Our Children's Children

  “It would be a new start.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Wilson.

  Up in the front, Black raised his voice. “It’s time for the President’s speech. Shall I turn on the radio?”

  He didn’t wait for anyone to say he should. He turned it on.

  The President was talking.

  “… little I can tell you. So I shall not keep you long. We still are in the process of sorting out the facts and I would be doing you a disservice if I told you less, or more, than facts. You may be assured that your government will level with you. As soon as we know anything for certain, you shall know it, too. We’ll pass it on to you.

  “These things we do know. Up in the future, some five hundred years from now, our descendants were attacked by an alien race. For twenty years or more our people held them off, but it became apparent that they could not stand against them indefinitely. Retreat was called for, out there was only one place they could retreat. Quite fortunately, they had been able to develop time travel and so it was possible for them to retreat in time. This they did, coming back to us. They do not intend to stay here; as soon as possible they intend to go back, far deeper into time. But to do this they need our help. Not only our help in building the time tunnels they will need, but our help in supplying the bare basics which will enable them to start over again. For economic reasons which everyone must understand, we, in conjunction with the rest of the world, cannot refuse to help them. Not that we would refuse in any case. They are our children’s children, several times removed. They are our flesh and blood and we cannot withhold assistance. How we will go about the helping of them is now under consideration. There are problems and they must and will be solved. There must be no delay and our effort must be wholehearted. It will call for sacrifice and devotion from every one of you. There are many details which you should be told, many questions which must occur to you. These all will be fully given and fully answered later; there is not the time to put them all before you this evening. After all, this all began happening only a few hours ago. It has been a busy Sunday.”

  The voice was confident, resonant, with no hint of desperation—and, thought Wilson, there must be in the man a certain sense of desperation. But he was still the old competent campaigner, the polished politician. He still could sell himself, still could reassure the nation. Hunched forward on the jump seat, Wilson felt a sudden surge of pride in him.

  “All of you know by now,” the President was saying, “that two of the aliens came through a tunnel in Virginia. One of them was killed, the other one escaped. I must be honest with you and say that we have had no subsequent word of it. We are pressing all efforts to find and destroy it and while it may take a little time, we will do exactly that. I ask you most urgently not to place too much emphasis upon the fact that an alien is loose upon the Earth. It is only one of the many problems that we face tonight, and not the most important. Given the sort of cooperation that I know we can expect from you, we will solve them all.”

  He paused and for a moment Wilson wondered if that was all—although he knew it wasn’t all, for the President had not said good night.

  The voice took up again. “I have one unpleasant thing to say and, unpleasant as it may be, I know that, on due consideration, you’ll realize that it must be done, that it is the least that I can do. You’ll realize, I think, that it is necessary for the good of all of us. I have, just a few minutes ago, signed an executive order declaring a national emergency. Under that order, a bank and trading holiday has been declared. This means that no banks or other financial institutions will open their doors for business, or transact any business, until further notice. Under the order all trading in stocks, shares and bonds, or in any commodities, will be suspended until further notice. All prices, salaries and wages will be frozen. This, of course, is an intolerable situation and cannot exist for long. Because of this, it is only an emergency order that will be lifted as soon as the Congress and other branches of the government can implement rules and regulations imposing such restraints as are necessary under the situation which has been imposed upon us. I hope that you will bear with us over the few days the executive order will be in force. It was only with the utmost reluctance that I decided it was necessary.”

  Wilson let out his breath slowly, not realizing until he let it out that he had caught and held it.

  There’d be unsheeted hell to pay, he knew. From the country and from the White House press corps. For Christ’s sake, Steve, you could have tipped us off. You could have let us know. And they would not believe him when he told them he had not known himself.

  It was such a logical step that they should have guessed it; he, himself, should have thought of it. But he hadn’t. He wondered if the President had talked it over with anyone and he doubted that he had. There hadn’t been much time and there’d been other things he had to talk about.

  The President was saying good night to his listeners.

  “Good night, Mr. President,” said Wilson, and wondered why the others looked at him so strangely.

  28

  The pressroom office was dark except for the feeble light from the clacking who machines ranged along the wall. Wilson crossed to his desk and sat down. He leaned forward to snap on the desk lamp, then pulled back his hand. There was no need of light and there was healing in the dark. He leaned back in his chair; for the first time since this afternoon there was nothing he should do, but there was still inside him the nagging sense that he should be up and doing.

  The President, he thought, should long since be in bed. It was nearly midnight and well past his usual bedtime and he had missed his nap in the afternoon. Samuel Henderson, he thought, was getting old, too old for this sort of thing. He had seemed drawn and haggard when the refugee scientists were escorted to his office to be introduced to the men from the National Academy.

  “You heard my speech, Steve?” the President had asked him when the men were gone.

  “In the car.”

  “What do you think? Will the country go along?”

  “Not at first. Not willingly. But when they think about it, I believe they will. Wall Street will raise a lot of dust.”

  “Wall Street,” said the President, “is something I can’t afford to give my time to right now.”

  “You should be heading for bed, Mr. President. It’s been a long, hard day.”

  “Directly,” said the President. “First I have to talk with Treasury and Sandburg phoned in to ask if he could come over.”

  Directly, he had said, but it still would be hours, more than likely, before he got to sleep.

  Somewhere, in some secret room, the scientists were talking; out there, in the vastness of the nation, of the world, in fact, people from the future were walking from their tunnels; in the mountains to the west a monster was skulking in the darkness.

  It still was unbelievable. It had happened all too fast. A man had not been given time to catch up with it. In a few hours now the people would be waking to a new day that, in many respects, would be utterly unlike any day before, unlike any day in all of human history, faced by problems and dilemmas no man had ever faced before.

  Light showed through the crack underneath the doors that led into the press lounge. Some members of the press would still be there, although they were not working. There was no sound of typewriters. He remembered that he’d never gotten to eat the sandwiches. He’d put two of them upon a plate and had taken a bite out of one of them when Brad Reynolds had come bursting through the door. Now that he thought of it, he realized that he was hungry. There might be some sandwiches left, although they’d be dry by now, and for some reason, he wanted to stay here in the dark, alone, with no necessity of talking to anyone at all.

  Although, perhaps, he thought, he should see what was on the wires. He sat for a moment longer, unwilling to move, then got up and went across the room to the bank of teletypes. AP first, he thought. Good, old stolid AP. Never sensational, usually fairly solid.

>   Yards of copy had been fed out of the machine, running down into wads of folded paper back of the machine.

  A new story was just starting.…

  WASHINGTON (AP)—A search is being pressed tonight in the mountains west of here for the monster that escaped from a time tunnel in Virginia a few hours ago. There have been numerous reports of sightings, but none can be confirmed. There is reason to believe that most of them arose from fertile and concerned imaginations. A number of troops and contingents from many police and sheriff’s departments are being deployed into the area, but there is little hope that a great deal can be done before daylight.…

  Wilson hauled in the copy paper, letting it fall and curl up before his feet, checking rapidly.

  LONDON, ENGLAND (AP)—As dawn came this morning ministers still were in conference at the residence of the Prime Minister. Throughout the night, there had been a steady coming and going.…

  NEW DELHI. INDIA (AP)—For the last ten hours people and wheat have continued to pour out of the tunnels from the future. Both present problems.…

  NEW YORK, N.Y. (AP)—Evidences multiplied throughout the night that dawn may bring an explosion of protest and rioting, not only in Harlem, but in many of the other minority areas of the city. Fear that the heavy influx of refugees from the future may bring about a reduction in food allotments and other welfare benefits are expected to spark widespread demonstrations. All police leaves have been canceled and the police force has been notified that its personnel must be prepared to work around the clock.…

  WASHINGTON, D.C. (AP)—The President’s action declaring a business holiday and freezing wages and prices was both attacked and praised.…

  Moscow, Madrid, Singapore, Brisbane, Bogota, Cairo, Kiev—and then:

  NASHVILLE. TENN. (AP)—The Rev. Jake Billings, noted evangelist, today called for a crusade to “bring the people of the future back into the arms of Christ.”

  He issued the call from his headquarters here after learning that a group of refugees who had come through the now-closed time tunnel near Falls Church, Va., had refused the ministrations of the Rev. Dr. Angus Windsor, a celebrated churchman of Washington, D.C., giving as their reason that they had turned their backs, not on Christianity alone, but on all religion.

  “They came to us for help,” said the Rev. Billings, “but the help that they are seeking is not the help they should be given. Rather than helping them, as they ask, to go further back in time, we should help them to return to the brotherhood of Christ. They are fleeing from the future for their lives, but they have already lost a thing far more precious than their lives. How their rejection of Christ may have come about, I have no way of knowing; I do know that it is our duty to point out to them the road of devotion and of righteousness. I call upon all Christians to join me in my prayers for them.”

  Wilson let the long sheaf of paper fall and went back to his desk. He switched on the light and picking up the phone, dialed the switchboard.

  “Jane—I thought I recognized your voice. This is Steve Wilson. Will you put in a call to Nashville for the Reverend Jake Billings? Yes, Jane, I know what time it is. I know he probably is asleep; we’ll simply have to wake him up. No, I don’t know his number. Thank you, Jane. Thank you very much.”

  He settled back in the chair and growled at himself. When he’d talked with the President early in the afternoon, Jake Billings had been mentioned and he’d promised he would call him, then it had not crossed his mind again. But who in hell would have thought a thing like this would happen?

  Windsor, he thought. It would take an old busybody, a meddling fool like Windsor to go messing into it. To go messing into it and then when he got his face pushed in, to go bawling to the newsmen, telling what had happened.

  Christ, that’s all we need, he thought, to get the Windsors and the Billings of the country all mixed up in it, wringing their hands in pious horror and crying for a crusade. A crusade, he grimly told himself, was the last thing that was needed. There was trouble enough without a gang of pulpit thumpers adding to the dust-up.

  The phone tinkled at him and he picked up the receiver. Jane said, “The Reverend Mr. Billings is on the line, sir.”

  “Hello,” said Wilson. “Is this the Reverend Billings?”

  “Yes, God bless you,” said the deep, solemn voice. “What can I do for you?”

  “Jake, this is Steve Wilson.”

  “Wilson? Oh, yes, the press secretary. I should have known that it was you. They didn’t say who was calling. They just said the White House.”

  The bastard, Wilson told himself. He’s disappointed. He thought it was the President.

  “It’s been a long time, Jake,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Billings. “How long ago? Ten years?”

  “More like fifteen,” said Wilson.

  “I guess it is, at that,” said Billings. “The years do have the habit.…”

  “I’m calling you,” said Wilson, “about this crusade you’re drumming up.”

  “Crusade? Oh, you mean the one to get the future people back onto the track. I am so glad you called. We need all the help that we can get. I view it as fortunate that they came back to us, for whatever reason. When I think of the human race, a mere five hundred years from now, forsaking the good old human faith, the faith that has sustained us all these years, I get a cold shiver up my spine. I’m so glad that you are with us. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you.…”

  “I’m not with you, Jake.”

  “You’re not with us? What do you mean, you’re not with us?”

  “I’m not with you, Jake—that is what I mean. I’m calling to ask that you call this silly crusade off.”

  “But I can’t.…”

  “Yes, you can. We have trouble enough without some damn fool crusade. You’ll be doing the country a disservice if you keep it up. We have problems up to here and we don’t need any more. This isn’t just a situation that will allow Jake Billings to show off his piety. This is life and death, not only for the refugees, but for every one of us.”

  “It seems to me, Steve, you’re using an approach that is unnecessarily rough.”

  “If I am,” said Wilson, “it’s because I’m upset at what you’re doing. This is important, Jake. We have a job—to get the refugees back to where they want to go before they upset our economy. And while we do that we’ll be getting plenty of flak. We’re going to get it from industry, from labor, from people on welfare, from politicians who will grab the chance to take cheap shots at us. With all of this, we can’t face flak from you. What difference can it possibly make to you? You’re not dealing with a present situation, a present people. You are dealing with the future, with a segment of time that ordinarily would be out of your reach. The refugees are back here, sure, but the windmill you are tilting at wasn’t even built until long after you and I were dead.”

  “God moves,” said Billings, “in many mysterious ways.…”

  “Look,” said Wilson, “climb down off your pulpit. Someone else, maybe, but not me. You’re not going to impress me, Jake. You never did.”

  “Steve, are you calling for the President?”

  “If you mean did he ask me to make this call, the answer is no. He probably doesn’t know as yet what you have done. But when he finds out about it, he is going to be sore. The two of us talked about you earlier in the day. We were afraid you might take some sort of hand in this. We couldn’t, of course, foresee what happened. But you do take a hand in everything that happens. I was supposed to phone you, to head you off beforehand. But so many things were happening, I never found the time.”

  “I can see your position,” said Billings soberly. “I think I can even understand it. But you and I see things from different viewpoints. To me the thought that the human race became a godless people is a personal agony. It goes against everything I have been taught, everything I’ve lived by, all that I’ve believed in.”

  “You can rest easy,” Wilson said. “It will go no
further. The human future is ending, up there five hundred years ahead.”

  “But they’ll be going back in time.…”

  “We hope they will,” said Wilson bitterly. “They’ll go back, if we aren’t completely hogtied by people such as you.”

  “If they go back,” protested Billings, “they’ll make a new start. We’ll give them what they need to make a new start. Into a new land and a new time where they’ll build a godless culture. They may, in time, go out in space, out to other stars, and they’ll go as godless people. We can’t allow that, Steve.”

  “Maybe you can’t. I could. It wouldn’t bother me. There are a hell of a lot of other people it wouldn’t bother, either. You’re blind if you can’t see the beginning, the roots of their rejection of religion in the present. Maybe that is what is really bugging you. You’re asking yourself if there was anything you could have done to prevent its happening.”

  “That may be it,” Billings admitted. “I haven’t had the time to think it through. Even if it were true, it would make no difference. I still would have to do exactly what I’m doing.”

  “You mean you intend to go ahead? Even knowing what it means to all of us. Stirring up the people, riding that great white horse.…”

  “I have to do it, Steve. My conscience.…”

  “You’ll think it over? I can call again?”

  For there was no use arguing further. No point in trying to talk reason to this pious madman. He’d known him, Wilson reminded himself, ever since their undergraduate years. And he should have known from the very first that it would be useless to try to make him see another point of view.

  “Yes, call again,” said Billings, “if you wish. But I won’t reconsider. I know what I must do. You cannot persuade me otherwise.”

  “Good night, Jake. Sorry that I woke you up.”

  “You didn’t wake me up. I expect no sleep this night. It was good to hear your voice, Steve.”

  Wilson hung up and sat quietly in his chair. Maybe, he thought, if he’d done it differently, if he’d not come on so strong, he might have accomplished something. Although he doubted it. There was no such thing as talking reason to the man; there had never been. Perhaps if he’d called him this afternoon, after he first had talked with the President, he might have been able at least to moderate Billing’s action, but he doubted that as well. It had been, he told himself, a hopeless business from the start. Billings himself was hopeless.