some of the very primitive principles of time might not have made our many-times-faster-than-light travel possible. Time is somehow tied into space, but I have never known quite how.â
âYou stole this time travel you have now from the Infinites. Yet you call yourselves barbarians. Hell, youâre not barbarians. Anyone who can steal time factors and make them work â¦â
âThere were others up there in the future, I am sure, who could have used time travel better. But they werenât interested. Mechanisms, even the sophisticated mechanism of time travel, were no longer concerns of theirs. They had reached a higher plane.â
âThey were decadent,â said Boone. âThey gave up their humanity.â
âWhat is humanity?â she asked.
âYou canât believe that. You are here, not up there million years from now.â
âI know. And still how can anyone be absolutely sure Horace is always sure that he is right, of course, but Horace is a bigot. Emma is sure Horace is right. Thatâs blind, stupid faith on her part. Iâm not sure about David. Heâs happy-go-lucky. I donât think he really cares.â
âI think he does,â said Boone. âWhen it comes down to the crunch, heâll care.â
âThere was so much else the human race could have done,â she said. âSo many things yet that could be done. And then, if history is right, quite suddenly humanity lost interest in doing things. Could there have been some inherent braking system built into their intelligence, something that warned them to slow down? Iâve thought about it and thought about it. I go around in circles. Iâm cursed with the kind of mind that is forced to see and consider all sides of a question, all the approaches that I can puzzle out.â
âYou had better slow down,â said Boone. âYouâre not going to solve it all tonight. You should be getting some sleep, back in the traveler. Iâll stay out here and keep the fire going.â
âThe wolves will sneak up on you.â
âI sleep light. Iâll wake at regular intervals to tend the fire; so long as there is a fire, the wolves will keep their distance.â
âIâd rather be out here with you. Iâd feel safer.â
âItâs up to you. Youâd be safer in the traveler.â
âIâd suffocate in there. Iâll go and get some blankets. You want a blanket, donât you?â
He nodded. âAs the night goes on, it could get chilly out here.â
The moon was coming up, a great, bloated, yellow moon swimming up over the naked, ashen buttes. The land seemed empty. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. Even the watching wolves were gone; no glowing eyes stared in from beyond the campfire. Then he saw the soft movement of a shadow through the moonlight. They still were out there, like so many drifting shadows. He felt some of the emptiness and the loneliness lift from the land.
Enid came back and gave him a blanket.
âWill one be enough?â she asked.
âEnough. Iâll drape it over my shoulders.â
âYou mean youâll sleep sitting up?â
âItâll not be the first time. It keeps a man alert. You might doze off, but if you do, you wake.â
âIâve never heard such foolishness,â she said. âYou are a true barbarian.â
He chuckled at her.
Half an hour later, when he rose to his feet to place more wood upon the fire, she was asleep, wrapped in her blanket.
The fire replenished, he sat down again, pulled the blanket close about his shoulders, wrapping it well about him and placing the rifle in his lap.
Later, when he awoke, the moon was well up the sky. The fire had burned down somewhat, but still had plenty of fuel. He let his head droop and was half asleep again when, rousing for an instant, he saw someone sitting across the fire from him. The sitter was wrapped in an