along the curbs, not parking meters. There were cars, sure. Mostly Model Ts. But I had a job, mechanic at Pierce-Arrow.
"Surprised you could stand the cars, John. All those nasty exhaust fumes.
"Maybe so. Maybe twenty, thirty years earlier Winfield is even better. Be happy to go see. Major, I have got to get back, got to.
"Why the hell did you leave?
"The stuff that killed the cat, if you can believe it. I came back to the present, just for a day or so, I thought, to see what was happening at the project. You took the Project over, you know. Once it succeeded. You and Esterhazy. Forced Danziger out. Too cautious for you: he worried about altering events in the past because you couldn't tell, he said, how the change might affect the present. Dangerous. But you and Esterhazy were rubbing your hands! Couldn't wait to try it, and find out what would happen. But what I came back to, Major, was this. It's no Gateway anymore. I can't get back from this!
"John, it's sure interesting, all this stuff. And you tell it so well! But I've been to your Project. Yesterday. And Beekev's Moving and Storage warehouse is a moving and storage warehouse. And always has been. You can see that with one look!
"That's true. In a way.
"And it took fifty years for this stinking town to get like this; it's never been restored!
"Also true. In a way.
Pretty good way!
McNaughton nodded several times, then said, "Major, four, five weeks ago I took the bus to Montpelier. State capital. Walked to the state library, and they' got out a back file of the Win field Messenger for me. They've got it all, 18~1 to 19~0; paper couldn't quite last out the full century. I got the volume for 1920 through 1926, and stole something from it, cut it out of the paper. And I keep it with me all the time. Because it's all I've got left now. From his inside coat pocket he brought out a trimmed-down manila folder, and handed it to Rube.
Rube opened it. Taped to the inside lay a three-column-wide section of newspaper. A portion of the masthead across the top read, essenger, and just below that, between two rules, the date, June 1, 1923. Below this, the caption over a photograph, which Rube read aloud, Crowd Throngs Parade Route.' "He bent over the photograph, examining it: several ranks and files of marching young men, rifles on shoulders, all wearing shallow metal helmets and high-necked uniform blouses. Preceding them, two more uniformed men carrying the American flag and a banner. Rube read aloud the banner's inscription, " American Legion Post--' "
"Not the parade, the spectators.
He saw it immediately-: along the curb between the thick trunks of old trees stood a lineup of men, women, children, dogs. Among them a tall man wearing a flat, black-ribbonecl straw hat. And under its stiff brim, smiling at the camera-sharp, clear, unmistakable-the face of the man beside him.
Who nodded, reaching for his folder. "Yep. Me. Right here in Winfield. On this very street. Watching the Memorial Day parade in the spring of 1923. There's no Project now, Major; it doesn't exist. But there was. It did.
"Fine. Then why don't I remember it? You do, you say.
"Something happened, Major. Something happened back in the past that altered the present.
"Like what?
"I don't know. Anything. When it happened, I was back in the past where it didn't touch me. I took my memories with me, and brought them back. But they didn't match the present anymore. I came back, but not to the restored Winfield. I came back to this untouched garbage dump. And went crazy. Got myself to New York, and ran the last block to the Project. And found Beekey's Moving and Storage, nothing else. And worst of all -he leaned toward Rube, lowering his voice- worst of all, Danziger didn't exist. Wasn't in the phone book. And at the library I looked through their old phone book file back to 1939. No E. E. Danziger. Ever. No record of his birth at City Hall. And no one ever heard of him at Harvard. He didn't exist!
"He
"Surprised you could stand the cars, John. All those nasty exhaust fumes.
"Maybe so. Maybe twenty, thirty years earlier Winfield is even better. Be happy to go see. Major, I have got to get back, got to.
"Why the hell did you leave?
"The stuff that killed the cat, if you can believe it. I came back to the present, just for a day or so, I thought, to see what was happening at the project. You took the Project over, you know. Once it succeeded. You and Esterhazy. Forced Danziger out. Too cautious for you: he worried about altering events in the past because you couldn't tell, he said, how the change might affect the present. Dangerous. But you and Esterhazy were rubbing your hands! Couldn't wait to try it, and find out what would happen. But what I came back to, Major, was this. It's no Gateway anymore. I can't get back from this!
"John, it's sure interesting, all this stuff. And you tell it so well! But I've been to your Project. Yesterday. And Beekev's Moving and Storage warehouse is a moving and storage warehouse. And always has been. You can see that with one look!
"That's true. In a way.
"And it took fifty years for this stinking town to get like this; it's never been restored!
"Also true. In a way.
Pretty good way!
McNaughton nodded several times, then said, "Major, four, five weeks ago I took the bus to Montpelier. State capital. Walked to the state library, and they' got out a back file of the Win field Messenger for me. They've got it all, 18~1 to 19~0; paper couldn't quite last out the full century. I got the volume for 1920 through 1926, and stole something from it, cut it out of the paper. And I keep it with me all the time. Because it's all I've got left now. From his inside coat pocket he brought out a trimmed-down manila folder, and handed it to Rube.
Rube opened it. Taped to the inside lay a three-column-wide section of newspaper. A portion of the masthead across the top read, essenger, and just below that, between two rules, the date, June 1, 1923. Below this, the caption over a photograph, which Rube read aloud, Crowd Throngs Parade Route.' "He bent over the photograph, examining it: several ranks and files of marching young men, rifles on shoulders, all wearing shallow metal helmets and high-necked uniform blouses. Preceding them, two more uniformed men carrying the American flag and a banner. Rube read aloud the banner's inscription, " American Legion Post--' "
"Not the parade, the spectators.
He saw it immediately-: along the curb between the thick trunks of old trees stood a lineup of men, women, children, dogs. Among them a tall man wearing a flat, black-ribbonecl straw hat. And under its stiff brim, smiling at the camera-sharp, clear, unmistakable-the face of the man beside him.
Who nodded, reaching for his folder. "Yep. Me. Right here in Winfield. On this very street. Watching the Memorial Day parade in the spring of 1923. There's no Project now, Major; it doesn't exist. But there was. It did.
"Fine. Then why don't I remember it? You do, you say.
"Something happened, Major. Something happened back in the past that altered the present.
"Like what?
"I don't know. Anything. When it happened, I was back in the past where it didn't touch me. I took my memories with me, and brought them back. But they didn't match the present anymore. I came back, but not to the restored Winfield. I came back to this untouched garbage dump. And went crazy. Got myself to New York, and ran the last block to the Project. And found Beekey's Moving and Storage, nothing else. And worst of all -he leaned toward Rube, lowering his voice- worst of all, Danziger didn't exist. Wasn't in the phone book. And at the library I looked through their old phone book file back to 1939. No E. E. Danziger. Ever. No record of his birth at City Hall. And no one ever heard of him at Harvard. He didn't exist!
"He
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