firmly toward the Communications man behind the desk.
Communications looked up, without quite meeting his eye, and said cautiously, “Yes, sir.”
Harlan said, “There’s a woman at a desk in Computer Finge’s office. Is she new here?”
He had meant to ask it casually. He had meant to make it a bored, indifferent question. It rang out, instead, like a pair of cymbals clashing.
But it roused Communications. The look in his eye became something that made all men kin. It even embraced the Technician, drew him in as a fellow. Communications said, “You mean the babe? Wow! Isn’t she built like a force-field latrine, though?”
Harlan stammered a bit. “Just answer my question.”
Communications stared and some of his steam evaporated. He said, “She’s new. She’s a Timer.”
“What’s her job?”
A slow smile crept over Communications’ face and grew into a leer. “She’s supposed to be the boss’s secretary. Her name is Noÿs Lambent.”
“All right.” Harlan turned on his heel and left.
Harlan’s first Observation trip into the 482nd came the next day, but it lasted for thirty minutes only. It was obviously only an orientation trip, intended to get him into the feel ofthings. He entered it for an hour and a half the next day and not at all on the third.
He occupied his time in working his way through his original reports, relearning his own knowledge, brushing up on the language system of the time, accustoming himself to the local costumes again.
One Reality Change had hit the 482nd, but it was very minor. A political clique that had been In was now Out, but there seemed no change in the society otherwise.
Without quite realizing it he slipped into the habit of searching his old reports for information on the aristocracy. Surely he had made Observations.
He had, but they were impersonal, from a distance. His data concerned them as a class, not as individuals.
Of course his spatio-temporal charts had never demanded or even permitted him to observe the aristocracy from within. What the reasons for that might have been was beyond the purview of an Observer. He was impatient with himself at feeling curiosity concerning that now.
During those three days he had caught glimpses of the girl, Noÿs Lambent, four times. At first he had been aware only of her clothes and her ornaments. Now he noticed that she was five feet six in height, half a head shorter than himself, yet slim enough and with a carriage erect and graceful enough to give an impression of height. She was older than she first seemed, approaching thirty perhaps, certainly over twenty-five.
She was quiet and reserved, smiled at him once when he passed her in the corridor, then lowered her eyes. Harlan drew aside to avoid touching her, then walked on feeling angry.
By the close of the third day Harlan was beginning to feel that his duty as an Eternal left him only one course of action. Doubtless her position was a comfortable one for herself. Doubtless Finge was within the letter of the law. Yet Finge’s indiscretion in the matter, his carelessness certainly wentagainst the spirit of the law, and something should be done about it.
Harlan decided that, after all, there wasn’t a man in Eternity he disliked quite as much as Finge. The excuses he had found for the man only a few days before vanished.
On the morning of the fourth day Harlan asked for and received permission to see Finge privately. He walked in with a determined step and, to his own surprise, made his point instantly. “Computer Finge, I suggest that Miss Lambent be returned to Time.”
Finge’s eyes narrowed. He nodded toward a chair, placed clasped hands under his soft, round chin, and showed some of his teeth. “Well, sit down. Sit down. You find Miss Lambent incompetent? Unsuitable?”
“As to her incompetence and unsuitability, Computer, I cannot say. It depends on the uses to which she is put, and I have put her to none. But you must realize that she is bad
Communications looked up, without quite meeting his eye, and said cautiously, “Yes, sir.”
Harlan said, “There’s a woman at a desk in Computer Finge’s office. Is she new here?”
He had meant to ask it casually. He had meant to make it a bored, indifferent question. It rang out, instead, like a pair of cymbals clashing.
But it roused Communications. The look in his eye became something that made all men kin. It even embraced the Technician, drew him in as a fellow. Communications said, “You mean the babe? Wow! Isn’t she built like a force-field latrine, though?”
Harlan stammered a bit. “Just answer my question.”
Communications stared and some of his steam evaporated. He said, “She’s new. She’s a Timer.”
“What’s her job?”
A slow smile crept over Communications’ face and grew into a leer. “She’s supposed to be the boss’s secretary. Her name is Noÿs Lambent.”
“All right.” Harlan turned on his heel and left.
Harlan’s first Observation trip into the 482nd came the next day, but it lasted for thirty minutes only. It was obviously only an orientation trip, intended to get him into the feel ofthings. He entered it for an hour and a half the next day and not at all on the third.
He occupied his time in working his way through his original reports, relearning his own knowledge, brushing up on the language system of the time, accustoming himself to the local costumes again.
One Reality Change had hit the 482nd, but it was very minor. A political clique that had been In was now Out, but there seemed no change in the society otherwise.
Without quite realizing it he slipped into the habit of searching his old reports for information on the aristocracy. Surely he had made Observations.
He had, but they were impersonal, from a distance. His data concerned them as a class, not as individuals.
Of course his spatio-temporal charts had never demanded or even permitted him to observe the aristocracy from within. What the reasons for that might have been was beyond the purview of an Observer. He was impatient with himself at feeling curiosity concerning that now.
During those three days he had caught glimpses of the girl, Noÿs Lambent, four times. At first he had been aware only of her clothes and her ornaments. Now he noticed that she was five feet six in height, half a head shorter than himself, yet slim enough and with a carriage erect and graceful enough to give an impression of height. She was older than she first seemed, approaching thirty perhaps, certainly over twenty-five.
She was quiet and reserved, smiled at him once when he passed her in the corridor, then lowered her eyes. Harlan drew aside to avoid touching her, then walked on feeling angry.
By the close of the third day Harlan was beginning to feel that his duty as an Eternal left him only one course of action. Doubtless her position was a comfortable one for herself. Doubtless Finge was within the letter of the law. Yet Finge’s indiscretion in the matter, his carelessness certainly wentagainst the spirit of the law, and something should be done about it.
Harlan decided that, after all, there wasn’t a man in Eternity he disliked quite as much as Finge. The excuses he had found for the man only a few days before vanished.
On the morning of the fourth day Harlan asked for and received permission to see Finge privately. He walked in with a determined step and, to his own surprise, made his point instantly. “Computer Finge, I suggest that Miss Lambent be returned to Time.”
Finge’s eyes narrowed. He nodded toward a chair, placed clasped hands under his soft, round chin, and showed some of his teeth. “Well, sit down. Sit down. You find Miss Lambent incompetent? Unsuitable?”
“As to her incompetence and unsuitability, Computer, I cannot say. It depends on the uses to which she is put, and I have put her to none. But you must realize that she is bad
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