The Butcher shook his head. "I'm going to think my way in. I'm going to
think old."
"You won't be able to fool the usher, Butcher. You under-fives
simply aren't allowed in the Time Theater. There's a good reason for
it--something dangerous might happen if an under-five got inside."
"Why?"
"I don't exactly know, but something."
"Hah! I bet they're scared we'd go traveling in the Time Bubble and
have some excitement."
"They are not. I guess they just know you'd get bored and wander away
from your seats and maybe disturb the adults or upset the electronics
or something. But don't worry about it, Butcher. The usher will take
care of you."
"Shut up--I'm thinking I'm World Director," the Butcher informed them,
contorting his face diabolically.
Hal spoke to the uninjes, pointing to the side of the corridor.
Obediently four of them lined up.
But Brute was peering down the corridor toward where it merged into a
deeper darkness. His short legs stiffened, his neckless head seemed to
retreat even further between his powerful shoulders, his lips writhed
back to show his gleaming fangs, and a completely unfamiliar sound
issued from his throat. A choked, grating sound. A growl. The other
uninjes moved uneasily.
"Do you suppose something's the matter with his circuits?" Joggy
whispered. "Maybe he's getting racial memories from the Scands."
"Of course not," Hal said irritably.
"Brute, get over there," the Butcher commanded. Unwillingly, eyes still
fixed on the blackness ahead, Brute obeyed.
The three boys started on. Hal and Joggy experienced a vaguely
electrical tingling that vanished almost immediately. They looked back.
The Butcher had been stopped by an invisible wall.
"I told you you couldn't fool the usher," Hal said.
The Butcher hurled himself forward. The wall gave a little, then
bounced him back with equal force.
"I bet it'll be a bum time view anyway," the Butcher said, not giving
up, but not trying again. "And I still don't think the usher can tell
how old you are. I bet there's an over-age teacher spying on you
through a hole, and if he doesn't like your looks, he switches on the
usher."
* * * * *
But the others had disappeared in the blackness. The Butcher waited and
then sat down beside the uninjes. Brute laid his head on his knee and
growled faintly down the corridor.
"Take it easy, Brute," the Butcher consoled him. "I don't think
Tamerlane was really a Scand of the Navies anyhow."
Two chattering girls hardly bigger than himself stepped through the
usher as if it weren't there.
The Butcher grimly slipped out the metal tube and put it to his lips.
There were two closely spaced faint _plops_ and a large green stain
appeared on the bare back of one girl, while purple fluid dripped from
the close-cropped hair of the other.
They glared at him and one of them said: "A cub!" But he had his arms
folded and wasn't looking at them.
Meanwhile, subordinate ushers had guided Hal and Joggy away from the
main entrance to the Time Theater. A sphincter dilated and they found
themselves in a small transparent cubicle from which they could watch
the show without disturbing the adult audience. They unstrapped their
levitators, laid them on the floor and sat down.
The darkened auditorium was circular. Rising from a low central
platform was a huge bubble of light, its lower surface somewhat
flattened. The audience was seated in concentric rows around the
bubble, their keen and compassionate faces dimly revealed by the pale
central glow.
But it was the scene within the bubble that riveted the attention of
the boys.
Great brooding trees, the trunks of the nearer ones sliced by the
bubble's surface, formed the background. Through the dark, wet foliage
appeared glimpses of a murky sky, while from the ceiling of the bubble,
a ceaseless rain dripped mournfully. A hooded figure crouched beside a
little fire partly shielded by a gnarled trunk. Squatting round about
were wiry, blue-eyed men with shoulder-length blond hair and full blond
beards. They were clothed in furs and metal-studded leather.
Here and there were scattered weapons and armor--long swords glistening
with oil to guard them from rust, crudely painted circular shields, and
helmets from which curved the horns of beasts. Back and forth, lean,
wolflike dogs paced with restless monotony.
* * * * *
Sometimes the men seemed to speak together, or one would rise to peer
down the misty forest vistas, but mostly they were motionless. Only
the hooded figure, which they seemed to regard with a mingled wonder
and fear, swayed incessantly to the rhythm of some unheard chant.
"The Time Bubble has been brought to rest in one of the barbaric
cultures of the Dawn Era," a soft voice explained, so casually that
Joggy looked around for the speaker, until Hal nudged him sharply,
whispering with barely perceptible embarrassment: "Don't do that,
Joggy. It's just the electronic interpreter. It senses our development
and hears our questions and then it automats background and answers.
But it's no more alive than an adolescer or a kinderobot. Got a billion
microtapes, though."
The interpreter continued: "The skin-clad men we are viewing in Time
in the Round seem to be a group of warriors of the sort who lived
by pillage and rapine. The hooded figure is a most unusual find. We
believe it to be that of a sorcerer who pretended to control the forces
of nature and see into the future."
Joggy whispered: "How is it that we can't see the audience through the
other side of the bubble? We can see through this side, all right."
"The bubble only shines light out," Hal told him hurriedly, to show he
knew some things as well as the interpreter. "Nothing, not even light,
can get into the bubble from outside. The audience on the other side of
the bubble sees into it just as we do, only they're seeing the other
way--for instance, they can't see the fire because the tree is in the
way. And instead of seeing us beyond, they see more trees and sky."
Joggy nodded. "You mean that whatever way you look at the bubble, it's
a kind of hole through time?"
"That's right." Hal cleared his throat and recited: "The bubble is the
locus of an infinite number of one-way holes, all centering around two
points in space-time, one now and one then. The bubble looks completely
open, but if you tried to step inside, you'd be stopped--and so would
an atom beam. It takes more energy than an atom beam just to maintain
the bubble, let alone maneuver it."
"I see, I guess," Joggy whispered. "But if the hole works for light,
why can't the people inside the bubble step out of it into our world?"
"Why--er--you see, Joggy--"
The interpreter took over. "The holes are one-way for light, but no-way
for matter. If one of the individuals inside the bubble walked toward
you, he would cross-section and disappear. But to the audience on the
opposite side of the bubble, it would be obvious that he had walked
away along the vista down which they are peering."
* * * * *
As if to provide an example, a figure suddenly materialized on
their side of the bubble. The wolflike dogs bared their fangs. For
an instant, there was only an eerie, distorted, rapidly growing
silhouette, changing from blood-red to black as the boundary of the
bubble cross-sectioned the intruding figure. Then they recognized the
back of another long-haired warrior and realized that the audience on
the other side of the bubble had probably seen him approaching for some
time.
He bowed to the hooded figure and handed him a small bag.
"More atavistic cubs, big and little! Hold still, Cynthia," a new voice
cut in.
Hal turned and saw that two cold-eyed girls had been ushered into the
cubicle. One was wiping her close-cropped hair with one hand while
mopping a green stain from her friend's back with the other.