The end of eternity

His throat felt a little constricted. He said, “May I ask why you’ve arranged to see me, sir?”

“I like your reports, boy.”

There was a veiled glimmer of joy in Harlan’s eyes, but he did not smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“It has a touch of the artist. You are intuitive. You feel strongly. I think I know your proper position in Eternity and I have come to offer it to you.”

Harlan thought: I can’t believe this.

He held all triumph out of his voice. “You do me great honor, sir,” he said.

Whereupon Senior Computer Twissell, having come to the end of his cigarette, produced another in his left hand by some unnoted feat of legerdemain and lit it. He said between puffs, “For Time’s sake, boy, you talk as though you rehearsed lines. Great honor, bah. Piffle. Trash. Say what you feel in plain language. You’re glad, hey?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harlan cautiously.

“All right. You should be. How would you like to be a Technician?”

“A Technician!” cried Harlan, leaping from his seat.

“Sit down. Sit down. You seem surprised.”

“I hadn’t expected to be a Technician, Computer Twissell.”

“No,” said Twissell dryly, “somehow no one ever does. They expect anything but that. Yet Technicians are hard to find, and are always in demand. Not a Section in Eternity has what it considers enough.”

“I don’t think I’m suited.”

“You mean you’re not suited to take a job with trouble in it. By Time, if you are devoted to Eternity, as I believe you are, you won’t mind that. So the fools will avoid you and you will feel ostracized. You will grow used to that. And you will have the satisfaction of knowing you are needed, and needed badly. By me.”

“By you, sir? By you particularly?”

“Yes.” An element of shrewdness entered the old man’s smile. “You are not to be just a Technician. You will be my personal Technician. You will have special status.

How does that sound now?”

Harlan said, “I don’t know, sir. I may not qualify.”

Twissell shook his head firmly. “I need you. I need just you. Your reports assure me you have what I need up here.” He tapped his forehead quickly with a ridge-nailed forefinger. “Your record as Cub is good; the Sections for which you have Observed reported favorably. Finally, Finge’s report was most suitable of all.”

Harlan was honestly startled. “Computer Finge’s report was favorable?”

“You didn’t expect that?”

“I--don’t know.”

“Well, boy, I didn’t say it was favorable. I said it was suitable. As a matter of fact, Finge’s report was not favorable. He recommended that you be removed from all duties connected with Reality Changes. He suggested it wasn’t safe to keep you anywhere but in Maintenance.”

Harlan reddened. “What were his reasons for saying so, sir?”

“It seems you have a hobby, boy. You are interested in Primitive history, eh?” He gestured expansively with his cigarette and Harlan, forgetting in his anger to control his breathing, inhaled a cloud of smoke and coughed helplessly.