Time Travelers Never Die Part 34

"It was like the stars. It remained in a single place, and moved across the sky with them. He declared it was was a star. A a star. A new new one." one."

"Why would that have created a problem?" asked Dave.

"Aristotle does not allow for an ongoing creation. You cannot have have new stars. It is not supposed to happen." new stars. It is not supposed to happen."

"And Michael Shelborne was here then?"

"He was in Padua also. It was, I believe, where they first met."

Dave looked at Shel. "What do you think?"

"That sounds like the way he would do things. Why pop by Arcetri when you can be in town for a supernova?" He looked out the window at the statue of Mary. And the tablet: RIPOSI IN PACE. "Father, of what did he die? Do you know?"

"I a.s.sume it was of old age, signore. signore."

"Old age?"

"He was not young."

"How old would you say he was?"

"He must have been in his eighties."

THEY stopped at a stopped at a caffe caffe for a drink and some dinner. And to get out of the sun. The menu was posted on the wall. It was midafternoon, and the place was almost empty. Shel commented there were no sandwiches on the menu. for a drink and some dinner. And to get out of the sun. The menu was posted on the wall. It was midafternoon, and the place was almost empty. Shel commented there were no sandwiches on the menu.

"I don't think they've been invented yet," said Dave. The waitress brought two cups of cool wine. "We could go back and watch the supernova," he continued. "Catch your father when he first arrived."

"And do what?"

"Take him home."

"If it really was him, he died here."

Dave hesitated. "I don't know how I'm supposed to answer that."

"Maybe it doesn't matter," said Shel. "I don't know. I just don't know the rules."

Dave took a long pull on his wine. "I hate to point this out, compagno compagno, but he's already changed a few things. By his presence here, how could he not not?"

Their waitress was back. She looked good. Black hair, brown eyes, big smile. They decided to try the eggplant, baked with mozzarella cheese. And refill the cups.

When she'd gone, Dave leaned across the table. "You didn't answer my question."

"How can I?"

"That's my point. There's already been a disruption. The time stream, whatever that is is, has already been thrown off course. h.e.l.l, for all we know, you might have a couple of siblings here. Maybe even that young lady who just took the order."

"I'm my own grandpa."

"It's possible."

"Look, Dave, I'm not a physicist. I don't know. My father didn't know. Maybe we'll go back home and discover Italy's ruling the world. But I'm not excited about going to see him in Padua, a day or two after he'd arrived, and telling him what we know."

"Maybe he already knows."

"How do you mean?"

"Look, this is wild stuff. But maybe the Michael Shelborne in 1604 had already visited this time. h.e.l.l, he might have seen the marker himself. Or maybe he googled himself before he came."

"That's goofy, Dave."

"You think time travel isn't goofy? Anything goes."

The waitress returned with more dark wine and utensils.

"This whole thing scares me," Shel said.

"I think we should just go home and forget it."

"No," he said. "What did you say at Selma? I can't just walk away from it."

CHAPTER 25.

I now believe that television itself, the medium of sitting in front of a magic box that pulses images at us endlessly, the act of watching TV, per se, is mindcrus.h.i.+ng. It is soul-deadening, dehumanizing, soporific in a poisonous way, ultimately brutalizing. It is, simply put so you cannot mistake my meaning, a bad thing.

-HARLAN ELLISON, STRANGE WINE STRANGE WINE

THEY returned to the villa with the green shutters, set the converters to keep them in the same location, but to take them back seven years. They arrived on a sunny morning in the spring of 1633. Birds sang while five or six children ran in circles through a field. A light breeze was coming out of the west. The house looked much the same, except that the east wing was missing. A later addition, apparently. A middle-aged man was clipping a fern. He saw them approaching, wiped his hands on a cloth, and came forward. "Ah, returned to the villa with the green shutters, set the converters to keep them in the same location, but to take them back seven years. They arrived on a sunny morning in the spring of 1633. Birds sang while five or six children ran in circles through a field. A light breeze was coming out of the west. The house looked much the same, except that the east wing was missing. A later addition, apparently. A middle-aged man was clipping a fern. He saw them approaching, wiped his hands on a cloth, and came forward. "Ah, signori signori, may I help you?"

"h.e.l.lo," said Dave. "We understand this is the home of Signore Signore Shelborne?" Shelborne?"

"Why, yes," he said. "It is. Did you wish to see him?"

"If you will."

"Does he know you're coming?"

Dave looked toward Shel. "This is Adrian Shelborne," he said. "He is Professor Shelborne's son." is Adrian Shelborne," he said. "He is Professor Shelborne's son."

Shel felt something closing over him. Please let us be wrong- "Ah, Signore Signore Shelborne." He bowed. Tasted the name. " Shelborne." He bowed. Tasted the name. "Eccelente. I am Albertino. And I do believe the master will be delighted to see you." He led the way to the front door. "He has spoken of you many times." I am Albertino. And I do believe the master will be delighted to see you." He led the way to the front door. "He has spoken of you many times."

G.o.d. But Shel kept his smile in place. "How is he? How is his health?"

"He's quite well, sir, thank you." He opened the door for them and stood aside. Albertino was short, with a full face and black curly hair. Probably in his fifties which, in this age, was well along. "Please go in, gentlemen."

They followed him into a s.p.a.cious, comfortable living room with several armchairs and a sofa and a pleasant view of the town. A full bookcase stood near the door. Oil paintings adorned the walls: a landscape, two portraits of young women, and one of a pa.s.senger vehicle drawn by a team of horses. Potted plants stood on a shelf and on a small side table. The servant addressed Dave: "May I ask your your name, sir?" name, sir?"

"David Dryden."

"Thank you. I'll tell Dr. Shelborne you're here."

He left the room, headed toward the back of the house through a pair of double doors. Shel could barely restrain himself from following. Especially when he heard voices in the rear and, a moment later, hesitant footsteps. He was on his feet when his father, supported by a cane, entered the room.

The world fell away.

He was an old man.

Shel had to look closely to be sure it was was his father. His hair had turned white, and his skin was pale and creased. He wore a beard now. his father. His hair had turned white, and his skin was pale and creased. He wore a beard now.

Michael limped forward, gait uncertain, and put his arms around his son. "Adrian," he said, "is it really you you?"

"Dad-What happened?"

"I had an accident. Adrian, it's so good to see you."

"Good to see you you, Dad." They embraced again, then pushed apart to look at each other.

"My G.o.d," said the old man, "I never expected to see you again."

They clung to each other. Albertino came in but stood off to one side, pretending that nothing unusual was happening.

Then Michael turned irritable. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you. Do you have any idea what we've been through? Everybody thinks you're dead."

"I'm sorry about that." Michael eased himself into a chair. Then glanced at Dave. In Italian, he asked, "Do I know you?"

Dave replied in English: "I'm Dave Dryden, Professor."

"Oh, yes." He turned a withering eye on Shel. "So much for keeping things quiet."

"I won't say anything," said Dave.

Michael nodded without taking his eyes off his son. "Let's hope not." He signaled for Albertino to leave them. "Do you realize what you've done, Adrian?"

"No, Dad. As a matter of fact, I don't don't know what I've done. Maybe you should explain it to me." know what I've done. Maybe you should explain it to me."

"Sit," he said. "It took you a long time. Coming after me."

"I didn't know where to look. All you told me was 'Galileo.' "

"Oh." He smiled. "Did I do that?"

"Yes." It was almost a shriek. "You've been here-what?-thirty years?" The question hung in the air.

"And you were in Alexandria."

His lips curved into a wistful smile. "I went there first, right after you left the house." He stopped. Had to think. "Or maybe it was Cicero first."

"Cicero?"

"During the period when they were trying to stop Caesar." He shook his head. "No, I went to the Library first. I made several trips that night before I came here."

"Dad, I wish we'd known where you were. We could have-"

Let it go. "It hasn't been a bad life."

"I'm sure." Shel cast a contemptuous look around the interior. No power. No phone. No TV.

"Look, I'm glad to see you, son. You know that. And I'm sorry if I seem ungrateful."

"What happened?" asked Shel. "Why didn't you come back?"

"I'd have gone back had I been able. My G.o.d, it feels strange to have you here."

"Dad-"

"You and Dave can stay awhile, right? Spend some time with me. There's a lot to see. But when you go home-"

"Yes . . . ?"

Michael hesitated. "When you go home, I want you to take the instruments apart. Get rid of them."

"You're going back with me, Dad."

"Adrian, no. I'm happy here."

"What?"

"I've been here a long time. This is my home. I've a good life here. Much better than I ever had working at Swifton."

"Dad, that's crazy. This place is primitive."

"Not really. You're right, in a way. Civilization's just getting started. But this is where it's happening."

"Come on, Dad. You're talking like a crazy man. The truth is, we've just come from your grave site."

It was an accusation. A heavy silence settled on the room. Michael sighed. "I'm sorry to hear it. It's one of the temptations with the converter, isn't it? You can always move forward and find out what happens tomorrow. That's not necessarily a good thing."