Atomic power is not even a theory; it is a fancy of dreamers, taken less seriously than "Santa Claus." As for the method for moving the Dora, no one has the slightest notion that there is any way of grasping the fabric of space-time. (I could be wrong. The many tales of UFO's and of strange visitors, throughout all ages, suggest that I am not the first time-tripper by thousands, or millions. But perhaps most of them are as reluctant to disturb the "native savages" as I am.)
On arrival in Kansas City I took lodging at a religious hilton. If you received my arrival note, it was on stationery bearing its emblem. (I hope that note is the last I will have to entrust to paper and ink-but it took time to arrange for photoreduction and etching. The technology and materials available here-&-now are very primitive, even when I have privacy to use other techniques.)
As a temporary base this religious hilton offers advantages. It is cheap, and I have not yet had time to acquire all the local money I will need. It is clean and safe compared with commercial hiltons costing the same. It is near the business district. It offers all that I now need and no more. And it is monastic.
"Monastic"? Don't look surprised, my loves. I expect to remain celibate throughout these ten years, while dreaming happy fantasies of all my darlings, so many years & light-years away.
Why? The local mores- Here the coupling of male and female is forbidden by law unless specifically licensed by the state in a binding monogamy with endless legal, social, and economic consequences.
Such laws are made to be broken-and are. About three squares or a few hundred meters from this monastic hilton, the "Y.M.C.A.," starts the "red-light" district, an area devoted to illicit but tolerated female prostitution- and the fees are low. No, I am not too lazy to walk that far; I've talked to some of these women-they "walk a beat" offering their services to men on the street. But, my dears, these women are not recognized artists, proud of their great vocation. Oh, dear, no! They are pathetic drabs, furtive and ashamed. They are at the bottom of the social pyramid, and many (most?) are in thrall to males who take their meager earnings.
I do not think there is a Tamara, or even a pseudoTamara, in all of Kansas City. Outside the 'red-light' district there are younger and prettier women available for higher fees and by more complex arrangements-but their status is still zero. No proud and happy artists. So they are no temptation; I would not be able to put out of my mind the gruesome fashion in which they are mistreated under local laws and customs.
(I tipped those I talked to; time is money to them.)
Then there are women who are not of the profession.
From my earlier life here I know that a high percentage of both "single" women and "married" women (a sharp dichotomy, much sharper than on Tertius or even Secundus)-many of these will chance unlicensed coupling for fun, adventure, love, or other reasons. Most women here are thus available sometimes and with some men-although not with all men nor all the time; here-&-now the sport is necessarily clandestine.
Nor do I lack confidence, nor have I contracted the local "moral" attitude.
But the answer is again No. Why?
First reason: It is all too likely to get one's arse shot off!
No joke, dears. Here-&-now almost every female is quasi-property of some male. Husband, father, sweetheart, betrothed-someone, If he catches you, he may kill you-and public opinion is such that he is unlikely to he punished. But if you kill him...you hang by the neck until dead, dead, dead!
It seems an excessive price. I don't plan to risk it.
There are a small but appreciable number of females who are not "property" of some male-so what's holding you back, Lazarus?
The overhead, for one thing. (Better not tell Galahad this; it would break his heart.) Negotiations are usually long, complex, and very expensive-and she is likely to regard "success" as equivalent to a proposal of lifetime contract.
On top of that she is quite likely to become pregnant. I should have asked Ishtar to offset my fertility for this trip. (I am terribly glad I did not.) (And I am honing for you darlings, my other selves-and thank, you endlessly for kicking my feet out from under me. I couldn't initiate it, dearly as I wanted to!)
Laz and Lor, believe this: Mature females here do not know when they are fertile. They rely either on luck or on contraceptive methods that range from chancy to worthless. Furthermore, they can't find out even from their therapists-who don't know much about it themselves. (There are no geneticists.) Therapy is very primitive in 1916. Most physicians are trying hard, I think, but the art is barely out of the witch-doctor stage. Just rough surgery and a few drugs-most of which I know to be useless or harmful. As for contraception-hold on tight!-it is forbidden by law.
Another law made to be broken-and is. But law and customs retard progress in such matters. At present (1916) the commonest method involves an elastomer sheath worn by the male-in other words they "couple" without touching. Stop screaming; you'll never have to put up with it. But it is as bad as it sounds.
I've saved my strongest reason for the last. Dears, I've been spoiled. In 1916 a bath once a week is considered enough by most people, too much by some. Other habits match. Such things when unavoidable can be ignored. I'm well aware that I whiff like an old billy goat in very short order myself. Nevertheless, when I have enjoyed the company of six of the daintiest darlings in the Galaxy-welt, I'd rather wait. Shucks, ten years isn't long.
If you have received any of the letters I will send over the next ten years, then you may have rushed to check tip on Gregorian 1916-1919. I selected 1919-1929 both to savor it-a vintage decade, the very last happy period in old Earth's history-but also to avoid the first of the Terran Planetary Wars, the one known now (it has already started) as "The European War," then will be called "The World War," then still later "The First World War," and designated in most ancient histories as "Phase One of the First Terran Planetary War."
Don't fret; I'm going to give it a wide berth. This involves changes in my travel plans but none in the 1926 pickup. I have little memory of this war; I was too young. But I recall (probably from school lessons rather than from direct memory) that this country got into it in 1917, and that the war ended the following year-and that date I remember exactly, as it was my sixth birthday and I thought the noise and celebration was for me.
What I can't remember is the exact date this country entered the war. I may not have looked it up in planning this junket; my purpose was to arrive after 11 November 1918, the day the war ended, and I allowed what I thought was a comfortable margin. I was fitting in those ten years most carefully, as the following ten years, 1929-1939, are decidedly not a vintage decade-and they end with the start of Phase Two of the First Terran Planetary War.
There is no possible way for me to look up that date- but I find one bright clue in my memory: a phrase "The Guns of August." That phrase has a sharp association in my memory with this war-and it fits, for I remember that it was warm, summery weather (August is summer here) when Cramp (your maternal grandfather, dears) took me out into the backyard and explained to me what "war" is and why we must win.
I don't think he made me understand it-but I remember the occasion, I remember his serious manner, I remember the weather (warm), and the time of day (just before supper).
Very well, I'll expect this country to declare war next August; I'll duck for cover in July-for I have no interest in this war. I know which side won (the side this country will be on) but I know also that "The War to End All Wars" (it was called that!) was a disastrous defeat both for "victors" and "vanquished"-it led inevitably to the Great Collapse and caused me to get' off this planet. Nothing I can do will change any of that; there -are no paradoxes.