The End of Eternity Read Online Free PDF Page B

and say, “Good, good.” Then his cold blue eyes would dart quickly at Harlan and his smile would narrow a bit as he said, “I’ll test this guess on the Computaplex.”
    He always called the analysis a “guess.” He never told Harlan the result of the Computaplex check, and Harlan dared not ask. He was despondent over the fact that he wasnever asked to put any of his own analyses into action. Did that mean that the Computaplex was
not
checking him, that he had been choosing the wrong item for the induction of a Reality Change, that he did not have the knack of seeing the Minimum Necessary Change in an indicated range? (It was not until later that he grew sufficiently sophisticated to have the phrase come rolling off his tongue as M.N.C.)
     
    One day Twissell came in with an abashed individual who seemed scarcely to dare raise his eyes to meet Harlan’s.
    Twissell said, “Technician Harlan, this is Cub B. S. Cooper.”
    Automatically Harlan said, “Hello,” weighed the man’s appearance, and was unimpressed. The fellow was on the shortish side, with dark hair parted in the middle. His chin was narrow, his eyes an indefinite light brown, his ears a little large, and his fingernails bitten.
    Twissell said, “This is the boy to whom you will be teaching Primitive history.”
    “Great Time,” said Harlan with suddenly increased interest.
“Hello!”
He had almost forgotten.
    Twissell said, “Arrange a schedule with him that will suit you, Harlan. If you can manage two afternoons a week, I think that would be fine. Use your own method of teaching him. I’ll leave that to you. If you should need book-films or old documents, tell me, and if they exist in Eternity or in any part of Time that can be reached, we’ll get them. Eh, boy?”
    He plucked a lit cigarette out of nowhere (as it always seemed) and the air reeked with smoke. Harlan coughed and from the twisting of the Cub’s mouth it was quite obvious that the latter would have done the same had he dared.
    After Twissell left, Harlan said, “Well, sit down”—he hesitated a moment, then added determinedly—“Son. Sitdown, son. My office isn’t much, but it’s yours whenever we’re together.”
    Harlan was almost flooded with eagerness. This project was
his!
Primitive history was something that was all his own.
    The Cub raised his eyes (for the first time, really) and said stumblingly, “You
are
a Technician.”
    A considerable part of Harlan’s excitement and warmth died. “What of it?”
    “Nothing,” said the Cub. “I just—”
    “You heard Computer Twissell address me as Technician, didn’t you?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Did you think it was a slip of the tongue? Something too bad to be true?”
    “No, sir.”
    “What’s wrong with your speech?” Harlan asked brutally, and even as he did so, he felt shame nudge him.
    Cooper blushed painfully. “I’m not very good at Standard Intertemporal.”
    “Why not? How long have you been a Cub?”
    “Less than one year, sir.”
    “One year? How old are you, for Time’s sake?”
    “Twenty-four physioyears, sir.”
    Harlan stared. “Are you trying to tell me that they took you into Eternity at twenty-three?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Harlan sat down and rubbed his hands together. That just wasn’t done. Fifteen to sixteen was the age of entrance into Eternity. What was this? A new kind of testing of himself on the part of Twissell?
    He said, “Sit down and let’s get started. Your name in full and your homewhen.”
    The Cub stammered, “Brinsley Sheridan Cooper of the 78th, sir.”
    Harlan almost softened. That was close. It was only seventeen Centuries downwhen from his own homewhen. Almost a Temporal neighbor.
    He said, “Are you interested in Primitive history?”
    “Computer Twissell asked me to learn. I don’t know much about it.”
    “What else are you learning?”
    “Mathematics. Temporal engineering. I’m just getting the fundamentals so far. Back in the 78th, I was a Speedy-vac