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Standing inside the virtual reality generator, Grean felt like a stage magician, preparing to bamboozle an audience. For this performance, the only objects in the room with her were two chairs, one a few feet in front of the other, both facing the wall of the room where images from Earth were being shown. Eternity was designed so as to allow live observation of any event on Earth and Grean was observing Isaac Asimov departing from the offices of his publisher, Doubleday. Asimov had just signed a contract to write a new science fiction novel, what would become The Gods Themselves.
As soon as Asimov reached the street and hailed a taxi, Grean sat down in the front chair. Her act of sitting in the chair shifted the room out of viewing mode and fully activated the virtual reality simulator.
The virtual reality generator quickly created a simulation of the taxi cab and enough of the surrounding portion of New York City to create a convincing appearance of Grean driving the cab down the street. Her facial nanites quickly re-shaped her face and the hair on her head, giving her the appearance of the cab driver who was now driving Asimov towards his apartment building. Grean glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the Asimov replicoid appear, taking his place upon the second chair in what was now part of the simulated back seat of the taxi.
Eternity had long ago been equipped with a means to make replicoids: copies of any person living on Earth. Grean was aware that the replicoid manufacturing system had originally been R. Gohrlay's way of creating Temporal Momentum for Earthlings, but later, the replicoid system had found other uses. And now, starting here in 1971, Grean had a use for a copy of Isaac Asimov.
In the first moments of its physical existence, the newly-created replicoid suddenly sat up straight and wondered: did I just fall asleep? Strange! I don't feel tired. Asimov had just been lost in thought; making plans for the new novel and thinking about the alien species that would play such an important role in the story.
The cabbie, who had only grunted when told Asimov's destination, now said, "Welcome to Eternity."
Of course, Asimov's replicoid was not aware of the fact that "he" was a newly-created artificial life form, only a few seconds old. Azynov's memories stretched back into the past of Asimov's life and Asimov had recently been thinking quite a lot about his novel, The End of Eternity. Now, what was going on with the cabbie? A New York cab driver who had read that novel and who had the nerve to tease Asimov about it? Not likely, although sometimes strangers did recognize Asimov on the street. The replicoid thought it more likely that he had misheard the cabbie. "Pardon me, did you say 'Eternity'?"
The cabbie now spoke with a distinctive accent, unlike anything likely to be heard on the streets of New York. "Yes, I did. You are not on Earth anymore." They had just turned a corner and the view out the front window of the taxi had drastically changed.
The replicoid was watching through the window and he was startled when they turned down a narrow street that led towards a small cottage, set on a large grassy lot. He looked out the back window and the office buildings of downtown New York were still visible there. Asimov loved New York, his caves of steel, and this little country lane was so out of place that it frightened his replicoid.
Grean went through the motions of parking the cab near the cottage, getting out of the taxi and walking around to open the door near Asimov's replicoid.
Certain that the cabbie had been a man, the replicoid now saw what appeared to be a woman holding open the door. The replicoid stammered, "What's going on? Where are we?"
Grean offered a hand and replied, "Come with me Azynov, we have a busy day ahead. I called this Eternity. This is the place in the Hierion Domain where the time travel machine resides, the device that you called 'Eternity' in your time travel story. 'Eternity' is a good name, but most of the current residents insist on calling this Observer Base."
The replicoid took the cabbie's offered hand and climbed out of the cab with a grunt. He looked over his shoulder. Now all the sights and sounds and smells of New York were gone. They seemed to be in a quiet rural location and the small cottage was the only visible structure. Birds could be heard and seen as they flitted among the bushes. The replicoid smelled flowers.
Grean pulled a newspaper out of the lower compartment of the mailbox and showed Azynov the headline: "Azynov's Arrival". There was a printed image of Azynov shaking hands with a young woman. In the one quick glance that he was allowed, Azynov saw that the newspaper was called "The Observer". Before Azynov could read any of the accompanying newsprint beside the image, Grean re-folded the paper. She again took hold of Azynov's hand and she pulled him up a stone walkway towards the cottage.
The replicoid took one last look up at the bright blue sky and then they were quickly into the cottage. Grean released his hand and turned to carefully close the door. She asked, "Well, what do you think, Azynov?"
From outside, this building had looked like a small home, but inside, it had the appearance of a futuristic engineering facility. The replicoid was looking at the object standing at the center of the room, but he was annoyed. "Are you calling me 'Azynov'?"
Grean laughed. "Get used to it. You are not Isaac Asimov; he's still on Earth. You are a new individual, a copy of Asimov with all of Asimov's memories. In your new life, you will be known as Azynov." While speaking, she had approached the time kettle and now she rested a hand on its white metallic surface. Grean looked over her shoulder at Azynov and asked, "Pretty, isn't it?"
Azynov nodded. "This is a time kettle?" There was a mixture of wonder and delight evident in his voice. "It is exactly as I had imagined it!"
Grean shrugged. She was not a magician and had no interest in tricking the replicoid. She explained, "Well, that is expected. You see, I've got your thoughts and memories feeding into the control circuits of the virtual reality generator. This kettle was constructed so as to match your mental image of a time travel kettle."
Asimov had read about military and NASA flight simulators. Azynov now imagined that he was experiencing something similar and more sophisticated. "But what about you? You are not part of the simulation? You don't look like anyone I ever imagined."
Grean smiled, allowing her long, pointy canines to show. "I hope my appearance does not frighten you."
"No, I'm not afraid of you. Just curious. You are not quite human, are you?"
"I'm Kac'hin, a human variant. I'm glad you are quickly adjusting to your new existence here in Eternity. Actually, I knew that you would adapt to your new life because I had you instantiated with a slight tweak to Asimov's cognitive engine so as to help you adjust rapidly to this new environment."
Just then, walking out from behind the kettle, came a tall, young woman, dressed in a flashy metalic jumpsuit that clung tightly to her slim body. She spoke to Grean, "I just got back from upgrading Irhit's Viewer. All of the temporal restrictions have been cleared."
Grean handed the newspaper to the woman and said, "Araminta, this is Azynov." Grean turned to Azynov and explained, "Araminta has been helping me prepare the tryp'At for the coming transition of power."
Azynov reached out and shook Araminta's hand while realizing that this was the exact scene shown on the front page of The Observer. He said, "Ms. Smade, I presume?"
Araminta replied, "Yes. I'm pleased that you are finally here, Mr. Asimov."
Grean corrected the girl, "Remember, this copy of Asimov will be known as Azynov, so we might as well use that name starting today."
Araminta giggled, "I forgot. Can I get you anything, Azynov? Maybe a cold drink?"
Grean did not give Azynov a chance to reply. "We don't have time to be social. I'm sending Azynov on his way into the upwhen." Grean once more took hold of Azynov's hand. "Please ignore Araminta's automatic hospitality. She grew up working in a tavern."
Azynov nodded. "No problem, I find that I am neither hungry nor thirsty, even though it has been many hours since breakfast."
Araminta shrugged and unfolded the newspaper. She glanced at the front page story and said, "In your new life as an artificial life form, you will find that we don't need to bother with mundane physiology such as sleeping, eating, drinking and making love, but sometimes it is a pleasure to indulge, just the same." She looked up from the paper and winked at Azynov.
Azynov replied automatically, "It would be my pleasure to indulge you at any time-."
Araminta chuckled and completed Azynov's sentence for him, reading from the newspaper, "...my dear. Grean knew you were going to say that!" She folded the paper and returned the way she had come, turning one last glance over her shoulder at Azynov before disappearing behind the kettle.
Azynov asked, "Do you see the future?
Grean nodded. "I can view the future. Not all of the future is equally important. Of course, I knew what would happen here today. I've watched us have this conversation many times. Since I took poor Araminta away from her family, she has been rather lonely. Recently, she has been anticipating your arrival, but the temporal sequence did not allow her much time to be with you. To help her get over that disappointment, I made that newspaper, just for her." Grean impatiently tugged on Azynov's arm. "Now, if you are ready, I'd like to get you into the kettle; we don't have much time remaining."
Grean stepped into the kettle and Azynov followed. He muttered, "If this really is a time travel kettle then you should have all the time in the world."
Grean sighed. "Yes, you might think so, but we are now confronted by an important event, the day when time travel will actually end... become impossible. I thought it fitting that you should make one of the last trips through time. I'm sending you about two years into the future. I'll meet you there. Then." She retreated through the doorway and exited from the kettle.
Azynov objected, calling through the door, "You're not coming with me?"
"I must take the long way to the future. I have a few tasks remaining here in 1971. See you soon!" The door of the kettle sealed shut.
Azynov had just enough time to explore the smooth and glossy interior of the kettle before the door opened again. There was Grean, now looking even more alien than before. She said, "Welcome to 1973, Azynov."
He stepped out of the kettle and seemed to be inside the same "cottage" as before. Nothing had changed except for Grean's appearance, including a change of her clothes. Her face had changed. Now her eyes were unusually large, twice as big as those of a normal human of Earth. Azynov exclaimed, "Jehosaphat!"
Grean smiled indulgently and briefly thought of Asimov's stories about positronic robots. There was no point in trying to explain to Azynov that Eternity had been created by robots. Grean kept on task and said, "Allow me to explain why I brought you to 1973. This happens to be the optimal point in time for our intervention into the life of an Earthling who we must save from an untimely death." She winced and smiled again. "No pun intended."
Azynov asked rather heatedly, "Who are you to monkey around with Earth's timeline and expect me to help you do it?"
Grean smiled indulgently. She often asked herself that kind of question. There were reasons for why she had been selected to be the one who would go to Earth and end the Time Travel War, but that was ancient history and all too complex to explain to Azynov. "It is my responsibility to make sure that there is a good future for Humanity. We have a small job to complete that will help you Earthlings begin to understand-" Grean paused briefly, then spread her arms, "All this; all of the hidden history of Earth's past."
Azynov could not control his feelings of indignation. "We? Why do you need me?"
"Think of it as a matter of efficiency. Someone needs to perform this Reality Change and it might as well be you. I want to demonstrate to you that time travel is possible, not just a bit of science fiction from your novel. Come; this should be fun for you. Almost a dream come true, so to speak."
Azynov did feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of actually initiating a Reality Change. "But you said that time travel was going to end in 1971."
"Of course, this is all a little confusing for you." Grean could "see" directly into Azynov's mind and she knew how best to mollify his qualms with a few words. "Look, I've Viewed the Final Reality. In that Reality, the Huaoshy will put an end to time travel in 1971. However, we are not yet in that Final Reality, so we can still use time travel here in 1973. Does that confuse you? The Reality Change that you initiate will be one of the last alterations to Earth's timeline, bringing us to the very brink of the Final Reality."
Just then, the front door of the cottage opened and a man came in. Grean said in welcome, "Hello, Jack. Azynov just arrived." She turned to Azynov and explained, "This is Jack Vance."
The two "men" shook hands. Jack said, "Well, almost." He explained to Azynov, "According to Grean, I'm just a cheap copy of the man, the real John Vance. Still, Grean does call me 'Jack' and let me tell you, it is damned hard telling the difference between me and an actual human."
Grean shrugged. "You are both replicoids, artificial life forms. Functionally exact replicas of the 1971 Asimov and the 1973 Vance. I have need for your help, both of you. Right now, we must attend to the matter of saving the life of John Holbrook Vance, back on Earth."
Azynov asked Jack, "How long have you known Grean?"
"That's a more complicated question than you think, but I've been here in Eternity with Grean for about three weeks now."
"Do you trust her?"
"Strangely, yes." Jack looked at Grean. "Well, I must say this: I suspect that she can control our thoughts, so maybe it is not really so strange that I trust her."
Grean shook her head in dismay. "Can't you two put aside your skepticism for just today? Yes, I could manipulate your emotions and force you both to trust me, but it is better for all of us if you simply listen to reason. It is important for the Final Reality that Jack live a long life, a life that stretches well into the next millennium. I've shown Jack the plane crash that kills John Vance in the current Reality. We must alter the flow of time and prevent that early death."
The replicoid of Vance sighed. "I was a fool to try to save a few days time by taking a flight rather than traveling by sea."
Grean placed a hand on Vance's shoulder. "But it will be easy to fix that and get you to avoid the doomed flight." She turned towards Azynov and pointed at him. "This is where you come into it, Azynov."
"What about me? The original me, on Earth. Isaac Asimov. Will I... will he..." Azynov chuckled. It was not easy talking about his duplicate copy! "...also live a long life and reach the next millennium?"
Grean shook her head sadly. "Try to restrain your giant ego, Azynov. This is not about you or Asimov. This is your chance to help Jack and all of Humanity. But the answer is 'No'. Asimov will die in 1992. That's a fixed point in time and there is nothing I can do about it."
Jack said. "Isaac, I suspect that you are thinking the same kinds of thoughts I had three weeks ago. Why is an alien creature like Grean so concerned with the paltry lives of silly old science fiction writers? Let me tell you! I've had a chance to study this. It turns out that your fiction, and mine, is far closer to reality than we imagined. You and I thought we were writing about imagined futures, but we were actually telling stories about the past Realities of Earth!"
Azynov was simultaneously staggered by that concept and surprised to find that somehow it made sense. He'd always felt that his stories about positronic robots and time travel had a sort of internal logic. He asked Jack, "You've seen the library of Eternity? We can study those past Realities?"
Jack nodded. "It is a library like none on Earth. We can view the past Realities, via a kind of virtual reality simulation."
Grean held up her hands. "You two will have plenty of time for exploring past Realities. Eventually. For now, for today, I ask that we all stay on task. We must prevent Vance from dying in a 1976 airliner crash. I will say this. Science fiction is important and it played a key role in allowing us to find a way to end the Time Travel War."
Azynov nodded. "I always felt that science fiction had a special importance for Humanity!"
Grean cautioned Azynov, "Please restrain your excitement. The critical role played by science fiction in Earth's future is more complex than you have previously imagined. I'm going to get you started towards a deeper understanding of all this, but that will involve introducing you to other folks, including the Editor. Saving Jack comes first."
Jack asked, "Who is this 'Editor' that you keep mentioning?"
"Please, Jack, not now." Grean pressed a finger against Jack's lips. He playfully tried to bite her finger before she pulled it away. "Really, we must attend to the matter of your death. I promise to explain who the Editor is, but not right now." She took hold of Azynov's hand. "Isaac, let's step into the Viewer. In order to make this Reality Change, you will be traveling to California."
Azynov turned and saw that the time kettle was gone from the center of the room. It had been replaced by a new apparatus, what looked like a miniature theater with seating for four people. Azynov settled into one of the comfortable chairs and Grean said, "I'm going to slowly activate the View so as not to disorient Azynov. Jack has seen this before." She manipulated a small control panel that was in front of her chair.
In Azynov's mind, his view of the "cottage" faded away and was replaced by darkness. Grean said, "I'm now going to allow us to see an infra-red view of the destination in California. A dark and dusty attic full of boxes. I'm artificially hi-lighting one box. It is a box of old magazines that will soon come into the possession of the Vances; John and his wife. Azynov, this box is your target."
Azynov asked, "You want me to steal a box of old magazines?"
"Don't jump to conclusions. Now, I'm going to bring back our view of each other."
The view of the attic faded away. Azynov saw Grean reach to the chair beside her. She picked up a glossy magazine and handed it to Azynov. "All you need to do is place this magazine into that box with all the other magazines."
Azynov looked at the cover of the magazine. "This magazine is from 1993. With an article by me. But you said I will die in 1992."
Grean explained, "This is the perfect message to send to Vance in order to prevent his death. Now just step over to California and deposit the magazine in the box."
Making the Reality Change did not take very long. Grean again showed Azynov the target: the box of old magazines. Azynov walked towards the box and seemed to pass through a thin curtain of solid air. As he broke through the barrier, the room temperature changed and he could smell the dusty attic. He stood still for a minute, allowing his eyes to adjust to the low light level in the attic. He grabbed the top few magazines in the box, tipped them upwards to one side and slipped the 1993 issue of Analog under the older magazines.
Azynov brushed dust off of his hand then turned around and took a step. He passed through the barrier and returned to Grean's workshop.
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Next: The Irhit Intervention
Table of Contents
A Search Beyond is copyright John Schmidt, but the text of the story is licensed for sharing under the Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike (CC BY-NC-SA) license. 
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