X

ASSIGNMENT IN ETERNITY — Robert A. Heinlein

“I think so, Howard.”

“But that’s insane!”

*There are millions of people who wouldn’t think so-unusual certainly, but not insane.”

“But it’s contrary to all modem beliefs-Heaven — Hell-a personal God-Resurrection. Everything I’ve believed in must be wrong, or I’ve gone screwy.”

“Not necessarily-not even probably. I doubt very much if you will ever see Heaven or Hell. You’ll follow a time track in accordance with your nature.”

“But she seemed real.”

“She was real. I suspect that the conventional hereafter is real to any one who believes in it wholeheartedly, as Martha evidently did, but I expect you to follow a pattern in accordance with die beliefs of an agnostic-except in one respect; when you die, you won’t die all over, no matter how intensely you may claim to expect to. It is an emotional impossibility for any man to believe in his own death. That sort of self-annihilation can’t be done. You’ll have a hereafter, but it will be one appropriate to a materialist.”

But Howard was not listening. He pulled at his under lip and frowned. “Say, doc, why wouldn’t Martha tell me what happened to Estelle? That was a dirty trick.”

“I doubt if she knew, my boy. Martha followed a time track only slightly different from that we are in;

Estelle chose to explore one far in the past or in the distant future. For all practical purposes, each is non-existent to the other.”

They heard a call from the house, a clear contralto voice, “Doctor! Doctor Frost!”

Jenkins whirled around. “That’s Estelle!” They ran back into the house, the Doctor endeavoring manfully to keep up.

But it was not Estelle. Standing in the hallway was Helen Fisher, her sweater torn and dirty, her stockings missing, and a barely-healed scar puckering one cheek. Frost stopped and surveyed her. “Are you all right, child?” he demanded.

She grinned boyishly. “I’m okay. You should see the other guy.”

Tell us about it.”

“In a minute. How about a cup of coffee for the prodigal? And I wouldn’t turn up my nose at scrambled eggs and some-lots-of toast. Meals are inclined to be irregular where I’ve been.”

“Yes, indeed. Right away.” answered Frost, “but where have you been?”

“Let a gal eat, please,” she begged. “I won’t hold out on you. What is Howard looking so sour about?”

The professor whispered an explanation. She gave Jenkins a compassionate glance.

“Oh, she hasn’t? I thought I’d be the last man in; I was away so long. What day is this?”

Frost glanced at his wrist watch. “You’re right on time; it’s just eleven o’clock.”

“The hell you say! Oh, excuse me. Doctor. ‘Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.’

All in a couple of hours. Just for the record, I was gone several weeks at least.'”

When her third cup of coffee had washed down the last of the toast, she began:

“When I woke up I was falling upstairs-through a nightmare, several nightmares.

Don’t ask me to describe that-nobody could. That went on for a week, maybe, then things started to come into focus. I don’t know in just what order things happened, but when I first started to notice clearly I was standing in a little barren valley. It was cold, and the air was thin and acrid. It burned my throat.

There were two suns in the sky, one big and reddish, the other smaller and too bright to look at.”

‘Two suns!” exclaimed Howard. “That’s not possible-binary stars don’t have planets.”

She looked at him. “Have it your own way-I was there. Just as I was taking this all in, something whizzed overhead and I ducked. That was the last I saw of that place.

“I slowed down next back on earth-at least it looked like it-and in a city. It was a big and complicated city. I was in trafficway with a lot of fast moving traffic. I stepped out and tried to flag one of the vehicles-a long crawling caterpillar thing with about fifty wheels-when I caught sight of what was driving it and dodged back in a hurry. It wasn’t a man and it wasn’t an animal either-not one I’ve ever seen or heard of. It wasn’t a bird, or a fish, nor an insect. The god that thought up the inhabitants of that city doesn’t deserve worship. I don’t know what they were, but they crawled and they crept and they stank. Ugh!”

Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73

Categories: Heinlein, Robert
curiosity: