ABSOLUTELY NO PARADOX By Lester del Rey If time-travel is possible, then why haven't we been visited by people from the future? But Pete LeFranc found the answer to that. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science Fiction Quarterly May 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The old men's section of the Arts and Science Club was always the best ordered. The robots somehow managed to avoid clanking there; the greensward beyond the veranda was always just right, and the drinks were the best for six counties. Old Ned Brussels touched his glass to his lips appreciatively, sighed in contentment, and waited for some of the other oldsters to break the silence. Finally, Lem Hardy took the plunge. "He did it," he announced, referring to a conversation of weeks before. Then, at their puzzled looks, he amplified. "My grandson, damn it! He's got a time machine--it works. Sent a cat four days up, and it came through unharmed." The glass fell from Old Ned's hand, bouncing on the floor, and spilling good liquor. A robot came forward silently to clean it up, but Ned didn't look at it. "Four days doesn't mean a thing. Lem--is that kid planning on trying it out?" "He's going to try it next week." "Then for the Lord's sake, stop him! Look, does it work like this?" His fingers slipped over the pencil smoothly, as they had always done when he worked, drafting robot bodies in the old days. A rude schematic seemed to grow almost instantly on the paper. Lem took it, then stiffened suddenly. "Who told you?" "A youngster named Pete LeFranc--and it was forty years ... no, over fifty years ago. Lem, if you like your grandson, keep him out of the machine. Four days, four weeks--they don't mean anything. Time machines don't work, however well they seem to." A bustle from behind them pulled their eyes around. One of the robots was quietly restraining a nervous young man who was trying to break free and join the group. His face was tense, excited, with an odd bitter fear behind it. His words were seemingly cut out of steel. "... told me I'd find him here. Damn it...." "Sorry, sir. You'll have to wait." The robot's voice was adamant under its smoothness. Ned grunted, and then impulse led him to look again. He'd seen the man somewhere. He hunted for it, then dismissed it, knowing that his memory was tricky these days. But he motioned the robot aside. "We don't allow interruptions for junior members," he told the man, letting his voice soften the words. "Still, if you want to sit down and listen--quietly--nobody'll stop you." "But...."