All You Zombies

Robert A. Heinlein. All you zombies
2217 Time Zone V (EST) 7 Nov. 1970-NTC- "Pop's Place":I was polishing a brandy snifter when the Unmarried Mother camein. I noted the time-10: 17 P. M. zone five, or eastern time,November 7th, 1970. Temporal agents always notice time anddate; we must.
The Unmarried Mother was a man twenty-five years old,no taller than I am, childish features and a touchy temper. Ididn't like his looks - I never had - but he was a lad I washere to recruit, he was my boy. I gave him my best barkeep'ssmile.
Maybe I'm too critical. He wasn't swish; his nicknamecame from what he always said when some nosy type asked him hisline: "I'm an unmarried mother. -- If he felt less thanmurderous he would add: "at four cents a word. I writeconfession stories. --
If he felt nasty, he would wait for somebody to makesomething of it. He had a lethal style of infighting, like afemale cop - reason I wanted him. Not the only one.
He had a load on, and his face showed that he despisedpeople more than usual. Silently I poured a double shot of OldUnderwear and left the bottle. He drank it, poured another.
I wiped the bar top. -- How's the "Unmarried Mother"racket? --
His fingers tightened on the glass and he seemed aboutto throw it at me; I felt for the sap under the bar. Intemporal manipulation you try to figure everything, but thereare so many factors that you never take needless risks.
I saw him relax that tiny amount they teach you towatch for in the Bureau's training school. -- Sorry, " I said.-- Just asking, "How's business? " Make it "How's the weather?--
He looked sour. -- Business is okay. I write "em, theyprint "em, I eat. --
I poured myself one, leaned toward him. -- Matter offact, " I said, "you write a nice stick - I've sampled a few.You have an amazingly sure touch with the woman's angle. --
It was a slip I had to risk; he never admitted whatpen-names he used. But he was boiled enough to pick up only thelast: "'Woman's angle! "" he repeated with a snort. -- Yeah, Iknow the woman's angle. I should. -- "So? -- I said doubtfully. -- Sisters? -- "No. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. -- "Now, now, " I answered mildly, "bartenders andpsychiatrists learn that nothing is stranger than truth. Why,son, if you heard the stories I do-well, you'd make yourselfrich. Incredible. -- "You don't know what "incredible" means! " "So? Nothing astonishes me. I've always heard worse. -- He snorted again. -- Want to bet the rest of thebottle? -- "I'll bet a full bottle. -- I placed one on the bar. "Well-" I signaled my other bartender to handle thetrade. We were at the far end, a single-stool space that I keptprivate by loading the bar top by it with jars of pickled eggsand other clutter. A few were at the other end watching thefights and somebody was playing the juke box-private as a bedwhere we were. "Okay, " he began, "to start with, I'm a bastard. -- "No distinction around here, " I said. "I mean it, " he snapped. -- My parents weren'tmarried. -- "Still no distinction, " I insisted. -- Neither weremine. -- "When-" He stopped, gave me the first warm look I eversaw on him. -- You mean that? -- "I do. A one-hundred-percent bastard. In fact, " Iadded, "no one in my family ever marries. All bastards. "Oh, that. -- I showed it to him. -- It just looks likea wedding ring; I wear it to keep women off. -- It is anantique I bought in 1985 from a fellow operative - he hadfetched it from pre-Christian Crete. -- The Worm Ouroboros...the World Snake that eats its own tail, forever without end. Asymbol of the Great Paradox. --
He barely glanced at it. -- if you're really a bastard,you know how it feels. When I was a little girl-"
"Wups! " I said. -- Did I hear you correctly? -- "'Who's telling this story? When I was a littlegirl-Look, ever hear of Christine Jorgenson? Or Roberta Cowell?-- "Uh, sex-change cases? You're trying to tell me-" "Don't interrupt or swelp me, I won't talk. I was afoundling, left at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945 when I wasa month old. When I was a little girl, I envied kids withparents. Then, when I learned about sex-and, believe me, Pop,you learn fast in an orphanage-" "I know " "-I made a solemn vow that any kid of mine would haveboth a pop and a mom. It kept me "pure, " quite a feat in thatvicinity - I had to learn to fight to manage it. Then I gotolder and realized I stood darn little chance of gettingmarried - for the same reason I hadn't been adopted --. Hescowled. I was horse-faced and buck-toothed, flat-chested andstraight-haired. "You don't look any worse than I do. -- "Who cares how a barkeep looks? Or a writer? But peaplewanting to adopt pick little blue-eyed golden-haired moron.Later on, the boys want bulging breasts, a cute face, and anOh-you-wonderful-male manner. -- He shrugged. I couldn'tcompete. So I decided to join the W. E. N. C. H. E. S. -- Eh? -- "Women's Emergency National Corps, Hospitality &Entertainment Section, what they now call "SpaceAngels'-Auxiliary Nursing Group, Extraterrestrial Legions. -- I knew both terms, once I had them chronized. We usestill a third name, it's that elite military service corps:Women's Hospitality Order Refortifying & Encouraging Spacemen.Vocabulary shift is the worst hurdle in time-jumps - did youknow that "service station" once fractions? Once on anassignment in the Churchill Era, a woman said to me, "Meet meat the service station next door -- - which is not what itsounds; a service station" (then) wouldn't have a bed in it.
He went on: "It was when they first admitted you can'tsend men into space for months and years and not relieve thetension. You remember how the wowsers screamed? - that improvedmy chance, since volunteers were scarce. A gal had to berespectable, preferably virgin (they liked to train them fromscratch), above average mentally, and stable emotionally. Butmost volunteers were old hookers, or neurotics who would crackup ten days off Earth. So I didn't need looks; if they acceptedme, they would fix my buck teeth, put a wave in my hair, teachme to walk and dance and how to listen to a man pleasingly, andeverything else - plus training for the prime duties. Theywould even use plastic surgery if it would help - nothing toogood for our Boys. "Best yet, they made sure you didn't get pregnantduring your enlistment - and you were almost certain to marryat the end of your hitch. Same way today, A. N. G. E. L. S.marry spacers - they talk the language. "When I was eighteen I was placed as a `mother'shelper'. This family simply wanted a cheap servant, but Ididn't mind as I couldn't enlist till I was twenty-one. I didhousework and went to night school - pretending to continue myhigh school typing and shorthand but going to a charm classinstead, to better my chances for enlistment. "Then I met this city slicker with his hundred-dollarbills. -- He scowled. The no-good actually did have a wad ofhundred-dollar bills. He showed me one night, told me to helpmyself. "But I didn't. I liked him. He was the first man I evermet who was nice to me without trying games with me. I quitnight school to see him oftener. It was the happiest time of mylife. "Then one night in the park the games began. -- He stopped. I said, "And then? -- "And then nothing! I never saw him again. He walked mehome and told me he loved me-and kissed me good-night and nevercame back. -- He looked grim. -- If I could find him, I'd killhim! " "Well, " I sympathized, "I know how you feel. Butkilling him-just for doing what comes naturally - hmm... Didyou struggle? -- "Huh? What's that got to do with it? -- "Quite a bit. Maybe he deserves a couple of broken armsfor running out on you, but-" "He deserves worse than that! Wait till you hear.Somehow I kept anyone from suspecting and decided it was allfor the best. I hadn't really loved him and probably wouldnever love anybody-and I was more eager to join the WE. N. C.H. E. S. than ever. I wasn't disqualified, they didn't insiston virgins. I cheered up. "It wasn't until my skirts got tight that I realized.-- "Pregnant? -- "He had me higher "n a kite! Those skinflints I livedwith ignored it as long as I could work-then kicked me out, andthe orphanage wouldn't take me back. I landed in a charity wardsurrounded by other big bellies and trotted bedpans until mytime came. "One night I found myself on an operating table, with anurse saying, "Relax. Now breathe deeply. " "I woke up in bed, numb from the chest down. My surgeoncame in. "How do you feel? " he says cheerfully. "Like a mummy. -- "Naturally. You're wrapped like one and full of dope tokeep you numb. You'll get well-but a Cesarean isn't a hangnail." Cesarean" I said. "Doc - did I lose the baby? " Oh, no. Your baby's fine. " Oh. Boy or girl? " "'A healthy little girt. Five pounds, three ounces. " "I relaxed. It's something, to have made a baby. I toldmyself I would go somewhere and tack "Mrs. " on my name and letthe kid think her papa was dead -no orphanage for my kid! "But the surgeon was talking. "Tell me, uh-" Heavoided my name. "did you ever think your glandular setup wasodd? " "I said, "Huh? Of course not. What are you driving at?" "He hesitated. I'll give you this in one dose, then ahypo to let you sleep off your jitters. You'll have "em. " "'Why? I demanded. Ever hear of that Scottish physician who was femaleuntil she was thirtyfive? -then had surgery and became legallyand medically a man? Got married. All okay. "
'What's that got to do with me? " "'That's what I'm saying. You're a man. " "I tried to sit up. What? " "Take it easy. When I opened you, I found a mess. Isent for the Chief of Surgery while I got the baby out, then weheld a consultation with you on the table-and worked for hoursto salvage what we could. You had two full sets of organs, bothimmature, but with the female set well enough developed for youto have a baby. They could never be any use to you again, so wetook them out and rearranged things so that you can developproperly as a man. He put a hand on me. "Don't worry. You'reyoung, your bones will readjust, we'll watch your glandularbalance - and make a fine young man out of you. " "I started to cry. "What about my baby? " "Well, you can't nurse her, you haven't milk enough fora kitten. If I were you, I wouldn't see her-put her up foradoption. " "'No! " "He shrugged. "The choice is yours; you're her mother -well, her parent. But don't worry now; we'll get you wellfirst. " "Next day they let me see the kid and I saw her daily -trying to get used to her. I had never seen a brand-new babyand had no idea how awful they look - my daughter looked likean orange monkey. My feelings changed to cold determination todo right by her. But four weeks later that didn't meananything. -- "Eh? -- "She was snatched. -- "'Snatched? -- The Unmarried Mother almost knocked over the bottle wehad bet. -- Kidnapped - stolen from the hospital nursery! " Hebreathed hard. -- How's that for taking the last a man's got tolive for? -- "A bad deal, " I agreed. -- Let's pour you another. Noclues? -- "Nothing the police could trace. Somebody came to seeher, claimed to be her uncle. While the nurse had her backturned, he walked out with her. -- "Description? -- "Just a man, with a face-shaped face, like yours ormine. -- He frowned. -- I think it was the baby's father. Thenurse swore it was an older man but he probably used makeup.Who else would swipe my baby? Childless women pull such stunts- but whoever heard of a man doing it? -- "What happened to you then? -- "Eleven more months of that grim place and threeoperations. In four months I started to grow a beard; before Iwas out I was shaving regularly... and no longer doubted that Iwas male. -- He grinned wryly. -- I was staring down nursesnecklines. -- "Well, " I said, "seems to me you came through okay.Here you are, a normal man, making good money, no realtroubles. And the life of a female is not an easy one. -- He glared at me. -- A lot you know about it! " "So? -- "Ever hear the expression "a ruined woman'? -- "Mmm, years ago. Doesn't mean much today. -- "I was as ruined as a woman can be; that bum reallyruined me - I was no longer a woman... and I didn't know how tobe a man. -- "Takes getting used to, I suppose. -- "You have no idea. I don't mean learning how to dress,or not walking into the wrong rest room; I learned those in thehospital. But how could I live? What job could I get? Hell, Icouldn't even drive a car. I didn't know a trade; I couldn't domanual labor-too much scar tissue, too tender. "I hated him for having ruined me for the W. E. N. C.H. E. S., too, but I didn't know how much until I tried to jointhe Space Corps instead. One look at my belly and I was markedunfit for military service. The medical officer spent time onme just from curiosity; he had read about my case. "So I changed my name and came to New York. I got by asa fry cook, then rented a typewriter and set myself up as apublic stenographer - what a laugh! In four months I typed fourletters and one manuscript. The manuscript was for Real LifeTales and a waste of paper, but the goof who wrote it sold it.Which gave me an idea; I bought a stack of confession magazinesand studied them. -- He looked cynical. -- Now you know how Iget the authentic woman's angle on an unmarried-mother story... through the only version Ihaven't sold - the true one. Do I win the bottle? -- I pushed it toward him. I was upset myself, but therewas work to do. I said, "Son, you still want to lay hands onthat so-and-so? -- His eyes lighted up-a feral gleam. "Hold it! " I said. -- You wouldn't kill him? -- He chuckled nastily. -- Try me. -- "Take it easy. I know more about it than you think Ido. I can help you. I know where he is. -- He reached across the bar. -- Where is he? -- I said softly, "Let go my shirt, sonny-or you'll landin the alley and we'll tell the cops you fainted. -- I showedhim the sap. He let go. -- Sorry. But where is he? -- He looked atme. -- And how do you know so much? -- "All in good time. There are records - hospitalrecords, orphanage records, medical records. The matron of yourorphanage was Mrs. Fetherage - right? She was followed by Mrs.Gruenstein - right? Your name, as a girl, was "Jane" - right?And you didn't tell me any of this - right? -- I had him baffled and a bit scared. -- What's this? Youtrying to make trouble for me? -- "No indeed. I've your welfare at heart. I can put thischaracter in your lap. You do to him as you see fit - and Iguarantee that you'll get away with it. But I don't thinkyou'll kill him. You'd be nuts to - and you aren't nuts. Notquite. -- He brushed it aside. -- Cut the noise. Where is he? -- I poured him a short one; he was drunk, but anger wasoffsetting it. -- Not so fast. I do something for you - you dosomething for me. -- "Uh... what? -- "You don't like your work. What would you say to highpay, steady work, unlimited expense account, your own boss onthe job, and lots of variety and adventure? -- He stared. -- I'd say, "Get those goddam reindeer offmy roof! " Shove it, Pop - there's no such job. -- "Okay, put it this way: I hand him to you, you settlewith him, then try my job. If it's not all I claim - well, Ican't hold you. -- He was wavering; the last drink did it "When d'yuhd'liver "im? -- he said thickly. He shoved out his hand. -- It's a deal! " "If it's a deal-right now! " I nodded to my assistant to watch both ends, noted thetime - 2300 - started to duck through the gate under the bar -when the juke box blared out: "I'm My Own Grandpaw! " Theservice man had orders to load it with Americana and classicsbecause I couldn't stomach the "music" of 1970, but I hadn'tknown that tape was in it. I called out, "Shut that off! Givethe customer his money back. -- I added, "Storeroom, back in amoment, " and headed there with my Unmarried Mother following. It was down the passage across from the johns, a steeldoor to which no one but my day manager and myself had a key;inside was a door to an inner room to which only I had a key.We went there. He looked blearily around at windowless walls. -- Whereis he? -- "Right away. -- I opened a case, the only thing in theroom; it was a U. S. F. F. Coordinates Transformer Field Kit,series 1992, Mod. II - a beauty, no moving parts, weighttwenty-three kilos fully charged, and shaped to pass as asuitcase. I had adjusted it precisely earlier that day; all Ihad to do was to shake out the metal net which limits thetransformation field. Which I did. -- What's that? -- he demanded. "Time machine, " I said and tossed the net over us. "Hey! " he yelled and stepped back. There is atechnique to this; the net has to be thrown so that the subjectwill instinctively step back onto the metal mesh, then youclose the net with both of you inside completely-else you mightleave shoe soles behind or a piece of foot, or scoop up a sliceof floor. But that's all the skill it takes. Some agents con asubject into the net; I tell the truth and use that instant ofutter astonishment to flip the switch. Which I did.
1030-VI-3 April 1963 - Cleveland, Ohio-Apex Bldg.:"Hey! " he repeated. -- Take this damn thing off! " "Sorry, " I apologized and did so, stuffed the net intothe case, closed it. -- You said you wanted to find him. -- "But - you said that was a time machine! " I pointed out a window. -- Does that look likeNovember? Or New York? -- While he was gawking at new buds andspring weather, I reopened the case, took out a packet ofhundred-dollar bills, checked that the numbers and signatureswere compatible with 1963. The Temporal Bureau doesn't care howmuch you spend (it costs nothing) but they don't likeunnecessary anachronisms. Too many mistakes, and a generalcourt-martial will exile you for a year in a nasty period, say1974 with its strict rationing and forced labor. I never makesuch mistakes; the money was okay. He turned around and said, "What happened? -- "He's here. Go outside and take him. Here's expensemoney. -- I shoved it at him and added, "Settle him, then I'llpick you up. -- Hundred-dollar bills have a hypnotic effect on a personnot used to them. He was thumbing them unbelievingly as I easedhim into the hall, locked him out. The next jump was easy, asmall shift in era.
7100-VI-10 March 1964 - Cleveland-Apex Bldg.: There wasa notice under the door saying that my lease expired next week;otherwise the room looked as it had a moment before. Outside,trees were bare and snow threatened; I hurried, stopping onlyfor contemporary money and a coat, hat, and topcoat I had leftthere when I leased the room. I hired a car, went to thehospital. It took twenty minutes to bore the nursery attendantto the point where I could swipe the baby without beingnoticed. We went back to the Apex Building. This dial settingwas more involved, as the building did not yet exist in 1945.But I had precalculated it.
0100-VI-20 Sept. 1945 - Cleveland-Skyview Motel:: Fieldkit, baby, and I arrived in a motel outside town. Earlier I hadregistered as "Gregory Johnson, Warren, Ohio, " so we arrivedin a room with curtains closed, windows locked, and doorsbolted, and the floor cleared to allow for waver as the machinehunts. You can get a nasty bruise from a chair where itshouldn't be - not the chair, of course, but backlash from thefield. No trouble. Jane was sleeping soundly; I carried herout, put her in a grocery box on the seat of a car I hadprovided earlier, drove to the orphanage, put her on the steps,drove two blocks to a "service station" (the petroleum-productssort) and phoned the orphanage, drove back in time to see themtaking the box inside, kept going and abandoned the car nearthe motel - walked to it and jumped forward to the ApexBuilding in 1963. 2200-VI-24 April 1963 - Cleveland-Apex Bldg.: I had cutthe time rather fine - temporal accuracy depends on span,except on return to zero. If I had it right, Jane wasdiscovering, out in the park this balmy spring night, that shewasn't quite as nice a girl as she had thought., I grabbed ataxi to the home of those skinflints, had the hackie waitaround a comer while I lurked in shadows. Presently I spotted them down the street, arms aroundeach other. He took her up on the porch and made a long job ofkissing her good-night-longer than I thought. Then she went inand he came down the walk, turned away. I slid into step andhooked an arm in his. -- That's all, son, " I announcedquietly. -- I'm back to pick you up. -- "You! " He gasped and caught his breath. "Me. Now you know who he is - and after you think itover you'll know who you are... and if you think hard enough,you'll figure out who the baby is... and who I am. -- He didn't answer, he was badly shaken. It's a shock tohave it proved to you that you can't resist seducing yourself.I took him to the Apex Building and we jumped again.
2300-VIII, 12 Aug. 1985-Sub Rockies Base: I woke theduty sergeant, showed my I. D., told the sergeant to bed mycompanion down with a happy pill and recruit him in the moming.The sergeant looked sour, but rank is rank, regardless of era;he did what I said-thinking, no doubt, that the next time wemet he might be the colonel and I the sergeant. Which canhappen in our corps. -- What name? -- he asked. I wrote it out. He raised his eyebrows. -- Like so, eh?Hmm-" "You just do your job, Sergeant. -- I turned to mycompanion. "Son, your troubles are over. You're about to start thebest job a man ever held-and you'll do well. I know. -- "That you will! " agreed the sergeant. -- Look at me -born in 1917-still around, still young, still enjoying life. --I went back to the jump room, set everything on preselectedzero.
2301-V-7 Nov. 1970-NYC -"Pop's Place": I came out ofthe storeroom carrying a fifth of Drambuie to account for theminute I had been gone. My assistant was arguing with thecustomer who had been playing "I'm My Own Grand-paw! " I said,"Oh, let him play it, then unplug it. -- I was very tired. It's rough, but somebody must do it, and it's very hardto recruit anyone in the later years, since the Mistake of1972. Can you think of a better source than to pick people allfouled up where they are and give them well-paid, interesting(even though dangerous) work in a necessary cause? Everybodyknows now why the Fizzle War of 1963 fizzled. The bomb with NewYork's number on it didn't go off, a hundred other thingsdidn't go as planned-all arranged by the likes of me. But not the Mistake of "72; that one is not ourfault-and can't be undone; there's no paradox to resolve. Athing either is, or it isn't, now and forever amen. But therewon't be another like it; an order dated "1992" takesprecedence any year. I closed five minutes early, leaving a letter in thecash register telling my day manager that I was accepting hisoffer to buy me out, to see my lawyer as I was leaving on along vacation. The Bureau might or might not pick up hispayments, but they want things left tidy. I went to the room inthe back of the storeroom and forward to 1993.
2200-VII- 12 Jan 1993-Sub Rockies Annex-HQ TemporalDOL: I checked in with the duty officer and went to myquarters, intending to sleep for a week. I had fetched thebottle we bet (after all, I won it) and took a drink before Iwrote my report. It tasted foul, and I wondered why I had everliked Old Underwear. But it was better than nothing; I don'tlike to be cold sober, I think too much. But I don't really hitthe bottle either; other people have snakes-I have people. I dictated my report; forty recruitments all okayed bythe Psych Bureau - counting my own, which I knew would beokayed. I was here, wasn't I? Then I taped a request forassignment to operations; I was sick of recruiting. I droppedboth in the slot and headed for bed. My eye fell on "The By-Laws of Time, " over my bed:
Never Do Yesterday What Should Be Done Tomorrow. If at Last You Do Succeed, Never Try Again. A Stitch in Time Saves Nine Billion. A Paradox May Be Paradoctored. It Is Earlier When You Think. Ancestors Are Just People. Even Jove Nods.
They didn't inspire me the way they had when I was arecruit; thirty subjective-years of time-jumping wears youdown. I undressed, and when I got down to the hide I looked atmy belly. A Cesarean leaves a big scar, but I'm so hairy nowthat I don't notice it unless I look for it. Then I glanced at the ring on my finger. The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail, Forever and Ever. Iknow where I came from - but where did all you zombies comefrom? I felt a headache coming on, but a headache powder isone thing I do not take. I did once - and you all went away. So I crawled into bed and whistled out the light. You aren't really there at all. There isn't anybody butme - Jane - here alone in the dark. I miss you dreadfully!Last-modified: Fri, 21-Feb-97 18:55:38 GMT