THE TIME ARMADA
By Fox B. Holden
Politics and science don't mix—except that
Congressman Blair had once been a physicist. This
was The Beginning—but The End was worlds away....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
October and November 1953
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
5:20 P. M., April 17, 1958
Congressman Douglas Blair shivered a little, turned up his coat collaragainst the gray drizzle that had been falling like a finely-sifted fogall day. His head ached, his nose felt stuffy, and he was tired. It wasgood of Grayson to pick him up.
The front seat of the dark blue sedan was soft and reassuring, and thewarm current of air from the heater beneath it felt good. He let hisspare, barely six-foot body slump like a bag of wet wash and pushedhis hat back with the half-formed thought that it might ease the dullpressure behind his eyes.
"Rough going today, eh, Congressman?"
Grayson twisted the blue sedan into outbound Washington traffic, turnedthe windshield wipers to a faster pace. Click-click, click-click, andBlair wished someone would invent windshield wipers for the brain, tobe worn like a radio head-set, maybe with a hole in the top of the head.
"Hey, buddy! Republicans got your tongue?"
"No, sorry, Carl. Just tired. It's that damned McKenny bill."
"Off the record?"
"I'm afraid so for now, Carl. He can get the thing through—he's sodamn clever he should've been a woman. Got the steel men eating out ofhis hand. Made no bones about telling the rest of us today that whatthe hell, the people never had anything to say about it, anyway. Thework of government is up to the professionals. The sooner the peopleget their nose out of it, the better off they'll be. He said that,Carl, right in front of everybody. And nobody so much as blinked."
The drizzle started to develop into a dark blue rain as they headedtoward the suburbs.
"What's going to happen, Carl?" Blair said after awhile.
"If I knew, believe me, I wouldn't be sitting here! I don't know, Doug.We'll all cook in Hell together I guess. Here, have a cigarette."
"Thanks. No, dammit. That's just it—if they'd take this going to Hellbusiness and forget about it—sink it, scuttle it. Nobody goes toHell, he makes his own if that's the way he lives, or he makes his ownpersonal Heaven or Paradise or whatever you call it if that's the wayhe lives. Most of us are in between someplace, a little scared, mostlyindifferent, and too mixed up to see the simple fact that the way ofliving we've got in this country isn't so bad but what just plainhonesty and a little intelligence couldn't run it right side up."
"Sure, sure, I know and you're right, Doug. But take it easy.... Thingsaren't always as bad as they look."
Blair inhaled on the cigarette, laughed a little and felt better.Sometimes he knew he sounded like a college kid trying to tell hisfather what was wrong with the world, but that was why he liked Carl.Carl let him talk, knew it was his way of blowing off the pent-up steam.
"You know what, chum?" They were running smoothly along the highwaynow, the engine a reassuring hum of power, the interior of the sedanwarm and relaxing. The rain was letting up a