"Burstein, Michael A - Cosmic Corkscrew" - читать интересную книгу автора (Burstein Michael A)

Cosmic Corkscrew
by
Michael A. Burstein
1998




Stasis felt unreal.
Dr. Scheihagen had warned me about that when I volunteered for this
mission. "Remember, we don't know what it'll be like for you inside," he
said in his German accent. "We've never sent a human so far back before."
Scheihagen himself had been the volunteer for the first few
experiments, but he had only gone back in time on the scale of hours, not
years. So he was little equipped to prepare me for my experience.
Even now, I can't describe it. How does one describe the passage of
imaginary time in a box of Stasis, of timelessness? I felt frozen in time,
while events passed around me in a blur of color. Throughout, I worried
that I might get trapped in Stasis, and never emerge into normal time
again. But I had been willing to take the risk for this literary mission
of the utmost importance.
Finally, after an eternity of nothing, the Chronobox and I materialized
in a small, isolated alleyway. I jumped out of the Chronobox, gulped down
a few breaths of air, and closed the door. The sunlight passed through the
glass cubicle, rendering it almost invisible. Only once I felt safely back
in normal time did I check my wrist chronometer.
Its digital display of the date read 06:20:38. Monday, June 20, 1938.
Afternoon.
Perfect. I had managed to reprogram the Chronobox right under
Scheihagen's nose.



Scheihagen had warned me about it when he set up the controls.
"Remember our agreement," he had said to me. "I'm sending you back on
June 23, when the story has already been rejected, so there's no chance of
interference with the main event. You make one copy of the story, then get
back into the Chronobox and come home. Do not interact with anyone, most
of all, with him. Ist das klar?"
I nodded my agreement, not bothering to point out to Scheihagen that
one of our subject's own short stories showed a timeline changing over
just such a mission, even after the original work in question had been
rejected. After all, the last thing I wanted to do was give Scheihagen a
reason to suspect me.
Then, while his back was turned and he fiddled with the last few
controls, I used the wrist chronometer -- which was much more than a
simple watch -- to reprogram the date of arrival. I had to time this