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Azynov returned, teleporting successfully from California to the workshop. Jack asked Grean, "Did it work? Did he save my life?"
Grean replied casually, "Everything went fine."
Azynov had doubts. "So you say, but how do we know the true consequences of this Reality Change? What will happen when a magazine from the future is discovered on Earth?"
Grean handed Azynov a slim tablet computer, a model that she had taken out of Time, from the year 2017. "On this device is a written account from 2017 that will tell you about the impact that your actions had on the future." She shut down the video system of the teleportation equipment that had just been used to send Azynov to California. "Now, I need to attend to another matter. I'll return in about half an hour." Grean disappeared; teleporting herself away.
Azynov and Vance quickly figured out how to activate the tablet computer. Jack said, "For the past few weeks I've been using computer equipment like this while working here in the Library."
They discovered that what Grean had provided them with was an electronic copy of a set of webpages. The entry point was one specific blog post from August 6, 2017. Azynov and Vance quickly read that blog post by the Editor.
Azynov reached the end of the story called "Future Mystery" and said to Jack, "This does not make sense. The dates given here don't match."
Vance nodded. "I've run into this sort of thing many times here in the Library of Eternity. There are multiple accounts of events on Earth. Each account is slightly different."
Azynov snapped his fingers. "Of course! There are going to be many different passes through similar sets of events, each one taking place in different Realities. This story from 2017 is different in some ways from the Reality that we are now in." He pointed at the tablet, "This is from an earlier Reality, one that Grean had access to before the events of today."
Vance shrugged. "It all seems very complicated. I wish I knew what Grean is trying to accomplish."
There was a knock at the door. Azynov walked over and opened the door, revealing a tall man. Vance said, "Ah, it is Irhit. Come on in."
Irhit entered and said to Azynov, "Isaac Asimov, I presume?"
Vance introduced Azynov to Irhit. "Close, but this is a replicoid who we are calling Azynov. Azynov, this is Irhit, the Editor's replicoid."
Azynov and Irhit shook hands. Vance held up the tablet computer and said to Irhit, "Azynov and I were just reading a blog post by the Editor, dated 2017."
Irhit nodded. "Yes, I know. Grean asked me to prepare that for you, as evidence that John Vance lived, or, if you prefer, will live a good long life and that Azynov's intervention into Earth's timeline was a success."
Vance casually leaned against the door frame. "A purist might wonder why the dates given in this blog post are not correct."
Irhit shrugged. "I can investigate that, but remember, it was written by the Editor, who did not have great sources of information. Also, Grean has been making a series of small adjustments to the timeline, getting everything just right for the Final Reality. She may have slightly altered the future course of events since I took a look at the future of the Editor in 2017. I did that little job a few days ago."
Azynov asked, "Who is this 'Editor'?"
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| In the Ekcolir Reality in the Final Reality |
Vance was still standing by the open door. "Irhit has told me this story before. I'm going to get back to my work." Vance slipped out the door with the tablet computer tucked under his arm.
Before Azynov could say anything, Vance was through the door. As the door closed, Irhit said, "Dick was ahead of his time and just too eager to tell the world about aliens. Still, even Grean eventually understood the value of allowing Earthlings to understand the truth about their history."
Azynov was puzzled. "But if the truth about aliens is 'revealed' in the form of a science fiction story, will anyone really believe it?"
Irhit laughed. "There are always a few cranks and conspiracy theorists who latch onto fiction and imagine that it is real. And that's all that is required to satisfy the terms of the Trysta-Grean Pact."
"Trysta and the mysterious Pact." Azynov wished he had the tablet computer and could read more about the Pact. "How did an alien creature like Grean come to have such power? Time travel, teleportation... and keeping all this secret from the people of Earth... why?"
"Well, even I can't blame Grean. No, this all began long ago, long before there were Kac'hin and tryp'At." Irhit looked speculatively at Azynov. "But none of this can possibly make sense to you. Although, I keep forgetting that you did write stories about positronic robots and time travel. However, unlike Dick, you never thought your stories were anything but stories."
Azynov asked, "Are you saying that positronic robots are real?"
Irhit nodded. "Everything interesting here at Observer Base was made by positronic robots. All the time travel equipment. Of course, it was Grean who ultimately defeated the robots and took over." Irhit shook his head in wonder. "But now Grean's time is coming to an end. It is we tryp'At who will inherit control of this Base."
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| Fake magazine cover made by the Editor. |
Irhi asked, "Don't I look human?"
"Grean was able to change her appearance. When I first saw her, she looked like a human. Then she changed her appearance into what seems to be her true alien form." Azynov looked closely at Irhit. "In that blog post from 2017 there was a picture of the tryp'At. They looked alien."
"Yes, well, that fake magazine cover was a little joke by the Editor. We tryp'At are humans. A human variant that can make use of the Bimanoid Interface. That ability makes us special, valuable. That's why Grean is turning over control of Observer Base to the tryp'At."
Azynov rubbed his chin. "Bimanoid Interface?"
Irhit sighed deeply. "There is so much you need to learn. In this case, it might be best if I showed you. After all, this is what I do..." Irhit went back to the door and pulled it open. "Come with me."
They stepped outside and Azynov took a deep breath of the fresh country air. Irhit set off across the field to the side of the cottage, walking swiftly through the tall green grass. At first, Azynov struggled to keep up with Irhit, then he noticed that he could push through fatigue and drive his body to perform like it had in his youth. Half way across the field they reached a barrier, similar to the one that Azynov had crossed when stepping into California from the confines of Grean's workshop. Suddenly they were outside of the virtual reality generator and in a cramped location that seemed like a sub-basement of a building. Irhit tugged at a metal hatch on the wall. With a creak, the hatch swung open, revealing an odd hole in the wall. "Follow me." Irhit dove through the opening and disappeared.
Azynov tried to focus on the far side of the opening, but there was nothing there to see. He slowly put a hand through the opening and it seemed to move through warm syrup as it disappeared from view. When he pulled out his hand, it was clean and dry. He bent over and stuck his head through. He saw Irhit on the other side, waiting impatiently. Azynov put his arms through and Irhit grabbed hold of one arm, pulling him through the opening. Immediately, another hatch swung shut, hiding the opening from view.
Irhit grunted. "Interesting. I wasn't sure you would get through."
Azynov said, "That's an interesting trick. What kind of barrier was that?" Azynov felt odd. Gravity on this side of the wall was different.
"About a month ago, Grean gave me access to the her Library and the workshop. I've experimented, and only replicoids can get through these hatches."
Azynov nodded. "I guess that confirms that I'm a replicoid, even if I feel like a flesh and blood person."
"But you were created by Grean, a feat that I did not even know was possible. I suspected that you might not be a true replicoid and might not pass through that barrier." Irhit pointed at the hatch in the wall.
Azynov observed, "So, Grean is anticipating an end to time travel and she plans to turn her workshop over to you tryp'At... yet, you don't really seem to know what is going on."
Irhit scratched his head. "Ya, many mysteries remain. I wish I knew where the workshop is physically located. I doubt that it is actually just on the other side of this wall. With teleporter technology, it could be anywhere." He shrugged, "Anyhow, we are now in the 'official' part of Observer Base, the place that has long been inhabited by exiles from Earth such as Sachiz. Let's step over to my place where we can use my Interface. I'll explain a few things as we go." He set off, taking long strides in the low gravity.
Azynov experimented with how best to move in the reduced gravity. "What's wrong with the gravity here?"
"Nothing is wrong. The gravitational force is low here. For ages the residents of Observer Base have believed that they are on the Moon. This way." Irhit had stopped walking and he rested a hand on a rung of a ladder. Azynov caught up to Irhit and made a rather clumsy stop beside the ladder.
One after the other, they climbed up the metal ladder and emerged above ground, in the middle of what looked like a peaceful residential community. There were no roads or cars, only walking paths that wound through the park-like greenery. Above was an artificial sky that somehow seemed better than a real sky. Azynov realized that the simulated sun did not warm his body the way the real sun does.
While Azynov looked around, Irhit closed the hatch that led down to the space below ground level. The top of the hatch was camouflaged and it merged almost imperceptibly into the landscaping. Irhit was speaking while he closed the hatch, "For we tryp'At and creatures like the Kac'hin, the Bimanoid Interface allows for a kind of technology-assisted telepathy. In my case, I can link my thoughts to those of the Editor. Distance is no barrier, so I can link to the Editor on Earth from here at Observer Base." Irhit pointed off towards a distant skyline of tall buildings. "My apartment is downtown." He set off, quickly finding a little paved trail and then strolling rather leisurely. Irhit politely said 'hello' to people who they passed on the path, but the main language of Observer Base was a musical creole that Irhit had to translate for Azynov.
Irhit explained, "People have lived here since long before there were written languages. Nobody has successfully introduced reading and writing to most of the folks who live here. The spoken language changes rapidly, often absorbing new words from new arrivals coming here from Earth."
Azynov noted, "Yet you speak English like a native."
"I've spoken English all my life. Among Observers, those who are actually interested in events on Earth, speaking English is a useful skill." Irhit seemed to hesitate before adding, "It wasn't always so important, in past Realities."
Azynov asked, "Exactly where are we? Where is Observer Base located?"
"That is an easy question to ask, but not very easy to answer. We are inside the Hierion Domain, so the spatial coordinates of the hadronic domain are useless."
They were passing near to one of the houses. Azynov asked, "How many people live here?"
"I'm not sure if there has ever been an exact census. Probably about 20,000. Many of the homes now sit empty. Until just the past few weeks I believed that Observer Base was being phased out, but Grean's statements suggest that there will simply be a shift from her being in control to a new era in which the tryp'At will be in charge."
Azynov asked, "What are the numbers of the different factions? How many tryp'At and Kac'hin live here? How many humans from Earth?"
"The population is almost all humans, mostly folks who have lived here all their lives. Sometime in the far past they had an ancestor on Earth, but usually that has been forgotten. Of course, there are a few recent arrivals, like Sachiz; folks who lived on Earth before being exiled here. As far as I know, Grean is the only Kac'hin here, and soon she will depart." For a time they walked in silence. Irhit added, "We tryp'At are a fairly recent innovation and there are not many of us."
The path had brought them to a stop on a rail line. They climbed into a little trolley car. As soon as they sat down, the trolley moved off towards downtown. Azynov said, "This seems like a very pleasant place to live."
"Yes, most of the residents lead enjoyable lives. Most are artists, musicians and the like. Of course, a few are actually Observers."
Azynov asked, "Observers of what?"
"They monitor events on Earth. That is why Observer Base exists."
The trolley car had rolled down into a tunnel and picked up speed. With no visible references, Azynov could not judge how quickly they were moving through the dark tunnel. Since Asimov was a long-time subway passenger, Azynov barely thought about it, but he was being annoyed by a kind of strange wailing sound inside the trolley car. "All this...this entire Base.... it was created by aliens who wanted to watch Earth?"
"I don't know. The origins of this Base are ancient. Some say billions of years old, if you go back to the first arrival of aliens in the Solar System. What seems clear is that positronic robots discovered how to travel in time and with their technological powers, they took over Observer Base. Those robots were created by humans and they remained loyal to humans. Then, somehow, Grean drove out the robots and the aliens threatened to take control again. But now the table has been turned again and Grean is on her way out. That's the whole point of the Pact: handing control of human destiny back to we humans. I'm glad to be here now to witness the transition."
"And yet, you and I are replicoids. Artificial lifeforms. As an artificial life form, you still identify with the people of Earth?"
Irhit shrugged. "I like it here at the Base, but I've vicariously lived through the entire life of a human grew up on Earth, by way of our telepathic connection. So yes, I consider myself to be human, even if I am now only an artificial human, composed of hierions."
Azynov could sense that the trolley car was slowing. They popped out above ground, in what looked like a subway station. The trolley came to a stop and they stepped out onto the passenger platform. Irhit led the way to an elevator that took them up to Irhit's apartment. Inside the elevator, Azynov was hearing the wailing sound again, then he suddenly realized that it was some kind of odd music. He laughed. "Some things are universal."
The elevator door slid open. Irhit gestured for Azynov to leave the elevator car. "Yes, with the low gravity, we could easily use stairs."
"No, I was talking about the music in the elevator."
"Ah, yes. I barely notice such things. As I said, many of the local residents are interested in music. Frankly, some of the musical styles that are most popular don't sound like music to me."
They had walked down a short hallway and they went through another sliding door. "Welcome to my combined home and place of business."
Azynov walked over to the far wall which was a long wall of glass, providing a view out into the little city. Everything looked clean and shiny under the artificial sun. "This is all underground isn't it? The whole city."
"An effort has been made to make people think this is all under the surface of the Moon, but I'm a skeptic. This is a large artificial chamber... one of your caves of steel."
"You read my book?"
"Sorry, no, but I've heard of it."
Azynov turned from the window and looked around the comfortably furnished room. "It always disturbs me when I go into a home where there are no books."
Irhit laughed. "Relax, Azynov, I know how to read. However, printed books are very rare here at Observer Base." He waved an arm and a large display screen activated, showing what looked like odd characters of a foreign text. "In fact, since many of the residents here can't read, we tryp'At often use a written language that comes from another planet."
Azynov pointed at the screen and asked, "What kind of writing is that?"
"That's the language of the tryp'At home world. We are taught that this character set has its origins in the far future, in the age of the Asterothropes... the first humans who ever spread to the stars." Irhit shifted the display and now it showed a copy of the Editor's blog page called "Change 2017". Irhit explained, "Of course, I do most of my work using English, the language of the Editor."
Irhit pushed a button and the moving image of a boy appeared, floating in holographic projection at the center of the room. The light level was low; the boy was reading in bed by the light of a small lamp. "That is the boy who will grow up to become the Editor. It is my job to guide him successfully into the future."
Azynov asked, "All of the people of Earth are watched in this way?"
"No, of course not. But the lives of some people are... contentious. Even Isaac Asimov has been targeted by Interventionists. It is not by chance that Grean wanted to make a copy of Asimov, and so, here you are... the newest exile from Earth."
Azynov suggested, "So, in some other room, another replicoid of Asimov sits, just watching Asimov go about his business on Earth?"
Irhit manipulated a control panel and brought to the holographic display an image of Asimov, who sat typing. "Here at Observer Base we can observe anyone on Earth, but only tryp'At agents on Earth are worthy of close attention."
Azynov asked, "Worthy?"
"Well, why observe someone if nothing can be done to alter their behavior? In the case of a tryp'At, the Bimanoid Interface can be used to influence their behavior."
"You control the behavior of this boy, the Editor?"
Irhit switched the view back to the Editor. "Mostly I play a protective role. In fact, without any special training, this boy can't really use the Interface as intended. Still, I can make some subconscious contact with him while he is asleep and in a dream state."
"That's disgusting." Azynov crossed his arms across his chest. "I suppose this boy will never know how you have manipulated his behavior."
"Really, all I have done is cultivate his interest in science fiction. That will eventually make possible his role as the Editor, the person who tells the people of Earth about aliens like Grean and how they have shaped Earth's history."
"This boy, he reads science fiction stories? Has he read any of mine?"
"I don't think this boy is aware of your existence. He recently discovered the television show Star Trek. That's about the extent of his interest in science fiction. He thinks most science fiction is just silly movies about monsters and other things that don't interest him."
"You should introduce him to written science fiction stories... the good stuff."
"Right now he is mainly interested in science. I'm not going to push him into more fiction until he is safely established in his rational thinking."
"Who are you to make such decisions for a boy like this?"
"I used to worry about that." Irhit pointed to the displayed webpage from 2017. "Recently, a computer technician from Earth arrived here at the Base. She hacked the interlocks in this equipment and that gave me access to a mode that allows the future to be Viewed. Because of what I have observed in the future during the past few weeks, I'm quite certain that things will turn out well for the Editor."
Azynov muttered, "Let me guess: the computer technician is named Araminta."
Irhit demanded, "How do you know that?"
Azynov shook his head. "Don't you see what's going on? You callously use the young boy as your puppet while allowing yourself to be Grean's puppet. People should be allowed to live their lives, not have their life constructed artificially for them by others."
"Perhaps you will be less hostile if you see how I use the Bimanoid Interface." Irhit put on a soft headband and handed another one to Azynov. "Since we are both replicoids, we can link our minds via technology-assisted telepathy. There is a standard hierion-based linkage protocol for that." Azynov put on the headband and speech was no longer required between the two replicoids.
Strange. I hear your words in my head.
This is a level one connection; the default. Irhit adjusted the controls. Now I'm giving you full access to my mind. You should be able to access my thoughts as they form, even without me trying to use language or speak to you. "I'm going to shut down the flow of information from you into my mind so that we avoid feedback. Now, you need to speak to me again."
Azynov was now able to sense the flow of Irhit's thoughts. "This is very strange. It is hard to grasp your thoughts... they are slippery like eels."
Irhit gave Azynov a few minutes to become familiar with the connection into Irhit's mind. Azynov asked, "Who is this woman, Roz? You think about her a lot."
"Roz is a side project of mine. She is actually the daughter of Sachiz."
"Living on Earth. And something more, something you don't want me to know about."
"I suppose it no longer matters. Roz is actually a biological clone of Sachiz."
"A clone? You tryp'At practice human cloning?"
"You'd be surprised how many clones exist on Earth. Aliens like the Kac'hin are quite casual about reproductive cloning. However, creating clones is rare among the tryp'At. Still, Roz was a special situation."
Azynov asked, "Special in what way?"
Irhit replied, "If you keep looking you should be able to find it in my memory."
"Yes, it popped to the surface when I asked my question. So, there is a connection between Roz and the Editor."
"Almost. There will be. Soon. That connection is just being established." Irhit held up his hand, "Now control yourself and stop searching through my memories. Since you are not a trained tryp'At, you don't quite have the knack for it. Pay attention! I'm going to link to the boy using the Bimanoid Interface."
Azynov saw on the screen that the boy had fallen asleep while reading. In the dim image he could see that he had been reading The Skylark of Space by Ed Smith. Azynov crowed, "Ha! He has started reading science fiction."
Irhit muttered, "If you call space opera science fiction. Now hush! Try to tune into the boy's thoughts. He is starting to dream... this is when his mind becomes most accessible via the Interface."
Asimov began to sense a jumble of seemingly random thoughts, mostly snippets of events from the previous day as experienced by the boy. Then the dream sequence took an odd turn and Asimov had the sensation of a loss of motor control. He began to panic.
Irhit said, "That's odd. Someone else is connecting to the boy."
Azynov could not speak. Did I just die? He could no longer feel his own body. He had been inserted into the mind of the boy who was now in a terrifying dream, believing himself to be dead and in the presence of God. Suddenly it was over. Irhit had pulled the headbands off of both himself and then Azynov.
Irhit sank down into a chair and wiped sweat from his brow. "That was... impossible." The projected image of the boy remained as before, with the Editor still appearing to be peacefully asleep, although his eyes could be seen moving under the eye lids.
Finally Azynov regained his voice. "What happened?"
Irhit fiddled with the controls and brought to the display screen a chart that showed a representation of the data that had flowed between the boy on Earth and Irhit via the Bimanoid Interface. "That was less than a minute, but everything happened fast. Look! Right here... someone else broke into the connection. I did not even know that was possible."
Azynov whispered. "God."
Irhit looked up from the data display and asked, "What?"
"I was there, on Earth, in the boy's mind." Asimov struggled to put the sensations into words. "He dreamed that he had died and that he was in contact with God."
Irhit said sarcastically, "Ya, right." He looked back at the data display. "This is a powerful signal. Actually, I recognize it! This is a Kac'hin mind pattern. It must have been Grean." Irhit's eyes scanned further along the recording. "This must be you entering into the flow... but how can that be? You were set to only receive the boy's thoughts, indirectly via my mind. But clearly a second replicoid mind pattern went through the Bimanoid Interface to the boy."
Irhit again looked speculatively at Azynov. "What's going on? What did you transmit to the boy? And how did you do it?"
Azynov was still in a state of startlement from what he had experienced. "Don't ask me. I was just along for the ride. Although, when the intensity of the boy's thoughts shot up, I was taken by surprise. I thought about a book I had planned to write, before Grean removed me from Earth."
Irhit asked, "What book?"
"I was just starting to write the book and I had not decided on a title. I was thinking about calling it The Gods Themselves."
Irhit nodded. "Yes, and now on Earth it is 1973. Your book was published, under that title."
"My book was to include aliens who could merge their minds. I thought of that when the boy felt as if God had merged into his mind."
Irhit turned off all of the equipment. "I'll have to ask Grean what she was up to. I had no idea that she could barge in like that and hijack a connection between me and the boy."
Azynov began to recover his wits. "For all your technology and experience, you don't seem to know much."
Irhit was irritated by Azynov's comment. He fired back, "I've viewed the future and I know how Asimov will die."
"I suppose it does not really matter, but I'm curious." Azynov asked calmly, "How does Asimov die?"
"It is complicated. In just a few years you will have a heart attack. A few years later you will have heart surgery. Because of a blood transfusion, you'll be infected by a pathogen. A retrovirus. That will slowly kill you."
Azynov said, "A retrovirus? I've never heard of them."
"I'm not surprised. They are RNA viruses that use reverse-transcriptase."
Azynov said numbly, "Reverse-transcriptase?"
"The viral genome is copied into DNA that gets inserted into the host cell's chromosomes. Unknown to science, a deadly retrovirus was already in the blood supply when you had heart surgery. Or, if you prefer, it will be."
Azynov stood up. "Well, now I know. I know the future. I suppose there is nothing I can do about it."
Irhit spoke, seemingly into thin air. "Sachiz? Where are you Sachiz?"
The voice of Sachiz replied, "I just got home."
"Well come down here. Something strange just happened to Azynov and the Editor. I suspect Grean was involved."
"I'm on my way."
Irhit told Azynov, "Most of the tryp'At live here in this building. Her place is just a few floors up. In a sense, this building has become the headquarters for we tryp'At."
Azynov asked, "What is it that you are trying to accomplish? How did you come into conflict with Grean?"
"We are on the side of Trysta and the people of Earth. Grean is the tool of the aliens, the Huaoshy. I don't expect you to understand any of this."
"What are the issues? What is at the core of the conflict?"
"For the Huaoshy, humans are pests. Vermin. They wanted to replace the humans of Earth with a new species, one made in their image. We think Earth belongs to the human species. Is that simple enough for you?"
Sachiz came into Irhit's apartment. "I had to wait for Grean to release me from the workshop. I was trapped in there with Nivsaham for the longest time. Still, it was interesting."
"Nivsaham? You saw Nivsaham?"
"No, of course not. Nivsaham is actually a femtobot. Invisibly small. We did have a little chat. What is this about Grean and the Editor?"
Irhit brought the data display back to life and showed the recorded information flow that had moved via the Bimanoid Interface between the Editor and Azynov. Irhit asked, "How was Azynov able to use the Interface like that?"
Sachiz looked speculatively at Azynov. "How do we know what he is and what abilities he was given by Grean? He might look like a replicoid, but how do we really know?"
"Well, we got out of it unharmed."
"Did you? And what about the boy?"
For several minutes Irhit and Sachiz argued about what had happened. Occasionally Azynov got in a few words describing what he had experienced while linked to the Bimanoid Interface.
After a moment of silence, Sachiz groaned loudly. "Azynov was a Trojan Horse. Irhit, you opened the door to Azynov and Grean came rushing through."
Irhit shook his head. "Maybe you are correct, but why does it matter anymore? Grean is going away. We'll be left in control."
Sachiz asked, "In control of what? In thirty seconds Grean had the Editor believing he had seen God. And how long have you worked to build up his interest in rationality and science?" Sachiz mumbled, "If only we could go back in time a day, just one day... we could give ourselves a warning."
Azynov suggested, "I could slip back into Grean's workshop, use the time travel device and send a warning back to you."
Irhit told Sachiz, "Azynov has no problem using the replicoid's portal that connects to the workshop." He turned to Azynov. "Unfortunately, Grean is the only one who can activate the time travel device and soon the Huaoshy will make all further travel through time impossible. Well, I suppose I should get to it... at least I can check and see if this weird event with the Interface changed the future for the Editor."
Sachiz said to Azynov, "Grean gives us crumbs. We can view the future, but we cannot travel through time. Grean reserves that power for herself." The two tryp'At began gazing into the future, using technology that had been provided by Grean.
Azynov was intrigued by the possibility of looking into the future, but he said, "If you don't mind, I'd like to go out and explore the city."
Irhit did not look up from his work. "Have fun. There are some amazing art galleries you can explore."
Azynov had only one thing that he wanted to explore. He took the trolley back to the place where there was the hidden access hatch leading to Grean's workshop. All the way back to the workshop Azynov worried that he would find the equipment set for teleportation, not time travel. He had no idea how Grean could switch between those two modes, but when he arrived, he saw the bulky time kettle waiting in the center of the room.
Azynov stepped into the kettle and was surprised to find the Vance replicoid already inside. Azynov said, "Ah, Jack. What are you doing?"
Jack replied, "Trying to figure out if this is actually a time travel device. According to Irhit, this is place is a sham, just a virtual reality generator, all for show. During the past two weeks we tried and failed to get this kettle to take us through time, but then Grean left that tablet computer with us. I've been reading the Editor's blog and that gave me some new ideas."
Azynov said, "Let's try one more time. I want to got to, let me see... 1951. Yes. Earth in 1951."
Jack laughed. "The controls are very precise, for both space and time. Where do you want to go in 1951?"
Azynov asked, "What do you mean? I thought a kettle like this one only traveled in time."
"This is one mode of operation. However, it can also teleport, so the controls allow specification of both a target time and a target location."
"Amazing. Grean tricked me." Azynov shook his head in dismay. "She made be think that there were two separate devices. One for time travel and one for teleportation."
"Grean knows tricks you could never dream of. Still, Irhit says that the 'devices" we see here in this room are fakes. And I tend to believe that. Grean can teleport and disappear without using any equipment. Well, maybe the actual functioning equipment is all nanoscopic and built right into her body."
Azynov shook his head. "Maybe, but this equipment is the interface for use by humans. I want to go back to 1951 and warn myself... well, Asimov, about his death. As I recall, it was in 1951 that I spent a week studying up on viruses."
Jack left the kettle and adjusted the controls. He called to Azymov, "All set. Now, I'll close the door of the kettle and I'll try to activate the circuits, but we've tried this before. Nothing ever happens." At the touch of a button, the kettle door sealed shut. Jack then threw the switch to send the kettle's occupant through time and space. The door of the kettle opened and Jack called to Azynov, "Nothing ever happens." He looked through the door. Azynov was gone. Jack said, "Now I've seen everything!"
That was when Jack started sweating. Not expecting anything to happen to Azynov, he had not bothered to wonder how Azynov would return from his trip into the past. Jack stared helplessly at the control panel. There were dozens of knobs, switches and dials that he and Irhit had never understood how to use. Surely one of them could pull a time traveler back through time...
Then Grean appeared in the room, arriving suddenly by teleportation. She said, "Thank you for your help, Jack. I'll take it from here."
Jack laughed. "You've been watching? I should have known."
Grean pulled Jack away from the control panel. "You don't need to adjust the controls. They are set to automatically return Azynov in just a few more minutes."
Jack asked, "You wanted him to go back and warn Asimov about HIV?"
Grean sighed. "Azynov's silly mission into the past to warn Asimov was a waste of time, but I needed to confirm that he has the ability to release the interlocks and hackbloks that R. Gohrlay put in place. Funny, but I almost did not think to try Azynov as a test subject after learning that you lacked that ability. Both Vance and Asimov are special in Gohrlay's eye, but Asimov is the key. Well, now I know. My work here is done."
The kettle door automatically cycled closed and then open again. Azynov stepped out of the kettle, started to speak, saw Grean and fell silent.
Jack said, "Relax Azynov. Grean planned your entire trip into the past."
Azynov complained, "If she planned it, she made a mess of it. When I was sent into the past I got a recorded message, warning me that I'd be automatically returned to the upwhen in a half an hour. Asimov was at a conference across town, so all I could do was call him by phone. I must have sounded like a raving lunatic. He hung up after three minutes. I told him about HIV and how he would die, but I doubt if anything I said made any sense to him."
Grean chuckled. "All is well. You did give him an idea for a science fiction story that includes a garbled depiction of a retrovirus. Now, I can't afford to keep you around here as long as time travel is still possible, so I'm sending you off to the Galactic Core."
Azynov vanished into thin air.
___ The next day, on Earth ____
The boy who would grow up to be the Editor only puzzled briefly over his strange dream of seeing God. He confidently told himself that it had only been a silly dream. The next day, a Sunday, while trying to complete his homework, the doorbell rang and he opened the front door of his home. A young woman was there and her car sat parked in the street adjacent to the driveway.
She said, "Hi. Can I speak to your mother?"
The boy asked, "Who are you?"
"Roz." She took a badge out of her pocket and showed it to him. "Agent Shipdesqi, with Interpol."
His mother invited the Interpol agent to come in and told the Editor to go to his room and finish his homework. He went up to the second floor, down the hall and turned on the intercom system. At full volume he could hear most of the conversation between his mother and the agent as detected by the microphone at the front door.
His mother was saying, "...my father may have known many odd people while he was in the Navy, but he was not an officer. He had no command authority."
Agent Shipdesqi said, "I'm not so sure. I've heard that he was deeply involved in developing sea-launched ballistic missiles. He worked intimately with former Nazi technical experts."
"I don't believe that. He certainly never told me anything about being involved with rockets or the nuclear submarine branch of the Navy."
"Very well. If you remember anything useful... maybe the names of his commanders, call this number."
"I will. Good day, Miss Shipdesqi."
Later the Editor found agent Shipdesqi's business card in the trash. He left the card there and forgot all about Miss Shipdesqi. Only decades later did the Editor learn that Roz was a tryp'At clone.
The next day, after school he went to the town library to work on a homework project. While there he looked for the science fiction books and found a thick, hard-bound copy of Isaac Asimov's recently published novel, The Gods Themselves. From that day on, his interest in science fiction never wavered.
_________________________________________
Next: Chapter 1 Yōd
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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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