“Later, Tom, later. I can’t discuss little details now.”

Brushed off again. Everybody too busy for poor Tom. Glumly I went out to the site and joined the others who were backfilling. Mirrik tried to console me with Paradoxian proverbs. “He who suffers scorn and rejection,” said Mirrik, “learns to grasp the roots of the sea.” And also, “The higher powers reward us most tenderly by their absence from our lives.” Furthermore, “He alone finds grace from whom grace is withdrawn.”

“Very comforting, Mirrik.”

“Meditation and concentration bring understanding, my friend. Perhaps this grief is beneficial.”

“I’m sure of that,” I said.

Then Jan came up to me, close to the fusion point and emitting a high-frequency zing. “Do you know what I just found out?” she demanded.

“Sure,” I said bitterly. “Inasmuch as I’m a TP, it’s no effort at all for me to read your mind and—”

“Shut up, Tom. I just learned who it was that drew up the list of who goes to 1145591 and who goes to Galaxy Central. It was Leroy Chang.”

“Leroy Chang,” I said. “That’s odd. Why’d he do it?”

“Dr. Schein asked him to,” said Jan. “The bosses were too busy. He typed up the memo and ran it off. But don’t you see, Tom? Leroy Chang! Leroy Chang]”

“Leroy Chang,” I said again. “Yes, I heard you.”

“But you aren’t thinking! The list says that you go to Galaxy Central, and I go to 1145591… and that Professor Chang goes to 1145591 also! Leroy deliberately arranged it so—”

“I’m tuned in now, Jan. I read it all!”

“Isn’t it absolutely the dirtiest?”

“Where’s Leroy now?”

“Packing inscription nodes in the lab.”

I sprinted toward the lab. Mirrik called after me, “The universe is a reversible phenomenon, Tom! Paradoxian proverb!”

“Thank you,” I called back.

For many weeks now — since Leroy had gone groping for Jan — I’ve been making a point of avoiding the company of Professor Chang. Leroy hasn’t been cultivating me any, either, with good reason. Lately he’s been a kind of shadowy, skulking figure, sniffing around the outskirts of things and occasionally casting a longing look at Jan or Kelly. I’ve regarded him as more pathetic than hateful — nothing but a creepy vidj of the kind you see in the grimier feelie theaters of big cities. Now, though, I was ready to demolish him.

I looked into the lab and saw him in back, indeed packing inscription nodes. Dr. Schein was also in the lab, and Pilazinool, and I didn’t want to make a scene in front of them. So I said quietly, “Professor Chang, can I have a word with you?”

“Will it wait?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“All right, what is it?”

“There’s something out back by the site that I’d like you to examine. We don’t quite know what to make of it, and before we backfill there, we thought we’d have you look at it.”

He fell for it.

We walked in silence toward the site. But we didn’t enter it. I halted in front of a mound of excavation tailings that we hadn’t backfilled yet. A drizzle began. I said, “Let’s stop here, Leroy. Let’s talk a little.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. They tell me you drew up the list of names of those who’d escort the globe to Galaxy Central.”

“Yes.” Guardedly.

“How come?”

“At Dr. Schein’s request. It was just a routine matter.”

“You routinely separated me from the expedition,” I said, “while managing to send yourself on the asteroid trip. And to send Jan too.”

“The globe,” Leroy said, “was your discovery, Tom. I simply felt that you’d want to accompany it and look after its safety personally.”

That kind of reasoning didn’t impress me. “How’d you like me to throw you into the excavation?” I asked.

Leroy backed away from me. “What kind of talk is that?”

“Archaic belligerent primitivistic talk. You feeby sposher, am I supposed to sit back and smile while you neatly put me on an orbit heading into the sun?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You said that once already. Let me give you an old Paradoxian proverb: The universe is a reversible phenomenon. You know what I want you to do?”

“I don’t like the way you’re talking to me, Tom.”

“Zog, man. I want you to put yourself in that gang heading for Galaxy Central. In place of me.”

“But—”

“I’m going to the asteroid. And you’re going head first into the pit if you don’t cooperate.”

I took a step toward him. He made some little blenking noises and looked sick. I hate bullies and bullying, but at the moment I didn’t feel apologetic, thinking of the way he had bothered Jan.

Chang said, “These threats of physical violence—”

“—will be carried out—”

“—are disgusting, Tom.”

“Into the pit!” I yelled, and feinted at him. He squeaked in fear. I grabbed him by the shoulders, but I didn’t throw him in; instead I leaned close to his ear and said, “What would Dr. Schein think of you, Leroy, if Jan complained to him that you tried to rape her?”

Leroy shivered. He sagged.

I doubt very much that a rape-attempt complaint filed weeks after the event, under circumstances like these, would make much steam in court. But guilty consciences blackmail easily. Leroy glared at me, blustered a little, muttered that I was persecuting and maligning him, and then folded completely. “What do you want me to do, exactly?”

I told him.

He did it.

This evening a revised list of assignments was posted. My name now is among those going to look for the asteroid. Professor Leroy Chang has replaced me in the group returning to Galaxy Central. I won’t miss him. Neither will Jan.

October 17

To continue this marathon letter. Today’s news is about how I just outswiftied myself. I couldn’t help it, though.

You know how it is when you get so spun up over a marginal thing that you overlook something really important? Old Paradoxian proverb: He who loses track of main point will oversleep when millennium arrives. I was busy maneuvering myself out of the Galaxy Central deal and failing to see what I should have seen at once. What all of us should have seen.

I hunted up Dr. Schein during my morning break.

“Sir,” I said, adopting my humble-apprentice tone of voice, “I’ve got a hypothetical question. What if we get to the asteroid and find the robot and it’s still in working order, and all? How will we communicate with it? How will we tell it who we are and how much time has passed?”

“It won’t be possible, Tom.”

“But it could be possible! We have a credential. A letter of introduction. Only we’ve decided not to take it with us.”

“You’ve lost me, Tom.”

“I mean the globe, sir!”

Dr. Schein frowned. Pursed his lips. Considered. Brightened.

“Of course! Of course, the globe, the globe!”

And rushed off to confer with Dr. Horkkk and Pilazinool.

The conference lasted an hour. Then they summoned us all to the lab for a general meeting in the middle of the day. Dr. Horkkk presided. Dr. Schein, sitting to one side, gave me a warm, fond smile. I was teacher’s pet again.

Dr. Horkkk interlaced his arms, opened and closed his three bulging eyes in rapid sequence, stuck a few long, many-jointed fingers into his eating mouth, and otherwise went through the patterns that are the Thhhian equivalents of preliminary throat-clearing. Then he said, in his fussy, explosive little voice, “I wish to propose a change of plan. It will require unanimous consent, since the consequences may be serious. As you know, we have agreed to Galaxy Central’s request that the globe be shipped there at once for study and preservation. However, a suggestion was made today that we keep the globe with us as a means of communication should we find the High Ones’ robot. It could serve, so to speak, as a letter of introduction, establishing our credentials as archaeologists of an era much later than its own.”