Butterfly 9 By DONALD KEITH Illustrated by GAUGHAN [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction January 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Jeff needed a job and this man had a job to offer--one where giant economy-size trouble had labels like fakemake, bumsy and peekage! I At first, Jeff scarcely noticed the bold-looking man at the next table. Nor did Ann. Their minds were busy with Jeff's troubles. "You're still the smartest color engineer in television," Ann told Jeff as they dallied with their food. "You'll bounce back. Now eat your supper." "This beanery is too noisy and hot," he grumbled. "I can't eat. Can't talk. Can't think." He took a silver pillbox from his pocket and fumbled for a black one. Those were vitamin pills; the big red and yellow ones were sleeping capsules. He gulped the pill. Ann looked disapproving in a wifely way. "Lately you chew pills like popcorn," she said. "Do you really need so many?" "I need something. I'm sure losing my grip." Ann stared at him. "Baby! How silly! Nothing happened, except you lost your lease. You'll build up a better company in a new spot. We're young yet." * * * * * Jeff sighed and glanced around the crowded little restaurant. He wished he could fly away somewhere. At that moment, he met the gaze of the mustachioed man at the next table. The fellow seemed to be watching him and Ann. Something in his confident gaze made Jeff uneasy. Had they met before? Ann whispered, "So you noticed him, too. Maybe he's following us. I think I saw him on the parking lot where we left the car." Jeff shrugged his big shoulders. "If he's following us, he's nuts. We've got no secrets and no money." "It must be my maddening beauty," said Ann. "I'll kick him cross-eyed if he starts anything," Jeff said. "I'm just in the mood." Ann giggled. "Honey, what big veins you have! Forget him. Let's talk about the engineering lab you're going to start. And let's eat." He groaned. "I lose my appetite every time I think about the building being sold. It isn't worth the twelve grand. I wouldn't buy it for that if I could. What burns me is that, five years ago, I could have bought it for two thousand." "If only we could go back five years." She shrugged fatalistically. "But since we can't--" The character at the next table leaned over and spoke to them, grinning. "You like to get away? You wish to go back?" Jeff glanced across in annoyance. The man was evidently a salesman, with extra gall. "Not now, thanks," Jeff said. "Haven't time." The man waved his thick hand at the clock, as if to abolish time. "Time? That is nothing. Your little lady. She spoke of go back five years. Maybe I help you."