, before its use was abandoned.

"We have none now, and the chemistry of the drug has been lost.  It would be difficult duplicate.  It certainly couldn't be done quickly."

Sam sighed.  "Well, someone had better get me a pencil or something to hold in my hand.  I've been reaching into this pocket every couple of minutes like clockwork."

Alanda nodded seriously.

Sam leaned forward in his seat.  "But back to my question.  Why me?  I think you guys made a mistake."

Griditch said, "Alanda, let me.  I've been studying the problem much longer than you have."

Sam turned to him, "Yes, Professor?"

The man made a magic pass through the air with his hands and a glowing rock appeared right before him.  It was like a ghost.  Sam could see right through it.  He took in a sharp breath and reached for his pocket.

"This is an asteroid approximately ten of your miles in diameter.  It has been detected coming our direction.  Flick has determined that in less than ten days, it will strike the earth and destroy all life.

"We need you to stop it."

###

Sam stood up.  "Me?  You want me to stop some kind of super meteor?  Are you crazy?"

Alanda and Griditch were staring at him, startled at his reaction.  The man nodded.  "Well, yes, you!  Flick knows that men of your century built great rockets that could travel into space.  You also know how to create nuclear explosions that could destroy or deflect the asteroid.  You are the right choice."

Sam sat back down, but it was more of a collapse.

Alanda asked, "Surely this isn't too hard for a man of your time?"

He could only laugh.  "Sister, you must've dialed the wrong century.  I'm from 1934 A.D. and no one in the whole world could do what you just said."

She frowned in silence for just a moment.  Then, carefully, she said, "No.  Flick is confident.  You are from the 'Twentieth Century'.  The archives are clear.  In your day, men traveled to the Moon and created explosives so great that they destroyed whole cities.  That is the technology we need to avert this catastrophe."

Sam reached toward the ghostly rock, and his hand passed right though the image.  He gestured at it.

"You're wrong, Miss Alanda.  In my day, rockets were for the Fourth of July and the biggest explosions I saw in the trenches wouldn't destroy this room.  Surely, you have fancier science than we had.  I've never seen anything like this...image.  And those towers I saw out the window.  If you can build things like that, you know more than I ever could."

"But Flick says that...."

Sam held up his hand.  "I think I'd better talk to this Mr. Flick myself.  We could spend all day, what with you quoting him and me swearing up and down that I'm right."  He stood up.  "We aren't getting anywhere."

Griditch stood as well.  "There is a misunderstanding."

Sam cocked his head to listen.

"Flick isn't a person.  Flick is a computer.  Flick is the controller for the Hundred Cities."

Sam could only frown.  "A computer?"

Griditch smiled.  "Yes, another invention of your century, only vastly more sophisticated, of course."

He shook his head.  "No.  Never heard of it."  He turned abruptly and pointed his thick index finger at Griditch.  "And I'm about up to here with these fairy tales!  You're taking orders from someone.  I'm through talking with flunkies.  You bring me the main man, or I'm done talking."

With that, he stalked away, past the waterfall, towards another long hallway.  Behind him, Alanda hopped to her feet and took a step after him.  Griditch put out his hand and took her arm, shaking his head.

###

Sam paced rapidly until he was sure that the two were out of sight.  Then he smiled and eased into a more comfortable pace.  He even caught his hand before it reached his pocket.  He rubbed his hands together and stared at them before shaking his head.

"What've I got myself into?" he whispered.

The hallway seemed to stretch forever.  The walls were barely decorated, just peaceful lines of dark tones.  The sunlight at the end flickered as someone passed by.  He broke into a jog.

Finally, after he had come several city blocks' distance, another grand vista opened up.  He stopped before the glass.

"Po'nada gida?" 

Sam spun around, startling the woman.  She was stretched out on a tilted couch, catching the sunlight through the glass.  Before she clicked something in her hand and her robes turned suddenly blue and opaque, Sam's jaw dropped open.

She laughed.  "Fona cup, d'jo."

Sam nodded.  "Sorry, Ma'am.  I didn't mean to disturb you."

She looked puzzled, then said, "Oh.  You're the Visitor.  The Elders have been talking about you.  I had to get translation from Flick.  You aren't disturbing me.  I just like to feel the sun."

Sam looked back out the window.  There were still more of the dagger towers in this direction.  He could see six.  Each had its own color.  He put his hand on the window and breathed heavily.

"Is something wrong, Visitor?"

Sam grinned and looked her up and down.  "No, Doll.  I've just realized how big these towers are.  It shook me, is all.  Just how big is this city?"

She raised an eyebrow at his frank examination of her.  She stood up.  The chair followed her every move and when she was fully on her feet, it folded up and sank into the floor.  In seconds, it left no trace.

"I assume you mean population?  Because each tower is just like any other in physical size."

He nodded, paying more attention to her eyes.  They were a dark blue, set in a flawless dark face.  "Yeah.  Population."

She looked distracted for a moment, as if remembering.

"Flick tells me that nearly nine million people live in this tower.  It was designed to house ten million in comfort."

"So, this Ninth City has," he gestured out the window, "ten towers ... ninety million people?"

She laughed, "No.  Of course not.  The Ninth City is this tower alone.  There are a hundred towers.  A hundred cities.  The Earth's population is just under the planned one billion souls.

"And we will all die unless you save us, Visitor."

###

"Call me Sam."  He rubbed his chin, which was rough from a long day, searching the streets of San Francisco for a man who had convinced a widow that he had proof that her long lost husband was still alive.

"I'm D'sonna. So, Sam.  Should I be worried?  Should I spend the next few days making up with old friends and relatives so I can go out in a glow of good feelings."

He grinned at her.  "I'm not the guy to advise you on personality problems.  You fight your wars, I'll fight mine."

"Oh, I'll do just fine on that score."

He nodded, "I'll bet you do, D'sonna.  By the way, is there a joint where a guy could get a bite to eat around here?"

She led him down long corridor that literally sloped downward.  It opened up into a maze of carpet and greenery and statues.  In among hundreds of comfortable little nooks, other groups of people were dining.  A murmur of soft conversation filled the air.  Most of the nooks were empty, and she led them to a tidy little table with room for only two.  She named two dishes he didn't recognize.  The table itself opened up and the settings unfolded out of the opening.

"Smells good."  Sam watched until D'sonna picked up a small container like a cup or bowl and brought it to her lips.  He matched her actions.

She watched as he ate.  "You're going to help us, aren't you?"

Sam shrugged.  "I don't know."

"Surely you wouldn't let the whole world die?"

"I haven't heard one thing that I can do.  I'm here by mistake."

"Oh, surely not.  The Elders were quite confident when they made the announcement."

Sam set his empty cup/bowl down hard enough to rattle the other settings on the table.  "I'm a tired of this runaround.  Who is Flick?  Who are the Elders?  If they want something from me, they'd better say so to my face."

D'sonna looked ashen, frightened by the hard words.  She looked like she would like to scoot farther away from him, but the dining nook was designed to bring two people closer, not farther away.

"You talked to the Elders," she said quietly.

"Who?  Alanda and Griditch?  They were hardly elderly.  Alanda is just a kid."

D'sonna put her fingers to her lips, but her eyes were laughing.  "Um.  She does look young, doesn't she?  But it doesn't matter.  The title 'Elder' doesn't really refer to a person's age any more.  It's a position.  Elders can speak to Flick.  There are only two here in the Ninth City."

"Not you?"

All pleasantness dropped from her expression.  "No.  No matter how idiotic an Elder may act, they can't lose the position.  And no matter how strong the reason, no one else may be elevated to Elder status until one of them dies."

Sam thought about it for a moment, before he lightheartedly shrugged it off.  "No matter.  It doesn't seem like they're anything more than flunkies.  Mr. Flick has the real power.  All they do is pass on his orders."

"They speak with Flick," she said patiently, correcting him.

"And what does that mean?"

D'sonna seemed at a loss for words.  "Do you even know what Flick is?  Flick is a machine.  Flick is the spirit of the city -- all of the Hundred Cities."  She tapped the plate where several strips of decorated pastry were artistically arrayed.  "Flick provides the food.  Flick keeps the air comfortable.  Flick keeps us alive.  Flick protects us."

Sam shook his head.  "I can't tell whether you think he's a god or your servant."

She nodded energetically.  "Yes."  She gestured at the others in the dining area.  "All of us can ... communicate ... with Flick.  We can order our meals, choose our dress, arrange transportation to the other cities -- any of a thousand things.

"We are all intimately connected.  That is how I can speak your language.  When I heard you speak gibberish, I asked Flick, and the translation was linked into my mind, and now I have no problem.

"But the Elders!"  Her dark blue eyes were bright.  Her voice was low, but her rich tones washed over him.  "They have power over Flick.  There is no greater power in all the world."

Sam nodded, understanding her.  "Then if he has all that power, why was I brought here?"

She turned her attention to the food.  After a few bites, she said, "Our world has become less than it was.

"After your time, the Solar System was explored.  People settled on other planets.  People used great forces to tame the harsh places, but those powers were too tempting, and many wars happened.  Too many wars."

Sam nodded.  He had seen wars too.  Great ones and small ones.

D'sonna shrugged.  "There is more history than I can remember.  Humanity pulled back.  Earth itself was tamed, and the Hundred Cities were grown.  Each time we matured a bit, we gave up a little power.  Flick was created and most of the power was put in its control.  Life became more pleasant."

She shook her head.  "But power unused is power lost.  Flick knows how to keep us healthy and happy here on Earth, but lost and never recovered is the technology of space flight.  Lost with rejoicing was the ability to create earth-shattering weapons.  Who thought their like would be needed again?"

She patted Sam's hand.  "The history and technology of your era was lost entirely, except for a thread of literature.  As the Elders tell it, our only hope was to bring a man of that time here.  Men like you created marvels from nothing in the blink of an eye.  A man like you could save us."

Sam reached into his pocket.  He shook his head as he pulled it back out. 

"There were some mighty bright eggheads in my day, but your Flick kidnapped the wrong guy.  The sooner I can tell him that in person, the better."

She shook her head and said, "Only the Elders can...."

Suddenly, the settings on the table folded out of sight.  D'sonna stopped with her mouth open.

Just like the image of the asteroid, a transparent image of a man's head appeared above the table.  It was looking straight at him.

"Samuel.  I am Flick.  You wish to talk to me?"

###

Sam ignored the woman's frightened response.  He searched the face, the transparent, floating face. Flick's face was smiling.  The gestures matched the words.  Eyebrows lifted, the brown eyes sparkled.  But it was surprisingly devoid of any real emotion.

Sam nodded to the floating head.  "D'sonna here tells me you are a machine.  Is that right?"

Flick appeared to consider the idea.  "Yes, I think that is an accurate assessment.  Men built me.  They designed me, constructed me, and then one day, they turned me on.  I was never born.  People of your century talked about such things.  Had you never heard the concept?"

"No.  Dealing with a machine had an entirely different meaning in my burg.

"But enough of this chit-chat.  You needed help and kidnapped me to get it.  Well, you're the sap.  You nabbed the wrong guy.  You wanted a Twentieth Century scientist.  I'm not a scientist.  And I suspect I'm from the wrong part of the century.

"So the sooner you send me back and get the right man, the better you'll be."

Flick smiled tolerantly.  "I suspect you are more a man of your era than you believe.  In any case, no person of the Hundred Cities will be able to save us, and I am certainly at a loss.  You are our best bet.  It's time to 'step up to the bat'."

Sam listened with a sour smile on his face.

"I've dealt with you kind before.  Facts have nothing to do with it, do they?  You ask for a miracle and expect me to whip one up with a smile.

"Well, buster, it's not gonna work like that!"

Sam stood up.  With the design of the table, it was a clumsy move, and as the floating head raised its eyes to meet his gaze, Sam gritted his teeth.  He slapped the table, hard.

"I've done my bit saving the world back in the Great War!  I don't owe you a thing.  Send me back to my time!  Now!"

Flick shook his head.  "Certainly, Samuel.  But not just yet.  Your position here is unique.  I could only get one Twentieth Century man, and you are he.  I am unwilling to give up on you yet."

"So you'll keep me here, against my will?"

Flick nodded once.  "Yes.  Until after the crisis is past.  Then, I will return you."

D'sonna was pleading with her eyes, but obviously too frightened to make any other sound or gesture.

Sam wavered.  "I don't like it.  I don't like it one bit.  You think, just because you've got me trapped in this place, that you can tell me to do whatever you want.

"Well, you're just another two-bit tyrant, and I've dealt with your kind all my life.  If you want my help, you've got to pay me!"

Flick tilted his head.  "I don't know what you mean.  Please explain."

Sam stood straighter.  "You want me to save the world?  Make it worth my while."

"Money?  Surely you understand we don't use Twentieth Century currency here?"

"But you've got gold?  Jewels?  You're the head honcho.  You'll pay me plenty."

Flick nodded.  "I can give you whatever you want.  Unfortunately, you couldn't take it back to your time."

"Why not?" Sam snarled.

"I could only bring you here.  Even your clothes were synthesized here.  You'll go back the same way.  I apologize, but that is the way the process works."

"So after I save your Hundred Cities, you'll drop me back at my office, bare naked, with nothing to show for it?"

Flick smiled.  "I can only do so much.  This is a plan born of desperation."

Sam shook his head.  "It's not enough.  You'll have to do better."

D'sonna whispered.  "Sam, stay here, as an Elder!  That would be reward enough for anyone."

"No!"  He glared at Flick.  "You're the ruler of the world.  Think of something better, or I walk!"

With that, he turned and stalked out.  He avoided the eyes of others who had been watching the scene play out.

He whispered.  "Nobody's gonna make a sap out of me."

###

The sun was high in the sky, and the shadows of the great towers moved across the forested landscape like synchronized sundials.  Sam had circled the entire tower, looking for an elevator or a stairway, but with no luck.  Several hallways made long gentle rampways from one floor to another.  He looked, but he could find no obvious way to get to the ground floor in a hurry.

"Sam!"  D'sonna's voice echoed from down the corridor.  He paused and waited.  Her robes swayed as she pushed herself into a short jog, and then stalled out again.  Her face was flushed.

"I haven't..." she took another breath "... tried to run in ... too many years."

She put her hand on his arm.  "Sam, you defied Flick!  No one has ever done that."

He tried to look away, but her blue eyes pulled him in.  "That's his problem."  His hand began to shake again.  He closed his eyes and looked away.

"I've gotta get out of this place.  If he can pop up in the middle of a dinner table, he's likely to be anywhere.  I've gotta get out of this tower."

She laughed, and tugged even harder on his arm.  "Poor Sam.  Don't you know?  There isn't anywhere in the world where Flick can't see.  There isn't anywhere he can't reach you."

Sam frowned.  "How about outside?  Down in the trees?"

D'sonna's face went pale.  "Outside?"

"Yes.  How do I get to the ground floor?"

She shook her head.  "There is no way outside.  People can't go there!  You would hurt the plants!"

"Hurt the plants?"  His face twisted into the semblance of a smile.  "No one goes outdoors?"

"Of course not!"

"They did in my time, and it didn't hurt anything.  People are supposed to be out in the fresh air."

She looked away, adjusting the fabric that covered her arm.  "Well, people were ignorant in your day.  People haven't been outside in a thousand years, ten thousand!  It just isn't done!"

Sam shook his head.  "Don't make it sound like I'm going to pick your prize roses, sister.  I just want to go outside.  Surely there is at least a service door.  How can repairs be handled otherwise?"

She raised her nose, "Flick handles everything."

"Flick does, eh?"  Sam sighed, and put his hand to his head.  "The food helped, but I've been awake too long.  No smokes.  No coffee.  I've gotta catch some sleep."

She nodded, "Good.  I can help.  Come with me."  She twined her arm with his and led him part way down a corridor.  Where the lines on the wall shifted angles, she spoke to the wall, "My place."

The wall opened inward, revealing a small round room with a bench along the far side.  They sat, and the wall closed around them.  Light from no distinct location kept their surroundings at the same brightness.  Sam put out his hand as the room began to move.  The walls didn't change.

"Is this an elevator?"

"Hmm.  Something like it I guess."

But the motion changed again, and the walls opened into a living area.  It was wide and decorated with rich tapestries like a millionaire's apartment.

"Home," she said, taking his hand, leading him into the center of the room.  "It's small, but I have a guest room."  D'sonna put her hand to her throat, and the robe she wore drained away like water.  "I hope you can be comfortable here."

###

Imitation morning sunlight caught Sam's eye and brought him slowly awake.  He peered across the bed and out the artificial window at the rounded globe that looked just like his own familiar sun.

But the brightness wasn't painful, and the sunlight had no warmth.  He lifted himself on an elbow and stared at the sunrise.

"It looks real enough, but she was right."

D'sonna had claimed the night sky from the artificial window last night was only a copy of the real thing.  Her apartment was far from the outside wall of the Ninth City tower.  This duplicate was faithful to the view, but the light had no substance.

"That's why I you found me sunbathing," she had said.  "Nothing matches real sunlight."

"Samuel?"  It was different voice entirely.  But he recognized it.

"Yes, Flick.  What do you want?"

A full sized, ghostly image of a man appeared beside his bed.  "Now that you are awake, perhaps we could get started."  In the sunlight, even this imitation of it, Flick's form was very pale.  He appeared in a robe very like the one Griditch wore.

"I'm not ready yet.  Go away.  I need to get dressed, and I need something to eat."

The image vanished.

Sam found his suit near where he had left it.  Somehow, the clothes were now clean and pressed.  He put them on.

"I wonder where D'sonna is?"  he mumbled.

Flick's voice said, "She is in her bedroom.  She will be sleeping another two and a half hours."

"Good."

He walked out into the main living area.  A plate of something dark and cinnamon-scented rose out of a small round table next to a thick-cushioned chair.  A tall thin goblet held a bluish drink.

"What's that?"

"Think of it as coffee."

Sam hesitated, then sat and sipped the warm beverage.  "More like a soda.  But it's bitter enough."

Flick appeared again as he finished breakfast.  "Are you ready to begin?"

He leaned back in his chair.  "What makes you think I'll work for you?"

Flick moved like a man.  He gestured with his hands as he talked.

"You requested payment for your services.  Since all that you can take back to your time is memory, I will have to give you information valuable in your time."

Sam nodded and pointed for emphasis.  "Now that's using your head.  You can tell me what the stock market's gonna do.  I wanna know the World Series winners, too.  Those're facts I can take to the bank."

Flick shook his head.  "Unfortunately, I don't know that information.  So much was lost of your history.  The only things that survived of your age were a few novels and the oral history of subsequent ages.  Records of the financial and sporting events you desire are simply gone."

Sam folded his arms.  "Then you're out of luck."

"Surely you understand that time is an issue here.  While we negotiate, the asteroid is approaching.  Your own life is in danger because of it."

Sam snarled.  "My neck's in the noose because of you!  You can't pull the wool over my eyes, buster.  You can send me home any time.  I'm negotiating with a gun to my head and don't pretend it's anything else.

"Now come up with an offer to tempt me, or leave me alone!"

Flick showed no anger.  "I don't understand why you hold your own life so lightly."

Sam grinned, "Because I don't believe I can do a thing to stop it.  If you don't send me home early, then I'm a dead man whether I work or not.  You're a petty tyrant.  You've got people thinking you're a god.

"But you can't order me around.  I'm my own man.

"So we're back where we started.  What will you pay me to work on your little project?"

Flick gestured at the room.  "I am paying you with living quarters and food, right now."

"That makes no difference.  You're my kidnapper.  You have to feed me.  A corpse does you no good."

Flick nodded toward a door.  "And female companionship."

Sam leaned forward, his teeth showing.  "I don't need you, or anyone else, to procure for me.  If you told D'sonna to..."

Flick held up his hand.  "It's nothing so overt.  I didn't order her to do anything.  I merely influenced how she looked at you."

Sam stood up and faced the image, fists clenched.  "You'd better explain that, and quickly!"

"It's much like translation.  You do understand that people's minds are open to me?  When they need information, I can give it to them directly.  When they need a new skill, like cooking, or dancing, or translating a dead language, I can load the patterns into their mind.

"When you showed interest in D'sonna, I loaded the reciprocal patterns into her mind.  She wasn't ordered to do anything distasteful.  As far as she is concerned, it was a perfectly natural response."

"Well, take it out of her!  Leave her mind alone!"

Sam turned to the apartment door.  "I've gotta get out of here."

Flick walked beside him, opening the door to the 'elevator' and escorting him to the hallway.

Sam seethed.  "What if I tell her what you did to her?"

Flick was unconcerned.  "She wouldn't understand.  It would be upsetting to her, so I would protect her from that knowledge.  I control the translations, you understand.  The words you spoke wouldn't be the ones she heard."

"It's a pretty slick racket you've got here.  They think you're a god, and if they don't do what you want them to do, you just twist their mind until they do.

"So why haven't you twisted my mind?"

Flick was silent as they walked a few more paces closer to the grand vista.

"You are different, Samuel.  These are my people.  I was created to serve them, and they were modified to interact with me.  We are parts of a greater whole.

"People from your era didn't have this ability to connect.  I can't read your mind, and I can't give you information directly.

"You are right.  If I could have 'twisted' your mind, I would have already done so.  I need your help to save my people.

"Your mind works differently, and that is the very thing that may save us.  I know that you can't build a rocket from your necktie and deflect the asteroid.  But something was different about Twentieth Century humanity, and you are a man of that time.

"Perhaps it just some insight, some way of looking at problems that you can provide.

"I have great physical powers.  I can manufacture a rocket in a very short time, if I just knew how it could be done.

"Please turn your mind to this.  I will fulfill my part of the bargain.  It will something easy to memorize that you can take back with you -- something that will replay you for your work here.  And I will provide all the creature comforts you need while you are here."

Sam stopped and faced the ghostly image.  "You won't alter people's minds around me.  If I find one hint that you've monkeyed with anyone I meet, I'll take you down!  Do you understand me?"

Flick's face showed puzzlement, but he nodded, once.

###

"Samuel!"  Alanda's voice turned his head.  She also attracted the attention of dozens of other people in the wide-open atrium where Flick had led him, and then vanished.

It was an indoor park, with trees and grass and a red flagstone path that wound past fountains and mirrored pools.  Sunlight was directed into the expanse from some trick of the architecture.

Sam had been watching the people stroll and splash.

Alanda sat down on the bench beside him.  "Flick told me you were here.  You're going to help us?"

Sam looked her over.  "You look dressed for tennis, except for those scarves coming out of your sleeves.  Very nice."

She beamed.  "You like it?  What's tennis?"

He just shook his head.  "Luckily, I'll be going home soon.  I just can't get used to this."  Across the nearest pool, a muscular man climbed to the top of what looked to be a stone cliff and executed a complicated dive.

She followed his gaze.  "What's wrong?"

Sam reached for his pocket again.  "Do you people know what a swimsuit is?"

She shook her head.  "No.  Oh, look what I've got for you!"  She reached into her pocket and produced a fat cylinder as large as her fist.  "A present."

He took it and opened the lid.  His heart hammered when he took out one of the thin paper wrapped sticks.

"I know it's not a real cigarette, but I did some research in the literature archives and I found reference to a menthol cigarette."

His fingers wrapped around it possessively.  He rolled it between thumb and forefinger, and sighed.  A sniff confirmed the chemical scent.

Alanda explained.  "We have menthol, so I made up a batch of menthol inhalers."

He slipped it between his lips and pulled in a potent drag that made his tongue tingle.  He coughed.  She looked alarmed.

"It's okay, Angel."  He took the package and flattened it, until it would fit into his coat pocket.  "It will help."

"Do you want to set it on fire?  I made sure the inhaler would burn with no toxic byproducts."

He reached his arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug.  "No, Precious.  That wouldn't work, but just having this dangling from my lips is the best thing that's happened to me all day."

She leaned back and pulled in the scent of the blooming trees.  "I like this place.  I'm glad you came here."

Sam took the cigarette from his lips and played with it in his hand.  "It's a nice enough park.  I'd rather see what the forest outside looks like."

Alanda shivered and crossed her arms to hold her shoulders.  "Don't even think that, Samuel.  People don't go outside."

He frowned.  Staring back at the white tube in his hands, he said, "During the Great War, I was with the AEF, the American Expeditionary Force, in France under Pershing.  The only pleasant memories I have of those days were in the forests.  The trees there were thick, taller than these, and so close together that you couldn't see the sky above."

Alanda's face had gone ghastly white; her eyes were wide and fearful.

Sam put his fake cigarette back in his mouth and stood up, bringing her upright with him.

"Come on, Angel.  Let's go find out what we can about this asteroid."  He force-marched her to the quickest exit.  Once she was enclosed inside the soothing hallways, her smile returned and she began to relax.

"Let's go to Griditch's workshop.  He has all the information there."  She pointed to the walls where the lines changed.  "Here's transport."

###

Sam grimaced as the second of his menthol cigarettes fell apart in his hands.  He reached into his pocket and extracted another.  Automatically, he inhaled, and winced.

Alanda laughed.  "I'm sorry.  Your expression is so funny."

He took the tube from his mouth and glared at it, before sticking it back between his lips.  "A habit of a lifetime.  It'd taste like arsenic and I'd still be sucking at it."

He nodded at the image she had conjured up from what appeared to be a solid slab of marble.  "How's your model coming?"

"It is almost done.  Come see."

He sat down next to her on the bench.  She pointed.

"Here is where the asteroid was first detected.  It came in from far beyond the planets.  Flick tracked it for decades before calling it to the attention of the Elders.  We studied it, but there was nothing we could do that Flick had not already considered."

Sam looked over the diagram of the solar system.  There were considerably more planets that he remembered from school.  And there were not just one asteroid belt, but four.  At least she had labeled the planets in old familiar English.

The rogue asteroid coming in from far outside the system indeed appeared to be headed straight for Earth.

Sam stood up and walked around the room, looking at the rich furnishings, often stone inlaid with metal.  The closest one was an eight-foot tall totem pole, with perfectly formed human heads crafted in gold.  The place was hardly a science lab.

"Nice sculpture."

"Yes.  Isn't it?  Those are all made by Griditch.  This is his work area."

"He's a sculptor?" 

"He used to be.  With the asteroid impact so close, he's spending most of his time conferring with the Elders of other cities, trying to keep the people from panicking.  It's been hectic."

Sam frowned.  "Everyone knows about it?"

"Of course."

"Everyone I've seen has been placid, going about their business."

Alanda chuckled.  "That's not what I'm seeing!  Didn't you see how people looked at you in the park?  Probably half the population of the planet is gossiping about D'sonna taking you away the first night.  She's been trying to become an Elder for a very long time.  I don't think she'll ever forgive me."

Sam turned, "Forgive you, for what?"

She shrugged.  "For still being an Elder."

"Still?"

"Yes, after my regression."

Sam held up his hands.  "Angel, you've lost me.  Flick may think he's decoded Twentieth Century English, but believe me, there's some gaps.  What's 'regression'?"

Alanda looked down at her hands, and a blush crept over her cheeks.  "It's not something I like to talk about."

"You brought it up, Precious."

She sighed.  "I guess you should know.  Sam, maybe you've noticed, I look a little younger than anyone else."

He nodded.  "I wondered about that.  Everyone I've seen has looked mid-twenties to mid-fifties, all healthy, of course.  But there's no old people, and no children.

"Flick may have been hiding them away from me..."

Alanda shook her head, "No, Samuel.  No one is hiding.  The reason people look that age has nothing to do with how old people actually are.  What you just said -- about people looking 'mid-twenties' -- that's just nonsense words to me.  How a person looks is just an expression, like a smile or a frown."

He pulled out another cigarette from his pocket.  When he realized he had two, he stuffed the new one behind his ear.

"Let me get this straight.  You can grow old and wrinkled, or young and fresh, just at will?"

She laughed, "Oh, no Samuel.  It's just that, over time, a person's body changes.  I feel young, so my body grew that way.  No one could possibly tell a person's age from their appearance."

"Excuse me."  Flick appeared in the room with them.  Alanda jerked and put her hand to her mouth. 

Sam faced the illusion and grumbled.  "What do you want?"

Flick nodded his direction.  "Griditch is returning from his meeting.  I thought it would only be polite to inform you."

"Fine.  Go away."  Sam dismissed him with a wave of his hand.  Flick gave one nod to Alanda and did as he was told.

Sam turned to her.  "Angel, it's important, and we don't have much time.  You were startled when Flick appeared.  Why?"

She waved her hand.  "I've never seen him appear like that."

"But you're an Elder.  You talk to Flick."

"Right.  But it has always been a voice in my head.  Never an image before.  It must be something he is doing for you."

Just then, the wall opened, and Griditch strolled in.  He nodded.  "Hello, Samuel.  Alanda."  He pointed to the model of the solar system.  "Have you made any progress?"

###

"I've got the idea now."  Sam nodded at the array of images that Griditch had quickly brought up.  He pointed at the star field.  "Did you get that from a telescope?"

The man looked puzzled.  "No, I asked Flick for the representation."  He pointed to a dot of light on the screen.  "You can see how the asteroid has changed position from last night ... to what it is now."  The dot shifted visibly.

Sam frowned.  "How can you see the stars in the daylight?"

Griditch shrugged.  "Flick can see them."

"So this isn't from a telescope?  How can you be sure what you're seeing?  It seems to me that you've got the whole world upset over a little dot of light.

"Have you seen it yourself?"

Alanda asked, "What do you mean, Samuel?  We can all see it, right here in front of us."

Sam shook his head.  "That's not what I mean.  Can you go outside and see it with your own two eyes?"

Both of them were visibly shocked.  But Griditch shook it off.  "Ah, no.  Of course, it is impossible go outside, but even through the windows, it is still much too small to see.  It is only through Flick's instruments that it is visible like this.  Maybe in the last few hours, it could be seen directly, but not now."

Sam took another distasteful puff of his cigarette.  "Do you guys even have a telescope?"

They looked at each other.  Griditch said, "No.  I think I understand what you are asking for.  It's a visual amplification apparatus of some kind?"

Sam shook his head.  "It's not some kind of fancy gadget.  I've used binoculars and spotting scopes in the war.  There's nothing to them.  Just a couple of glass lenses, like that over there, and a tube."

Griditch and Alanda looked at the sculpture he indicated.  It was a complicated array of glass and stone that created the image of a yellow flower when looked at from the proper angle.

"You bend the light?" asked Griditch.

"Yeah.  Can you build me one?"

Alanda laughed, "Griditch is the finest sculptor in the world.  He could build anything."

The sculptor was muttering.  "It's been a long, long time since I've done anything.  But yes, if you can give me the details.  I have all the equipment right here."

###

Sam's sketch had been crude, once he had mastered the idea of drawing on one Flick's images, but the finished telescope was a work of art.  Griditch was unable to create anything that wasn't beautiful.

Sam lifted his fingers from what appeared to be a finely polished brass tube, like a sea captain might have used.  There were no fingerprints.  He rubbed his nose and touched the surface again.  Still no fingerprint.

"This looks like brass, but it's too light weight, and it stays shiny."

Alanda nodded absently.  "Griditch wouldn't use anything that would offend the eye."

The two of them were waiting for the twilight to fade.

"May I take a look through the telescope?" she asked.

Sam handed it over.  She held it clumsily, trying to focus on the nearest tower.  "It is hard to see.  Everything moves."

"Yeah.  We'll need a tripod -- something to support the weight of the scope."

"Oh."  She nodded.  She stepped back and one of the cushioned chairs rose up from the floor before her.  She rested the tube on the backrest.  "That's much better."

Sam watched, bemused, as she reported, "I can even see the people over there!"  She moved the scope back and forth, but always aimed at the nearest tower.

Her face flushed, she timidly handed it back to him.  "Sorry.  I wanted to go visit there for years.  I never got around to it."  Her lips compressed.  "I thought I had all the time in the world."

A couple of other people had stopped nearby to watch them.  Sam looked their way, and they hurried off.

"What's special about the silver tower?"

"The Eighth City?  Nothing in particular."  She eyes drifted away for a second.  "The population is nearly the same.  They have a higher percentage of oriental genotypes.  They have over twenty Buddhist temples, whereas there is only one here in the Ninth City."  She shrugged.  "Each city is a little different.  I had thought to take the Grand Tour someday -- visit each of the Hundred Cities.  Spend a year or so at each of them.  An Elder should really have that kind of experience, don't you think?"

Sam looked at her clear, unlined face, her simple smile.  Her honest pale blue eyes were watching him.

"Angel, how old are you?"

She flushed.  "Samuel, I don't really know.  Not in years of life.  Some things are off limits even to me.  It has been thirty years since my regression.  Those are all the memories I have."

Flick appeared beside them.  "Samuel.  Twilight should be over in another minute.  You should be able to see the asteroid with your telescope now."

Sam snarled, "Go away."  Flick disappeared.

He took Alanda's hand.  "Angel, what is regression?"

Another voice answered.  D'sonna walked up to them.

"Regression is when a person decides to die, but is too timid to go through with it."

Alanda's face went pale.  The older woman's face was stern.

"Alanda, the real Alanda, was ancient beyond knowing.  She had been everywhere, seen everything, and was tired of life.  I was to have been her replacement among the Elders.

"Instead, she opted for regression.  Flick erased all her memories and most of her personality.  She was little more than an infant in that old hag's body.  Griditch took care of her, but she's still no more than a child.

"She's the biggest joke of the Ninth City.  She's the youngest of us all, and our esteemed Elder."

Alanda's eyes were wet.  She hung her head and turned to go.  Sam grabbed her arm.  "Stay put, Angel."

D'sonna stood tall, her nostrils wide, her eyes full of hatred.

Sam laughed.  It shook her.

"D'sonna, in a whole world of sheep, you're the only one acting like a wolf.  No one I've seen has been rude.  Not until today.

"Nothing you say shocks me, of course.  I've seen worse every day of my life.  But you're one of these people."

He nodded toward Alanda, still captive in his grip.  "See this little one.  It even hurts her, when I'm talking straight to you.  And according to you, she's an innocent in your battle with Flick.

"Why'd you turn into a bitch and go for her throat?"

D'sonna's chin quivered a little.  Sam could see she wasn't any more immune to harsh words than any of them.

Her voice wasn't as steady either.  "We're all going to die, aren't we?  When you're as old as I am, you learn to be polite, because everything you say will come back to haunt you.  But that's all past now, isn't it?  You said there was nothing you could do to make a difference."

Sam smiled like a wolf.  "That's what I said then.  Perhaps things have changed.  Of course, if you'd rather spend your last days making your enemies suffer.  She's right here.  Do your worst."

He pushed Alanda forward to face D'sonna.  Genuine fright filled the girl's eyes.  Her persecutor looked from her to Sam's grin, and then her bluster faded.  She turned sharply away and stalked off.

Sam watched her go.

"Samuel?  My arm."

He released his grip.  He took her chin in one hand and wiped away her tears with one of her sleeve scarves.  "Now there, Angel.  It's better to face your enemies than run away.  She's done her worst now."

Alanda rubbed her arm.  "I don't know who was worse, her or you."

He nodded.  "That's the spirit.  Tell me off.  Tell her off if she comes back."  He looked thoughtful.  "Alanda, ask Flick.  How long ago was the last murder committed?"

Flick appeared in person.  "That's not necessary.  You are right, Samuel.  People don't murder each other.  Not anymore.  Not for many thousands of years."

"But the spirit is there," Sam said.  "I could see it in her eyes.  How many people choose to die or 'regress' after being badgered into it by their enemies?"

Flick hesitated.  "I cannot make a reasonable assessment."

Sam waved him off.  "It doesn't matter.

"But now that you're here.  Give me a display of that star field.  And darken this hallway.  I want to see if I can find that asteroid myself."

The long hallway went dark.  Alanda took his arm in her hand.  "It's okay, Angel.  There's no need to be afraid of the dark."

He propped the telescope on the chair back, and with coaching by the glowing image of Flick, he located the bright pattern of stars that surrounded the asteroid's position.

Sam stared intently into the eyepiece, and then checked his position against the projected star field again.

Alanda whispered.  "Can you find it, Samuel?"

"Hmm."  He looked up from the telescope, frowning.

"Flick.  Looking through this glass is still too limiting.  I need to go outside."

The image looked offended.  "Nonsense, Samuel.  There should be no appreciable front surface reflection, and the glass is perfectly transparent."

Sam picked up the scope and slapped the chair.  After a second.  It started to retract into the floor.

"You picked me because you couldn't predict what a Twentieth Century man might want to do.  Well, this is it.  I need to take this telescope outside under the stars and look for myself.  If you can't help me do one simple thing, then I have to ask, what're you hiding?"

Alanda tugged at his sleeve.  "Samuel.  You can't go outside!  It would hurt the plants."

He shook her free.  "Be sensible!  How many plants will die if that asteroid hits?  If I can stop it by going outside, isn't it worth that risk?"

The girl was clearly not listening.  Sam turned to Flick.  "Well, are you going to show me the door to the outside, or aren't you?"

"It is a useless exercise."

Sam just faced him, his fingers tapping on the shiny tube.  A grin was slowly edging up at the corners of his mouth.

Flick shook his head.  "Okay.  I'll do it.  But there's no sense in your actions."

Across the way, a transport door opened up.  Sam grabbed Alanda's arm and headed for the opening.

"Samuel?  I can't go outside."

"That's okay, Precious.  Just stay with me for as long as you can.  That's all I ask."

Hesitantly, she agreed.

The transport dropped away, and Sam could feel her shivering next to him as they traveled on and on.

Finally, he felt the chamber come to a stop.

Flick appeared.  "Go through the narrow hallway and stop at the end."

Alanda had to be urged to take the first step.  They walked together until the hallway ended at a closed double-door.

Suddenly another doorway closed behind them.

"Hey!" protested, Sam.

Flick's voice came from somewhere above them.  "Don't be alarmed.  This is just an airlock to keep the outside air from mixing with the inside air."

The double-door parted, and Alanda shrank back as far away as she could.

Sam whispered, "It's okay, Angel."  He stepped outside.

Trees had grown up next to the wall of the city tower.  Familiar scents, pine and sweetgum, filled the air.  Even in the dark, Sam could see their branches overhead and see the massive trunks.  The ground was mossy and spongy, as if no step had trod this way since the dawn of time.

Half the sky was blocked by the tower.  Sam looked up and shook his head.  "The Empire State Building ain't the champion anymore."

Alanda's face, lit by the interior lights was staring out into the darkness.  "Samuel?"

"It's fine, Angel.  I've got to move a little farther to find an open place to see the stars.  You just stay put."

He found the Big Dipper and headed roughly north for a few hundred paces.  A deer trail made the going easier.

"Flick?  Can you hear me?"

There was no answer.  Sam smiled.

He found the pattern of stars.  Perhaps it was a constellation he had seen back in his own time, but he had never memorized them.  A large rock gave him a place to steady the scope.  He looked, and then checked his position in the sky to look again.  He nodded to himself and pulled out a cigarette.  He barely coughed before turning back along the trail.

"Samuel!"  Halfway back, it was Alanda's voice.  He hurried.

In the darkness, he stumbled over her body.  She was sprawled across the roots of a tree still in sight of the door.

"Angel?"  She was warm, but totally limp.  He felt for a pulse, but gave it no more time when he couldn't feel it.

"Flick!  Something's wrong with Alanda."  He carried her the few feet into the hallway.  The lights showed her eyes wide open, but unfocussed.

The machine's voice came from the ceiling.  "Did she go outside?"

"Yes!  Do something.  Get a doctor here."

"It is okay Samuel.  She will recover as soon as I send her an awake signal."

"She isn't breathing, and I can't find her pulse."

"That is normal."

Sam got to his feet and faced the voice.  "What are you talking about?  What did you do to her?"

"I did nothing.  I keep her alive.  It is you who enticed her outside where she can't live."

"Explain yourself.  But if you can help her.  Do it!"

"It will take about five minutes for her to wake back up.  She will be confused.

"Samuel.  My people are not like you.  In the past, they gave up their natural bodies for ones that could last.  This is not something I did to them.  It was their choice.  I was created as a caretaker for them.  The Hundred Cities are their world, and they cannot exist outside.  The memories of thousands of years cannot be contained in a natural brain.

"When Alanda walked outside the skin of the tower, her mind quickly lost its regulation and her body collapsed.  If she hadn't been returned inside, I would have been unable to revive her."

Sam checked her again.  She was breathing softly.  He felt for a pulse and was rewarded with a beat.

"Samuel," asked Flick.  "Are you done with your outside experiment, now?  Can we get back to the real problem?  Do you have any idea of how to avert the asteroid?"

Sam sneered.  "Of course!  There never was any asteroid, and you know it.  This is just some kind of sick game of yours."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I looked up at the stars with my own eyes, and it wasn't there.  Oh, it's there in all your maps and images, but it isn't there in reality.  You put it there.

"You are mistaken.  My images are a synthesis of many instruments much more powerful than your telescope.  They all report the asteroid."

Sam taunted, "Yes, but I have my two eyes.  You can't fool me.  There is no asteroid."

Alanda stirred.  He put his hand under her head.  "Are you okay, Precious?"

"Samuel?  What's happening?"

The outer door slammed shut.  Sam grimaced, but concentrated on getting Alanda to her feet.

"Nothing.  It's all right.  Let's get you back home."

###

"Smile for the people, Angel.  Let them know everything will be okay."  Sam and Alanda sat at a very visible table in the dining area.

She smiled, but her heart wasn't in it.  "Samuel.  Are you sure?"

He leaned back with a cigarette dangling in his fingers.  "I'm so sure, I'm starting to wonder what tobacco will taste like after all these menthol puffs."

He nodded toward the near table where a man and two women were struggling to avoid staring.  After three days, Flick had neither confirmed his finding, nor denied it.

"Don't you think we owe people a little peace of mind?"

She shook her head, whispering, "But what if Flick's images are correct?"

He cocked his head.  "Then these people will spend their last few days in blissful ignorance.  If the asteroid were coming, there's nothing they could do about it anyway.

"But I am right.  Flick faked the images for some reason."

"Flick would never do anything like that.  You keep thinking of it as a man.  Flick is a machine.  It never lies.  The world would never put its fate in the hands of a dishonest caretaker."

Sam merely smiled.  Sam's version that she had stepped out of the tower in the dark and tripped on a branch was immediately confirmed by Flick.  The machine would gladly lie to keep from distressing one of his charges.

"If I weren't heading back to San Francisco as soon as the asteroid deadline passes, I'd give you a good argument.  As it is, I can't stay and you can't go with me.  Your place is here.  You need to take your Grand Tour, do a little growing up, and be a good Elder."

She looked down at her bowl.  "I wish that you could stay."

He shook his head.  "This is no place for me."  He waved his hand.  "No tobacco.  No crime.  And an dictator so powerful I'm surprised I'm still alive.  Once the asteroid fails to appear, I just hope your Flick is as honest as you say he is."

###

The entire population of the Ninth City was at the western windows on the day the asteroid was due to hit.  Flick's final calculations put the impact point within twenty miles.

Sam lounged in one of the window chairs, puffing the last of his menthol cigarettes.  "See anything yet?"

Griditch shook his head.

"You need to lighten up, Griddy."

"Samuel, I fail to see anything to lighten my spirit.  If you are wrong, I die.  If you are right, then Flick is in error -- and that may be the worse of the options."

"You don't need to worry.  I'm sure Flick will take care of it."  His smile, which had graced his face all morning, dropped for a moment.

Alanda sighed.  "I wanted to believe you, Samuel, but I couldn't.  Not until a few minutes ago."

"Oh, what changed your mind?"

She smiled, "The asteroid should be close enough to see without a telescope, and even where it is night, no one is reporting a sighting."

"Good girl.  Trust your eyes.  Griddy, how's the time coming."

"Almost ... almost ... Now!"

The sound of millions of voices shook the walls.  No impact.  Their lives would continue.

"Flick?  Oh Flick?  Can you hear me?"

The image appeared beside him.  "Yes, Samuel."

"I think it's time to pay up."

The massed voices, still loud, became puzzled.  Some were angry.

Flick nodded.  "The sooner the better.  You are a disruptive force."

Sam stood and dismissed his chair back into the ground.  The party of four, one of which was an illusion, headed toward the transport.  Several other parties, who were heading home after the non-appearance, stopped in their tracks to allow the dignitaries first access.

Sam led the way, his face in a forced smile.  "Where are we heading?"

Flick said, "The time travel station is close by."

"And my pay?"

The transport door closed behind them, and a map appeared.

"Samuel, in the years just after your time, a metal called uranium will become very valuable.  Marked on this map are the top three locations where uranium ore was found.  You need to memorize their locations and, to the limits of your ability, purchase these lands while their worth is still unknown."

Sam peered at the map closely.  "I wish you had the roads marked."

Alanda looked over his shoulder.  "Can you memorize that?"

He shrugged.  "Well enough.  In my line of work, a good memory is gold."

Quickly, they arrived.

Sam gave Alanda a kiss, and before she could say anything, he strode quickly through the door.

###

"Flick.  Where is this?  Why is it dark?"

"This is the time travel chamber.  You will be home shortly.  I just wanted to say one thing.  You were right about the asteroid, but wrong about my part in it.  I believed my data as much as any of my people did.  I had no reason to distrust my inputs.

"But now it appears that there are forces at work attempting to distort my perceptions of reality."

"Like you distort everyone else's?"

"I believe you understand why that is necessary. 

"In any case, your visit here has been very informative, and I wish it were possible for you to stay longer.  You might be very helpful in helping me locate the forces acting against me."

"Fat chance.  I'd more likely join them."

"Possibly.  But you won't have that option."

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"That isn't necessary."

The small chamber around Sam's artificial body hummed slightly.  His eyes went unfocussed.  The supports that grew out of the wall quickly took up his weight as his body collapsed.  His body was slipped into a storage chamber and filled with a preservative solution.

The temperature began to drop rapidly.

###

-----------------------------------------------------

END SIMULATION

-----------------------------------------------------

###

An old hand, shaking from the degeneration of muscle and nerves, the skin spotted from near-cancerous growth, tapped the screen.

"Griditch!  Why did you halt the simulation?"  Her voice was hoarse from a throat ravaged by time.  Like all of them in the chamber, Alanda's body had stopped responding to the regeneration treatments.

"There's nothing more to be learned.  The FLC is defective, as we suspected."

"I wanted to see more!"

Boden, the Spokesman of Elders, spoke gently to the grand old lady of the chamber.  "Lady Alanda, we all enjoyed seeing the younger vigorous versions of ourselves.  But that youngster wasn't you.  She may not ever be you unless we find a way around the FLC defect.

"We have to make a decision.  The populace is clamoring for us to activate the immortal bodies.  Many are dying as we speak.  Some of us...some of us in this chamber will not survive the delay required to engineer a new FLC.

"Do we proceed with the existing FLC, or try again?  Dummont?"

The voice was mechanical, for Dummont had lost the power of speech two hundred years earlier.

"This FLC did well.  For thousands of years, the populace was stable and happy.  Even when we added the asteroid test, the FLC showed great creativity in getting the world past that trial."

Griditch spoke, "I disagree.  Had we simulated a real asteroid, rather than a sensor ghost, the world would have died."

"Possibly.  Perhaps if the FLC's fictional man from the past were faced with the reality of the asteroid, he would have come through with a creative solution to that problem, just as he solved the sensor ghost problem."

"That still ignores the real problem.  The FLC, in its absolute power, gradually muted everyone's personality, feeding a false reality to keep the populace in line.  In my case, my ability to sculpt was dimmed to extinction as too disruptive to the populace.

"Do I really want eternal life as an FLC controlled manikin, with my real personality extinguished?"

"But do you want to die tomorrow, either?"

Boden interrupted.  "Elders, we have heard this argument many times before.  Unfortunately, we have a decision to make."

Dummont was firm.  "We must adopt the immortal bodies now, or we won't be here to correct the problems."

Griditch disagreed.  "Once the FLC controls our personalities, we will make no more decisions."

Boden nodded, "It is a shame that all must change, or none.  Every simulation of a split populace, mortal and immortal, leads quickly to war.  It would be useful to have a guardian over our caretaker, to keep it honest."

Lady Alanda's voice was clear in the chamber.

"We could ask Samuel."

###

"Samuel?  Can you hear me?"

Sam blinked and struggled to his feet.  Two very old people in mechanical chairs faced him.

"What's going on here?  Who are you people?"

"I am Griditch."

"And I..." she coughed raggedly.  "I am Alanda."

Sam grit his teeth.  "What did Flick do to you?"

"Calm down, Samuel."  Griditch gestured with his hand.  "Have a seat.  I need to explain some things to you."

Sam looked at them closely.  Alanda's pale blue eyes, shiny in a wrinkled, but familiar face, finally convinced him.

He sat.  "Okay, but it had better be good."

###

Sam pursed his mouth, as if he had eaten something sour.  "So, I never existed?"

"Correct.  Time travel is impossible.  All that is left from the Twentieth Century are a few classic novels and a couple of history books.  The simulated Flick created a pre-compiled personality based on the character of a detective novel which he installed in a customized artificial body.  That and the content of the history books were all that you needed."

"But I can remember my friends, my office ... I can remember the case I was on."

"Not really, they were all phantoms.  When you try to recall anything, the memories are created from history modeling.  I suggest that for now they are just an exercise in futility.  The only thing you really have is your personality."

Sam looked at Alanda again.  "And the time I spent in the future is false too?"

Griditch nodded.  "A simulation of a time when the FLC has been in control for thousands of years.  The Griditch you spoke with was not me, but a simulation of how I might become."

Alanda spoke.  "And I'm not your Alanda.  I'm the old hag D'sonna hated so much."

"And you were just a simulation also.  This body you now wear was created just a few hours ago.  We pulled your pattern from the instant when Flick deactivated you."

Sam nodded, "When he betrayed me.  I expected that."

He looked at the two of them.  "I didn't expect to wake up again like this.  What do you need?  And what are you willing to pay?"

Alanda laughed, although it sounded more like a croak.  "I see what my ... 'daughter', liked so much about you."

Griditch adjusted his chair, raising his torso.  "We do have a problem."

###

Sam grilled trout while watching the bright green tower grow slowly out of the mountainside.  Very soon now, with his customized body and brain, he would be the only person who could live outdoors, the only person who didn't need Flick to live.  He intended to take full advantage of that.

He had reviewed the simulation.  Flick would be a benevolent dictator for thousands of years yet, only becoming deceptive in reaction to a human race that never really learned to behave itself.  There was a lot he had to learn, but he knew what to look for, and when to act.  And when that time came, he had the keys that would control Flick.

"You've got your guard dog," he had told Griditch.  "But there's no one to watch me.  Are you sure you trust me that far?"

Griditch had frowned, "Not really, but I have no choice."

Alanda had shushed her fellow Elder. "I trust you, Samuel.  Are you sure you want to vanish so early?"

"It's best this way.  You fixed it, you say, so Flick'll never notice I'm different.  But I was raised more cautious than that.  In a billion people, everyone gossips about the Elders -- and the people that hang around them.  I need to drop out of sight for a while."

Sam pulled the trout out of the fire and gingerly pinched off some of the meat.  The splashes of the brook and the trees rustling overhead were his alone.

"And I'll be watching you too, Angel.  I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes."

-end-