ABSOLUTELY NO PARADOX
By Lester del Rey
If time-travel is possible, then
why haven't we been visited by
people from the future? But Pete
LeFranc found the answer to that.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Science Fiction Quarterly May 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The old men's section of the Arts and Science Club was always thebest ordered. The robots somehow managed to avoid clanking there; thegreensward beyond the veranda was always just right, and the drinkswere the best for six counties. Old Ned Brussels touched his glass tohis lips appreciatively, sighed in contentment, and waited for some ofthe other oldsters to break the silence.
Finally, Lem Hardy took the plunge. "He did it," he announced,referring to a conversation of weeks before. Then, at their puzzledlooks, he amplified. "My grandson, damn it! He's got a time machine—itworks. Sent a cat four days up, and it came through unharmed."
The glass fell from Old Ned's hand, bouncing on the floor, and spillinggood liquor. A robot came forward silently to clean it up, but Neddidn't look at it. "Four days doesn't mean a thing. Lem—is that kidplanning on trying it out?"
"He's going to try it next week."
"Then for the Lord's sake, stop him! Look, does it work like this?" Hisfingers slipped over the pencil smoothly, as they had always done whenhe worked, drafting robot bodies in the old days. A rude schematicseemed to grow almost instantly on the paper.
Lem took it, then stiffened suddenly. "Who told you?"
"A youngster named Pete LeFranc—and it was forty years ... no, overfifty years ago. Lem, if you like your grandson, keep him out of themachine. Four days, four weeks—they don't mean anything. Time machinesdon't work, however well they seem to."
A bustle from behind them pulled their eyes around. One of the robotswas quietly restraining a nervous young man who was trying to breakfree and join the group. His face was tense, excited, with an oddbitter fear behind it. His words were seemingly cut out of steel. "...told me I'd find him here. Damn it...."
"Sorry, sir. You'll have to wait." The robot's voice was adamant underits smoothness.
Ned grunted, and then impulse led him to look again. He'd seen theman somewhere. He hunted for it, then dismissed it, knowing thathis memory was tricky these days. But he motioned the robot aside."We don't allow interruptions for junior members," he told the man,letting his voice soften the words. "Still, if you want to sit down andlisten—quietly—nobody'll stop you."
"But...."
"Quietly!" The robot stressed the word. The man looked at it, thenswiveled to Ned Brussels. For a moment, the bitterness halted, as iffrozen, then gave place to a sudden sharp amusement. His eyes searchedNed's, and he nodded, dropping into a chair.
Lem took up the conversation again. "It worked. And if it works forfour days, it should work for four centuries. You're just scared ofparadoxes, Ned—going back and killing your grandfather, or such rot.You've been reading too many stories on it."
"Fifty years ago, Pete LeFranc said the same thing. Young man, eithersit down, or get out! This is the Old Men's section! He had answers forall the paradoxes, too—except one question."
Ned had been young, then, just getting started at synthana