The End of Eternity - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,9

apparently, he shifted to Intertemporal and remained there. He said, "I would offer you a cigarette, but I am certain you don't smoke. Smoking is approved of hardly anywhen in history. In fact, good cigarettes are made only in the 72nd and mine have to be specially imported from there. I give you that hint in case you ever become a smoker. It is all very sad. Last week, I was stuck in the 123rd for two days. No smoking. I mean, even in the Section of Eternity devoted to the 123rd. The Eternals there have picked up the mores. If I had lit a cigarette it would have been like the sky collapsing. Sometimes I think I should like to calculate one great Reality Change and wipe out all the no-smoking taboos in all the Centuries, except that any Reality Change like that would make for wars in the 58th or a slave society in the 1000th. Always something."

Harlan was first confused, then anxious. Surely these rattling irrelevancies must be hiding something.

His throat felt a little constricted. He said, "May I ask why you've arranged to see me, sir?"

"I like your reports, boy."

There was a veiled glimmer of joy in Harlan's eyes, but he did not smile. "Thank you, sir."

"It has a touch of the artist. You are intuitive. You feel strongly. I think I know your proper position in Eternity and I have come to offer it to you."

Harlan thought: I can't believe this.

He held all triumph out of his voice. "You do me great honor, sir," he said.

Whereupon Senior Computer Twissell, having come to the end of his cigarette, produced another in his left hand by some unnoted feat of legerdemain and lit it. He said between puffs, "For Time's sake, boy, you talk as though you rehearsed lines. Great honor, bah. Piffle. Trash. Say what you feel in plain language. You're glad, hey?"

"Yes, sir," said Harlan cautiously.

"All right. You should be. How would you like to be a Technician?"

"A Technician!" cried Harlan, leaping from his seat.

"Sit down. Sit down. You seem surprised."

"I hadn't expected to be a Technician, Computer Twissell."

"No," said Twissell dryly, "somehow no one ever does. They expect anything but that. Yet Technicians are hard to find, and are always in demand. Not a Section in Eternity has what it considers enough."

"I don't think I'm suited."

"You mean you're not suited to take a job with trouble in it. By Time, if you are devoted to Eternity, as I believe you are, you won't mind that. So the fools will avoid you and you will feel ostracized. You will grow used to that. And you will have the satisfaction of knowing you are needed, and needed badly. By me."

"By you, sir? By you particularly?"

"Yes." An element of shrewdness entered the old man's smile. "You are not to be just a Technician. You will be my personal Technician. You will have special status. How does that sound now?"

Harlan said, "I don't know, sir. I may not qualify."

Twissell shook his head firmly. "I need you. I need just you. Your reports assure me you have what I need up here." He tapped his forehead quickly with a ridge-nailed forefinger. "Your record as Cub is good; the Sections for which you have Observed reported favorably. Finally, Finge's report was most suitable of all."

Harlan was honestly startled. "Computer Finge's report was favorable?"

"You didn't expect that?"

"I-don't know."

"Well, boy, I didn't say it was favorable. I said it was suitable. As a matter of fact, Finge's report was not favorable. He recommended that you be removed from all duties connected with Reality Changes. He suggested it wasn't safe to keep you anywhere but in Maintenance."

Harlan reddened. "What were his reasons for saying so, sir?"

"It seems you have a hobby, boy. You are interested in Primitive history, eh?" He gestured expansively with his cigarette and Harlan, forgetting in his anger to control his breathing, inhaled a cloud of smoke and coughed helplessly.

Twissell regarded the young Observer's coughing spell benignly and said, "Isn't that so?"

Harlan began, "Computer Finge had no right-"

"Now, now. I told you what was in the report because it hinges on the purpose I need you most for. Actually, the report was confidential and you are to forget I told you what was in it. Permanently, boy."

"But what's wrong with being interested in Primitive history?"

"Finge thinks your interest in it shows a strong Wish-to-Time. You understand me, boy?"

Harlan did. It was impossible to avoid picking up psychiatric lingo. That phrase