'What do you think of the food?' Eakins asked.
'It's pretty good,' I admitted. 'But what is this?' I held up my fork.
'It's ham,' he said. 'Ham cells layered and grown on a collagen web. No animals were harmed in its manufacture. And it's a lot healthier than the meat of your time. Did you know that one of the causes of cancer was the occasional transfer of DNA- genetic material-from ingested flesh? This protein has been gene-stripped. Enjoy.'
'Why is it pink?'
'Because some people like it pink. You can also have it green, if you want. Children like that. The fruit is banana, papaya, mango, kiwi, pineapple, strawberry, ly-chee, and China melon. I told Brownie to keep things simple, I should have been more specific. This is his idea of simple.'
'Stop it. You're showing off.' Eakins put his fork down. 'Okay, you caught me on that one. Yes, I'm showing off.'
'I've cracked the case.'
'Really?' He sipped his coffee. 'You're certainly sure of yourself this morning.'
'The young men-they don't fit very well in their own time, do they?'
Eakins snorted. 'Who does? You never fit very well in any year we sent you to.'
'No, it's more than that. They're outcasts, dreamers, nerds, and sissies. They have enormous potential, but there's no place for any of them to realize it-not in 1967. It's really a barbaric year, isn't it?'
'Not the worst,' Eakins admitted, holding his coffee mug between his two hands, as if to warm them. 'There's still a considerable amount of hope and idealism. But that'll get stamped out quickly enough. You want a shitty year. Wait for '68 or '69 or 70; '69 has three ups and five downs, a goddamn roller coaster. 74 is pretty bad too, but that's all down, and the up at the end isn't enough. 79 is shitty. Was never too fond of'80 either. 2001 was pretty grim. But 2011 was the worst. 2014… I dunno, we could argue about that one - '
I ignored the roll call of future history. He was trying to distract me. Trying to get me to ask. 'They're not being murdered,' I said. 'There's no killer. You're picking them up. It's a talent hunt.'
He put his coffee cup down. 'Took you fucking long enough to figure it out.'
'You kidnap them.'
'We harvest them. And it's voluntary. We show them the opportunity and invite them to step forward in time.'
'But you only choose those who will accept-?'
Eakins nodded. 'Our psychometrics are good. We don't go in with less than 90 percent confidence in the outcome. We don't want to start any urban legends about mysterious men in black.'
'I think those stories have already started. Something to do with UFO's.'
'Yeah, we know.'
'Okay, so you recruit these boys. Then what?'
'We move them up a bit. Not too much. Not as far as we've brought you. We don't want to induce temporal displacement trauma. We relocate them to a situation where they have access to a lot more possibility. By the way, do you want to meet Jeremy Weiss? He has the apartment across from here. He's just turned fifty-seven; he and Steve are celebrating their twenty-second anniversary this week. They were married in Boston, May of 2004, the first week it was legal. Weiss worked on - never mind, I can't tell you that. But it was big.' Eakins wiped his mouth with his napkin. 'So? Is that it? Is that the case?'
'No. There's more.'
'I'm listening.'
'All of this-you're not taking me out of the game. You said I was on probation. Well, this is a test. This is my final exam, isn't it?'
Eakins raised an eyebrow. 'Interesting thesis. Why do you think this is a test?'
'Because if you wanted to get me off the case, if all you wanted to do was keep me from interfering with the disappearances, all you had to do was bump me up to 1975 and leave me there.'
'You could have quake-hopped back.'
'Maybe. But not easily. Not without a good map. All right, bump me up to 1980 or '85. But by your own calculations, you use up a year of subjective time for every three years of down-hopping. Twenty years away takes me out of the tank, but it doesn't incapacitate me. But bringing me this far forward-you made the point last night. I'm so far out of my time that I'm a cultural invalid, requiring round-the-clock care. You didn't do that as a mistake, you did it on purpose. Therefore, what's the purpose? The way I see it, it's about me-there's no other benefit for you -so this has to be a test.'
Eakins nodded, mildly impressed. 'See, that's your skill. You can ask the next question. That's why you're a good operative.'
'You didn't answer my question.'
'Let's say you haven't finished the test.'
'There's more?'
'Oh, there's a lot more. We're just warming up.'
'All right. Look. I'm no good to you here. We both know that. But I can go back and be a lot more useful.'
'Useful doing what?'
'Doing whatever-whatever it is that needs doing.'
'And what is it you think we need doing?'
'Errands. You know the kind I mean. The kind you hired me for. The jobs that we don't talk about.'
'And you think that we want you for those kinds of jobs…?'
'It's the obvious answer, isn't it?'
'No. Not all the answers are obvious.'
'I'm a good operative. I've proven it. With some of this technology, I could be an even better one. You could give me micro-cameras and super-film and night-vision goggles… whatever you think I need. It's not like I'm asking for a computer or something impossible. How big are computers now anyway? Do they fill whole city blocks, or what?'
Eakins laughed. 'This is what I mean about not understanding socio-tectonic shifts?'
'Eh?
'We could give you a computer that fits inside a matchbox.'
'You're joking-'
'No, I'm not. We can print circuits really small. We etch them on diamond wafers with gamma rays.'
'They must be expensive - '
'Lunch at McDonald's is expensive. Computers are cheap. We print them like photographs. Three dollars a copy.'
'Be damned.' Stopped to shake my head. Turned around to look at Brownie. 'Is that what's inside your head?'
'Primary sensory processing is in my head. Logic processing is inside my chest.
Optical connects for near-instantaneous reflexes. My fuel cells are in my pelvis for a lower center-of-gravity. I can show you a schematic - '
I held up a hand. 'Thanks.' Turned back to Eakins. 'Okay, I believe you. But it still doesn't change my point. There are things you can't do in '67 that I can do for you. So my question is, what do I have to do? To go back? What are my real options?'
Eakins grinned. 'How about a lobotomy?'
'Eh?'
'No, not a real lobotomy. That's just the slang term for a general reorientation of certain aggressive traits. That business with Matty's dad, for instance, that wasn't too smart. It was counterproductive.'
'He had no right beating that kid - '
'No, he didn't, but do you think breaking his nose and giving him a myocardial infarction produced any useful result?'
'It'll stop him from doing it again.'
'There are other ways, better ways. Do you want to learn?'
Considered it. Nodded.
