With the large central room now serving as both meeting room and dining room, Heather’s couch was in the corner near the old conference room. She knew she had worn herself out the previous day when she didn’t wake up until both Sarah and George were busy at their desks. She wandered over in pajamas. “Is it really morning?”
Sarah smiled at the seven-year-old. “Did someone burn the candle at both ends yesterday?”
Heather
nodded.
George cleared his throat. “Got some new rules for you, young lady.”
She sat down in front of his desk.
“Today, for the first time, you’ll be preparing for a session while non-program people are in the building.”
“Yeah. I was wondering about that.”
“Here’s what we came up with. While you’re working with a note pad, non-program people can’t be in the same room with you. If you need to confer with them, even work with them, hand your note pad to a security person, or lock it in your mail drawer.”
Heather nodded. “Doable.”
“I’ll tell the workers,” Colonel Ba-kerga concluded, then turned his attention to something on his desk.
“I’m constantly amazed,” Sarah began, “how grown-up you think and talk, Heather.”
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“I never really had a childhood. I could observe and analyze all my own developmental stages when I was a baby. Now, I can watch other children play, and join in for very short periods without them getting suspicious, but all the while I’m aware of the psychological functions of play, so I’m never really playing, with my whole heart and mind, like they are.”
“Do you regret that . . . trade-off?”
Heather was silent for a moment. “On reflection . . . no. But it’s a long way from here to . . . creating a team that can join me in the work I must do.”
“You’ll be patient with us, I hope.”
Heather smiled and sighed. “I’ll try.”
“Got your envelope?”
Sarah saw the mind and heart of the seven-year-old in full control for a moment as Heather’s eyes sparkled with curiosity and she dashed back to her corner to get her shiny new key.
Maria was walking on air all day long as she cooked in her make-shift kitchen and watched the craftsmen transform the other end of the room, first with paint, then light fixtures, and finally the most beautiful floor tiles.
Only two more days, she reminded herself, until the new equipment and tables arrived.
“Good morning, everyone,” Heather said from her couch on Wednesday morning. “There are now three of you sharing a ride here in a blind transport.
Please tell us about yourself, Doctor Po-selem.”
“Please, call me Chris,” begged the only person in the room with wild hair.
“Physics is my game, has been all my life. I’m thrilled to be part of something that needs to know about time travel. I’m also fascinated by you, young lady.
At breakfast, I spotted from a mile away that you are not seven years old, even though you look the part.”
She grinned. “Actually, most people guess eight, sometimes nine.”
He laughed deeply.
“The main presentation today will be short,” Heather began, “as we want plenty of time for discussion. The topic was especially chosen to get Doctor Po-selem — Chris — sharing his thoughts and theories with us.”
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She relaxed and closed her eyes for a minute.
“How do you know your knowledge of the future is accurate? ” she read.
“Might it be of some other reality, such as a parallel universe? Could any actions by you in the past, or any of us in the future, cause your knowledge to become inaccurate? ”
Heather looked around the circle and saw discomfort with the questions on several faces, especially the women, but the physicist appeared ready to do handsprings.
“I had an easy day prepping yesterday,” she admitted, “and got to lay tile in the kitchen with the guys.”
The mood in the room lightened.
“I must admit, I look forward to getting a philosopher on the team . . .”
“Working on it,” General Bo-seklin slipped in.
“I know someone!” Doctor Po-selem volunteered. “I’ll talk to him as soon as . . . oops, I forgot. No, I won’t talk to him. Not one word. Ever.”
Heather grinned and Colonel Ba-kerga gave the physicist a stern look.
“Thanks, Sam,” she said. “Maybe you could get that name from Chris.”
The general nodded.
“So . . . playing philosopher temporarily . . . the word knowledge has a very strict definition, which I’m going to use today. To be knowledge, we have to believe it, we have to have good reasons for believing it, and it has to be true to the best of our ability to discern.
“Using that definition of knowledge, my so-called knowledge of the future may, or may not, be accurate.”
She saw everyone paying close attention, especially Doctor Po-selem.
“Criterion One — yes, I do believe my knowledge is accurate, and is of our universe.”
Several people nodded slightly.
“Criterion Two — are my reasons for so believing good enough? I guess that’s up to the military, since they’re paying the bills.”
Doctor Po-selem threw back his wild hair and howled with laughter.
Susan was leaning forward and paying close attention.
Heather smiled at the psychologist before continuing. “Here are some of
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 75
my reasons. First, everything I remember about the future fits with the world I’m living in now. The places all have the right names, and the famous people are all the same. The social and political processes seem to be the same, and at the right places in their evolutions. Even though the person whose memories I have is a child at this point in time — a normal child without any knowledge of the future — she will read about events of this time period, and earlier, in high school and college later on. Her education is supplemented, of course, by some direct memories, like seeing the president assassinated on television.”
A moment of sadness came over the team.
“Those are my reasons for believing that my memories are accurate. They seem good to me. I cannot think of any more tests I can apply, other than the third criterion itself. If you think of any, please share them at the appropriate time.”
She saw two or three pencils go to work.
“Criterion Three — are they true to the best of our ability to discern? This is where my track record comes in. I imagine having a score board, like at a ball game, on the wall somewhere in here.” She looked around, as if to pick a wall, but noticed Colonel Ba-kerga shaking his head sternly, so she flashed him a cheesy grin.
“One point for the battleship,” General Bo-seklin interjected.
Heather licked her finger and drew a one in the air, but then stopped and frowned. “Maybe half a point, since that wasn’t technically knowledge of the future, even though it only becomes publicly known in the future.
“But back to our questions. In the seven years before I came into this program, about a dozen major events happened that I knew beforehand were going to happen. My mother thought it was pretty weird that I was looking at the newspaper every day, while still in diapers . . .”
Chuckles came from all around the circle.
“Unfortunately, none of those predictions were documented, so they don’t count for anyone but me. In the twelve days I’ve been here, we’ve had one event that I was able to document, about ten seconds before it happened.”
She made another mark in the air. “You’ll hear about that on the Session Two tape, Chris.”
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 76
“I’m doing that this afternoon.”
Heather nodded. “I might be able to develop a good score more quickly by working in Crisis Mode and trying to predict every little thing, but we’ve already discussed why that’s not going to happen, and wouldn’t, in the long run, do our country or our world any good.”
She was glad to see understanding nods from the general and executive officer.
“That leaves one more question.” She grabbed the type-written sheet again. “Could any actions by you in the past, or any of us in the future, cause your knowledge to become inaccurate? ”
Doctor Po-selem was almost off his couch with anticipation.
“This brings up the thorny question of how much effort it would take to change the future. In the previous seven years of my life, I tried very hard to conceal my . . . weirdness . . . but a few people did notice. My mother and I got very good at hurrying off to some appointment we didn’t really have.”
Several people chuckled.
“Did that change anyone’s life, anyone’s important decisions, enough to effect future events in any substantial way? I don’t know. That’s where I hope Chris can help us.”
He looked ready to explode with thoughts and theories.
Heather continued speaking. “I never actually told anyone, including my mother, anything of substance about the future. Thinking about national and world events is not my mother’s strong point. She’s very good at putting on make-up.”
Major Ma-soran smiled.
“I only shared with her my knowledge of a few minor, local things, like the fact that Pier Twelve Amusement Park was closing last year, so could we please go on the rides one more time before it suddenly, without warning, shut its gates. Those little predictions impressed my mother, but having a daughter who is weird, in any way, is sufficiently embarrassing that she was quite willing to keep it between the two of us.”
Doctor Po-selem’s hand was in the air like an excited schoolboy.
“Patience, my dear physicist,” the seven-year-old scolded.
He slumped onto his couch and almost pouted.
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Heather smiled at him. “And so, assuming I didn’t do anything earlier to mess things up, that brings us to the questions that will probably keep this team awake at night. What will it take to change the future? Is it even possible? Do we need to guard against the slightest slip, or will it take a major effort? And, most importantly I think, how do we figure out what to do if we decide some future event needs changing? Would it be the most obvious, direct action, or would something more subtle be better?”
She could hear deep breathing all around the circle.
“My presentation is over, but I want Chris to just listen while everyone else gets a chance to throw out questions and comments.”
Heather could see Sarah trying hard to hold in a smile.
General Bo-seklin began the discussion by asserting that until an explicit decision to the contrary was made, even the slightest slip was a violation of top-secret-umbra security.
Colonel Ba-kerga nodded.
Several people complimented Heather on her analysis of the topic, but couldn’t think of questions.
Major Ma-soran raised her hand. “Has anything NOT happened that you believe should have?”
“No. I’ve been able to find every major event in newspapers or news magazines, although my memory of when things should happen, has not always been perfect. Gosh, we’ve been so busy, I forgot to ask if we could get newspapers in here . . .”
“Already sent in subscriptions to several,” Sarah assured.
The room fell silent until Heather noticed that Susan the psychologist had anguish written all over her face. The girl leaned forward and looked at the woman. “I know you feel completely lost here, but believe me, we need you.
You’ve listened to Session One, so you know what we have in common.”
Susan dabbed at the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “I thought I was going to counsel refugees, or something like that. I know how to do that . . . at least, I think. I don’t know how to do this.”
“Welcome to the club,” the general said.
Many others echoed the same thought.
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“I’d like to spend some time with you every week,” Heather said. “This program is as much about us, as people, as it is about the abstract work of studying the future.”
After a few moments to collect herself, Doctor Bo-kamla agreed. After all, she admitted, there weren’t any refugees who needed her services at that time.
Eventually Heather looked at Doctor Po-selem. “Thank you for being patient, Chris.”
“Thanks for making me be patient. I know now that the team-building process going on here is as important as the technical stuff . . . maybe more important.”
Heather and several others nodded.
“And I’m honored to be part of it. I’ll try to keep the human aspect in mind as I talk, but if I get lost in my theories, please throw something at me.”
“I will,” Heather promised with a straight face.
He smiled. “I think I should start by explaining the Time Traveler’s Paradox.”
“But I don’t see how she fits the definition of a time traveler,” Colonel Ba-kerga challenged.
“She fits it because when anything goes back in time, even just information, the paradox is operative. That’s the main reason, television shows notwithstanding, that scientists believe time travel into the past is impossible. Travel into the future does not create the paradox, just as long as
. . . you never come back.”
He saw that he had their undivided attention.
“Okay, imagine that you go back in time, even just one minute, and stop yourself from going back in time. In a more extreme case, you could kill the earlier you, or if you go back far enough, one of your ancestors. In any case, if you stop you from going back in time, then you wouldn’t be going back in time to stop you from going back in time! Paradox!”
He could see them squinting and twisting their faces in thought. Only Heather nodded with understanding.
“In Heather’s case, her memories could allow her to find the source person, and somehow influence that girl’s life so she doesn’t get those
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 79
memories. How could Heather possibly have those memories in that case, the memories that allowed her to find the source person? Hence, the Time Traveler’s Paradox. Scientists debate what would happen — Heather might lose her memories and become a normal seven-year-old girl . . . the universe might explode . . . no one knows.”
He glanced at Heather and saw her mouth hanging open. “I presume,” he continued, “you haven’t made any attempt to find the . . .”
“No, I haven’t, and it would be nearly impossible because . . .” Since he hadn’t yet listened to Session One, she gave a brief summary of the memories she should have, but didn’t.
“Fascinating!” the physicist blurted out, his eyes big and round. “No biographical information. Surgically removed. That would be a fairly good protection against triggering the Paradox. Not perfect, but good.”
“So that would mean,” Heather jumped in excitedly, “that God knew the Time Traveler’s Paradox was a danger, so He censored my memories to remove that temptation!”
“But always remember,” Doctor Po-selem added with a worried frown,
“that if anyone ever went to the trouble of analyzing your memories enough to find the source person, the least that could happen would be that your memories would be changed, and very possibly erased.”
“That . . . won’t . . . happen,” General Bo-seklin asserted more firmly than he had ever spoken about anything before.