The Colonel was a career man; and knowing
what would happen within his lifetime promised
to be an invaluable asset.... But he had never
heard of that ancient legend of Faust....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, June 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
At first I thought it was just another wrong number. Well, it was, in asense—but not the kind of wrong number I thought it was. The ringingsignal burred against my ear in the usual way, then there was a click,and somebody said, "Office of Historical Research. Zon Twenty speaking."
"Oh. 'Scuse me," I said. "I must have dialed wrong."
That was euphemism—misplaced loyalty, maybe. I didn't dial the wrongnumber, and I knew it. But high brass had installed a new automaticdialing system in the Pentagon as an economy measure, and it producedso many wrong numbers and entanglements that I think it actuallymust have cost more money in the long run than the old-fashioned liveoperator system—but then that shouldn't surprise you if you've everbeen connected with the military.
I was about to hang up after my apology. The voice on the other endsaid: "Wait! Did you say—dialed?"
"Sure," I said.
"Then—" and he seemed surprised, if not downright startled—"what kindof a phone are you speaking from?"
"Huh?" I said. "What kind? The regular kind. Phone, desk, dial, M-1—orwhatever the Army calls it."
This time his voice went off like a small bomb. "The Army?" he said.
"Sure," I said. "What's the matter with the Army?"
And thought: Navy or Air Force type, no doubt. Our allies. Have to putup with them in the Pentagon. Have to put up with a lot of things—evenbeing Colonel Lawrence Boggs didn't save you from a snafu diallingsystem. I thought: somebody is out to needle armchair colonels thisweek. I'll play around with it for a while, maybe find out who's gotthe sense of humor.
The voice said, "Look here, are you joking with me?"
"Perish it," I said.
"But this talk about—about dial phones. About armies. Why, yousound like one of those historical tri-vids about the twentiethcentury!"
I smiled, without too much humor, shook my head at the phone, andsaid, "Look, fellow, come off it, will you? I haven't got time to playgames." I hoped he wasn't some general or equivalent rank in a pixiemood.
"Wait!" he said. "Wait—please—don't think off! Tell me, what year isit? Where you are, I mean."
"What year? It's 1955, of course."
"Why," he said, "this is remarkable!"
"It is?"
"Do you know what I think has happened? A quantum inversion."
"Beg pardon?" I said.
"Karpo Sixteen predicted the possibility just the other day! Listen, myfriend, let me ask you just a few questions—"
Then the mechanical voice of the operator cut in. It wasn't a realoperator, of course, just a recorded voice, part of the new automaticsystem. These voices gave all the standard phrases and usually at thewrong time, the way the system was working. The worst of it was youcouldn't argue with them or curse them—at least you always felt alittle foolish afterward if you did.
The operator's voice said, "I'm sorry. Your time is up!"
"Now, wait!" said my communicant, his voice fading a little, "Don't cutus off! Don't think off yet!"
Again: "I'm sorry. Your time is up!"