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Updated: August 18, 2024
One of you will have this flag in his hand, and will move it back and forth. Doctor Loudons will tell us when the flag is in sight of the rifle." "He'll need a good pair of lungs to do that," Verner Hughes commented. "We'll use the radio. A portable set on the ground, and the helicopter's radio set," Altamont said. To his surprise, he was met with looks of incomprehension.
Loudons looked over his shoulder at the photostated magazine page. "Well, we know it was between June thirteen and nineteen, inclusive," he said. "And there's a picture of the university president, complete with gold-plated spade, breaking ground. Call it Wednesday, the sixteenth. Over there's the tip of the shadow of the old Cathedral of Learning, about a hundred yards away.
That was one of the reasons why he and the stocky, phlegmatic social scientist made such a good team, he thought. As far as he, himself, was concerned, people were just a mysterious, exasperatingly unpredictable order of things which were subject to no known natural laws. And Loudons thought the same thing about machines: he couldn't psychoanalyze them.
"The natural way to come in, when you travel in the air," the old man replied. "At least, you came in openly. I can promise you a better reception than that you got at the city to the west of us a couple of days ago." "Now how did you know that we had trouble the day-before-yesterday?" Loudons demanded. The old man's eyes sparkled with child-like pleasure. "That surprises you, my dear sir?
"Jim, where the devil are you?" Altamont fairly yelled into the radio; and as he did, he knew the answer. Loudons was in the village, away from the helicopter, gathering tools and workers. Nothing to do but keep on trying! "Here they come!" Reader Rawson warned. "How far can these rifles be depended on?" Birdy Edwards wanted to know.
It wasn't nearly as good as caffchoc. "But then, I suppose, a pre-bustup coffee drinker couldn't stomach this stuff we're drinking." Loudons looked forward, up the river they were following. "Get anything on the radio?" he asked. "I noticed you took us up to about ten thousand, while I was shaving." Altamont got out his pipe and tobacco pouch, filling the former slowly and carefully.
"How's the leg this morning, Jim?" he asked. "Little stiff. Doesn't hurt much, though." "Why, we're about fifty miles, as we follow that river, and that's relatively straight." He looked down through the transparent nose of the copter at a town, now choked with trees that grew among the tumbled walls. "I think that's Aliquippa." Loudons looked and shrugged, then looked again and pointed.
Jim Loudons probably understood a little more clearly what those books would mean to the world of today, and what they could do toward shaping the world of the future. There was a library at Fort Ridgeway, and it was an excellent one ... for its purpose. In 1996, when the rockets had come crashing down, it had contained the cream of the world's technical knowledge and very little else.
Czernichef, it is thought, got this Letter; and perhaps rumor itself, and the delays of Daun, would, at any rate, have sent him across. Across he at once went, with his 24,000, and burnt his Bridge. A vanished Czernichef; though Friedrich is not yet sure of it: and as for the wandering Austrian Divisions, the Loudons, Lacys, all is dark to him.
Altamont knew without looking at his associate that Loudons would be inconspicuously jotting down notes. The last was an item the sociologist would be sure to record: the white-bearded Tenant had pronounced that reference to a written testament in capital letters. The story was continuing.... "... finally, they came here.
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