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inevitable. For by right, the `War to End Wars' of 1914 should have been, and
could have been, just that a sweeping away of the old power structure and
social order before the final triumph of Reason toward which Europe had been
moving for centuries. . . ." Magus paused ominously, and his voice fell. "But
the promise was not fulfilled. Instead of welcoming the peaceful,
scientifically planned society which we, the custodians of Reason stood ready
to design" the professor stretched out an arm to indicate the people around
him "the world turned its back on Reason, sacrificing itself to the vain
ambitions and pretensions of lesser intellects." Magus's fists clenched, and
his face took on a pinker hue. "Mediocrities! Ignoramuses! Uneducated
charlatans and showmen posturing as thinkers! They abused the power that we
had created for them, and they cheated us out of the " He checked himself with
a cough and regained his composure. "But now the day has arrived that will
allow us to correct the error. In so doing, we will eradicate the tragedies
that have followed, and we will create in their place the Golden Age of peace
and enlightenment that should have been."
Magus pointed down at where the machine was standing. The time commando
straightened to attention and thrust out his chin as the amplified voice
boomed down over the floor, "And you, Elmer Theodosius Ulysses Kunz, have been
selected to carry out this supreme mission, unique in the annals of all
history, to travel back and recast destiny. Go now to your duty, knowing that
our cause is righteous, and assured that every one of us will be there with
you in spirit."
Time Commando Kunz extended his arm high in a final salute. "May universal
peace, brotherhood, and reason come to prevail among all men. I go, to destroy
the archprototype of tyrants. Time will be rewritten, with harmony and
goodwill between the worlds, and an end to intolerance."
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"Harmony between the worlds!" Magus led.
"Stamp out intolerance!" Kunz and the chorus chanted back in unison.
In a last dramatic gesture, Kunz pulled his heavy green cloak tight around
himself with both hands before stepping down to disappear into the cockpit. To
avoid being conspicuous when he emerged, he was wearing the leather shorts and
cross-braced suspenders, red stockings, loose white shirt, and feathered hat,
which the limited research material available few records had survived the
Third Great War to End Wars indicated had been the typical dress of central
Europe in the early twentieth century. The mission planners had added the
cloak because it would be winter there when he arrived. Also, it provided
concealment for the high-power infantry assault laser; rapid-fire submachine
cannon; .45 caliber solid-shot sidearm with silencer; close-range neurotoxin
gas pistol; four fragmentation, two blast, and two incendiary grenades;
dagger; garotte; and air-powered, cyanide-tipped dart gun, which the Peace
Foundation's weapons experts had deemed minimum for the mission.
He checked that the larger items of equipment were in their places in the rack
below the hatch, then squeezed himself down into the narrow seat. The panel
lights indicated that all systems checks were completed and had registered
positive. Then a whine came from just above his head as the hatch closed over
the cockpit, and a solid clunk signaled the latch engaging. The status summary
light was showing orange, which meant that the executive computer had already
synchronized its countdown to the control room, and the display next to it was
showing less than a minute to zero. The system was now awaiting merely his
confirmation to deactivate the final fail-safe override that would abort the
launch command at the end of the sequence.
Kunz cast his eyes slowly around the tiny chamber and across the panel
indicators one last time to impress upon himself the solemnity of the moment.
Then, he licked his lips, drew in a long breath, and said into the stalk
microphone projecting from one side of his seat, "Checking positive at zero
minus fifty seconds. Request permission to disengage final abort interlock."
The supervisor's voice came through on a channel from the control room.
"Positive status confirmed on all circuits. You may proceed."
Kunz felt the tension rising in his body. He unlocked the switch, closed his
fingers around it, hesitated for one, maybe two, seconds, and then threw the
switch from its Abort on Zero position to Launch. The status light changed to
green, and more greens appeared lower down on the panel. Keeping his voice
steady only with an effort, he reported, "Interlock disengaged, positive
function." The countdown indicator was reading thirty-five seconds.
Then Magus's voice came through. "At this fateful moment, the turning point of
history, we of the Peace Foundation salute you, Kunz. Remember as you go forth
that all our hopes, our aspirations, the very future for which we have labored
over these years everything depends on you now."
"I shall remember. Have no fear, comrades. Your trust shall not prove
misplaced," Kunz promised, his voice rising.
"Go, fearlessly and with honor, for peace!" Magus's voice thundered.
"Ten seconds," the supervisor's voice interjected.
"For peace!" Kunz cried.
A hum emanated from the mass recirculators, became louder, and rose to a
shriek. The compensators started to whistle, and whoop. A red glow filled the
space surrounding the cockpit, and patterns of lights flashed across the
instrument panel, while in the center, the numerals of the countdown indicator
read off the final seconds 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . 0!"
"Ayeiii! . . ."
Kunz's world exploded in a storm of color, sound, and chaotic tactile
sensations as space and time unraveled about him, and unfamiliar patterns of
energy quanta overloaded all his sensory systems simultaneously. . . .
He was aware of the shapes surrounding him, but in an unreal kind of way, as
if they were parts of a different world projecting out of other dimensions.
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They consisted only of iridescent outlines without substance hollow-wire
figures of light, shimmering in a void. His thoughts seemed to be running
simultaneously in a thousand directions at once, yet at the same time to be
frozen into immobility. He could see the entire networks of associations,
branching, repeating, reforming, and coalescing, but with all of the parts
managing to coexist together without any impression of sequence. He was
experiencing timelessness, he knew; but like an infant opening its eyes for
the first time without any prior experience to interpret the sensations that
his mind was registering.
* * *
Magus had explained that the torus would generate a spacetime singularity in
the form of an infinitely thin plane across the hole in the middle, through
which every cross section would rotate perpendicular to space-time like the
elements of a smoke ring. But instead of emerging on the other side, the
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