And the World Turned...

And The World Turned

"Can't you go any faster, Bilik?" Harry Jackson peered out upon his city with anxiety. At 135 years old, he felt hesitant as he neared the sky tower of Andern Terrace—Bernard’s domain. New Benton had enveloped the former Midwest of what was now Amexada and gleamed with interconnected skyscrapers. Age-defeating Med Beds had revolutionized society back in 2025. Harry had undergone four treatments and had retained his athletic look. He'd played pro football more than a century ago.

"Yes Sir. We have a green light to land."

The hoverlimo sent out a brief, EMF pulse, flying by energy of a harnessed thunderstorm into rubber shields, and touched down. Passersby, beyond the rubberized walls, scarcely noticed the gleaming disc and electromag hum.

Harry whirled around spinning his cape and sniffed, scowling. Harry's long and broad nose was his most prominent feature. Friends and enemies alike joked how Harry could smell any deal. He was relieved to see antiques in the window nearby. Bernard's business would be there. An address appeared on the Plastaluma wall in front of him as he approached.

INVENTIVE NUANCES, INC

649 EAST ANDERN TERRACE

Capricious Inquiry & Investments

"Humph! Must be the place!" Harry plunged his finger Identi-strip into the scanner hole and the outline of a door appeared in the smooth wall, opening soundlessly. Harry glided inside as the door slid shut behind him.

The dim interior instantly flooded with light as a Botclerk appeared. Centuries of artifacts filled the cavernous room and racks of clothing receded into the distance.

Bernard Ramshinkov had left their ill-fated meeting yesterday with threats to ruin him. Already, a huge agri-farm of Harry's ancestors in the 1960's had mysteriously transferred into Ramshinkov's ownership as though Harry had never owned it.

"Good day Citizen Lord, sir. What time would you be interested in today?" The speaker was the robodroid clerk--spoken in monotone with a hint of cheeriness.

"Time? Time for you to tell me where that scoundrel Bernard is hiding!"

"Citizen Lord Ramshinkov is no scoundrel, sir. I meant Period.”

"Where is he? Don't test my impatience, you silly rubber man. You haven't answered my question." Harry's big presence loomed over the clerk as he placed his large hands on the counter, the pressure turning his fingertips white. He was more than annoyed. "Or perhaps I should ask you when he is?" Harry glared at the Botclerk.

"It is uncustomary of a Citizen Lord to address a Botclerk with insults. You will achieve better results by--"

"Listen here, you damnable contraption--" Harry reached across the counter suddenly, grabbing the Botclerk, while reaching for his Defense-Prod. The clerk wriggled. "If you don't produce Bernard immediately, I'll short out your electroplasm soul with 250,000 volts!" He held the Prod's wand a centimeter from the clerk's nostrils--the Botclerk’s recharging socket.

Robots had become highly evolved during the previous century but would never fight a human master. It relaxed in submission. Harry, unused to the physical exertion of power, was enthralled as the meekened clerk went from behind the counter toward the clothing racks.

"You'll need to change clothing, sir Citizen Lord. I suggest something in this section." Harry examined the tag. "Wear it to be timely with the period of 2035, Citizen Lord Ramshinkov's current field work."

The date sparked Harry's memory. Harry’s Father had won the Publisher Sweepstakes in 2035. He'd been ten--125 years ago. What was he up to?

Harry became infuriated as he hastily grabbed heavy fabric labeled “Business Suit—Conservative” and stripped on the spot.

*****

Harry now wore the stifling garb as he followed the compliant Botclerk and observed the sign by the door.

CAUTION--VOLTIONICS

MAINLINE SYSTEMS ACCESS

NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY!

Trillions of volts prickled Harry's skin as the door opened. The same power that flew Harry's hoverlimo was evidently used here. They entered the brilliant room. Inside, a ten-meter wall was outfitted with all kinds of cords, hoses, cables and fiberop tubes. Ladders and catwalks led to various terminals and busses of Ramshinkov's super-secret business enterprise. There at the bottom, was the doorway to Time. It shimmered as pink fog. The room and the scope of his competitor's genius nearly shook Harry's resolve right out of him--even if it was all computer controlled.

"Citizen Lord Jackson, here is your entry point. Everything is set from Citizen Lord Ramshinkov's use this morning. You need only enter the mist and descend the stairs."

"It won't hurt, will it?" Harry's confidence took a momentary drop. "How do I get back?"

"Sir, you merely return to your marked entry, relax and think it open.”

A clean, white handkerchief came with the suit. Harry blew his nose, stalling. "All right, I guess I'm ready." Turning, he inhaled unconsciously as though entering a pool, and strode into the mist. Harry had no sensation of discomfort. Emerging from the mist however, he was immediately giddy.

He stood on a wide stair, looking down a depth like a carnival hall of mirrors. He fell forward, sprawling onto the wide step and hit his nose. Blood oozed and dripped onto the stair. Harry dabbed with the new hanky and stood. Directly opposite the pink wall, there was a round window, through which Harry observed a northwest view of the city toward the Great Plains. He was astonished to see his Kansark Tower.

"Damn--I've been tricked! That fool robot sent me into a back stairwell!” Harry dropped the bloody hanky as he charged at the pink mist. It was solid. He stood back, pounding on it for several moments. Feeling defeated, Harry slumped and stared down the steps.

"I've got to get out of here even if by the ground floor!" He got up and took a few steps down. Then he leaped downward, surprised at feeling weightless. "Why--this is exhilarating!" He leaped like a kid down thousands of stairs, losing count, eager to escape.

Abruptly, Harry stopped and plastered his body up to the window. He reached to wipe his brow but puzzled there was no sweat. Each step had the single port. He'd dashed by them all in monotony. It had suddenly struck him that no matter if the stairway zigzagged; each window view was the same--except this one! In his rush, he had seen the glint of the crane’s pulsing green light completing construction on his Kansark Tower 33 years ago.

"Why, that can't be! But...How?" Harry stared at the crane. He'd stood in his new penthouse back then, watching it withdraw into its telescoping body. Was it merely a trick projection--a hologram devised like this stairway, to trick him? It looked real. His thinking about it befuddled him. How could he be in both places at once?

He leaped up ten steps. The crane was gone! He moved slowly down four steps until the crane reappeared.

"Humph! Maybe this really is time!" Harry was not exhausted but perplexed. It seemed each step represented one snail pace day in the endless stream of...Harry's thoughts receded as he suddenly noticed the looming, downward void as a fathomless stairwell of exactly similar steps, bounded on one side by those infernal ports opposite the faded pink wall. He reached to the window beside him for support. It gave him substance in the infirmity of time. He thought of Bernard tramping down and back up--how many steps? He began figuring calculations, an easy task to his mind.

“Why couldn't he have devised an elevator? Damn him! If Bernard wants to tramp down and up nearly 50,000 stairs let him!" Harry glanced down. "If you're down there you conniving scoundrel," he boomed in sudden resolve, “then stay there. But--" he added, not as loud, "not before I go upstairs a bit!"

*****

Ascending, Harry noticed the view never varied in height, which he thought disconcerting. He kept his eyes scanning the stairs until he finally saw the blood as if newly spilled from his nose. The soiled hanky still lay crumpled where he'd cast it. Strange place, this contrivance, he thought, peering out at his present day, before glancing surreptitiously upward. He raised his foot and took the first step to his future.

Invigorated by the lack of effort, Harry rose by weeks then years as he bounded upward many thousands--he guessed about nineteen years’ worth in the strange time continuum. He had noticed no change and wondered if future was not allowed. Then came a "month" of what seemed a stormy period with almost no visibility. Then he observed a very profound change that chilled him with foreboding.

New Benton was in ruins. Rampways, elevated terraces, Sky Malls, and his beloved, Kansark Tower--all lay toppled. It was total devastation!

He stared in uncomprehending horror a second longer and leaped downstairs, keeping his eyes upon the view as the destruction bloomed in reverse. Then a single day twenty days down revealed a cityscape caught in the turmoil of an unearthly hurricane-like destruction! Entire buildings were suspended in the air--caught by some atmospheric havoc. The sky was a torrid soup of debris-filled, roiling clouds. He stood transfixed, the mere storm he'd assumed was absolute chaos.

"My god! Someone's finally done it!" Harry tore himself from the oppressing, but terribly engrossing scene. Hesitant now, he ventured back up twenty-three stairs. Now, the ruins looked calm and sullen under a wintry haze and snow. Something about the light bothered him, but he could not tell exactly what it was. There were no signs of life. It all looked very cold and hostile. He stepped upward another “week” until the sky cleared.

"Impossible! " Harry gazed upon snow-covered ruins that was utterly alien. The sun was a pallid glow on the horizon, shining directly in his face from the North!

It was a midnight sun, just right of the ruined hulk of his tower that now protruded above the snowscape like an eerie sundial.

"My God! The sun is...But that means a shift of the entire globe!” He stared at the weak orb until his eyes began to water. Tears flowed upon realization of the magnitude of whatever event had turned the globe to face the sun in a new way. After a moment of seeming eternity, he faced the downstairs view with a firm resolve.

*****

Bernard was a stout man with black eyes that glared from a deeply creased face. His hair was also black, as were his brows, which arched like furry bands over his intense eyes. His face was then twisted into a smug affectation of glee at Harry's proposal.

"So, my friend, you truly make me the deal of the century! What then, will you do if I indeed take over your empire at such a fantastic offer?"

"Bernard, I guess I just want to retire.”

Bernard gloated. “You must be planning something, eh?" His bushy brows raised, and he leaned closer across the desk in his office.

"Well, Bernard, you know me too well. I've bought the Antarctic Peninsula and hope to develop a winter resort.” The fledgling Antarctic Republic was only too happy at the prospect of new money in their desolate existence.

"Well, my friend. I think you've gone daft in the noggin.”

*****

Time slowly passed in months and years. Harry, his family and friends, and the million or so colonists survived the storm. Under the ice in modified facilities, the new country's inhabitants witnessed the ice melt into tropical ocean of a higher level worldwide. They emerged to gaze upon even greater marvels of massive temples of some antediluvian civilization, long buried in icy grip, stood perfectly preserved.

Harry, having had one final Renewal, stood fit and with the invigorated body of a 40-year-old beside his beautiful new wife—an Antarctic scientist of 31. Together they reveled in each other and the miraculous opportunity which awaited them in the summer of the new continent at the middle of the world.