{"id":24918,"date":"2025-11-03T18:46:35","date_gmt":"2025-11-03T22:46:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=24918"},"modified":"2025-11-03T18:46:37","modified_gmt":"2025-11-03T22:46:37","slug":"henry-kuttner-c-l-moore-what-you-need","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/henry-kuttner-c-l-moore-what-you-need\/24918\/","title":{"rendered":"Henry Kuttner & C. L. Moore: What You Need"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis: <\/strong>\u201cWhat You Need\u201d<\/em> is a science fiction short story written by Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore, first published in Astounding Science Fiction<\/em> in October 1945. The story follows Tim Carmichael, a cynical and ambitious journalist who, intrigued by the display window of a mysterious shop on Park Avenue, steps into the enigmatic business of Peter Talley \u2014 a man who claims to have exactly what each person needs. Fascinated by this strange establishment, Carmichael becomes obsessed with uncovering its secret, unaware that he is about to confront a disturbing power that will put his fate to the test.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Henry<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

What You Need<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

By Henry Kuttner & C. L. Moore
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n


DEEN UOY TAHW EVAH EW<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s what the sign said. Tim Carmichael, who worked for a trade paper that specialized in economics, and eked out a meager salary by selling sensational and untrue articles to the tabloids, failed to sense a story in the reversed sign. He thought it was a cheap publicity gag, something one seldom encounters on Park Avenue, where the shop fronts are noted for their classic dignity. And he was irritated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He growled silently, walked on, then suddenly turned and came back. He wasn\u2019t quite strong enough to resist the temptation to unscramble the sentence, though his annoyance grew. He stood before the window, staring up, and said to himself, \u201c\u2018We have what you need.\u2019 Yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sign was in prim, small letters on a black painted ribbon that stretched across a narrow glass pane. Below it was one of those curved, invisible-glass windows. Through the window Carmichael could see an expanse of white velvet, with a few objects carefully arranged there. A rusty nail, a snowshoe and a diamond tiara. It looked like a Dali d\u00e9cor for Cartier or Tiffany.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJewelers?\u201d Carmichael asked silently. \u201cBut why what you need<\/em>?\u201d He pictured millionaires miserably despondent for lack of a matched pearl necklace, heiresses weeping inconsolably because they needed a few star sapphires. The principle of luxury merchandising was to deal with the whipped cream of supply and demand; few people needed diamonds. They merely wanted them and could afford them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOr the place might sell jinni flasks,\u201d Carmichael decided. \u201cOr magic wands. Same principle as a Coney carny, though. A sucker trap. Bill the Whatzit outside and people will pay their dimes and flock in. For two cents\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was dyspeptic this morning, and generally disliked the world. Prospect of a scapegoat was attractive, and his press card gave him a certain advantage. He opened the door and walked into the shop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was Park Avenue, all right. There were no showcases or counters. It might be an art gallery, for a few good oils were displayed on the walls. An air of overpowering luxury, with the bleakness of an unlived-in place, struck Carmichael.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through a curtain at the back came a very tall man with carefully combed white hair, a ruddy, healthy face and sharp blue eyes. He might have been sixty. He wore expensive but careless tweeds, which somehow jarred with the d\u00e9cor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood morning,\u201d the man said, with a quick glance at Carmichael\u2019s clothes. He seemed slightly surprised. \u201cMay I help you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe.\u201d Carmichael introduced himself and showed his press card.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh? My name is Talley. Peter Talley.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI saw your sign.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOur paper is always on the lookout for possible writeups. I\u2019ve never noticed your shop before\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been here for years,\u201d Talley said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is an art gallery?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell\u2014no.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The door opened. A florid man came in and greeted Talley cordially. Carmichael, recognizing the client, felt his opinion of the shop swing rapidly upward. The florid man was a Name\u2014a big one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a bit early, Mr. Talley,\u201d he said, \u201cbut I didn\u2019t want to delay. Have you had time to get\u2014what I needed?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, yes. I have it. One moment.\u201d Talley hurried through the draperies and returned with a small, neatly wrapped parcel, which he gave to the florid man. The latter forked over a check\u2014Carmichael caught a glimpse of the amount and gulped\u2014and departed. His town car was at the curb outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael moved toward the door, where he could watch. The florid man seemed anxious. His chauffeur waited stolidly as the parcel was unwrapped with hurried fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not sure I\u2019d want publicity, Mr. Carmichael,\u201d Talley said. \u201cI\u2019ve a select clientele\u2014carefully chosen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerhaps our weekly economic bulletins might interest you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley tried not to laugh. \u201cOh, I don\u2019t think so. It really isn\u2019t in my line.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The florid man had finally unwrapped the parcel and taken out an egg. As far as Carmichael could see from his post near the door, it was merely an ordinary egg. But its possessor regarded it almost with awe. Had Earth\u2019s last hen died ten years before, the man could have been no more pleased. Something like deep relief showed on the Florida-tanned face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He said something to the chauffeur, and the car rolled smoothly forward and was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


\u201cAre you in the dairy business?\u201d Carmichael asked abruptly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you mind telling me what your business is?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid I do, rather,\u201d Talley said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael was beginning to scent a story. \u201cOf course, I could find out through the Better Business Bureau\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou couldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo? They might be interested in knowing why an egg is worth five thousand dollars to one of your customers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley said, \u201cMy clientele is so small I must charge high fees. You\u2014ah\u2014know that a Chinese mandarin has been known to pay thousands of taels for eggs of proved antiquity.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat guy wasn\u2019t a Chinese mandarin,\u201d Carmichael said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, well. As I say, I don\u2019t welcome publicity\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think you do. I was in the advertising game for a while. Spelling your sign backwards is an obvious baited hook.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen you\u2019re no psychologist,\u201d Talley said. \u201cIt\u2019s just that I can afford to indulge my whims. For five years I looked at that window every day and read the sign backwards\u2014from inside my shop. It annoyed me. You know how a word will begin to look funny if you keep staring at it? Any word. It turns into something in no human tongue. Well, I discovered I was getting a neurosis about that sign. It makes no sense backwards, but I kept finding myself trying to read sense into it. When I started to say \u2018Deen uoy tahw evah ew\u2019 to myself and looking for philological derivations, I called in a sign painter. People who are interested enough still drop in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot many,\u201d Carmichael said shrewdly. \u201cThis is Park Avenue. And you\u2019ve got the place fixed up too expensively. Nobody in the low-income brackets\u2014or the middle brackets\u2014would come in here. So you run an upper-bracket business.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\u201d Talley said, \u201cyes, I do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd you won\u2019t tell me what it is?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d rather not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can find out, you know. It might be dope, pornography, high-class fencing\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cVery likely,\u201d Mr. Talley said smoothly. \u201cI buy stolen jewels, conceal them in eggs and sell them to my customers. Or perhaps that egg was loaded with microscopic French postcards. Good morning, Mr. Carmichael.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood morning,\u201d Carmichael said, and went out. He was overdue at the office, but annoyance was the stronger motivation. He played sleuth for a while, keeping an eye on Talley\u2019s shop, and the results were thoroughly satisfactory\u2014to a certain extent. He learned everything but why.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Late in the afternoon, he sought out Mr. Talley again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWait a minute,\u201d he said, at sight of the proprietor\u2019s discouraging face. \u201cFor all you know, I may be a customer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, why not?\u201d Carmichael compressed his lips. \u201cHow do you know the size of my bank account? Or maybe you\u2019ve got a restricted clientele?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo. But\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael said quickly, \u201cI\u2019ve been doing some investigating. I\u2019ve been noticing your customers. In fact, following them. And finding out what they buy from you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley\u2019s face changed. \u201cIndeed?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIndeed.<\/em> They\u2019re all in a hurry to unwrap their little bundles. So that gave me my chance to find out. I missed a few, but\u2014I saw enough to apply a couple of rules of logic, Mr. Talley. Item:<\/em> your customers don\u2019t know what they\u2019re buying from you. It\u2019s a sort of grab bag. A couple of times they were plenty surprised. The man who opened his parcel and found an old newspaper clipping. What about the sunglasses? And the revolver? Probably illegal, by the way\u2014no license. And the diamond\u2014it must have been paste, it was so big.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cM-mmm,\u201d Mr. Talley said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m no smart apple, but I can smell a screwy setup. Most of your clients are big shots, in one way or another. And why didn\u2019t any of \u2019em pay you, like the first man\u2014the guy who came in when I was here this morning?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s chiefly a credit business,\u201d Talley said. \u201cI\u2019ve my ethics. I have to, for my own conscience. It\u2019s responsibility. You see, I sell\u2014my goods\u2014with a guarantee. Payment is made only if the product proves satisfactory.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo. An egg. Sunglasses. A pair of asbestos gloves\u2014I think they were. A newspaper clipping. A gun. And a diamond. How do you take inventory?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley said nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael grinned. \u201cYou\u2019ve an errand boy. You send him out and he comes back with bundles. Maybe he goes to a grocery on Madison and buys an egg. Or a pawnshop on Sixth for a revolver. Or\u2014well, anyhow, I told you I\u2019d find out what your business is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd have you?\u201d Talley asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2018We have what you need,\u2019\u201d Carmichael said. \u201cBut how do you know?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re jumping to conclusions.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got a headache\u2014I didn\u2019t have sunglasses!\u2014and I don\u2019t believe in magic. Listen, Mr. Talley, I\u2019m fed up to the eyebrows and way beyond on queer little shops that sell peculiar things. I know too much about \u2019em\u2014I\u2019ve written about \u2019em. A guy walks along the street and sees a funny sort of store and the proprietor won\u2019t serve him\u2014he sells only to pixies\u2014or else he does<\/em> sell him a magic charm with a double edge. Well\u2014pfui!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMph,\u201d Talley said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2018Mph\u2019 as much as you like. But you can\u2019t get away from logic. Either you\u2019ve got a sound, sensible racket here, or else it\u2019s one of those funny, magic-shop setups\u2014and I don\u2019t believe that. For it isn\u2019t logical.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause of economics,\u201d Carmichael said flatly. \u201cGrant the idea that you\u2019ve got certain mysterious powers\u2014let\u2019s say you can make telepathic gadgets. All right. Why the devil would you start a business so you could sell the gadgets so you could make money so you could live? You\u2019d simply put on one of your gadgets, read a stockbroker\u2019s mind and buy the right stocks. That\u2019s the intrinsic fallacy in these crazy-shop things\u2014if you\u2019ve got enough stuff on the ball to be able to stock and run such a shop, you wouldn\u2019t need a business in the first place. Why go round Robin Hood\u2019s barn?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley said nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael smiled crookedly. \u201c\u2018I often wonder what the vintners buy one half so precious as the stuff they sell,\u2019\u201d he quoted. \u201cWell\u2014what do you<\/em> buy? I know what you sell\u2014eggs and sunglasses.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re an inquisitive man, Mr. Carmichael,\u201d Talley murmured. \u201cHas it ever occurred to you that this is none of your business?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI may be a customer,\u201d Carmichael repeated. \u201cHow about that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley\u2019s cool blue eyes were intent. A new light dawned in them; Talley pursed his lips and scowled. \u201cI hadn\u2019t thought of that,\u201d he admitted. \u201cYou might be. Under the circumstances. Will you excuse me for a moment?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure,\u201d Carmichael said. Talley went through the curtains.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Outside, traffic drifted idly along Park. As the sun slid down beyond the Hudson, the street lay in a blue shadow that crept imperceptibly up the barricades of the buildings. Carmichael stared at the sign\u2014WE HAVE WHAT YOU NEED\u2014and smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a back room, Talley put his eye to a binocular plate and moved a calibrated dial. He did this several times. Then, biting his lip\u2014for he was a gentle man\u2014he called his errand boy and gave him directions. After that he returned to Carmichael.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a customer,\u201d he said. \u201cUnder certain conditions.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe condition of my bank account, you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Talley said. \u201cI\u2019ll give you reduced rates. Understand one thing. I really do have what you need. You don\u2019t know<\/em> what you need, but I know. And as it happens\u2014well, I\u2019ll sell you what you need for, let\u2019s say, five dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael reached for his wallet. Talley held up a hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPay me after you\u2019re satisfied. And the money\u2019s the nominal part of the fee. There\u2019s another part. If you\u2019re satisfied, I want you to promise that you\u2019ll never come near this shop again and never mention it to anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI see,\u201d Carmichael said slowly. His theories had changed slightly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt won\u2019t be long before\u2014ah, here he is now.\u201d A buzzing from the back indicated the return of the errand boy. Talley said, \u201cExcuse me,\u201d and vanished. Soon he returned with a neatly wrapped parcel, which he thrust into Carmichael\u2019s hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cKeep this on your person,\u201d Talley said. \u201cGood afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Carmichael nodded, pocketed the parcel and went out. Feeling affluent, he hailed a taxi and went to a cocktail bar he knew. There, in the dim light of a booth, he unwrapped the bundle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Protection money, he decided. Talley was paying him off to keep his mouth shut about the racket, whatever it was. O.K., live and let live. How much would be\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ten thousand? Fifty thousand? How big was the racket?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He opened an oblong cardboard box. Within, nestling upon tissue paper, was a pair of shears, the blades protected by a sheath of folded, glued cardboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael said something softly. He drank his highball and ordered another, but left it untasted. Glancing at his wrist watch, he decided that the Park Avenue shop would be closed by now and Mr. Peter Talley gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2018\u2026one half so precious as the stuff they sell.\u2019\u201d Carmichael said. \u201cMaybe it\u2019s the scissors of Atropos. Blah.\u201d He unsheathed the blades and snipped experimentally at the air. Nothing happened. Slightly crimson around the cheekbones, Carmichael reholstered the shears and dropped them into the side pocket of his topcoat. Quite a gag!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He decided to call on Peter Talley tomorrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Meanwhile, what? He remembered he had a dinner date with one of the girls at the office, and hastily paid his bill and left. The streets were darkening, and a cold wind blew southward from the Park. Carmichael wound his scarf tighter around his throat and made gestures toward passing taxis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was considerably annoyed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Half an hour later a thin man with sad eyes\u2014Jerry Worth, one of the copy writers from his office\u2014greeted him at the bar where Carmichael was killing time. \u201cWaiting for Betsy?\u201d Worth said, nodding toward the restaurant annex. \u201cShe sent me to tell you she couldn\u2019t make it. A rush deadline. Apologies and stuff. Where were you today? Things got gummed up a bit. Have a drink with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They worked on a rye. Carmichael was already slightly stiff. The dull crimson around his cheekbones had deepened, and his frown had become set. \u201cWhat you need,\u201d he remarked. \u201cDouble crossing little\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHuh?\u201d Worth said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing. Drink up. I\u2019ve just decided to get a guy in trouble. If I can.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou almost got in trouble yourself today. That trend analysis of ores\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEggs. Sunglasses!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI got you out of a jam\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShut up,\u201d Carmichael said, and ordered another round. Every time he felt the weight of the shears in his pocket he found his lips moving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Five shots later Worth said plaintively, \u201cI don\u2019t mind doing good deeds, but I do like to mention them. And you won\u2019t let me. All I want is a little gratitude.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll right, mention them,\u201d Carmichael said. \u201cBrag your head off. Who cares?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Worth showed satisfaction. \u201cThat ore analysis\u2014it was that. You weren\u2019t at the office today, but I caught it. I checked with our records and you had Trans-Steel all wrong. If I hadn\u2019t altered the figures, it would have gone down to the printer\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe Trans-Steel. They\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, you fool,\u201d Carmichael groaned. \u201cI know it didn\u2019t check with the office figures. I meant to put in a notice to have them changed. I got my dope from the source. Why don\u2019t you mind your own business?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Worth blinked. \u201cI was trying to help.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt would have been good for a five-buck raise,\u201d Carmichael said. \u201cAfter all the research I did to uncover the real dope\u2014Listen, has the stuff gone to bed yet?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI dunno. Maybe not. Croft was still checking the copy\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cO.K.!\u201d Carmichael said. \u201cNext time\u2014\u201d He jerked at his scarf, jumped off the stool and headed for the door, trailed by the protesting Worth. Ten minutes later he was at the office, listening to Croft\u2019s bland explanation that the copy had already been dispatched to the printer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDoes it matter? Was there\u2014Incidentally, where were you today?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDancing on the rainbow,\u201d Carmichael snapped, and departed. He had switched over from rye to whisky sours, and the cold night air naturally did not sober him. Swaying slightly, watching the sidewalk move a little as he blinked at it, he stood on the curb and pondered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Tim,\u201d Worth said. \u201cIt\u2019s too late now, though. There won\u2019t be any trouble. You\u2019ve got a right to go by our office records.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStop me now,\u201d Carmichael said. \u201cLousy little\u2014\u201d He was angry and drunk. On impulse he got another taxi and sped to the printer\u2019s, still trailing a somewhat confused Jerry Worth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was rhythmic thunder in the building. The swift movement of the taxi had given Carmichael a slight nausea; his head ached, and alcohol was in solution in his blood. The hot, inky air was unpleasant. The great Linotypes thumped and growled. Men were moving about. It was all slightly nightmarish, and Carmichael doggedly hunched his shoulders and lurched on until something jerked him back and began to strangle him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Worth started yelling. His face showed drunken terror. He made ineffectual gestures.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But this was all part of the nightmare. Carmichael saw what had happened. The ends of his scarf had caught in the moving gears somewhere and he was being drawn inexorably into meshing metal cogs. Men were running. The clanking, thumping, rolling sounds were deafening. He pulled at the scarf.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Worth screamed, \u201c\u2026knife! Cut it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The warping of relative values that intoxication gives saved Carmichael. Sober, he would have been helpless with panic. As it was, each thought was hard to capture, but clear and lucid when he finally got it. He remembered the shears, and he put his hand in his pocket. The blades slipped out of their cardboard sheath, and he snipped through the scarf with fumbling, hasty movements.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The white silk disappeared. Carmichael fingered the ragged edge at his throat and smiled stiffly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Mr. Peter Talley had been hoping that Carmichael would not come back. The probability lines had shown two possible variants; in one, all was well; in the other\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael walked into the shop the next morning and held out a five-dollar bill. Talley took it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you. But you could have mailed me a check.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI could have. Only that wouldn\u2019t have told me what I wanted to know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Talley said, and sighed. \u201cYou\u2019ve decided, haven\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you blame me?\u201d Carmichael asked. \u201cLast night\u2014do you know what happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI might as well tell you,\u201d Talley said. \u201cYou\u2019d find out anyway. That\u2019s certain, anyhow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael sat down, lit a cigarette and nodded. \u201cLogic. You couldn\u2019t have arranged that little accident, by any manner of means. Betsy Hoag decided to break our date early yesterday morning. Before I saw you. That was the beginning of the chain of incidents that led up to the accident. Ergo,<\/em> you must have known what was going to happen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI did know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPrescience?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMechanical. I saw that you would be crushed in the machine\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhich implies an alterable future.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCertainly,\u201d Talley said, his shoulders slumping. \u201cThere are innumerable possible variants to the future. Different lines of probability. All depending on the outcome of various crises as they arise. I happen to be skilled in certain branches of electronics. Some years ago, almost by accident, I stumbled on the principle of seeing the future.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cChiefly it involves a personal focus on the individual. The moment you enter this place\u201d\u2014he gestured\u2014\u201cyou\u2019re in the beam of my scanner. In my back room I have the machine itself. By turning a calibrated dial, I check the possible futures. Sometimes there are many. Sometimes only a few. As though at times certain stations weren\u2019t broadcasting. I look into my scanner and see what you need\u2014and supply it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael let smoke drift from his nostrils. He watched the blue coils through narrowed eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou follow a man\u2019s whole life\u2014in triplicate or quadruplicate or whatever?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Talley said. \u201cI\u2019ve got my device focused so it\u2019s sensitive to crisis curves. When those occur, I follow them farther and see what probability paths involve the man\u2019s safe and happy survival.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe sunglasses, the egg and the gloves\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley said, \u201cMr.\u2014uh\u2014Smith is one of my regular clients. Whenever he passes a crisis successfully, with my aid, he comes back for another checkup. I locate his next crisis and supply him with what he needs to meet it. I gave him the asbestos gloves. In about a month, a situation will arise where he must\u2014under the circumstances\u2014move a red-hot bar of metal. He\u2019s an artist. His hands\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI see. So it isn\u2019t always saving a man\u2019s life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course not,\u201d Talley said. \u201cLife isn\u2019t the only vital factor. An apparently minor crisis may lead to\u2014well, a divorce, a neurosis, a wrong decision and the loss of hundreds of lives indirectly. I insure life, health and happiness.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re an altruist. Only why doesn\u2019t the world storm your doors? Why limit your trade to a few?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t got the time or the equipment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMore machines could be built.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\u201d Talley said, \u201cmost of my customers are wealthy. I must live.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou could read tomorrow\u2019s stock-market reports if you wanted dough,\u201d Carmichael said. \u201cWe get back to that old question. If a guy has miraculous powers, why is he satisfied to run a hole-in-the-wall store?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEconomic reasons. I\u2014ah\u2014I\u2019m averse to gambling.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t be gambling,\u201d Carmichael pointed out. \u201c\u2018I often wonder what the vintners buy\u2026\u2019 Just what do<\/em> you get out of this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSatisfaction,\u201d Talley said. \u201cCall it that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


But Carmichael wasn\u2019t satisfied. His mind veered from the question and turned to the possibilities. Insurance, eh? Life, health and happiness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat about me? Won\u2019t there be another crisis in my life sometime?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cProbably. Not necessarily one involving personal danger.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen I\u2019m a permanent customer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2014don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cListen,\u201d Carmichael said, \u201cI\u2019m not trying to shake you down. I\u2019ll pay. I\u2019ll pay plenty. I\u2019m not rich, but I know exactly what a service like this would be worth to me. No worries\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt couldn\u2019t be\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, come off it. I\u2019m not a blackmailer or anything. I\u2019m not threatening you with publicity, if that\u2019s what you\u2019re afraid of. I\u2019m an ordinary guy, not a melodramatic villain. Do I look dangerous? What are you afraid of?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re an ordinary guy, yes,\u201d Talley admitted. \u201cOnly\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d Carmichael argued. \u201cI won\u2019t bother you. I passed one crisis successfully, with your help. There\u2019ll be another one due sometime. Give me what I need for that. Charge me anything you like. I\u2019ll get the dough somehow. Borrow it, if necessary. I won\u2019t disturb you at all. All I ask is that you let me come in whenever I\u2019ve passed a crisis, and get ammunition for the next one. What\u2019s wrong with that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing,\u201d Talley said soberly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, then. I\u2019m an ordinary guy. There\u2019s a girl\u2014it\u2019s Betsy Hoag. I want to marry her. Settle down somewhere in the country, raise kids and have security. There\u2019s nothing wrong with that either, is there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley said, \u201cIt was too late the moment you entered this shop today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael looked up. \u201cWhy?\u201d he asked sharply.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A buzzer rang in the back. Talley went through the curtains and came back almost immediately with a wrapped parcel. He gave it to Carmichael.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael smiled. \u201cThanks,\u201d he said. \u201cThanks a lot. Do you have any idea when my next crisis will come?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn a week.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMind if I\u2014\u201d Carmichael was unwrapping the package. He took out a pair of plastic-soled shoes and looked at Talley, bewildered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike that, eh? I\u2019ll need\u2014shoes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI suppose\u2014\u201d Carmichael hesitated. \u201cI guess you wouldn\u2019t tell me why?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I won\u2019t do that. But be sure to wear them whenever you go out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry about that. And\u2014I\u2019ll mail you a check. It may take me a few days to scrape up the dough, but I\u2019ll do it. How much?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFive hundred dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll mail a check today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI prefer not to accept a fee until the client has been satisfied,\u201d Talley said. He had grown more reserved, his blue eyes cool and withdrawn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSuit yourself,\u201d Carmichael said. \u201cI\u2019m going out and celebrate. You\u2014don\u2019t drink?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t leave the shop.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, goodbye. And thanks again. I won\u2019t be any trouble to you, you know. I promise that!\u201d He turned away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Looking after him, Talley smiled a wry, unhappy smile. He did not answer Carmichael\u2019s goodbye. Not then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the door had closed behind him, Talley turned to the back of his shop and went through the door where the scanner was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


The lapse of ten years can cover a multitude of changes. A man with the possibility of tremendous power almost within his grasp can alter, in that time, from a man who will not reach for it to a man who will\u2014and moral values be damned.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The change did not come quickly to Carmichael. It speaks well for his integrity that it took ten years to work such an alteration in all he had been taught. On the day he first went into Talley\u2019s shop there was little evil in him. But the temptation grew stronger week by week, visit by visit. Talley, for reasons of his own, was content to sit idly by, waiting for customers, smothering the inconceivable potentialities of his machine under a blanket of trivial functions. But Carmichael was not content.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It took him ten years to reach the day, but the day came at last.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley sat in the inner room, his back to the door. He was slumped low in an ancient rocker, facing the machine. It had changed little in the space of a decade. It still covered most of two walls, and the eyepiece of its scanner glittered under amber fluorescents.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael looked covetously at the eyepiece. It was window and doorway to a power beyond any man\u2019s dreams. Wealth beyond imagining lay just within that tiny opening. The rights over the life and death of every man alive. And nothing between that fabulous future and himself except the man who sat looking at the machine.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley did not seem to hear the careful footsteps or the creak of the door behind him. He did not stir as Carmichael lifted the gun slowly. One might think that he never guessed what was coming, or why, or from whom, as Carmichael shot him through the head.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n


Talley sighed and shivered a little, and twisted the scanner dial. It was not the first time that the eyepiece had shown him his own lifeless body, glimpsed down some vista of probability, but he never saw the slumping of that familiar figure without feeling a breath of indescribable coolness blow backwards upon him out of the future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He straightened from the eyepiece and sat back in his chair, looking thoughtfully at a pair of rough-soled shoes lying beside him on a table. He sat quietly for a while, his eyes upon the shoes, his mind following Carmichael down the street and into the evening, and the morrow, and on toward that coming crisis which would depend on his secure footing on a subway platform as a train thundered by the place where Carmichael would be standing one day next week.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley had sent his messenger boy out this time for two pairs of shoes. He had hesitated long, an hour ago, between the rough-soled pair and the smooth. For Talley was a humane man, and there were many times when his job was distasteful to him. But in the end, this time, it had been the smooth-soled pair he had wrapped for Carmichael.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now he sighed and bent to the scanner again, twisting the dial to bring into view a scene he had watched before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carmichael, standing on a crowded subway platform, glittering with oily wetness from some overflow. Carmichael, in the slick-soled shoes Talley had chosen for him. A commotion in the crowd, a surge toward the platform edge. Carmichael\u2019s feet slipping frantically as the train roared by.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGoodbye, Mr. Carmichael,\u201d Talley murmured. It was the farewell he had not spoken when Carmichael left the shop. He spoke it regretfully, and the regret was for the Carmichael of today, who did not yet deserve that end. He was not now a melodramatic villain whose death one could watch unmoved. But the Tim Carmichael of today had atonement to make for the Carmichael of ten years ahead, and the payment must be exacted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


It is not a good thing to have the power of life and death over one\u2019s fellow humans. Peter Talley knew it was not a good thing\u2014but the power had been put into his hands. He had not sought it. It seemed to him that the machine had grown almost by accident to its tremendous completion under his trained fingers and trained mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At first it had puzzled him. How ought such a device to be used? What dangers, what terrible potentialities, lay in that Eye that could see through the veil of tomorrow? His was the responsibility, and it had weighed heavily upon him until the answer came. And after he knew the answer\u2014well, the weight was heavier still. For Talley was a mild man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He could not have told anyone the real reason why he was a shopkeeper. Satisfaction, he had said to Carmichael. And sometimes, indeed, there was deep satisfaction. But at other times\u2014at times like this\u2014there was only dismay and humility. Especially humility.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We have what you need.<\/em> Only Talley knew that message was not for the individuals who came to his shop. The pronoun was plural, not singular. It was a message for the world\u2014the world whose future was being carefully, lovingly reshaped under Peter Talley\u2019s guidance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The main line of the future was not easy to alter. The future is a pyramid shaping slowly, brick by brick, and brick by brick Talley had to change it. There were some men who were necessary\u2014men who would create and build\u2014men who should be saved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talley gave them what they needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But inevitably there were others whose ends were evil. Talley gave them, too, what the world needed\u2014death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Peter Talley had not asked for this terrible power. But the key had been put in his hands, and he dared not delegate such authority as this to any other man alive. Sometimes he made mistakes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He had felt a little surer since the simile of the key had occurred to him. The key to the future. A key that had been laid in his hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Remembering that, he leaned back in his chair and reached for an old and well-worn book. It fell open easily at a familiar passage. Peter Talley\u2019s lips moved as he read the passage once again, in his room behind the shop on Park Avenue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd I say also unto thee, that thou art Peter\u2026And I will<\/em> give<\/em> unto thee the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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