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Pohl, Frederik – Eschaton 1 – The Other End Of Time

But Dopey didn’t show; and time wore on.

As she was beginning to get sleepy she said something about Dopey’s absence to Pat, who had nothing useful to say in return. “How would I know why he doesn’t come? Maybe that power glitch is screwing things up for him.”

“Well, sure, but there must be something else going on. It couldn’t be just the glitch; he got that new duValier message out to us after that happened, didn’t he?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Pat said irritably. “Anyway, maybe we’re not supposed to talk about that, either.”

Pat wasn’t the only one who was short-tempered. Everybody was getting antsy under the burden of Dan’s rule of custody of the mouth. Then, when they were all getting sleepy, Pat didn’t join Patrice and herself. Instead she nestled up next to Dannerman again, just as before; evidently his silence was now understood and thus forgiven. And as Patrice was settling herself down she glanced at the two of them, and then whispered to Patsy, “What’s she got to be pissed off about?”

It was a fair enough question. Pat had Dan-Dan, and what did the other two of them have?

There was certainly some jealousy there. There was also quite a lot of sisterly (or sort-of-sisterly) loyalty. To be fair about it, Patsy thought justly as she drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t really say that Pat actually had Dan-Dan. Not in the total lack of personal seclusion that was their present condition. Patsy wondered drowsily if they could talk Dopey into giving them a few more of the helmets, because if everybody but Pat and Dan were wearing a helmet there would be at least the illusion of privacy while they got each other, as they were obviously yearning to do. Or maybe she and Patrice could patch together some of the blankets from Starlab and make a kind of a screen to hide the lovers as they went to it. Or-

Or maybe somehow, miraculously, the U.S. cavalry would come charging over the hill with bugles blowing and pennons flying, and wonderfully carry them back home; and then the two of them could do whatever they damn pleased . . . and so could she, with whoever was handy . . . and . . .

And then the world would be fine again, but none of that was actually going to happen. The cavalry wasn’t really coming to rescue them, was it? Their future was very uncertain but definitely dark-if the seven of them turned out to have any real future at all-and when Patsy finally did succeed in falling asleep there were tears on her cheeks.

They slept, and they woke up, and

they spent most of another long day of trying to keep from talking about the things that really had to be talked about. And when finally Dopey did appear, without warning, simply walking in through the mirror, he said only, “I was delayed.”

“We understand that you were having problems,” Rosaleen said courteously. “You needn’t apologize.”

He looked flustered, Patsy thought; his peacock tail was rippling in dark colors and the expression on his furry little face was troubled. But he said firmly, “I did not apologize. I simply stated an explanation. I am now prepared to transact business with you on the basis you proposed.”

Everyone was listening intently, and Patsy thought they all looked delighted-well, so did she. But Dannerman was making sure of the terms. “No holds barred?”

Dopey looked faintly puzzled. “I assume that what you mean is without reservation. I agree to that. However, I must tell you that there are things I cannot do, because at present they are physically impossible to me. The Horch terrorists have caused serious interruptions in our communications with the Beloved Leaders, and even certain of the resources of this base are temporarily not available to me. But please, you must help me to evaluate the message for Earth.”

It was what Patsy had been waiting for; she opened her mouth eagerly, but Dannerman raised a hand. “Wait one,” he said. “If your communications are down, what’s the point?”

“They will be restored,” Dopey said doggedly. “Please. Do not argue. Remember that you are not indispensable.”

“Sure we are,” Jimmy Lin said, his face angry. “You need our input.”

“But not necessarily from your particular specimens, Commander Lin. Do you not realize that it would be possible to produce new copies of all of you, copies who would remember nothing after being taken from Starlab, and extract the information from them?”

“What I realize,” Dannerman said firmly, “is that if that were what you wanted to do you wouldn’t be talking, you’d be doing it.”

Dopey looked irresolute. “It is true that there are at present some difficulties in this respect,” he admitted. “Very well. I agree. Now tell me-“

“No, no! You first!”

The creature didn’t like that. The lips on the little kitten face were drawn back-almost, Patsy thought, as though he were going to hiss at them. Then he relaxed. “I will agree,” he capitulated. “What do you want from me?”

“Information!”

The little paws drummed impatiently on the muff-not inside it, Patsy observed, and realized that in this interview, unlike any other, Dopey was not keeping his hands in the muff. Was there something wrong with the thing? “Be more-“ Dopey stopped as there was another ground tremor. A mild one, this time, Patsy observed gratefully, but was surprised to see the way Dopey reacted: his tail went all dark, his eyes were fastened on the wall, there was something like fear on the little feline face.

But nothing happened to the wall. Dopey’s fan slowly began to regain its color. “Be more specific,” he ordered. “And hurry.”

“All right,” Dannerman said. “What’s wrong with the wall?”

Dopey paused to think. “The terrorists have done some damage to our systems,” he said at length.

“The whole truth!” Pat snapped. “You promised!”

“But that is the whole truth,” Dopey said, seeming surprised. “Do you wish to know details? Very well. Approximately, ah, nineteen of your days ago the Horch succeeded in transporting some of their weaponry into our base; since then there has been fighting. Each time their attack has been defeated, and each time they succeeded in transmitting new forces and attacked again. Much damage has been done, and communication with the Leaders has been interrupted.”

“Who s winning?”

More hesitation. “I do not know,” Dopey confessed. “I have no doubt that in the long run our Beloved Leaders will prevail, but as your sage John Maynard Keynes once said to your president Franklin Delano Roosevelt-it was on a documentary broadcast while I was still on your Starlab-the trouble with the long run is that in the long run we are all dead.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve kept your sense of humor,” Danner-man said caustically. “I’m only surprised to discover that you have one. More details!”

“But I do not know any more details,” Dopey said in surprise. “I know nothing of weaponry. Many of our people are dead now and much has been destroyed; that is all I can tell you. In any case, now it is your turn. Are there errors in the second broadcast?”

Dannerman looked rebellious, but gave in. “Not as far as I know. Nothing significant. Did any of the rest of you notice anything?”

No one had. “That is good,” Dopey said gravely. “Now, about your comments on the eschaton-“

If Patsy had been prudent-if all the Pats had-they might have held out for more information from Dopey. They weren’t. Pat and Patrice were as eager to talk as Patsy, and it was Pat who got in first. “We heard about it in a history-of-science class in graduate school. The professor-“

“Dr. Mukarjee,” Patrice supplied eagerly.

“Yes, that’s the one. He told us about some scientist a long time ago, just before the turn of the century, I think it was, who claimed the same thing. Only he didn’t call it the eschaton-“

Patsy raised her hand, excited and impatient. “The Omega Point! That’s what he called it.”

Pat gave her a grateful look. “How smart of you to remember that! Anyway, it was the same thing-universe expands, universe contracts, Big Crunch, everybody reborn in heaven.”

Then they stopped, having run out of recollections. “His name,” Dopey insisted. “Who was this scientist?”

The Pats looked at each other. “Tinker?” Patrice hazarded.

Pat frowned thoughtfully. “I was going to say maybe Doppler. Something like that.” Patsy just shook her head.

“That is not satisfactory,” Dopey complained. “Now I must try to have a data search conducted through that primitive equipment on Starlab. Have you nothing else to add?”

They looked at each other again. “Nothing,” Pat said, and Patrice said:

“Only something Dr. Mukarjee said. He said that was just another example of the ways most cosmologists went kind of loopy after a while.”

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