An early unpublished story by Stephen Baxter (age 16!)As drafted 1Q 1974
Lang was as near to excitement as he ever got. Shepard could see that. And yet there was something in the man’s eyes, his manner, or something that told Shepard that Lang had another premonition coming on.
They were seated beside the chronoviewer, waiting while the technicians set the controls. Before them the reporters were fidgeting impatiently.
‘Ready in a few minutes, sir,’ said one of the technicians.
Shepard acknowledged that and turned back to Lang, who was biting his lip.
‘What’s wrong, Lang? Nervous?’ Shepard knew very well he was.
‘Sort of,’ said Lang, slowly. ‘It’s just that … well, I’ve got a feeling something’s going to go wrong.’
Before Shepard could say anything, Lang resumed hastily, ‘Oh, I don’t want to insult your engineering skills, Shepard. Far be that from me, a humble theoretician who wouldn’t know how to put a portable radio together. But there’s something …’ He shook his head.
‘Look, Lang, nothing could go wrong. The chronoviewer’s been checked and double-checked, triple-checked even. And besides, we can’t back out now.
Apart from the bad publicity, we’d never scrape together enough money to lease this hall again. And the electricity bills run high, too. We’re up to our craniums in debt at the moment, so it’s got to be now or never. But it’ll work.
