Short Fiction

and the men and women of this era of the past. Without it he could not hope to find complete understanding and sympathy here.

He was still alone and soon winter would come and the sky grow cold and empty⁠ ⁠…

The Time machine materialized so suddenly before him that for an instant his mind refused to accept it as more than a torturing illusion conjured up by the turbulence of his thoughts. All at once it towered in his path, bright and shining, and he moved forward over the dew-drenched grass until he was brought up short by a joy so overwhelming that it seemed to him that his heart must burst.

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Rutella emerged from the machine with a gay little laugh, as if his stunned expression was the most amusing in the world.

“Hold still and let me kiss you, darling,” her mind said to his.

She stood in the dew-bright grass on tiptoe, her sleek dark hair falling to her shoulders, an extraordinarily pretty girl to be the wife of a man so tormented.

“You found me!” his thoughts exulted. “You came back alone and searched until you found me!”

She nodded, her eyes shining. So Time wasn’t too vast to pinpoint after all, not when two people were so securely wedded in mind and heart that their thoughts could build a bridge across Time.

“The Bureau of Emotional Adjustment analyzed everything I told them. Your psycho-graph ran to fifty-seven pages, but it was your desperate loneliness which guided me to you.”

She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it.

“You see, darling, a compulsive fear isn’t easy to conquer. No man or woman can conquer it alone. Historians tell us that when the first passenger rocket started out for Mars, Space Fear took men by surprise in the same way your fear gripped you. The loneliness, the utter desolation of space, was too much for a human mind to endure.”

She smiled her love. “We’re going back. We’ll face it together and we’ll conquer it together. You won’t be alone now. Darling, don’t you see⁠—it’s because you aren’t a clod, because you’re sensitive and imaginative that you experience fear. It’s not anything to be ashamed of. You were simply the first man on Earth to develop a new and completely different kind of fear⁠—Time Fear.”

Moonson put out his hand and gently touched his wife’s hair.

Ascending into the Time Observatory a thought came unbidden into his mind: Others he saved, himself he could not save.

But that wasn’t true at all now.

He could help himself now. He would never be alone again! When guided by the sure hand of love and complete trust, self-knowledge could be a shining weapon. The trip back might be difficult, but holding tight to his wife’s hand he felt no misgivings, no fear.

The Calm Man

Sally Anders had never really thought of herself as a wallflower. A girl could be shy, couldn’t she, and still be pretty enough to attract and hold men?

Only this morning she had drawn an admiring look from the milkman and a wolf cry from Jimmy on the corner, with his newspapers and shiny new bike. What if the milkman was crowding sixty and wore thick-lensed glasses? What if Jimmy was only seventeen?

A male was a male, and a glance was a glance. Why, if I just primp a little more, Sally told herself, I’ll be irresistible.

Hair ribbons and perfume, a mirror tilted at just the right angle, an invitation to a party on the dresser⁠—what more did a girl need?

“Dinner, Sally!” came echoing up from the kitchen. “Do you want to be late, child?”

Sally had no intention of being late. Tonight she’d see him across a crowded room and her heart would skip a beat. He’d look at her and smile, and come straight toward her with his shoulders squared.

There was always one night in a girl’s life that stands above all other nights. One night when the moon shone bright and clear and the clock on the wall went tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. One night when each tick said, “You’re beautiful! Really beautiful!”

Giving her hair a final pat Sally smiled at herself in the mirror.

In the bathroom the water was still running and the perfumed bath soap still spread its aromatic sweet odor through the room. Sally went into the bathroom and turned off the tap before going downstairs to the kitchen.

“My girl looks radiant tonight!” Uncle Ben said, smiling at her over his corned beef and cabbage.

Sally blushed and lowered her eyes.

“Ben, you’re making her nervous,” Sally’s mother said, laughing.

Sally looked up and met her uncle’s stare, her eyes defiant. “I’m not bad-looking whatever you may think,” she said.

“Oh, now, Sally,” Uncle Ben protested. “No sense in getting on a high horse. Tonight you may find a man who just won’t be able to resist you.”

“Maybe I will and maybe I won’t,” Sally said. “You’d be surprised if I did, wouldn’t you?”

It was Uncle Ben’s turn to lower his eyes.

“I’ll tell the world you’ve inherited your mother’s looks, Sally,” he said. “But a man has to pride himself on something. My defects of character are pretty bad. But no one has ever accused me of dishonesty.”

Sally folded her napkin and rose stiffly from the table.

“Good night, Uncle,” she said.

When Sally arrived at the party every foot of floor space was taken up by dancing couples and the reception room was so crowded that, as each new guest was announced, a little ripple of displeasure went through the men in midnight blue and the women in Nile green and lavender.

For a moment Sally did not move, just stood staring at the dancing couples, half-hidden by one of the potted palms that framed the sides of the long room.

Moonlight silvered her hair and touched her white throat and arms with a caress so gentle that simply by closing her eyes she could fancy herself already in his arms.

Moonlight from tall windows flooding down, turning the dancing guests into pirouetting ghosts in diaphanous