All the Colors of Time Read Free Page A

have to be associated with their . . .
historic enhancements?”
    She stopped to look at him. “Are you suggesting we cast them
out into the world with our research notes and wash our hands of the
technology? Give them the recipe and make them find their own cooks?”
    “We could do that, couldn’t we?” asked George hopefully.
    Shiro shook her head. “We were talking about morality,
George. Is that any more moral than doing the work ourselves? Given our
research, they could find other people to do the work. The world would still be
up the tree without a paddle.”
    “Creek,” corrected George.
    “Fine. Creek, then. I feel we should keep the technology
in-house and exert some control over how it’s used. Can’t we do that?”
    Oslovski shook her head. “I don’t see how.”
    “Okay, Magda,” said Trevor. “You recited the party line.
Duty is done. Now, tell us how you feel about this.”
    “Very uneasy. Close to crappy, in fact.” She circled back
toward her desk. “General Caldwell has been extremely close-mouthed about the
reasons the military community has targeted Temporal Research for support. I’m
not terribly comfortable with phrases like ‘enhancing history’ or ‘rectifying
cultural aberrations.’” She was back at her desk now, and seated herself behind
it. “Fact is, folks, we are bound by contract to deliver the ‘fruits of our
research,’ as the papers say, to our clients. Fact is, our administration will
hold us to that contract regardless of our moral inclinations. Let’s say we
default—refuse to continue. Best case, they take the body of our research and
use it without our cooperation, maybe even ban us from further work on time
travel.”
    Shiro gasped. “Could they do something like that?”
    “Read the contract, Shiro. It gives them the right to the
disposition of Temporal Shift technology.”
    “So what’s worst case?” asked Trevor.
    “Worst case is, they do all that and bury this whole
institute into the bargain.”
    “So we’re powerless over our own creation, then. That’s what
you’re saying. We can’t do a damned thing.” Trevor’s fists threatened to rip
through his pockets. “Jesus, Magda, can’t we do something? ”
    Oslovski took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her
nose. “You ever hear of a theologian named Reinhold Niebuhr?”
    Shiro nodded. George and Trevor shook their heads.
    “Niebuhr wrote a prayer that included this passage: ‘God,
grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to
change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.’”
    “That’s an answer?”
    She shook her head. “It’s a . . . a yard
stick. If we start with wisdom, maybe we’ll be able to determine whether the
situation calls for courage or serenity. Right now, my best advice is accept
the situation as it stands and pray for a sign from God.”
    They weren’t happy with the advice, she could tell that by
their glum faces as they filed out of her office. She felt sorry for them.
Hell, she felt sorry for herself. She
couldn’t even go holler on their administrator. She and Peter had already been
around the proverbial rocket silo with her ethical objections to letting the
military lead her research team around a blind curve. He’d reminded her about
the sacred neutrality of science.
    “Screw the sacred neutrality of science,” she’d said. “Neutral
is not a synonym for amoral.”
    “You’re a professional,” he’d said. “I know you understand
that there are also business ethics involved. Make your people understand. Make
them understand that their temporal research would have died on the vine if the
Defense Department hadn’t gotten interested in it.”
    oOo
    “Screw business ethics,” she snarled, as she threw herself
onto her living room sofa that evening. “Since when are business ethics more
important than human lives? Since when are they supposed to count for more with
scientists than moral