forthcoming, he broke the silence. "You mean that time travellers can't affect history at certain critical times after all? But Tylar, that would invalidate the whole rationale for your people's policing of the past. . . ."
"Oh, no," the time traveller cut in emphatically, seeming to look around for something to mop his brow with as he waved away Sarnac's near-obscene suggestion. "Absolutely not! That's not what I mean. That aspect of the theory is still good. As I explained to you and Tiraena, throughout most of history reality possesses a very strong 'fabric,' impervious to being 'torn' even by seemingly brutal applications of force." He shifted into discursive mode. "Remember I mentioned that we have research tools beyond your understanding, whereby we can extrapolate the outcomes of theoretical interventions in history? Well, we used these methods to plot out one of the favorite daydreams of early time-travel theorists: going back and killing Adolph Hitler in his cradle. You'd be surprised how little would have changed. The Germans of the post-World War I era would have found somebody else like him. Likewise, doing the same to the infant Christopher Columbus would accomplish little except to satisfy certain American Indian revanchists. The European discovery of America around that time was inevitable. Oh, some unimportant things would have been different; the Spanish language might have become less widespread, Portuguese and Dutch perhaps more so. But the Native American societies were doomed."
"At the same time," Sarnac said, in an effort to get Tylar back on track, "you told us that at certain points history has a weak, frayed 'fabric' that can be torn with minimum effort. You indicated that Artorius's Gallic campaign that we were mixed up in was one of those points in history."
"Indeed it was. History was at a turning point, and its momentum could have been deflected by the lightest touch and sent careening off onto a whole new course."
"But it wasn't ," Sarnac stated. "Your policing operation was a complete success, wasn't it? You told us as much. So what's the big deal?"
"Well, it seems that some areas of 'weak fabric' in the historical tapestry are even weaker than others, and that your conversation with Artorius in Bourges represented a moment of extraordinary—perhaps unique—weakness. Our theorists don't understand why—there's so much we don't understand!—but evidently reality can only tolerate that degree of instability for the briefest instant; it only lasted a few seconds after you spoke to Artorius, while he wavered. But for that moment in time, the future teetered on a knife-edge!"
"Scary," Sarnac admitted. "But, again, so what? The moment passed, Artorius decided as history said he did, and that was that. 'God's in his heaven, all's right with the world.' "
"Well . . . yes and no. You see, the discovery of that area of unprecedentedly weak 'fabric' led us to the realization that our theories held the flaw to which I alluded earlier." He seemed to gather himself. "Remember my mentioning that 'branches of time' are fantasy, and that any given act can have but one outcome?"
"Yeah. Too bad; no 'parallel universes' with 'alternate histories.' I've always been a science-fiction fan—the classic stuff from the twentieth century—and they used to dream up some . . ." His voice came to a horrified halt. "Wait a minute, Tylar! Are you about to tell me that . . ."
"Oh, the theory is still good—under almost all circumstances. But it turns out that truly extreme weakness in the 'fabric' of reality does, after all, allow the same event to have multiple outcomes, all of equal mathematical validity. We'd never had occasion to become aware of this fact because we'd never encountered such conditions before. That moment with you and Artorius in Bourges may have been unique. I devoutly hope so." This time Tylar did mop his brow, using his sleeve.
"So you're saying," Sarnac continued faintly,
"Oh, no," the time traveller cut in emphatically, seeming to look around for something to mop his brow with as he waved away Sarnac's near-obscene suggestion. "Absolutely not! That's not what I mean. That aspect of the theory is still good. As I explained to you and Tiraena, throughout most of history reality possesses a very strong 'fabric,' impervious to being 'torn' even by seemingly brutal applications of force." He shifted into discursive mode. "Remember I mentioned that we have research tools beyond your understanding, whereby we can extrapolate the outcomes of theoretical interventions in history? Well, we used these methods to plot out one of the favorite daydreams of early time-travel theorists: going back and killing Adolph Hitler in his cradle. You'd be surprised how little would have changed. The Germans of the post-World War I era would have found somebody else like him. Likewise, doing the same to the infant Christopher Columbus would accomplish little except to satisfy certain American Indian revanchists. The European discovery of America around that time was inevitable. Oh, some unimportant things would have been different; the Spanish language might have become less widespread, Portuguese and Dutch perhaps more so. But the Native American societies were doomed."
"At the same time," Sarnac said, in an effort to get Tylar back on track, "you told us that at certain points history has a weak, frayed 'fabric' that can be torn with minimum effort. You indicated that Artorius's Gallic campaign that we were mixed up in was one of those points in history."
"Indeed it was. History was at a turning point, and its momentum could have been deflected by the lightest touch and sent careening off onto a whole new course."
"But it wasn't ," Sarnac stated. "Your policing operation was a complete success, wasn't it? You told us as much. So what's the big deal?"
"Well, it seems that some areas of 'weak fabric' in the historical tapestry are even weaker than others, and that your conversation with Artorius in Bourges represented a moment of extraordinary—perhaps unique—weakness. Our theorists don't understand why—there's so much we don't understand!—but evidently reality can only tolerate that degree of instability for the briefest instant; it only lasted a few seconds after you spoke to Artorius, while he wavered. But for that moment in time, the future teetered on a knife-edge!"
"Scary," Sarnac admitted. "But, again, so what? The moment passed, Artorius decided as history said he did, and that was that. 'God's in his heaven, all's right with the world.' "
"Well . . . yes and no. You see, the discovery of that area of unprecedentedly weak 'fabric' led us to the realization that our theories held the flaw to which I alluded earlier." He seemed to gather himself. "Remember my mentioning that 'branches of time' are fantasy, and that any given act can have but one outcome?"
"Yeah. Too bad; no 'parallel universes' with 'alternate histories.' I've always been a science-fiction fan—the classic stuff from the twentieth century—and they used to dream up some . . ." His voice came to a horrified halt. "Wait a minute, Tylar! Are you about to tell me that . . ."
"Oh, the theory is still good—under almost all circumstances. But it turns out that truly extreme weakness in the 'fabric' of reality does, after all, allow the same event to have multiple outcomes, all of equal mathematical validity. We'd never had occasion to become aware of this fact because we'd never encountered such conditions before. That moment with you and Artorius in Bourges may have been unique. I devoutly hope so." This time Tylar did mop his brow, using his sleeve.
"So you're saying," Sarnac continued faintly,
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