logical; a number of them were complete reversals ofpresent trends, and a lot seemed to depend on arbitrary andunpredictable factors. Mind, this was before the first rocket landedon the Moon, when the whole moon-rocket and lunar-base project was atriple-top secret. But I knew, in the spring of 1970, that the firstunmanned rocket would be called the _Kilroy_, and that it would belaunched some time in 1971. You remember, when the news was released,it was stated that the rocket hadn't been christened until the daybefore it was launched, when somebody remembered that old'Kilroy-was-here' thing from the Second World War. Well, I knew aboutit over a year in advance."
Weill had been listening in silence. He had a naturally skepticalface; his present expression mightn't really mean that he didn'tbelieve what he was hearing.
"How'd you get all this stuff? In dreams?"
Chalmers shook his head. "It just came to me. I'd be sitting reading,or eating dinner, or talking to one of my classes, and the first thingI'd know, something out of the future would come bubbling up in me. Itjust kept pushing up into my conscious mind. I wouldn't have an ideaof something one minute, and the next it would just be part of mygeneral historical knowledge; I'd know it as positively as I know thatColumbus discovered America in. 1492. The only difference is that Ican usually remember where I've read something in past history, but myfuture history I know without knowing how I know it."
"Ah, that's the question!" Weill pounced. "You don't know how you knowit. Look, Ed, we've both studied psychology, elementary psychology atleast. Anybody who has to work with people, these days, has to knowsome psychology. What makes you sure that these prophetic impressionsof yours aren't manufactured in your own subconscious mind?"
"That's what I thought, at first. I thought my subconscious was justbuilding up this stuff to fill the gaps in what I'd produced fromlogical extrapolation. I've always been a stickler for detail," headded, parenthetically. "It would be natural for me to supply detailsfor the future. But, as I said, a lot of this stuff is based onunpredictable and arbitrary factors that can't be inferred fromanything in the present. That left me with the alternatives ofdelusion or precognition, and if I ever came near going crazy, it wasbefore the _Kilroy_ landed and the news was released. After that, Iknew which it was."
"And yet, you can't explain how you can have real knowledge of athing before it happens. Before it exists," Weill said.
"I really don't need to. I'm satisfied with knowing that I know. Butif you want me to furnish a theory, let's say that all these thingsreally do exist, in the past or in the future, and that the present isjust a moving knife-edge that separates the two. You can't evenindicate the present. By the time you make up your mind to say, 'Now!'and transmit the impulse to your vocal organs, and utter the word, theoriginal present moment is part of the past. The knife-edge has goneover it. Most people think they know only the present; what they knowis the past, which they have already experienced, or read about. Thedifference with me is that I can see what's on both sides of theknife-edge."
Weill put another cigarette in his mouth and bent his head to theflame of his lighter. For a moment, he sat motionless, his thin facerigid.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "I'm a lawyer, not apsychiatrist."
"I want a lawyer. This is a legal matter. Whitburn's talking aboutvoiding my tenure contract. You helped draw it; I have a right toexpect you to help defend it."
"Ed, have you been talking about this to anybody else?" Weill asked.
"You're the first person I've mentioned it to. It's not the sort ofthing you'd bring up casually, in a conversation."
"Then how'd Whitburn get hold of it?"
"He didn't, not the way I've given it to you. But I made a couple ofslips, now and then. I made a bad one yesterday morning."
He told Weill about it, and about his session with the president ofthe college that morning. The lawyer nodded.
"That was a bad one, but you handled Whitburn the right way," Weillsaid. "What he's most afraid of is publicity, getting the collegemixed up in anything controversial, and above all, the reactions ofthe trustees and people like that. If Dacre or anybody else makes anytrouble, he'll do his best to cover for you. Not willingly, of course,but because he'll know that that's the only way he can cover forhimself. I don't think you'll have any more trouble with him. If youcan keep your own nose clean, that is. Can you do that?"
"I believe so. Yesterday I got careless. I'll not do that again."
"You'd better not." Weill hesitated for a moment. "I said I was alawyer, not a psychiatrist. I'm going to give you some psychiatrist'sadvice, though. Forget this whole thing. You say you can bring theseimpressions into your conscious mind by concentrating?" He waitedbriefly; Chalmers nodded, and he continued: "Well, stop it. Stoptrying to harbor this stuff. It's dangerous, Ed. Stop playing aroundwith it."
"You think I'm crazy, too?"
Weill shook his head impatiently. "I didn't say that. But I'll say,now, that you're losing your grip on reality. You are constructing asystem of fantasies, and the first thing you know, they will becomeyour reality, and the world around you will be unreal and illusory.And that's a state of mental incompetence that I can recognize, as alawyer."
"How about the _Kilroy_?"
Weill looked at him intently. "Ed, are you sure you did have thatexperience?" he asked. "I'm not trying to imply that you'reconsciously lying to me about that. I am suggesting that youmanufactured a memory of that incident in your subconscious mind, andare deluding yourself into thinking that you knew about it in advance.False memory is a fairly common thing, in cases like this. Even thelittle psychology I know, I've heard about that. There's been talkabout rockets to the Moon for years. You included something about thatin your future-history fantasy, and then, after the event, youconvinced yourself that you'd known all about it, including theimpromptu christening of the rocket, all along."
A hot retort rose to his lips; he swallowed it hastily. Instead, henodded amicably.
"That's a point worth thinking of. But right now, what I want to knowis, will you represent me in case Whitburn does take this to court anddoes try to void my contract?"
"Oh, yes; as you said, I have an obligation to defend the contracts Idraw up. But you'll have to avoid giving him any further reason fortrying to void it. Don't make any more of these slips. Watch what yousay, in class or out of it. And above all, don't talk about this toanybody. Don't tell anybody that you can foresee the future, or eventalk about future probabilities. Your business is with the past;stick to it."
* * * * *
The afternoon passed quietly enough. Word of his defiance of Whitburnhad gotten around among the faculty--Whitburn might have his secretaryscared witless in his office, but not gossipless outside it--though ithadn't seemed to have leaked down to the students yet. Handley, theLatin professor, managed to waylay him in a hallway, a hallway Handleydidn't normally use.
"The tenure-contract system under which we hold our positions here isone of our most valuable safeguards," he said, after exchanginggreetings. "It was only won after a struggle, in a time of publicanimosity toward all intellectuals, and even now, our professionalposition would be most insecure without it."
"Yes. I found that out today, if I hadn't known it when I took part inthe struggle you speak of."
"It should not be jeopardized," Handley declared.
"You think I'm jeopardizing it?"
Handley frowned. He didn't like being pushed out of the safety ofgeneralization into specific cases.
"Well, now that you make that point, yes. I do. If Doctor Whitburntries to make an issue of ... of what happened yesterday ... and ifthe court decides against you, you can see the position all of us willbe in."
"What do you think I should have done? Given him my resignation whenhe demanded it? We have our tenure-contracts, and the system wasinstituted to prevent just the sort of arbitrary action Whitburn triedto take with me today. If he wants to go to court, he'll find thatout."
"And if
he wins, he'll establish a precedent that will threaten thesecurity of every college and university faculty member in the state.In any state where there's a tenure law."
Leonard Fitch, the psychologist, took an opposite attitude. AsChalmers was leaving the college at the end of the afternoon, Fitchcut across the campus to intercept him.
"I heard about the way you stood up to Whitburn this morning, Ed," hesaid. "Glad you did it. I only wish I'd