Isaac Asimov Presents the Great SF Stories - 01 by Isaac Asimov

Author:Isaac Asimov [Asimov, Isaac]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-06-18T12:59:52+00:00

On her knees among the myrtle leaves Sue leaned forward among the sun-flecked shadows of her cool green glade, crying: “Father, you won’t. . . you can’t believe them? I heard . . . through your ears I heard them, and I can understand a little through your mind linked with mine. I can understand what you’re thinking. . . but it can’t be true! You’re telling yourself that we’re still on the Probability Plane . . . but that’s just a theory! That’s nothing but a speculation about the future! How could I be anything but real? Why, it’s silly! Look at me! Listen to me! Here I am! Oh, don’t let me go on thinking that maybe. . . maybe you’re right, after all. But it was Sallie Carlisle you married, wasn’t it, father? Please say it was!”

Bill gulped. “Wait, honey. Let me explain to them first.” He knew he shouldn’t have started the whole incredible argument. You can’t convince a living human that he doesn’t exist. They’d only think him mad. Well— Sue might understand. Her training in metaphysics and telepathy might make it possible. But Billy— He turned with a deep breath and a mental squaring of shoulders, determined to try, anyhow. For he must be fair. He began: “Dunn, did you ever hear of the Plane of Probability?”

At the man’s incredulous stare he knew a dizzy moment of wonder whether he, too, lived in an illusion as vivid as theirs, and in that instant the foundations of time itself rocked beneath his feet. But he had no time now for speculation. Young Billy must understand, no matter how mad Dunn believed him, and Sue must know why he did what he must do—though he didn’t understand himself, yet, what that would be. His head was ringing with bewilderment.

“The . . . the Plane of Probability?” In Dunn’s eyes upon his he saw a momentary conviction flare that, reality or not, and history be damned, this man was mad. And then, doubtfully, the Leader went on, “Hm-m-m . . . yes, somewhere I have heard— Oh, I remember. Some clap-trap jargon the old Telepathy House fakers used to use before we cleared them out of Science City. But what’s that nonsense got to—”

“It’s not nonsense.” Bill closed his eyes in a sudden, almost intolerable longing for peace, for time to think what he must do. But no, the thing must be settled now, without time for thinking. And perhaps that was the best way, after all. A man’s brain would crack if he paused to think out this madness. Only he must say something to young Billy— And what could he say? How could he face either of these beloved children and, to their uncomprehending, pleading faces, refuse them life? If he could only break the connection that riveted them all into a sort of triple time balance— But he couldn’t. He must make it clear to Billy— “It’s not nonsense,” he heard his own voice repeating wildly.

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