Dictatorship -- Fiction; Inventors -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories; Time travel -- Fiction
So the Master deemed himself safe from them, since he would know
before they struck, and he leisurely prepared cruel traps for their
undoing. And he promised himself that he would make their punishment so
fearful that he could count himself safe against another revolt for a
generation. But for the while he held his hand.
When noon was an hour past, Heidkamp was ushered into the Room of Power
by the Guards. He dared make no further protests, but the muscles of
his jaws twitched when the Master reiterated his harsh order that the
time traveller must be ready within a month, and added, "This visor has
revealed to me a woman whose beauty is worthy of my recognition, and
I propose to bring her here for my enjoyment. Mount the instrument on
this range finder, so that I may indicate to you the location of her
dwelling."
So the observations were made and subsequently checked against plans of
the Serene Tower, and it was found that the house and path lay within
the impenetrable wall of a vault. In the vault itself Heidkamp set up
his laboratory, trusting that chance or stratagem would lure the victim
to the trap he planned.
Here Heidkamp labored by day and night, seldom stopping even for food.
His lean, worn body brought new reserves of strength to the monumental
task. It was not fear that drove him on; Heidkamp was not afraid of
death or torture, and after the fate which had befallen his brother and
child he had nothing more to live for. Heidkamp was driven by hate;
hate of the Master. For deep in his brain there was a hidden hope that
the Master, secure and omnipotent beyond the reach of mortal hands or
minds in his Serene Tower, might somehow be vulnerable to contact with
the free and dynamic ancient world revealed in the Time Visor. Had not
the storm which had arisen when the Master first looked into the visor
been, perhaps, an omen of some ill to befall him through this tampering
with time?
So the days crept past, while Heidkamp in his dungeon laboratory worked
among the giant tubes and shimmering radiances that should open the
backward facing door, and while the Master in his eyrie brooded darkly
over the romance that developed beyond that door while he waited
impotently for the key. For it was Spring in Nyack, and the girl he
sought was clearly and increasingly in love with her virile escort.
Hand in hand they walked the streets of the village, or sped beyond the
visor's range in the sleek roadster, while in the high and dreamlike
tower, surrounded by miracles of science and of beauty, the Master
yearned wickedly for the girl who had long been dust, and furiously
hated her companion. When but half of the allotted thirty days were
past, he summoned Heidkamp to the Room of Power for an accounting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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