The Second Mack Reynolds Megapack. Mack Reynolds

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СКАЧАТЬ at the time—from Mexico. The Spanish and Indians came to know the Easterners as Anglos.”

      The time traveler said desperately, “Listen, pal, we get further and further from—”

      “Tracing back the derivation of the phrase takes us along two more side trails. It goes back to the fact that these Anglos became the wealthiest businessmen of the twentieth century. So much so that they soon dominated the world with their dollars.”

      “Okay, okay. I know all about that. Personally I never had enough dollars to dominate anybody, but—”

      “Very well, the point is that the Anglos became the financial wizards of the world, the most clever dealers, the sharpest bargainers, the most competent businessmen.”

      The time traveler shot a quick despairing look at his watch. “Only three—”

      “The third factor is one taken from still further in the past. At one time there was a minority, which many of the Anglos held in disregard, called the Joos. For many years the term had been used, ‘to Joo you down’—meaning to make the price lower. As the Anglos assumed their monetary dominance, the term evolved from ‘Joo you down’ to ‘Anglo you down’; and thus it has come down to our own day, although neither Anglo nor Joo still exists as a separate people.”

      The time traveler stared at him. “And I won’t be able to take the memory of this story back with me, eh? And me a guy named Levy.” He darted another look at his watch and groaned. “Quick!” he said. “Let’s make this trade; everything I got for that atomic knife!”

      The deal was consummated. The citizen of the thirtieth century stood back, his loot in his arms, and watched as the citizen of the twentieth, nude but with the knife grasped tightly and happily in hand, faded slowly from view.

      The knife poised momentarily in empty air, then dropped to the ground as the time traveler completely disappeared.

      The other stooped, retrieved it, and stuck it back in his pocket. “Even more naive than usual,” he muttered. “Must have been one of the very first. I suppose they’ll never reconcile themselves to the paradoxes. Obviously, you can carry things forward in time, since that’s the natural flow of the dimension; but you just can’t carry anything, not even memory, backward against the current.”

      He resumed his journey homeward.

      Marget, hands on hips, met him at the door. “Where in kert have you been?” she snapped.

      “You mustn’t swear, darling,” he said. “I met another time traveler on the way home.”

      “You didn’t…”

      “Certainly, why not? If I didn’t somebody else would. ”

      “But you’ve already got the closet overflowing with—”

      “Now, Marget, don’t look that way. One of these days some museum or collector...”

      She grunted skeptically and turned back into the house.

      GOOD INDIAN

      AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION

      When the late, and beloved in the science-fiction field, John W. Campbell published this in Analog, the blurb read: “This may not be science fiction, but if it isn’t, it should be, and anyway it’s fun.” When he republished it in his yearly anthology of the best Analog stories of the year, he pointed out that the background material is quite valid; the Seminole Indians are still legally at war with the United States. A treaty has never been signed.

      —Mack Reynolds

      * * * *

      Mortimer Dowling opened one eye accusingly and said, “Miss Fullbright, I thought we had a standing agreement that I was never to be bothered while in conference.”

      Millie said, “Take your feet off the desk, you’ll scratch it. Am I or am I not your receptionist?”

      “You am. Now go away. It was very drunk out last night.”

      “A receptionist recepts and…”

      Mortimer Dowling opened the other eye, too, and interrupted. “No she doesn’t,” he said severely. “You don’t do enough crossword puzzles. A recept is an idea formed by the repetition of similar percepts, as successive percepts of the same object. A receptionist does something else. I forget what. Go away. I’m tired.”

      “...And when someone comes into my office asking for an appointment to see the Director of the Department of Indian Affairs, then it’s my duty to so inform you.”

      He closed both eyes and snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.

      “Three of them,” Millie said definitely.

      Mortimer Dowling said sleepily, “Three what? Why don’t you go away? Go away and do a crossword puzzle or something.”

      “Three Indians to see you, sir,” Millie said formally.

      The head of the Department of Indian Affairs opened both eyes again and said severely, “Miss Fullbright, I am in no mood for jest. You know very well that there is no such thing as three Indians. The last Indian died almost ten years ago. The President proclaimed a day of national mourning. I made a speech. It was all very sentimental. Are you going away or not?”

      Her mouth tightened. “They say they’re Indians. And they look like Indians. I’ve seen pictures of Indians.”

      Mortimer Dowling blinked. “You’re serious?”

      “Of course, I’m serious.”

      “Three men in the outer office, and they say they’re Indians?” A certain tremor was coming into Mortimer Dowling’s voice.

      She nodded definitely.

      “Good Heavens,” said the Director of Indian Affairs. “For nearly fifteen years I’ve held this job, and my father before me. By the terms of the final Indian treaty there must always be a Department of Indian Affairs so long as the United States shall endure, the original idea being that the Indians would always have somewhere to go to find justice. It never occurred to those who compiled the treaty that the Indians would eventually blend into the rest of the population. The last bit of business conducted by the department was almost half a century ago. Miss Fullbright, do you realize what you’re saying? There’s actually something for me to do!”

      “Yes, sir,” said Millie, overwhelmed by it all. “What shall I tell them?”

      Mortimer Dowling sat up straight behind his desk, businesslike. “Now, just what was it they wanted?”

      “An appointment.”

      He thought about that. “Well, we should give them one, Miss Fullbright. Yes, indeed. An appointment.”

      Millie was impressed by the new aggressive mien of her superior. “Very good, sir,” she said.

      “Mark it down on the calendar, Miss Fullbright.”

      “Yes, sir. When do you wish to make this СКАЧАТЬ