{"id":646,"date":"2021-02-23T16:11:03","date_gmt":"2021-02-23T16:11:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/?p=646"},"modified":"2021-02-27T18:54:57","modified_gmt":"2021-02-27T18:54:57","slug":"a-two-timer-by-david-i-masson","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/?p=646","title":{"rendered":"A Two-Timer by David I. Masson"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

A Two-Timer<\/em><\/strong> by David I. Masson (New Worlds<\/em> #159, February 1966) is the second of five stories that he would produce for the magazine this year, and it begins with a man in 1637 noticing an unusual occurrence:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

. . . I was standing, as it chanc\u2019d, within the shade of a low Arch-way, where I could not easily be seen by any who shou\u2019d pass that way, when I saw as it were a kind of Dazzle betwixt my Eyes and a Barn that stood across the Street. Anon this Appearance<\/em> seem\u2019d as \u2019twere to Thicken, and there stood a little space before the Barn a kind of a clos\u2019d Chair, but without Poles, and of a Whiteish Colouring, and One that sate within it, peering out upon the World as if he fear\u2019d for his life. Presently this Fellow turns to some thing before him in the Chair and moves his Hands about, then peeps he forth again as tho\u2019 he fear\u2019d a Plot was afoot to committ Murther upon his Person, and anon steps gingerly out of one Side, and creeps away down the Alley, looking much to right and to left. He had on him the most Outlandish Cloathes that ever I saw. Thinks I, \u2019tis maybe he, that filch\u2019d my Goods last Night, when I had an ill Dream.<\/em>  p. 6-7<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The rest of the story continues in the same style (you soon get used to it) and sees the man watching take the machine and end up in 1966. Much of the first quarter of the story is taken up by his learning how to further operate the machine.
He soon finds that he has arrived in the ground floor flat of a modern building and, after one or two unproductive encounters with the neighbours (he can\u2019t understand them), he tries to get out of the front door to investigate the outside world, but fails. He then learns that the machine can be made to move in space as well as time, and moves in stages to the middle of a road in nearby suburb. There he strikes up a conversation of sorts with a man washing his car, moves the machine to his driveway, and eventually accepts an invitation to stay with the man and his wife.
The next part of the story sees the traveller settle in with the couple, who later suggest that he go back in time to recover some of his possessions so he can sell them to fund his stay in the present. When he travels back to his own house he comes upon himself sleeping in bed\u2014there is a strange shimmering motion over his face, and a strange attraction drawing him towards himself. He flees back to the present.
At this point in the story (about halfway) the traveller goes into town with his host to sell his belongings, and what was an interesting and novel time-travel piece becomes a more satirical and observational affair with a near-continual description of, and commentary on, what he sees and experiences. Some of this is tartly observed, and some of it is particularly affecting; I could quote pages of it:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You will wonder especially, what sort of People they were indeed, that I was fallen among; and tho\u2019 it took many Weeks in the Learning, yet I shall make bold to take only as many Minutes, in the Telling it. They spoke much then, of the Insolence of Youth, which they thought new, but it seem\u2019d to me, that there was nothing new but Wealth and Idleness, that feed this Insolence.  p. 28<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

But the Spring of this, is in the Wives, for these own no Man\u2019s Controul, not even in Law, but manage all things equally with \u2019em, and take all manner of Work, as bold as Men (for they are as well school\u2019d), and High and Low dress them selves in Finery, and leave their Children to bring them selves up (so that many run wild), and are fix\u2019d upon Folly and Mancatching, as I saw from a Journal<\/em>, made in Colours (and more like a great Quarto<\/em>, then a Journal) that is printed for Women alone. They go bare-legg\u2019d or with Legs cover\u2019d in bright Stockings but marvellous fine, and closefitting ; and their Legs shewing immodestly above the Knee. In this Journal I saw all manner of sawcy Pictures.  p. 28<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

They have great Safety, in the Streets and in the Fields, so that Thefts and Violence to the meanest Person are the cause of News in the Courants; but they slaughter one another with their Cars for that they rowl by so fast, and altho\u2019 they are safe from Invasion, by their Neighbour Nations in Europe<\/em>, yet they are ever under the Sword of Damocles<\/em> from a Destruction, out of the other End of the Earth, by these same Air-Craft<\/em>, or from a kind of Artillery, that can shoot many Thousands of Leagues, and lay wast half a Countrey, where it\u2019s Shot comes to ground, or so they wou\u2019d have me believe.  p. 29<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

In their Punishments they have no Burnings, no Quarterings, no Whippings, Pilloryings, or Brandings, and they put up no Heads of Ill-doers. Their Hangings are but few, and are perform\u2019d in secret; and there are those in the Government that wou\u2019d bring in a Bill, to put a stop even to that, so that the worst Felon, shou\u2019d escape with nothing worse, then a long Imprisonment.  p. 30<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Yet do they have a sweeter and a quieter Living, than any we see. I saw few Persons diseas\u2019d or distemper\u2019d, or even crippled. The King\u2019s Evil, Agues, Plagues and Small Pox, are all but gone. Not one of a Man\u2019s Children die before they come of age, if you can believe me; and yet his House is never crowded, for they have found means, that their Women shall not Conceive, but when they will. This seem\u2019d to me an Atheistical<\/em> Invention, and one like to Ruin the People; yet they regard it as nothing, save only the Papists and a few others.  p. 29<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Yet in truth they are a Staid, and Phlegmatick Folk, that will not easily laugh, or weep, or fly in a passion, and whether it be from their being so press\u2019d together, or from the Sooty-ness of the Air, or from their great Hurrying to and from work, their Faces shew much Uncontent and Sowerness, and they regard little their Neighbours. All their Love, is reserv\u2019d to those at Home, or their Mercy, to those far off; they receive many Pleas, for Money and Goods, that they may send, for ailing Persons, that they never knew, and for Creatures in Africa<\/em> and the Indies<\/em>, whom they never will see. Every Saturday little Children stand in the Streets, to give little Flags an Inch across, made of Paper, in return for Coyns, for such a Charity<\/em>. As for their Hatred, \u2019tis altogether disarm\u2019d, for none may carry a Sword, or Knife, a Pistol, or a Musquet, under Penalty, tho\u2019 indeed there be Ruffians here and there, that do so in secret, but only that they may committ a Robbery impunedly upon a Bank<\/em>, or a great Store of Goods, and so gain thousands of Pounds in a moment.  p. 31<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

In truth, this goes on for a little too long but, as I was reading it, it struck me as an excellent effort at reproducing the thoughts our ancestors might have about the current time. Normally in time travel stories we see people from our time go to the past or future and comment upon what they see, or we have people from the future come to our time\u2014I can\u2019t think of many time travel stories with this perspective shown in this one, and certainly not done as well.
The story ends (spoiler) with the narrator and the wife becoming close as they use the time machine together on short trips (initially to check the weekend weather). Later they are found on the bed kissing by the husband, and the narrator hastily departs for his own time. He arrives shortly after he left, and goes back to his house to stock up on things to sell in the future, but by the time he returns to the machine it is gone. This may be seen by some as a fairly perfunctory ending, but at the very least it provides the witty title.
A very good story, and one I\u2019d have in my \u2018Best Of\u2019 for 1966 (probably along with last issue\u2019s The Mouth of Hell<\/em>).
**** (Very good). 15,700 words.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A Two-Timer by David I. Masson (New Worlds #159, February 1966) is the second of five stories that he would produce for the magazine this year, and it begins with a man in 1637 noticing an unusual occurrence: . . . I was standing, as it chanc\u2019d, within the shade of a low Arch-way, where […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[184],"tags":[123,101,185,183,7],"class_list":["post-646","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-david-i-masson","tag-123","tag-101","tag-david-i-masson","tag-new-worlds","tag-novelette"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/646","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=646"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/646\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":690,"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/646\/revisions\/690"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=646"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=646"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sfshortstories.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=646"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}