All the Colors of Time Read Free Page B

integrity?”
    “Since businessmen started managing scientists?” Her husband
poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her.
    She grimaced. “God, yes. Bottom line. Party line.
Contractual obligations and scientific neutrality. And I, dutiful parrot that I
am, read it right off the cue cards to my Team. You should have heard me,
Vance. I actually quoted Reinhold Niebuhr to them.” She sighed and sipped her
coffee. “The poor man is probably spinning in his grave.”
    Vance smiled. “I would have quoted Galata.”
    “Galata?”
    “One of my ilk—a psychologist. He said that human beings who
fail to adjust their situation will be forced to adjust their attitude toward
that situation.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Well, in the case of your crew, it may mean that they’ll
adapt by developing a thicker skin. Maybe focus on the technology itself, on
the, ah, scientific esthetic as opposed to the moral ethic.”
    “I smell an ‘or’ in there somewhere. Faced with an
unchangeable something they either adjust their attitude or what—go crazy?”
    He shrugged. “That has been the reaction of some minds to
unbendable obstacles.”
    Magda shook her head. “No! Dammit, Vance, my Team should not be the ones to have to adjust their
attitude! It’s precisely because the military won’t accept and adapt to its
dwindling sphere of influence that we’re working on this project.”
    “Mm-hm. Precisely. Because of their inability to adapt, they’re
funding your life’s dream.”
    She glared at him, thinking that there was a definite dark
side to being married to the Team shrink. “That’s it, Mr. Psychologist. Make me
feel like a self-centered, spiritually bankrupt toad.”
    “Everyone’s self-centered, Mags. It’s a perception we learn
to adjust as we realize the universe does not revolve around us.”
    “Only some of us don’t adjust very well.”
    “Don’t be too hard on yourself. At least you realize there’s
a dilemma.”
    oOo
    That was not enough consolation to give Magda Oslovski a
good night’s sleep. She arrived at work feeling limp and run down. A glance at
the faces of her senior staff revealed matching sets of dark circles under
their eyes. Louis Manyfeather and Vahid Khadivian looked more well-rested, but
they were unusually quiet as they went about readying Toto for his morning
outing. Judy Walsh was almost surly.
    Oslovski gathered Haley, Tsubaki and Wu for a review of the
previous day’s data. They were business-like (she was beginning to hate that
word) and muted, answering questions in monosyllables and sharing sullen
glances. They were on their way down to the O.R. when she was paged to take a
phone call from Washington. Three pairs of eyes assaulted her.
    She held them off with a shake of her head. “I’ll handle
this,” she said.
    “Handle it, how?” asked Trevor.
    She grimaced and crossed her fingers. “With wisdom, I hope.”
    It was Caldwell, of course, wanting an unofficial report in
anticipation of the official one he’d receive along with the other Chiefs the
next week.
    Oslovski licked suddenly dry lips. “We’re . . .
we’re doing very well here, General. In fact, we . . . we’ve
successfully completed Phase Three of the project.” She was glad she had the
video link off and he couldn’t see her face.
    “Phase Three? Ah, yes! That would be the short jumps into
the past.”
    “Yes. We sent Toto—the Temporal unit—back in time in
increments from one hour to one year and successfully retrieved it. After a
thorough study of the data we included a compartmented cage containing several
varieties of insects. They survived and we were then able to send mice.”
    “Which also survived?”
    “Yes, General. Although we’re still monitoring them for side
effects. There did seem to be some disorientation. You can never be too careful
with live animals.”
    “Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Then you haven’t sent a
human being anywhere yet.”
    “Of course not. That would