Time Past Read Free Page B

tent city. The other two men were strangers.
    “You said she’d show us the tellyscope,” said the driver. He poked his narrow nose up to the bars and stared up the stairs. The brim of his cap bumped the bar.
    “Now?” I said. “And why? It’s just a homemade telescope.”
    “That’s what you say.” One of the unknowns grunted from behind the butcher.
    “Yeah. We don’t like spies here,” said the other.
    I snorted. “Vince, have you been putting this stuff in their heads?”
    “Not me.” Vince shot me a look that said it was exactly what he’d done. He kicked the barred door. “I’m off then. If you see the kid, send him home. I’m sick of mucking around looking for him.”
    Left alone with the four men, I tried reason.
    “Who would I spy for?”
    “Migrant Affairs,” the grunter said immediately.
    “What would I tell them?”
    “Names.” He glanced at the others in triumph.
    I felt both exasperated and concerned. “How would I contact them?” The butcher nodded up at the office. “I seen all your radio stuff.” “That’s not a signaling device,” I said. At least, not to anyone on Earth. “Wait a minute.”
    I went upstairs, heaved the telescope into my arms. It kept slipping to one side, but I descended crablike down the stairs, placed it on the floor while I unlocked the barred door, picked it up again with a grunt, and shoved past them. Wish I’d gotten around to making wheels for the mount.
    Outside the house, I crouched and eased the scope down on the uneven concrete, hoping the dust-proofing on the casing and the screws would hold.
    “Look through here,” I panted.
    The sky was quite dark now in the east, except for the glow of the city low down. Often I’d get better viewing in the south.
    The butcher took first turn to squint through the eyepiece at what looked from here like a stretch of dull black sky.
    “Well?” said the driver, leaning so close that I was afraid he’d push the scope over.
    The butcher withdrew, rubbing his eye socket. “You wouldn’t think you could see anything, would you?”
    “Gimme a look.” The driver pushed him out of the way to see for himself. “Huh, nothing special.” But he sounded almost awed.
    “Give me a go, then,” said the grunter.
    “Wait yer turn.”
    Most of them wouldn’t have seen the stars properly for years. The skies of Sydney were as polluted as any other big city in 2023, and in my five months there, I’d never seen more than Venus just before sunrise or isolated dots that might have been constellations directly overhead, with the naked eye. Many of the out-town residents wouldn’t even have seen the stars on their journey here, especially if they’d been jammed in the holds of boats sneaking past Customs patrols or drugged senseless in luggage compartments of aircraft.
    On the rare moments I could see the stars, I loved the twinkling effect. I hadn’t seen it since I was a child, having spent the past twenty-five years mostly in space habitats without surrounding atmosphere.
    “My go,” the grunter insisted. He squatted, looked, and became suddenly still. They wouldn’t see half the stars I saw from Earth as a child, because in my time the Invidi had helped clear the pollution from the atmosphere, but even this view was more impressive through the telescope.
    “I told you, it’s just a hobby.” I didn’t try to keep the annoyance out of my voice and they all nodded and sidled back, except for the butcher.
    “Yeah, well we had to check it out, y’know?” He looked hungrily at the eyepiece and wiped his hands on his apron, which smelled faintly of offal. “Reckon I could have another look sometime?”
    “I don’t mind,” I said. “But not tonight, eh? I’m really tired.”
    “Right.” He followed the others as they trailed away.
    We needed the residents’ goodwill because it wouldn’t be hard to break into this old house. The people who lived in the tents and shacks along the riverbank knew the