The Nick Of Time Part 15

she asked. She sat down on a silver and blue divan with cabriole legs.

Mihalik just shrugged. "I can't get over the feeling that we're prisoners. I always get the feeling that we're prisoners because we always are prisoners. So all we can do is wait around for Bwana and his friends to decide what they're going to do with us. Then we'll get shoved through into some equally rotten universe with just as many references to The Wizard of Oz, and this will keep on happening over and over until we finally drop dead from old age." He folded his arms on his chest and stared across the room, where large picture windows gave a lovely view of the Fair and the unending miles of flowers beyond.

"Frank, that sounds dangerously close to despair. Heroes aren't allowed to despair, you know."

He glared at her now. "You show me where it says that, you just go ahead and show me. Heroes can despair, baby. Heroes can even be afraid and heartsick and entertain thoughts of treachery. What separates heroes from the run of ordinary people is that heroes don't act on those emotions. They just keep plugging away. I'll keep plugging away, don't worry. Haven't I done an adequate job so far? I think I've done pretty well, all things considered, and I don't expect that to change. That doesn't mean I have to be enthusiastic about it."

"I need you to be strong, Frank."

He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and looked at her as if for the first time. His heart wasflooded with a tender feeling for this alien Cheryl, so like his own Cheryl except this one came from a universe that was populated with insane motion picture producers and casting directors. "I'll be strong,"

he murmured. "For you." He almost rose from his chair to go to her, when the front door opened and their happy, obnoxious host came into the room.

"Well, well, well!" cried Bwana. "All cleaned up, I see! You both look handsome. How are you feeling?"

"Swell," said Cheryl.

"Hungry," said Mihalik.

"Ah," said Bwana. "Well, you'll have to wait just a little longer before dinner. You have an important appointment to keep." He looked from one to the other with glittering eyes, as if his surprise was so wonderful he could barely keep his excitement from br.i.m.m.i.n.g over and slos.h.i.+ng onto the thick silver-and-blue carpet. "The King wants to speak with you. The King himself!"

"Wow," said Cheryl. She'd already met a queen and she hadn't been very impressed. She wasn't impressed now, knowing that she was about to meet a king. Royalty was a luxury of inferior universes, she had decided, one that her own could scarcely afford. She had grown contemptuous of places that still played at cla.s.s distinctions.

Bwana was startled by her tone. For the briefest instant his implacable cheerfulness wavered, but then he caught himself and was immediately chuckling as if something amusing had been said. "You've been treated roughly in some of the realities you've visited," he said. "I ought to have antic.i.p.ated your feelings.

Your att.i.tude is quite out of place here, my dear. This is a wonderful happy world, and the King is everyone's idea of a charming, personable, generous, and thoroughly old-fas.h.i.+oned fairy tale king."

"I suppose he was a prince once," said Mihalik.

"Of course," said Bwana, guessing what was about to be said, "and he was charming then, too."

"Let's get this over with, then," said Mihalik. "I'm starving."

"Of course," said Bwana, bowing slightly and indicating the door.

Mihalik and Cheryl preceded him into the hall. As she pa.s.sed by him, Cheryl asked Bwana, "What exactly is your job?"

"Job?" he said, puzzled. "No one has jobs here. All work is done in the past, by other people. We just dance and sing and play. It's very pleasant."

"Dance and sing and play?" said Mihalik.

Bwana shrugged, closing the door to the suite behind him, leading them down the hall to the right.

"Maybe it sounds shallow to you, but that's how we laugh the day away--"

"--in the merry old Land of Oz," said Cheryl. She was starting to get tired of it, too, just like Mihalik.

"Well, no," said Bwana, "this isn't Oz."

"Then where the h.e.l.l are we?" said Mihalik. "You've never told us that."

"The future," said Bwana, smiling. "I did tell you that. The realm of Good King Proximo."

"King Proximo?" said Cheryl with a hollow voice. "The one who's fighting the war with Queen Hesternia? I thought we left all that behind--"

Bwana shook his head. They had come to an elevator and were waiting for it to come up a hundred and twenty-six floors to meet them. "You can leave the past behind, but you can't leave the future behind.

It's very difficult, probably impossible."

"I mean, I thought we left that universe with Hesternia and Proximo in it behind," said Cheryl.

"In the future, there's only one universe," said Bwana.

"What's that mean?"

"It's very simple. Whatever universe you come from, you end up here. This universe is the future for every other possible universe. They all lead here. Whatever happened in whatever version of the past, it has to evolve into this. This is the only future there is."

"Captain Hartstein suggested otherwise," said Mihalik.

"Hartstein," said Bwana disparagingly, "what does he know? He meant that all futures are equally probable, and that every time you go forward into the future, you find a different, random one. That hasnothing to do with where you are now. This isn't 'the future' as you're accustomed to thinking of it. This is more like the control room of the future; we're actually outside of time, just as the World War One battlefield was outside of time, marking the position of the present. This is King Proximo's headquarters, from which he can look into time, into all the possibilities and realities."

Cheryl considered that as the elevator doors opened. They got in. "Then--"

"Up, please," Bwana instructed the elevator girl.

"Then he can differentiate among the universes? He can send us back to the correct one for each of us?"

Bwana laughed indulgently. "How the h.e.l.l should I know?" he said fondly.

Mihalik almost clipped him on the jaw, but Cheryl restrained him. They rode the rest of the way up to King Proximo's throne room in strained silence.

In Which We Meet a Merry Old Soul "Approach him slowly," whispered Bwana, "and when you get to the foot of the throne, kneel and wait for him to tell you to rise."

"The h.e.l.l I will!" said Mihalik indignantly. "Who in blue blazes does he think he is?"

"He's the guy who's got your whole future in the palm of his hand," said Bwana.

"Do you want us to kneel on one knee or both?" asked Cheryl.

"Wait a minute," said Mihalik. "I don't kneel to anybody. I'm an American and we stopped kneeling to people a few years ago when we got our independence back."

"I'll kneel, Frank," said Cheryl. "You go ahead and stand if you want to. This is a different place and they have different rules, and you have to respect their customs."

"What if he wants to take your virginity?" said Mihalik. "Kings can do that."

"Take it where, Frank?" asked Cheryl.

"Please," urged Bwana, "cease this argument and follow me. The King is courteous and magnificent and all the rest, but sometimes he gets irked if people just hang around wasting his time. He's running out of it, you know. And no one's more aware of that than His Majesty."

Mihalik and Cheryl followed Bwana across the polished ebony floor. They looked at each other.

"The King of the Future is running out of time?" said Mihalik.

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Cheryl.

"I thought Proximo's kingdom was infinite," said Mihalik, "and that's why Hesternia wants to bite off chunks of it all the time."

"Don't ask me," said Cheryl. "I'm new here myself."

They reached the foot of the throne. King Proximo beamed down at them. He was a chubby, jolly, red-faced, bearded and mustached old gentleman. He looked like a king from a deck of playing cards, complete with long gray hair done in a kind of Prince Valiant style. He wore a crown and held a scepter and looked every inch a king. He chuckled as Bwana abased himself at his feet. "Sire," said Bwana, "Your Majesty, these are our visitors from the past." Then Bwana backed away slowly, staying as close to the glossy black floor as he could without flopping on his face.

Mihalik and Cheryl both knelt. It seemed the right thing to do. "Good boy," whispered Cheryl.

"I figured, who's it going to hurt if I kneel a little?" said Mihalik.

"It's so kind of you to visit me in my loneliness," said Proximo, smiling broadly.

"Are you so lonely then. Your Majesty?" asked Cheryl.

"No, no," he said, laughing, "not at all. I just thought you'd appreciate hearing another quote from your favorite movie."

"It isn't my favorite movie," said Cheryl. "My favorite movie is Shane, with Glenn Ford."

"Glenn Ford!" cried Mihalik.

King Proximo looked at him and exploded with merriment. He said pleasantly, "I have a reputation for being a p.u.s.s.ycat, but that doesn't mean I tolerate bad manners. So you two have gotten yourselves into quite a pickle, haven't you?" "It seems so. Your Majesty," said Cheryl. Mihalik had clamped his mouth shut and decided that he wasn't going to say anything more unless he absolutely had to. Let Cheryl carry the ball this time. He tried to imagine Glenn Ford in Shane, but it was impossible.

"And you've come to me to fix it for you."

"Well, yes. Your Majesty. That is, no, Your Majesty, we didn't know we were coming here. We've mostly been sent places at the whim of other people. We haven't had any choice in the matter. We ended up here, and you're the person with authority over us now."

"You could have stayed out in the flowers," said Proximo. "You could have begun entirely new lives for yourselves, Adam and Eve among the carnations and mums. Instead, you've come to my capital and you've come into my court."

"We were brought here, Your Majesty," insisted Cheryl. "And we haven't asked for anything."

King Proximo glanced over their heads and winked at someone behind them; both Mihalik and Cheryl were too afraid to turn around. The King laughed gently. "Not yet, you haven't; but you would, if I gave you a chance, eh?"

"Possibly," admitted Cheryl.

"Ha ha. Good girl. I admire honesty in a person. Well, I think I know what you want, and the great and powerful Proximo has every intention of granting your request. Indeed, I think I will put your fates into your own hands. You may choose your future yourself. It will provide us all with a few moments of entertainment in this otherwise dull and care-ridden reign of mine. We will attend to that tonight, after dinner."

"May I ask a question, Your Majesty?" said Cheryl.

"Certainly, my dear."

"What did our guide mean when he said that you were running out of time? I thought your kingdom extended onward throughout eternity."

King Proximo could barely suppress his glee; a few t.i.tters did manage to escape his lips. Then he quieted himself. "I live backwards, just as Merlin did," he explained. "How else could one manage the future? I know absolutely everything that will happen, because I've already been there. I was created at the end of time, and I am living backward until I run smack-dab into Hesternia's ample bosom. Is she still carrying that riding crop? I'm not sure about that, the riding crop business. I've always been attracted to softer, more feminine women. Like you, my dear." He laughed heartily again. "When the time comes when Hesternia and I meet in some unimaginable place, the future will come to an end, and so will I." He laughed, less heartily this time.

"The future will come to an end, as you know it," said Cheryl, "but the future will still exist for us, won't it?"

"Oh, of course. But who cares about you?"

Cheryl decided not to answer that question. Mihalik had an answer ready, and an impertinent question of his own, but he was wise enough to keep his silence, too. When King Proximo realized that neither of his guests had anything further to say, he chuckled some more, rolled off his throne, and made his way toward the far doors. Trumpets blared, courtiers bowed low, and there was the general flash and swirl of a Shakespearean monarch's entourage going offstage to allow the princ.i.p.als a few moments of dialogue.

Beat the Clock The dinner wasn't quite as sumptuous as Mihalik and Cheryl imagined it might be: corned beef sandwiches (on white with mayonnaise), potato pancakes, and orange Jell-O for dessert. The King seemed to enjoy the meal tremendously -- he laughed and joked all through it; but it was beginning to look as though he laughed at anything. His laughter was not necessarily a sign of his good humor. After the dishes were cleared away, he remembered the promise he'd made in the throne room. He coughed a couple of times to tune his voice, then announced to his entire court, "Our two guests wish to leave us."

There was an immediate chorus of disbelieving voices crying, "No, how can that be!" and simila.r.s.entiments. To Proximo's followers, it was incredible that anyone would prefer another time and place to this wonderful magic kingdom.

Proximo held up a hand for silence, and he got it. "Do not think harshly of them, my friends," he said, smiling. "They come from the dim reaches of antiquity -- from within the shadow of Hesternia, let us not forget -- and so their minds are not so developed as ours. If they believe they will be happier in their own world, then we will give them a chance at that illusory joy. Frank, Cheryl, come here." The timorous chrononauts approached the royal presence. "Ha ha, don't be afraid," said the King. Mihalik felt like a four-year-old boy going up to get his picture taken on Santa's lap: he was terrified. "Cheryl, my dear, you will get your choice first. It has become evident that you are from a slightly different universe than our friend Frank. Your universe is concealed behind one of these three doors. Which one do you want, Door Number One, Door Number Two, or Door Number Three?"

Cheryl stared at King Proximo with wide eyes. "What's behind the other two doors?" she asked.

"Ha ha, can't tell you!"

"And I have to choose one of them? What if I choose wrong?"

"You go through it anyway."

"Into what?"

"Ha ha."

Cheryl looked helplessly at Mihalik. He looked helplessly back. "Take Three," he said. "They never put the good prizes in the middle."

Cheryl looked back at the King. "You can't make me choose my fate blind like this," she said. "It's outrageous! It's--"

Proximo laughed delightedly and said, "It's the way we do things around here. Choose."

Cheryl's shoulders slumped. "Door Number One," she said.

There was a loud buzzer and the crowd groaned. "Oh, oh," said King Proximo with some amus.e.m.e.nt. "You get to spend the rest of your life on a desert island on a world with no other land ma.s.ses at all and no other living things, with a hundred cases of King Norway Sardines, a Speidel watchband, and a fifty-dollar gift certificate from the Spiegel catalogue."

"I told you to take Number Three," said Mihalik.

Cheryl turned on him furiously. "I'll give you Number Three," she said. She raised a fist to hit him, but she was restrained by a courtier.

"And now you, Mr. Mihalik. My subjects have put something new behind Door Number One. It may be your universe, and it may not."

"Three," said Mihalik, feeling his pulse beating faster.

The rude buzzer sounded again. Mihalik felt his stomach tighten. The crowd groaned. Proximo seemed to smile even more broadly than ever. "Sorry, son," he said, "but you get to be a blind beggar in a city in central Europe in the twenty-second century, a time of famine and pestilence. You also get a year's supply of Eskimo Pies and the home version of our game, 'Time Spy.' But you've both been good sports. Let's give these people a big hand." The entourage applauded politely.

Mihalik wasn't going to be railroaded into such a dismal fate so easily. He was about to step forward and put his hands around the plump neck of the happy old King, when Cheryl interrupted. "Is this for real?" she asked. "I want to know, because if it is, we're both going to be very upset. When we get upset, we sometimes lose control."

"Is that a threat?" asked Proximo, laughing.

"Uh huh," said Mihalik.