Can the mind breach time? Harper was sure
he had caught a news item that would change his
life. Ironically he caught only a part of it....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
October 1956
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
They thought he was insane. And with good reason. Here was a man who'dspent his life in a machine shop coming down one morning to say in allapparent sincerity, "I've decided to be a concert pianist."
Jan Grabowski, on the turret lathe grinned and said, "Sure, John.They'll bring in a grand piano and you can practice between cuts."
"They laughed when I sat down to the piano," someone bellowed and therewas general laughter and the thing was forgotten.
But later, when he told the boss he was quitting, they looked at eachother in amazement. He'd evidently gone mad and that was no laughingmatter because they liked John.
Sam Paine, harassed plant manager still found time to be human. When hediscovered John was serious, he sat down and gave him half an hour,figuring he could find the quirk and straighten the man out. As theywent to his office, he swiftly classified his employee: John Harper—33years old—introverted—intelligent over and above his job. Harperseemed to be without ambition, though and Sam wondered about this buthad never had time to talk with him much.
After the half hour was up, Paine sighed and let him go. Obviously theconcert pianist gag was a coverup for something else—some fanciedwrong—perhaps plain restlessness.
Alone, Paine went back over the conversation, intrigued by JohnHarper's strange determination.
"This talk about being a concert pianist is a gag of course, isn't it,John?"
"No, Mr. Paine."
"But man—you're too old to start a thing like that. You never in yourlife studied music did you?"
"No, sir."
"Then let me tell you—first, in a thing like that, you've got to havetalent. Have you got talent?"
"I don't know."
It had seemed ridiculous, seriously pinpointing things that should havebeen obvious. "Well let's say you have—just for argument's sake. Allright—talent has to be caught early and nourished—like a seed—getwhat I mean? A man can't start at your age and get any place in a gamethe experts started in at eight or nine—as children."
"You may be right, Mr. Paine, but maybe that doesn't apply to me. Maybeit does, of course, but I've got to find out."
Sam Paine gave up. He told John Harper his job would be waiting whenhe wanted it again—even gave him an extra week's pay, but that was tosalve his conscience because he felt he should bring in a psychiatristat company expense to see what had gone wrong with Harper. Then heshrugged and put the thing out of his mind. Funny things happen in thisday and age, he thought.
The trouble was he didn't really know John Harper. No one did. Abachelor, Harper lived alone, thought alone—and suffered alone. Hehated the futility of his life, the work he was doing, the passing ofunfulfilled days and nights. He felt a strong pull of destiny he couldneither explain nor deny; an unreasoning certainty that he, John Harperwas meant for better things; or perhaps a single better thing.
He lived with this certainty while the unfulfilled days and nightspiled up. Until the misery became a pain and possibly demanded somesort of recognition by its very existence.
At any rate, the morning of the day he quit his job, he had justawakened to the old familiar dread of the day ahead; a dread almostakin to a physical sickness. He was s