by R. R. WINTERBOTHAM
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Comet December 40.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
There is no one today who has seen a living horse. The creature became
extinct a couple of centuries ago, about the year 2,800. Man, who
betrayed the horse into what he became, hardly regretted the passing.
However, and I speak with all sincerity, there will be men of the
future who will see a horse. Perhaps men of the future may ride
horseback like knights and cowboys of the Middle Ages.
The secret of time travel has been discovered. No one has traveled
through time as yet, although man has explored the universe for more
than twenty light years from the sun. But the day of time travel is not
far distant. It had simple beginnings. All great things began in simple
ways. Newton and the apple were the beginnings of modern understanding
of the laws of the physical world; Watts and the teakettle were the
origins of industry and the machine age. A very beautiful young woman
and an unscrupulous man were responsible for time travel.
I met the man early in the morning of July 2, 3002. I remember the
date because on the day before I had visited in Alexandria, Egypt, and
I had eaten dinner in Shanghai, China. It was nearly midnight when I
reached the rocket port in Chicago and a jam in the pneumatics delayed
my arrival home until nearly one o'clock in the morning.
Blake, fully dressed, met me at the door. There was a worried look in
his eyes.
"There is a gentleman to see you, sir," Blake said. "I explained that
you would not return until quite late and I tried to get him to leave,
but he said it was urgent that he see you the minute you returned."
Blake glanced over his shoulder toward the library and lowered his
voice to a whisper. "I was a little frightened of him, sir. He doesn't
seem quite--ah--quite right, sir, if you know what I mean. Shall I call
the police?"
"No, Blake." I felt confident of licking my weight in madmen and I
entered the library.
A tall, distinguished, dark haired gentleman rose to greet me.
"Ah! Dr. Huckins! I was afraid you would not get here in time!"
As he spoke I noticed a peculiar light in his eyes. It seemed to be a
reflection from the fluorescent lamps of the library, but it showed a
little too much of the whites of his eyes and I thought of what Blake
had said about the man not being "quite right."
I did not feel that I owed him an apology for keeping him waiting,
since I usually received visitors by appointment.
"I am Gustav Keeshwar!" he introduced himself. He seemed to expect some
reaction, but unfortunately the name meant nothing to me, although if
I had paid more attention to the newspapers I would have known who he
was at once.
"I am the president of the Stellar Transport Company," he announced.
As he spoke he glanced secretively about the room, as though he feared
an eavesdropper. Then he picked up a brief case which was lying on the
table. With no explanation he opened it and pulled out package after
package of thousand dollar bills.
"You may count it if you wish," Keeshwar said. "There are 1,000 bills,
each of one thousand dollar denomination. One million dollars in cold
cash."
There are any number of bank presidents who have never seen a million
dollars in one pile. Spread out before me, I could scarcely grasp the
amount of wealth it represented. As I recall now, my clearest mental
reaction was a curiosity about how he managed to tuck it away so neatly
in a brief case. Then I wondered if it was real money. A closer glance
at the bills convinced me that it was.
Suddenly I came to my senses. I closed the library door and locked it.
I glanced nervously at the shades to make sure all were pulled down.
"Great Scott, man, you shouldn't carry all that money around with you
in a brief case!" As I said it, I spoke with the realization that the
man was mad.
"I brought the money to you," Keeshwar said. "It is yours if you will
do one thing for me."
"I must ask you to leave and to take your money with you," I said,
realizing that I was turning down the ransom of a king. "No honest task
ever called for a million dollars compensation--"
"But you have not asked me what I wish you to do!" Keeshwar exploded.
"Look! Do you see how much money a million dollars is?"
I do not wish to pose as a man over-stocked with principles. A million
dollars is more money than I ever hope to see again at one time.
But I had a good income, a nice little fortune tucked away in worth
while investments. I had a good name and my position in the world was
better than average. I did not trust this man. I had a feeling that the
million dollars he offered would not be worth the price.
"I am a surgeon," I said. "If you wish my professional services, I will
charge you a reasonable fee."
"I want your services," Keeshwar said. "I want them for one day."
"You may have them. I will send you a bill after I complete the task."
"I want your services tomorrow," said Keeshwar, persistently.
I shook my head. "I have a delicate operation scheduled tomorrow. It is
an operation I cannot postpone."
"It is an operation on Trella Mayo?"