The Man Who Folded Himself by David Gerrold Page B

could do it later. Boy, I could get used to this—)
    I found my way to the track easily enough; I’d been watching Don yesterday. Today Dan was watching me. Now, if I remembered correctly, there should be a parking place, right over . . . here. There was, and I pulled neatly into it.
    I bought a private box and had no trouble finding it. Dan was properly impressed with how well I knew my way around; actually, I was trying not to be so cocksure, but it wasn’t easy. He was such a perfect audience to my newly discovered self-confidence.
    After we’d gotten our drinks, I remembered how Don had pretended to study the newspaper yesterday and how funny I thought that had been. So I did the same thing. I frowned and muttered thoughtfully, and Danny giggled in appreciation. Maybe he was starting to warm up to me. “Yes . . . I think Absolam’s Ass looks pretty good in the first,” I announced. “Danny, go put a hundred dollars on Absolam’s Ass. To win.”
    He started fumbling in his pockets. I pulled out some bills from mine. “Here,” I said impulsively. “Make it two hundred.”
    He blinked and took the two hundred-dollar bills I was holding out. “You want to get rich?” I said. “You have to spend money to make money.”
    He went off to place the bet, leaving me to wonder what I had just done. Don had given me only one hundred dollars. I had given Dan twice as much. I had changed the past again!
    First the sweater and slacks, now the amount of the first bet, yet I remembered it happening the other way—
    Paradox? A pair of paradoxes? I finished my drink thoughtfully, then finished Danny’s.

    Absolam’s Ass paid off at three to one and we had six hundred dollars. I went and got two more drinks while Danny went to bet on Fig Leaf. I found myself wondering—if I could change the past so easily, maybe it wasn’t as fixed as I thought it was, maybe Fig Leaf wouldn’t win this time. But on the other hand, I hadn’t done anything that should have any effect on that, had I?
    Fig Leaf paid off at two to one. We now had twelve hundred dollars. I had another drink. Ginger ale. For some reason, this was getting scary.
    Calamity Jane came in on schedule too. We doubled our money again.
    The next race was the fun one. I’d forgotten about Harass bumping Tumbleweed. When Finders Keepers came in second, Dan looked at me in confusion. “Wait—” I grinned. After Harass was disqualified, we were worth nineteen thousand, two hundred dollars. I felt great. We could keep this up all afternoon and we would end up with $750,000—no, twice that; I had doubled our original bet. We’d take home a million and a half! “Go put it all on Big John,” I said. I must have been getting a little dizzy.
    Dan went off, but almost immediately, he was back. No—I stood up in surprise—this was Don. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
    â€œSit down,” he said. He looked grim.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    He handed me a newspaper. It looked like today’s Daily News . I opened it up—
    The headline blared: IDENTICAL TWINS TAKE TRACK FOR $1,500,000! And in smaller type: Track Officials Promise Full Investigation.
    I looked at Don. Confused.
    He looked back. Angry. “Don’t be greedy,” he said. “Quit before it gets too big.”
    â€œI don’t understand—” I started to stammer.
    â€œI’ve come from the middle of next week,” he whispered. “Only in that future, we’re in trouble. Big trouble. We won too much money here at the track today, so I’ve come back to tell you not to win any more. They’re going to get suspi cious.”
    â€œHow about one more bet?” I asked. “Michelangelo will make us worth a hundred and fifteen thousand, two hundred dollars.”

    He frowned. “Even that might be too much.” His eyes blazed; he