October 2, 2025 • 30 mins
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Unborn tomorrow by mac Reynold's. Unfortunately, there was only one
thing he could bring back from the wonderful future, and
though he didn't want to, nevertheless he did. Betty looked
up from her magazine. She said, mildly, you're late. Do'll
(00:21):
yell at me? I feel awful, Simon told her. He
sat down at his desk, passed his tongue over his
teeth in distaste, groaned, fumbled in a drawer for the
Aspourn bottle. He looked over at Betty and said, almost
as though reciting, what I need is a vacation. What
(00:42):
Betty said, are you going to use for money Providence,
Simon told her, whilst fiddling with the Aspern bottle. We'll
provide hum but before providing vacations, it'd be nice if
Providence turned up a mint jewel deal, say something where
(01:03):
you could deduce that actually the ruby ring had gone
down the drain and was caught in the elbow. Something
that would nut about fifty dollars. Simon said, mournful of
tone fifty dollars, why not make it five hundred. I'm
not selfish, Betty said, All I want is enough to
(01:23):
pay me this week's salary money, Simon said, when you
took this job, you said it was the romance that
appealed to you. Hmm, I didn't know. Most sleuthying amounted
to snooping around department stores to check on the clerks
knocking down, Simon said, enigmatically, now it comes. There was
(01:48):
a knock. Betty bounced up with olympic agility and had
the door swinging wide before the knocking was quite completed.
He was old, little and had bug eyes behind pens
Ne's glasses. His suit was cut in the style of yesteryear.
But when a suit costs two or three hundred dollars,
you still retain cast whatever the styling, Simon said, unenthusiastically,
(02:14):
Good morning, mister oyster. He indicated the client's chair. Sit down, sir.
The client fussed himself with Betty's assistance into the seat.
Bug eyed Simon said, finally, you know my name. That's
pretty good. Never saw you before in my life. Stop
fussing with me, young lady. Your ad in the phone
(02:34):
book says you'll investigate anything, anything, Simon said, only one exception. Excellent.
Do you believe in time travel? Simon said, nothing. Across
the room where she had resumed her seat. Betty cleared
her throat. When Simon continued to say nothing, she ventured,
(02:58):
time travel is impossible. Why? Why? Yes? Why? Betty looked
to her boss for assistance. None was forthcoming. There ought
to be some very quick, positive, definite answer, she said, Well,
for one thing, paradox suppose you had a time machine
(03:20):
and traveled back a hundred years or so and killed
your own great grandfather, then how could you ever be
born confounded? If I know? The little fellow growled. How
Simon said, let's get to the point what you wanted
to see me about. I wanted to hire you to
hunt me up some time travelers, the old boy said.
(03:43):
Betty was too far and now to maintain her proper
role of silent secretary time travelers, she said, not very intelligently.
The potential client sat more erect, obviously with intent to
hold the floor for a time. He removed the pensnez
glasses and pointed them at Barry. He said, have you
(04:05):
read much science fiction, miss some Betry admitted, then you'll
realize that there are a dozen explanations of the paradoxes
of time travel. Every writer in the field worth his
salt has explained them away. But to get on, it's
my contention that within a century or so man will
(04:26):
have solved the problems of immortality and eternal youth. And
it's also my suspicion that he will eventually be able
to travel in time. So convinced am I of these possibilities,
that I am willing to gamble a portion of my
fortune to investigate the presence in our era of such
(04:47):
time travelers. Simon seemed incapable of carrying the ball this morning,
so Betry said. But mister Oyster, if the future has
developed time travel, why don't we ever meet such travelers?
Simon put in a word. The usual explanation, Betty, is
(05:09):
that they can afford to allow the space time continuum
track to be altered. If say, a time traveler returned
to a period twenty five years ago and shot Hitler,
then all subsequent history would be changed. In that case,
the time traveler himself might never be born. They have
(05:30):
to tread mighty carefully. Mister Oyster was pleased. I didn't
expect you to be so well informed on the subject,
young man Simon shrugged and fumbled again with the aspirn bottle.
Mister Oyster went on, I've been considering the matter for
some time, and Simon held up a hand. There's no
(05:53):
use prolonging this, as I understand. You're an elderly gentleman
with a considerable fortune, and you realize that thus far
nobody has succeeded in taking it with him. Mister Oyster
returned his glasses to their perch. Bug eyed Simon, but
then nodded. Simon said, you want to hire me to
(06:15):
find a time traveler, and in some manner or other,
any manner, will do exhort from him the secret of
eternal life and youth, which you figure the future will
have discovered. You're willing to pony up a part of
this fortune of yours if I can deliver a bonafide
time traveler. Right. Betty had been looking from one to
(06:38):
the other. Now, she said plaintively, But where are you
going to find one of these characters, especially if they're
interested in keeping hid? The old boy was the center again.
I told you I've been considering it for some time.
The October Fest, that's where they'd be, he seemed to
(06:59):
lay Betty, and Simon waited. The Octoberfest. He repeated the
greatest festival the world has ever seen the carnival the
Ferria Fiesta to beat them all. Every year it's held
in Munich makes the New Orleans Marty Grass look like
a Quilton party. He began to swing into the spirit
(07:22):
of his description. It originally started in celebration of the wedding,
as some local prints a century and a half ago,
and the Bavarians had such a bang up time they've
been holding it every year since. The Munich breweries do
up a special beer martsen Prau they call it, and
each brewery opens a tremendous tent on the fair grounds
(07:44):
which will hold five thousand customers apiece. Millions of leaders
of beer are put away, hundreds of thousands of barbecued chickens,
a small herd of oxen are roasted whole over spitz,
millions of pair of vice verst of very special sausage,
Millions upon millions of pretzels. All right, Simon said, we'll
(08:10):
accept it. The Octoberfest is one whale of a wing
ding Well, the old boy pursued, and to his subject,
Now that's where they'd be places like the Octoberfest. For
one thing, a time traveler wouldn't be conspicuous at a
festival like this. Somebody with a strange accent, or who
(08:31):
didn't know exactly how to wear his clothes correctly, or
was off the ordinary in any of a dozen other ways,
wouldn't be noticed. You could be a four armed space
traveler from Mars, and you still wouldn't be conspicuous at
the Oktoberfest. People would figure they had the DTAs. But
why would a time traveler want to go to a
(08:54):
Betty began? Why not? What better opportunity to study a
people than when they are in their cups. If you
could go back a few thousand years, the things you
would wish to see would be a Roman triumph, perhaps
the rights of Dionysus, or one of Alexander's orgies. You
wouldn't want to wander up and down the streets of say, Athens,
(09:17):
while nothing was going on, particularly when you might be
revealed as a suspicious character, not being able to speak
the language, not knowing how to wear the clothes, and
not familiar with the city's layout. He took a deep breath. No, ma'am,
you'd have to stick to some great event, both for
(09:39):
the sake of actual interest and for protection against being unmasked,
the old boy wounded up. Well that's the story. What
are your rates? The Octoberfest starts on Friday and continues
for sixteen days. You can take the plane to Munich
spend a week there. And Simon was shaking his head,
(10:02):
not interested. As soon as Butty had got her jaw
back into place, she glared unbelievingly at him. Mister Oyster
was taken about himself. See here, young man, I realize
this isn't any ordinary assignment. However, as I said, I
am willing to risk a considerable portion of my fortune. Sorry,
(10:26):
Simon said, can't be done. A hundred dollars a day
plus expenses. Mister Oyster said quietly. I like the fact
that you already seemed to have some interest in knowledge
of the matter. I liked the way you knew my
name when I walked in the door. My picture doesn't
(10:46):
appear often in the papers. No go, Simon said, a
sad quality in his voice. A fifty thousand dollar boneness
if you bring me a time travel out of the question,
Simon said, But why Betty wailed Just for a laughs,
(11:10):
Simon told the two of them sourly. Suppose I tell
you a funny story. It goes like this, I got
a thousand dollars from mister Oyster. Simon began in the
way of an advance and leaving him with Betty, who
was making out a receipt. I hustled back to the
apartment and packed a bag. Hell I'd wanted a vacation anyway,
(11:34):
this was a natural. On the way to Idlewild, I
stopped off at the Germany Information Offices for some tourist literature.
It takes roughly three and a half hours to get
to Gander from Idlewild. I spent the time planning the
fun I was going to have. It takes roughly seven
and a half hours from Gander to Shannon, and I
(11:56):
spent that time dreaming up material I could put into
my report to mister Oyster. I was going to have
to give him some kind of report for his money
time travel. Yet what a laugh between Shannon and Munich.
A faint suspicion began to simmer in my mind. These
statistics I read on the Octoberfest and the Munich tourists pamphlets.
(12:20):
Five million people attended annually. Where did five million people
come from to attend? An overgrown festival in comparatively remote
southern Germany. The tourist season is over before September twenty
first first day of the gigantic beer bust. Nor could
the Germans account for any such number. Munich itself has
(12:43):
a population of less than a million, counting children, and
those millions of gallons of beer, the hundreds of thousands
of chickens, the herds of oxen who pony up all
the money for such expenditures. How can the average German
with his twenty five dollars a week salary in Munich
(13:06):
there was no hotel space available. I went to the Banhoff,
where they have a hotel service, and applied. They put
my name down, pocketed the husky bribe, showed me where
I could check my bag, told me they'd do what
they could and to report back in a few hours.
(13:26):
I had another suspicious twinge. If five million people attended
this beer bout, how were they accommodated? The Trisnweis The
fair ground was only a few blocks away. I was
stiff from the plain ride, so I walked. There are
seven major brewers in the Munich area, each of them
(13:47):
represented by one of the circus light tents that mister
Oyster mentioned each tent contained benches and tables for about
five thousand persons, and from six to ten thousands packed
themselves in competing for room. In the center is a
tremendous bandstand. The musicians all later hosten clad the music
(14:09):
as Bavarian as any to be found in a Bavarian
beer hall. Hundreds of peasant garbed fraeuleines darted about the
tables with quurt sized earthenware mugs, platters of chicken, sausage,
kraut and pretzels. I found a place finely at a
table which had space for twenty odd beer bibbers. Odd
(14:31):
is right as weird. An assortment of Germans and foreign
tourists as could have been dreamed up, ranging from a
seventy or eighty year old couple in Bavarian costume to
the bald headed drunk across the table from me. A
desperate waitress bearing six mugs of beer in each hand,
scurried past. They called them masses, by the way, not mugs.
(14:55):
The bald headed character and I both held up a finger,
and she slid two of the masses over to us,
and then hustled on down the hatch, the other said,
holding up his mass and toast to the ladies. I
told him before sipping, I said, you know, the tourist
pamphilists say the stuff is eighteen percent. That's nonsense. No
(15:19):
beer is that strong. I took a long pull. He
looked at me, waiting. I came up mistaken. I admitted
a mass or two A piece later. He looked carefully
at the name engraved on his earthenware mug Loembras, he said.
(15:39):
He took a small note book from his pocket and
a pencil, noted down the word and returned the things.
That's a queer looking pencil you have there, I told
him German Venusian. He said, oops, sorry, I shouldn't have
said that. I had never heard of the brand, so
I skipped. Next is the Hofbrawl, he said. Next what
(16:06):
Baldy's conversation didn't seem to hang together very well? My pilgrimage,
he told me. All my life, I've been wanting to
go back to an Octoberfest and sample every one of
the seven brands of the best beer the world has
ever known. I'm only as far as the low Embrawl,
but I'm afraid I'll never make it. I finished my mass.
(16:29):
I'll help you, I told him, very noble endeavor. Name
is Simon Arth. He said, how could you help? I'm
still fresh comparatively. I'll navigate to you around. There are
seven beer tents. How many have you got through so far?
Two counting this one, Arth said. I looked at him.
(16:53):
It's going to be atchore. I said, you've already got
a nice edge on outside. As we made our way
to the next tent, the fair looked like every big
state fair ever seen, except it was bigger games, souvenir stands,
sausage stands, rides, side shows, and people, people people. The
(17:16):
hoff browed tent was as overflowing as the last, but
we managed to find two seats. The band was blaring
and five thousand half swacked voices were roaring accompaniment. In Munchen,
in Muncken stetten hofbra House eins zwei Guitzufa. At the Gutsufa,
(17:37):
everybody up with the mugs and drank each other's health.
This is what I call a real beer bust, I
said approvingly. Arth was waving to a waitress. As in
the I Loombro tent, a full court was the smallest
amount obtainable a beer. Later, I said, I don't know
(17:58):
if you'll make it or not. Arth, make what all?
Seven tenths? Oh? A waitress was on her way by mugs,
boaming over the rims. I gestured to her for refills.
Where are you from, Arth, I asked him, in the
way of making conversation twenty one eighty three, twenty one
(18:23):
eighty three, where he looked at me, closing one eye
to focus better. Oh, he said, well, twenty one eighty
three South Street, New Albuquerque, New Albuquerque. Where's that? Arth
thought about it, took another long pula at the bier
(18:44):
right across the way from Old Albuquerque. He said, finally,
maybe we ought to be getting onto the shore brow tent.
Maybe we ought to eat something first, I said, I'm
beginning to feel this. We could get some of that
barbecued ox. Arth closed his eyes in pain. Vegetarian, he said,
(19:07):
couldn't possibly eat meat barbarous? Ugh, Well, we need some nourishment,
I said, there's supposed to be considerable nourishment in beer.
That made sense, I yelled, fraeulein zve nup bier. Somewhere
along in here. The fog rolled in. When it rolled
(19:30):
out again. I found myself closing one eye the better
to read the lettering on my earthenware mug. It read
Augustine or Braul. Somehow we'd evidently navigated from one tent
to another. Arth was saying, where's your hotel? That seemed
like a good question. I thought about it for a while.
(19:52):
Finally I said, haven't got one town's jam packed, left
my bag at the Bonhoff. I don't think we'll ever
make it dark? How many we got to go lost track?
Arth said you can come home with me. We drank
to that, and the fog rolled in again. When the
(20:13):
fog rolled out, it was daylight, bright, glaring, awful daylight.
I was sprawled, complete with clothes, on one of twin beds.
On the other bed, also completely clothed, was Arth. That
sun was too much. I stumbled up from the bed,
staggered to the window, and fumbled around for a blind
(20:35):
or curtain. There was none. Behind me, a voice said,
in horror, who how, oh, wotto, where'd you come from?
I got a quick impression, looking out the window that
the Germans were certainly the most modern, futuristic people in
the world. But I couldn't stand the light. Where's the shade,
(20:59):
I moaned. Arth did something and the window went opig.
That's quite a gadget, I groaned. If I didn't feel
so lousy, i'd appreciate it. Arth was sitting on the
edge of the bed, holding his bald head in his hands.
I remember now, he sorrowed, you didn't have a hotel.
(21:20):
What a stupidity. I'll be faced fazed all the way down.
You haven't got a handful of aspren, have you, I
asked him. Just a minute, Arth said, staggering, erect and
heading for what undoubtedly was a bathroom. Stay where you are, dumb, move,
don't touch anything, all right, I told him plaintively. I'm plain.
(21:47):
I won't mess up the place. All I've got is
a hangover, not lice. Arth was gone. He came back
in two or three minutes, box of pills in hand. Here,
take one of these. I took the pill, followed it
with a glass of water, and went out like a light.
(22:07):
Arth was shaking my arm one another mass. The band
was blaring, and five thousand half swacked voices were roaring
accompaniment in munkin stett in hoffbross huss eins ZOEI Gatzufa
at the Gozoofa, everybody up with their King's eyes, mugged
and drank each other's help. My head was killing me.
(22:32):
This is where I came in or something, I groaned.
Arth said, that was last night. He looked at me
over the rim of his beer mug. Something somewhere was wrong,
but I didn't care. I finished my mass and then remembered,
I've got to get my bag. Oh my head. Where
(22:52):
did we spend last night? Arth said, and his voice
sounded cautious. At my hotel? Don't you remember now very well?
I admitted, I have a lousy I must dimmed out.
I've got to go to the ban Off and get
my luggage. Arth didn't put up an argument on that.
(23:15):
We said goodbye, and I could feel him watching after
me as I pushed through the tables on the way out.
At the ban Off. They could do me no good.
There were no hotel rooms available in Munich. The head
was getting worse by the minute. The fact that they'd
somehow managed to lose my bag didn't help. I worked
on that project for at least a couple of hours.
(23:37):
Not only wasn't the bag at the luggage checking station,
but the attendant there evidently could make heads nor tails
of the check receipt. He didn't speak English, and my
high school German was inadequate, Especially accompanied by a blockbusting hangover.
I didn't get anywhere, tearing my hair and complaining from
(23:58):
one end of the ban off to the other. I
drew a blank on the bag and they head was
getting worse by the minute. I was bleeding to death
through the eyes, and instead of butterflies, I had bats
in my stomach. Believed me nobody should drink a gallon
or more of martzenbras. I decided the hell with it.
(24:19):
I took a cab to the airport, presented my return ticket,
told them I wanted to leave on the first obtainable
plane to New York. I'd spent two days at the Octoberfest,
and I'd had it. I got more guff there. Something
was wrong with the ticket, wrong day or as some such,
but they fixed that up. I never was clear on
(24:40):
what was fouled up some clerk's are Evidently the trip
back was as uninteresting as the one over. As the
hangover began to wear off a little, I was almost
sorry I hadn't been able to stay if I'd only
been able to get a room, I would have stayed,
I told myself. From idlewild, I came directly to the
(25:02):
office rather than going to my apartment. I figured I
might as well check in with Betty. I opened the door,
and there I found mister Oyster sitting in his chair.
He had been occupying for or was it five days
before when i'd left. At last track of the time,
(25:23):
I said to him, glad you're here, sir, I can report. Ah,
what was it you came for? Impatient to hear if
I'd had any results. My mind was spending like a
whirling dervish in a revolving door. I'd spent a wad
of his money and had nothing I could think of
to show for it. Nothing but the last stages of
(25:43):
a granddaddy hangover came for. Mister Oyster snorted, I'm merely
waiting for your girl to make out my receipt. I
thought you had already left. You'll miss your plane, Betty said.
There was suddenly a double dip of ice in my stomach.
I walked over to my desk and looked down at
the calendar. Mister Oyster was saying something to the effect
(26:07):
that if I didn't leave to day, it would have
to be tomorrow. That he hadn't ponied up that thousand
dollars advance for anything less than immediate service. Stuffing his
receipt in his wallet, he fussed his way out the door.
I said to Betty, hopefully, I suppose you haven't changed
this calendar since I had left. Betty said, what's the
(26:31):
matter with you? You look funny? How did your clothes
get so mussed? You tore the top sheet off that
calendar yourself? Not half an hour ago, just before this
marble missing client came in, she added, irrelevantly, time travelers.
Yet I tried just once more. Uh, when did you
(26:51):
first see this mister oyster? Never saw him before in
my life, she said, Not until he came in this morning.
This morning, I said weakly, while Betty stared at me
as though it was me that needed candling by a
headshrinker preparatory to being sent off to a pressure cooker.
(27:15):
I fished in my pocket for my wallet, counted the contents,
and winced at the pathetic remains of the thousand, I said, pleadingly, Betty, listen,
how long ago did I go out that door? On
the way to the airport. You've been acting sick all morning.
You went out that door about ten minutes ago, were
(27:37):
gone about three minutes, and then came back. See here,
mister Oyster said, interrupting Simon's story, did you say this
was supposed to be a musing young man. I don't
find it so. In fact, I believe I'm being ridiculed.
Simon shrugged, put one hand to his forehead, and said,
(28:00):
that's only the first chapter. There are two more. I'm
not interested in more. Mister Oyster said, I suppose your
point's to show me how ridiculous the whole idea actually is.
Very well, you've done it, confound it. However, I suppose
your time, even when spent in this manner, has some value.
(28:21):
Here's fifty dollars and good days, sir. He slammed the
door after him as he left. Simon winced at the noise,
took the aspourn bottle from its drawer, took two washed
them down with water from the dust kioff. Betty looked
at him admiringly, came to her feet, crossed over and
(28:41):
took up the fifty dollars week's wages. She said, I
suppose that's one way of taking care of a crackpot.
But I'm surprised you didn't take his money and enjoy
that vacation you've been yearning about. I did, Simon groaned
three times. Betty stared at him. You mean, Simon nodded miserably.
(29:06):
She said, But Simon, fifty thousand dollars bonus. If that
story was true, you should have gone back again to Munich.
If there was one time traveler, there might have been.
I keep telling you, Simon said, bitterly. I went back
there three times. There were hundreds of them, probably thousands.
(29:29):
He took a deep breath. Listen, we're just going to
have to forget about it. They're not going to stand
for the space time continuum track being altered. If something
comes up that looks like it might result in the
track being changed, they set you right back at the
beginning and let things start for you all over again.
(29:53):
They just can't allow anything to come back from the
future and change the past. You mean, Betty was suddenly
furious at him. You've given up. Why this is the
biggest thing. Why the fifty thousand dollars is nothing the future?
Just think, Simon said, wearily. There's just one thing you
(30:15):
can bring back with you from the future, a hangover
compounded of a gallon or so of Martzenbrau. What's more,
you can pile one on top of the other, and
another on top of that, he shuddered. If you think
I'm going to take another crack at this merry, go
round and pile a fourth hangover on the three. I'm
(30:37):
already nursing all at once. You can think again. End
of Unborn Tomorrow by Dallas McCord Reynolds
Unborn tomorrow by mac Reynold's. Unfortunately, there was only one
thing he could bring back from the wonderful future, and
though he didn't want to, nevertheless he did. Betty looked
up from her magazine. She said, mildly, you're late. Do'll
(00:21):
yell at me? I feel awful, Simon told her. He
sat down at his desk, passed his tongue over his
teeth in distaste, groaned, fumbled in a drawer for the
Aspourn bottle. He looked over at Betty and said, almost
as though reciting, what I need is a vacation. What
(00:42):
Betty said, are you going to use for money Providence,
Simon told her, whilst fiddling with the Aspern bottle. We'll
provide hum but before providing vacations, it'd be nice if
Providence turned up a mint jewel deal, say something where
(01:03):
you could deduce that actually the ruby ring had gone
down the drain and was caught in the elbow. Something
that would nut about fifty dollars. Simon said, mournful of
tone fifty dollars, why not make it five hundred. I'm
not selfish, Betty said, All I want is enough to
(01:23):
pay me this week's salary money, Simon said, when you
took this job, you said it was the romance that
appealed to you. Hmm, I didn't know. Most sleuthying amounted
to snooping around department stores to check on the clerks
knocking down, Simon said, enigmatically, now it comes. There was
(01:48):
a knock. Betty bounced up with olympic agility and had
the door swinging wide before the knocking was quite completed.
He was old, little and had bug eyes behind pens
Ne's glasses. His suit was cut in the style of yesteryear.
But when a suit costs two or three hundred dollars,
you still retain cast whatever the styling, Simon said, unenthusiastically,
(02:14):
Good morning, mister oyster. He indicated the client's chair. Sit down, sir.
The client fussed himself with Betty's assistance into the seat.
Bug eyed Simon said, finally, you know my name. That's
pretty good. Never saw you before in my life. Stop
fussing with me, young lady. Your ad in the phone
(02:34):
book says you'll investigate anything, anything, Simon said, only one exception. Excellent.
Do you believe in time travel? Simon said, nothing. Across
the room where she had resumed her seat. Betty cleared
her throat. When Simon continued to say nothing, she ventured,
(02:58):
time travel is impossible. Why? Why? Yes? Why? Betty looked
to her boss for assistance. None was forthcoming. There ought
to be some very quick, positive, definite answer, she said, Well,
for one thing, paradox suppose you had a time machine
(03:20):
and traveled back a hundred years or so and killed
your own great grandfather, then how could you ever be
born confounded? If I know? The little fellow growled. How
Simon said, let's get to the point what you wanted
to see me about. I wanted to hire you to
hunt me up some time travelers, the old boy said.
(03:43):
Betty was too far and now to maintain her proper
role of silent secretary time travelers, she said, not very intelligently.
The potential client sat more erect, obviously with intent to
hold the floor for a time. He removed the pensnez
glasses and pointed them at Barry. He said, have you
(04:05):
read much science fiction, miss some Betry admitted, then you'll
realize that there are a dozen explanations of the paradoxes
of time travel. Every writer in the field worth his
salt has explained them away. But to get on, it's
my contention that within a century or so man will
(04:26):
have solved the problems of immortality and eternal youth. And
it's also my suspicion that he will eventually be able
to travel in time. So convinced am I of these possibilities,
that I am willing to gamble a portion of my
fortune to investigate the presence in our era of such
(04:47):
time travelers. Simon seemed incapable of carrying the ball this morning,
so Betry said. But mister Oyster, if the future has
developed time travel, why don't we ever meet such travelers?
Simon put in a word. The usual explanation, Betty, is
(05:09):
that they can afford to allow the space time continuum
track to be altered. If say, a time traveler returned
to a period twenty five years ago and shot Hitler,
then all subsequent history would be changed. In that case,
the time traveler himself might never be born. They have
(05:30):
to tread mighty carefully. Mister Oyster was pleased. I didn't
expect you to be so well informed on the subject,
young man Simon shrugged and fumbled again with the aspirn bottle.
Mister Oyster went on, I've been considering the matter for
some time, and Simon held up a hand. There's no
(05:53):
use prolonging this, as I understand. You're an elderly gentleman
with a considerable fortune, and you realize that thus far
nobody has succeeded in taking it with him. Mister Oyster
returned his glasses to their perch. Bug eyed Simon, but
then nodded. Simon said, you want to hire me to
(06:15):
find a time traveler, and in some manner or other,
any manner, will do exhort from him the secret of
eternal life and youth, which you figure the future will
have discovered. You're willing to pony up a part of
this fortune of yours if I can deliver a bonafide
time traveler. Right. Betty had been looking from one to
(06:38):
the other. Now, she said plaintively, But where are you
going to find one of these characters, especially if they're
interested in keeping hid? The old boy was the center again.
I told you I've been considering it for some time.
The October Fest, that's where they'd be, he seemed to
(06:59):
lay Betty, and Simon waited. The Octoberfest. He repeated the
greatest festival the world has ever seen the carnival the
Ferria Fiesta to beat them all. Every year it's held
in Munich makes the New Orleans Marty Grass look like
a Quilton party. He began to swing into the spirit
(07:22):
of his description. It originally started in celebration of the wedding,
as some local prints a century and a half ago,
and the Bavarians had such a bang up time they've
been holding it every year since. The Munich breweries do
up a special beer martsen Prau they call it, and
each brewery opens a tremendous tent on the fair grounds
(07:44):
which will hold five thousand customers apiece. Millions of leaders
of beer are put away, hundreds of thousands of barbecued chickens,
a small herd of oxen are roasted whole over spitz,
millions of pair of vice verst of very special sausage,
Millions upon millions of pretzels. All right, Simon said, we'll
(08:10):
accept it. The Octoberfest is one whale of a wing
ding Well, the old boy pursued, and to his subject,
Now that's where they'd be places like the Octoberfest. For
one thing, a time traveler wouldn't be conspicuous at a
festival like this. Somebody with a strange accent, or who
(08:31):
didn't know exactly how to wear his clothes correctly, or
was off the ordinary in any of a dozen other ways,
wouldn't be noticed. You could be a four armed space
traveler from Mars, and you still wouldn't be conspicuous at
the Oktoberfest. People would figure they had the DTAs. But
why would a time traveler want to go to a
(08:54):
Betty began? Why not? What better opportunity to study a
people than when they are in their cups. If you
could go back a few thousand years, the things you
would wish to see would be a Roman triumph, perhaps
the rights of Dionysus, or one of Alexander's orgies. You
wouldn't want to wander up and down the streets of say, Athens,
(09:17):
while nothing was going on, particularly when you might be
revealed as a suspicious character, not being able to speak
the language, not knowing how to wear the clothes, and
not familiar with the city's layout. He took a deep breath. No, ma'am,
you'd have to stick to some great event, both for
(09:39):
the sake of actual interest and for protection against being unmasked,
the old boy wounded up. Well that's the story. What
are your rates? The Octoberfest starts on Friday and continues
for sixteen days. You can take the plane to Munich
spend a week there. And Simon was shaking his head,
(10:02):
not interested. As soon as Butty had got her jaw
back into place, she glared unbelievingly at him. Mister Oyster
was taken about himself. See here, young man, I realize
this isn't any ordinary assignment. However, as I said, I
am willing to risk a considerable portion of my fortune. Sorry,
(10:26):
Simon said, can't be done. A hundred dollars a day
plus expenses. Mister Oyster said quietly. I like the fact
that you already seemed to have some interest in knowledge
of the matter. I liked the way you knew my
name when I walked in the door. My picture doesn't
(10:46):
appear often in the papers. No go, Simon said, a
sad quality in his voice. A fifty thousand dollar boneness
if you bring me a time travel out of the question,
Simon said, But why Betty wailed Just for a laughs,
(11:10):
Simon told the two of them sourly. Suppose I tell
you a funny story. It goes like this, I got
a thousand dollars from mister Oyster. Simon began in the
way of an advance and leaving him with Betty, who
was making out a receipt. I hustled back to the
apartment and packed a bag. Hell I'd wanted a vacation anyway,
(11:34):
this was a natural. On the way to Idlewild, I
stopped off at the Germany Information Offices for some tourist literature.
It takes roughly three and a half hours to get
to Gander from Idlewild. I spent the time planning the
fun I was going to have. It takes roughly seven
and a half hours from Gander to Shannon, and I
(11:56):
spent that time dreaming up material I could put into
my report to mister Oyster. I was going to have
to give him some kind of report for his money
time travel. Yet what a laugh between Shannon and Munich.
A faint suspicion began to simmer in my mind. These
statistics I read on the Octoberfest and the Munich tourists pamphlets.
(12:20):
Five million people attended annually. Where did five million people
come from to attend? An overgrown festival in comparatively remote
southern Germany. The tourist season is over before September twenty
first first day of the gigantic beer bust. Nor could
the Germans account for any such number. Munich itself has
(12:43):
a population of less than a million, counting children, and
those millions of gallons of beer, the hundreds of thousands
of chickens, the herds of oxen who pony up all
the money for such expenditures. How can the average German
with his twenty five dollars a week salary in Munich
(13:06):
there was no hotel space available. I went to the Banhoff,
where they have a hotel service, and applied. They put
my name down, pocketed the husky bribe, showed me where
I could check my bag, told me they'd do what
they could and to report back in a few hours.
(13:26):
I had another suspicious twinge. If five million people attended
this beer bout, how were they accommodated? The Trisnweis The
fair ground was only a few blocks away. I was
stiff from the plain ride, so I walked. There are
seven major brewers in the Munich area, each of them
(13:47):
represented by one of the circus light tents that mister
Oyster mentioned each tent contained benches and tables for about
five thousand persons, and from six to ten thousands packed
themselves in competing for room. In the center is a
tremendous bandstand. The musicians all later hosten clad the music
(14:09):
as Bavarian as any to be found in a Bavarian
beer hall. Hundreds of peasant garbed fraeuleines darted about the
tables with quurt sized earthenware mugs, platters of chicken, sausage,
kraut and pretzels. I found a place finely at a
table which had space for twenty odd beer bibbers. Odd
(14:31):
is right as weird. An assortment of Germans and foreign
tourists as could have been dreamed up, ranging from a
seventy or eighty year old couple in Bavarian costume to
the bald headed drunk across the table from me. A
desperate waitress bearing six mugs of beer in each hand,
scurried past. They called them masses, by the way, not mugs.
(14:55):
The bald headed character and I both held up a finger,
and she slid two of the masses over to us,
and then hustled on down the hatch, the other said,
holding up his mass and toast to the ladies. I
told him before sipping, I said, you know, the tourist
pamphilists say the stuff is eighteen percent. That's nonsense. No
(15:19):
beer is that strong. I took a long pull. He
looked at me, waiting. I came up mistaken. I admitted
a mass or two A piece later. He looked carefully
at the name engraved on his earthenware mug Loembras, he said.
(15:39):
He took a small note book from his pocket and
a pencil, noted down the word and returned the things.
That's a queer looking pencil you have there, I told
him German Venusian. He said, oops, sorry, I shouldn't have
said that. I had never heard of the brand, so
I skipped. Next is the Hofbrawl, he said. Next what
(16:06):
Baldy's conversation didn't seem to hang together very well? My pilgrimage,
he told me. All my life, I've been wanting to
go back to an Octoberfest and sample every one of
the seven brands of the best beer the world has
ever known. I'm only as far as the low Embrawl,
but I'm afraid I'll never make it. I finished my mass.
(16:29):
I'll help you, I told him, very noble endeavor. Name
is Simon Arth. He said, how could you help? I'm
still fresh comparatively. I'll navigate to you around. There are
seven beer tents. How many have you got through so far?
Two counting this one, Arth said. I looked at him.
(16:53):
It's going to be atchore. I said, you've already got
a nice edge on outside. As we made our way
to the next tent, the fair looked like every big
state fair ever seen, except it was bigger games, souvenir stands,
sausage stands, rides, side shows, and people, people people. The
(17:16):
hoff browed tent was as overflowing as the last, but
we managed to find two seats. The band was blaring
and five thousand half swacked voices were roaring accompaniment. In Munchen,
in Muncken stetten hofbra House eins zwei Guitzufa. At the Gutsufa,
(17:37):
everybody up with the mugs and drank each other's health.
This is what I call a real beer bust, I
said approvingly. Arth was waving to a waitress. As in
the I Loombro tent, a full court was the smallest
amount obtainable a beer. Later, I said, I don't know
(17:58):
if you'll make it or not. Arth, make what all?
Seven tenths? Oh? A waitress was on her way by mugs,
boaming over the rims. I gestured to her for refills.
Where are you from, Arth, I asked him, in the
way of making conversation twenty one eighty three, twenty one
(18:23):
eighty three, where he looked at me, closing one eye
to focus better. Oh, he said, well, twenty one eighty
three South Street, New Albuquerque, New Albuquerque. Where's that? Arth
thought about it, took another long pula at the bier
(18:44):
right across the way from Old Albuquerque. He said, finally,
maybe we ought to be getting onto the shore brow tent.
Maybe we ought to eat something first, I said, I'm
beginning to feel this. We could get some of that
barbecued ox. Arth closed his eyes in pain. Vegetarian, he said,
(19:07):
couldn't possibly eat meat barbarous? Ugh, Well, we need some nourishment,
I said, there's supposed to be considerable nourishment in beer.
That made sense, I yelled, fraeulein zve nup bier. Somewhere
along in here. The fog rolled in. When it rolled
(19:30):
out again. I found myself closing one eye the better
to read the lettering on my earthenware mug. It read
Augustine or Braul. Somehow we'd evidently navigated from one tent
to another. Arth was saying, where's your hotel? That seemed
like a good question. I thought about it for a while.
(19:52):
Finally I said, haven't got one town's jam packed, left
my bag at the Bonhoff. I don't think we'll ever
make it dark? How many we got to go lost track?
Arth said you can come home with me. We drank
to that, and the fog rolled in again. When the
(20:13):
fog rolled out, it was daylight, bright, glaring, awful daylight.
I was sprawled, complete with clothes, on one of twin beds.
On the other bed, also completely clothed, was Arth. That
sun was too much. I stumbled up from the bed,
staggered to the window, and fumbled around for a blind
(20:35):
or curtain. There was none. Behind me, a voice said,
in horror, who how, oh, wotto, where'd you come from?
I got a quick impression, looking out the window that
the Germans were certainly the most modern, futuristic people in
the world. But I couldn't stand the light. Where's the shade,
(20:59):
I moaned. Arth did something and the window went opig.
That's quite a gadget, I groaned. If I didn't feel
so lousy, i'd appreciate it. Arth was sitting on the
edge of the bed, holding his bald head in his hands.
I remember now, he sorrowed, you didn't have a hotel.
(21:20):
What a stupidity. I'll be faced fazed all the way down.
You haven't got a handful of aspren, have you, I
asked him. Just a minute, Arth said, staggering, erect and
heading for what undoubtedly was a bathroom. Stay where you are, dumb, move,
don't touch anything, all right, I told him plaintively. I'm plain.
(21:47):
I won't mess up the place. All I've got is
a hangover, not lice. Arth was gone. He came back
in two or three minutes, box of pills in hand. Here,
take one of these. I took the pill, followed it
with a glass of water, and went out like a light.
(22:07):
Arth was shaking my arm one another mass. The band
was blaring, and five thousand half swacked voices were roaring
accompaniment in munkin stett in hoffbross huss eins ZOEI Gatzufa
at the Gozoofa, everybody up with their King's eyes, mugged
and drank each other's help. My head was killing me.
(22:32):
This is where I came in or something, I groaned.
Arth said, that was last night. He looked at me
over the rim of his beer mug. Something somewhere was wrong,
but I didn't care. I finished my mass and then remembered,
I've got to get my bag. Oh my head. Where
(22:52):
did we spend last night? Arth said, and his voice
sounded cautious. At my hotel? Don't you remember now very well?
I admitted, I have a lousy I must dimmed out.
I've got to go to the ban Off and get
my luggage. Arth didn't put up an argument on that.
(23:15):
We said goodbye, and I could feel him watching after
me as I pushed through the tables on the way out.
At the ban Off. They could do me no good.
There were no hotel rooms available in Munich. The head
was getting worse by the minute. The fact that they'd
somehow managed to lose my bag didn't help. I worked
on that project for at least a couple of hours.
(23:37):
Not only wasn't the bag at the luggage checking station,
but the attendant there evidently could make heads nor tails
of the check receipt. He didn't speak English, and my
high school German was inadequate, Especially accompanied by a blockbusting hangover.
I didn't get anywhere, tearing my hair and complaining from
(23:58):
one end of the ban off to the other. I
drew a blank on the bag and they head was
getting worse by the minute. I was bleeding to death
through the eyes, and instead of butterflies, I had bats
in my stomach. Believed me nobody should drink a gallon
or more of martzenbras. I decided the hell with it.
(24:19):
I took a cab to the airport, presented my return ticket,
told them I wanted to leave on the first obtainable
plane to New York. I'd spent two days at the Octoberfest,
and I'd had it. I got more guff there. Something
was wrong with the ticket, wrong day or as some such,
but they fixed that up. I never was clear on
(24:40):
what was fouled up some clerk's are Evidently the trip
back was as uninteresting as the one over. As the
hangover began to wear off a little, I was almost
sorry I hadn't been able to stay if I'd only
been able to get a room, I would have stayed,
I told myself. From idlewild, I came directly to the
(25:02):
office rather than going to my apartment. I figured I
might as well check in with Betty. I opened the door,
and there I found mister Oyster sitting in his chair.
He had been occupying for or was it five days
before when i'd left. At last track of the time,
(25:23):
I said to him, glad you're here, sir, I can report. Ah,
what was it you came for? Impatient to hear if
I'd had any results. My mind was spending like a
whirling dervish in a revolving door. I'd spent a wad
of his money and had nothing I could think of
to show for it. Nothing but the last stages of
(25:43):
a granddaddy hangover came for. Mister Oyster snorted, I'm merely
waiting for your girl to make out my receipt. I
thought you had already left. You'll miss your plane, Betty said.
There was suddenly a double dip of ice in my stomach.
I walked over to my desk and looked down at
the calendar. Mister Oyster was saying something to the effect
(26:07):
that if I didn't leave to day, it would have
to be tomorrow. That he hadn't ponied up that thousand
dollars advance for anything less than immediate service. Stuffing his
receipt in his wallet, he fussed his way out the door.
I said to Betty, hopefully, I suppose you haven't changed
this calendar since I had left. Betty said, what's the
(26:31):
matter with you? You look funny? How did your clothes
get so mussed? You tore the top sheet off that
calendar yourself? Not half an hour ago, just before this
marble missing client came in, she added, irrelevantly, time travelers.
Yet I tried just once more. Uh, when did you
(26:51):
first see this mister oyster? Never saw him before in
my life, she said, Not until he came in this morning.
This morning, I said weakly, while Betty stared at me
as though it was me that needed candling by a
headshrinker preparatory to being sent off to a pressure cooker.
(27:15):
I fished in my pocket for my wallet, counted the contents,
and winced at the pathetic remains of the thousand, I said, pleadingly, Betty, listen,
how long ago did I go out that door? On
the way to the airport. You've been acting sick all morning.
You went out that door about ten minutes ago, were
(27:37):
gone about three minutes, and then came back. See here,
mister Oyster said, interrupting Simon's story, did you say this
was supposed to be a musing young man. I don't
find it so. In fact, I believe I'm being ridiculed.
Simon shrugged, put one hand to his forehead, and said,
(28:00):
that's only the first chapter. There are two more. I'm
not interested in more. Mister Oyster said, I suppose your
point's to show me how ridiculous the whole idea actually is.
Very well, you've done it, confound it. However, I suppose
your time, even when spent in this manner, has some value.
(28:21):
Here's fifty dollars and good days, sir. He slammed the
door after him as he left. Simon winced at the noise,
took the aspourn bottle from its drawer, took two washed
them down with water from the dust kioff. Betty looked
at him admiringly, came to her feet, crossed over and
(28:41):
took up the fifty dollars week's wages. She said, I
suppose that's one way of taking care of a crackpot.
But I'm surprised you didn't take his money and enjoy
that vacation you've been yearning about. I did, Simon groaned
three times. Betty stared at him. You mean, Simon nodded miserably.
(29:06):
She said, But Simon, fifty thousand dollars bonus. If that
story was true, you should have gone back again to Munich.
If there was one time traveler, there might have been.
I keep telling you, Simon said, bitterly. I went back
there three times. There were hundreds of them, probably thousands.
(29:29):
He took a deep breath. Listen, we're just going to
have to forget about it. They're not going to stand
for the space time continuum track being altered. If something
comes up that looks like it might result in the
track being changed, they set you right back at the
beginning and let things start for you all over again.
(29:53):
They just can't allow anything to come back from the
future and change the past. You mean, Betty was suddenly
furious at him. You've given up. Why this is the
biggest thing. Why the fifty thousand dollars is nothing the future?
Just think, Simon said, wearily. There's just one thing you
(30:15):
can bring back with you from the future, a hangover
compounded of a gallon or so of Martzenbrau. What's more,
you can pile one on top of the other, and
another on top of that, he shuddered. If you think
I'm going to take another crack at this merry, go
round and pile a fourth hangover on the three. I'm
(30:37):
already nursing all at once. You can think again. End
of Unborn Tomorrow by Dallas McCord Reynolds
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