UNBORN
TOMORROW
BY MACK REYNOLDS
Illustrated by Freas
etty looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, "You're late."
"Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful," Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.
He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, "What Ineed is a vacation."
"What," Betty said, "are you goingto use for money?"
"Providence," Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,"will provide."
"Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars."
Simon said, mournful of tone,"Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?"
"I'm not selfish," Betty said. "AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary."
"Money," Simon said. "When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you."
"Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down."
Simon said, enigmatically, "Nowit comes."
There was a knock.
Betty bounced up with Olympicagility and had the door swingingwide before the knocking was quitecompleted.
He was old, little and had bugeyes behind pince-nez glasses. Hissuit was cut in the style of yesteryearbut when a suit costs two orthree hundred dollars you still retaincaste whatever the styling.
Simon said unenthusiastically,"Good morning, Mr. Oyster." He indicatedthe client's chair. "Sit down,sir."
The client fussed himself withBetty's assistance into the seat, bug-eyedSimon, said finally, "You knowmy name, that's pretty good. Neversaw you before in my life. Stop fussingwith me, young lady. Your adin the phone book says you'll investigateanything."
"Anything," Simon said. "Onlyone exception."
"Excellent. Do you believe in timetravel?"
Simon said nothing. Across theroom, where she had resumed herseat, Betty cleared her throat. WhenSimon continued to say nothing sheventured, "Time travel is impossible."
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Yes, why?"
Betty looked to her boss for assistance.None was forthcoming. Thereought to be some very quick, positive,definite answer. She said, "Well,for one thing, paradox. Suppose youhad a time machine and traveled backa hundred years or so and killed yourown great-grandfather. Then howcould you ever be born?"
"Confound it if I know," the littlefellow growled. "How?"
Simon said, "Let's get to the point,what you wanted to see me about."
"I want to hire you to hunt me upsome time travelers," the old boysaid.
Betty was too far in now to maintainher proper role of silent secretary."Time travelers," she said, notvery intelligently.
The potential client sat more erect,obviously with intent to hold thefloor for a time. He removed thepince-nez glasses and pointed t