Caltraps of Time Read Online Free Page B
Author: David I. Masson
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction, Collections & Anthologies
but took no major part.
~ * ~
Mihányo and Arisón were watching a firework festival on the North-Eastern Sea from their launch off one of the southern promontories. Up here, a fine velvety backdrop for the display was made by the inky black of the northern sight-barrier, which cut off the stars in a gigantic arc. Fortunately the weather was fine. The silhouettes of the firework boats could just be discerned. In a world which knew no moon the pleasures of a ‘white night’ were often only to be got by such displays. The girl and Derestó were swimming round and round the launch. Even the small boy had been brought out, and was rather blearily staring northward. Eventually the triple green star went up and the exhibition was over; at the firework boats a midnight had been reached. Derestó and Venoyyè were called in, located by a flare, and ultimately prevailed on to climb in, shivering slightly, and dry off in the hot-air blaster, dancing about like two imps. Arisón turned the launch for the shore and Silarrè was found to be asleep. So was Venoyyè when they touched the jetty. Their parents had each to carry one in and up to the beach house.
Next morning they packed and set out in the automob for home. Their twenty days’ holiday had cost 160 days of Oluluetang time. Heavy rain was falling when they reached the city. Mihányo, when the children were settled in, had a long talk on the opsiphone with her friend across the breadth of Oluluetang: she (the friend) had been with her husband badger-watching in the western uplands. Finally Arisón chipped in and, after general conversation, exchanged some views with the husband on developments in local politics.
‘Pity one grows old so fast down here,’ lamented Mihányo that evening; ‘if only life could go on for ever!’
‘For ever is a big word. Besides, being down here makes no difference to the feeling — you don’t feel it any slower up on the Sea, do you now ?’
‘I suppose not. But if only ...’
To switch her mood, Arisón began to talk about Derestó and his future. Soon they were planning their children’s lives for them in the way parents cannot resist doing. With his salary and investments in the firm they would set up the boy for a great administrator, and still have enough to give the others every opportunity.
Next morning it was still in something of a glow that Arisón bade farewell to his wife and went off to take up his work in the offices. He had an extremely busy day and was coming out of the gates in the waning light to his automob in its stall, when he found standing round it three of the military. He looked inquiringly at them as he approached with his personal pulse-key in hand.
‘You are VSQ 389 MLD 194 RV 27 XN 3, known as Hadolarisóndamo, resident at’ (naming the address) ‘and sub-president today in this firm.’ The cold tones of the leader were a statement, not a question.
‘Yes,’ whispered Arisón as soon as he could speak.
‘I have a warrant for your immediate re-employment with our Forces in the place at which you first received your order for Release. You must come with us forthwith.’ The leader produced a luminous orange tag with black markings.
‘But my wife and family!’
‘They are being informed. We have no time.’
‘My firm?’
Your chief is being informed. Come now.’
‘I – I – I must set my affairs in order.’
‘Impossible. No time. Urgent situation. Your family and firm must do all that between them. Our orders override everything.’
‘Wh — wh — what is your authority? Can I see it please?’
‘This tag should suffice. It corresponds to the tag-end which I hope you still have in your identity disc — we will check all that en route. Come on now.’
‘But I must see your authority. How do I know, for instance, that you are not trying to rob me, or something?’
‘If you know the code
~ * ~
Mihányo and Arisón were watching a firework festival on the North-Eastern Sea from their launch off one of the southern promontories. Up here, a fine velvety backdrop for the display was made by the inky black of the northern sight-barrier, which cut off the stars in a gigantic arc. Fortunately the weather was fine. The silhouettes of the firework boats could just be discerned. In a world which knew no moon the pleasures of a ‘white night’ were often only to be got by such displays. The girl and Derestó were swimming round and round the launch. Even the small boy had been brought out, and was rather blearily staring northward. Eventually the triple green star went up and the exhibition was over; at the firework boats a midnight had been reached. Derestó and Venoyyè were called in, located by a flare, and ultimately prevailed on to climb in, shivering slightly, and dry off in the hot-air blaster, dancing about like two imps. Arisón turned the launch for the shore and Silarrè was found to be asleep. So was Venoyyè when they touched the jetty. Their parents had each to carry one in and up to the beach house.
Next morning they packed and set out in the automob for home. Their twenty days’ holiday had cost 160 days of Oluluetang time. Heavy rain was falling when they reached the city. Mihányo, when the children were settled in, had a long talk on the opsiphone with her friend across the breadth of Oluluetang: she (the friend) had been with her husband badger-watching in the western uplands. Finally Arisón chipped in and, after general conversation, exchanged some views with the husband on developments in local politics.
‘Pity one grows old so fast down here,’ lamented Mihányo that evening; ‘if only life could go on for ever!’
‘For ever is a big word. Besides, being down here makes no difference to the feeling — you don’t feel it any slower up on the Sea, do you now ?’
‘I suppose not. But if only ...’
To switch her mood, Arisón began to talk about Derestó and his future. Soon they were planning their children’s lives for them in the way parents cannot resist doing. With his salary and investments in the firm they would set up the boy for a great administrator, and still have enough to give the others every opportunity.
Next morning it was still in something of a glow that Arisón bade farewell to his wife and went off to take up his work in the offices. He had an extremely busy day and was coming out of the gates in the waning light to his automob in its stall, when he found standing round it three of the military. He looked inquiringly at them as he approached with his personal pulse-key in hand.
‘You are VSQ 389 MLD 194 RV 27 XN 3, known as Hadolarisóndamo, resident at’ (naming the address) ‘and sub-president today in this firm.’ The cold tones of the leader were a statement, not a question.
‘Yes,’ whispered Arisón as soon as he could speak.
‘I have a warrant for your immediate re-employment with our Forces in the place at which you first received your order for Release. You must come with us forthwith.’ The leader produced a luminous orange tag with black markings.
‘But my wife and family!’
‘They are being informed. We have no time.’
‘My firm?’
Your chief is being informed. Come now.’
‘I – I – I must set my affairs in order.’
‘Impossible. No time. Urgent situation. Your family and firm must do all that between them. Our orders override everything.’
‘Wh — wh — what is your authority? Can I see it please?’
‘This tag should suffice. It corresponds to the tag-end which I hope you still have in your identity disc — we will check all that en route. Come on now.’
‘But I must see your authority. How do I know, for instance, that you are not trying to rob me, or something?’
‘If you know the code
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