For Want of One 3-4

The inventor of a viewer back into time finds his existence wiped 
out due to the castration of an ancient ancestor.  Once he isolates 
the Breakpoint in Time, he goes back to fix it.

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"There is a theory in quantum mechanics that says that everything 
that CAN occur, DOES occur . . . in alternate quantum universes . . 
. " - Data, Star Trek TNG.

"For want of that one fox, a man died and all of his unborn sons 
with him, and all of their sons . . . " - Ray Bradbury


FOR WANT OF ONE


3

  
     "Hello ?  Coordinator Smith ?  Mr. President ? " asked the 
alarmed voice.
     Kaelen Laws had dropped to his knees and the Viewer had gone 
dark.  The hum of the temporal field generators was nominal, and no 
one in the room said a word.  They all stared now at Kaelen, at his 
stubbled scalp as he held his head in his hands, crying softly.  
Every so often a spasm would shake his lean body, but still no one 
moved to comfort him.  They had been studying.  They knew.  They 
just didn't expect it to happen so soon, or for it to have such an 
impact.  Finally the President spoke.
     "President James here, now listen to me, mister, and listen 
good.  We have just observed the Breakpoint that set off this bru-
ha-ha and let me tell you son, it's a goody !  At all cost, and I 
repeat, at ALL cost, keep the Temporal field around the Chamber up 
and running and let the computer have as much power as it needs.  
There is no Coordinator Smith here.  Coordinator Kaelen Laws is 
here, and he's rather indisposed.  You see, my boy, he just had his 
existence wiped out by that Breakpoint we all came running here to 
see.
Fortunately we got here in time.  You understand me ?"
     There was a moment of silence from the PGC man and then, "Uh, 
no sir.  May I come up?"
     Kaelen looked up at the people looking at him and nodded.  His 
face was wet with tears and Benson helped him back to his chair at 
the main console.
     "Get up here on the double, mister, " President James ordered.
     "On my way."
     Kaelen tapped a few buttons on his console and wiped his 
eyes.  What he had just seen was ghastly.  First he had been an 
orphan, raised by an adoptive family.  He gone on to achieve 
greatness, given the world its greatest invention since the wheel, 
and now, simply - he no longer existed.  The very deviations in 
Time he had discovered had somehow, as if in retribution, wiped out 
his entire line.  
     For want of one boy, Kaelen Laws and all those who had come 
before him never existed.
     "Power flow is stable, field strength normal, " he choked.
     "Well that's just fine, Kaelen, but what do we do about YOU 
now ?" the President asked.
     Kaelen shook his head and put it down with a 'thunk' on his 
console.
     "Input error, " the computer piped up.
     "Blow it out your ass, " the President replied.
     The computer paused and beeped loudly once.  "Temporal 
Coordinator Laws cannot leave the Imaging Chamber without serious 
damage to himself and the Timeline."
     Everyone turned to look at Kaelen once again as the PGC 
officer burst into the room.  He took one look at Kaelen and 
sighed.  Then remembering himself, he turned to the President and 
saluted.
     President James nodded.
     "I get the point sir, " the PGC officer stated, "Seems the 
Chamber kept . . .  uh . . . " he gestured at Kaelen, ". . . him 
from disappearing."
     "Just like Hanson, " Kaelen murmured.
     "Excuse me ?" the President asked.
     Kaelen just shook his head.  "Never mind."
     "Sir, " the PGC officer interjected, "We all understand what 
happened, and some of us are wondering, well, if he's HERE and 
Coordinator Smith is, well, gone, he can't leave the Chamber can he 
?  I mean, he is sort of outside of the rules isn't he ?"
     The President nodded and turned to his staff.  "Gentlemen, we 
need to confer seriously with the computer, which has already 
stated what our good PGC officer has.  There seems to be only one 
course of action for this and that is to fix it !"
     All eyes turned towards President James.
     The staffers began murmuring amongst themselves.
     The few media hounds were busy taking notes.
     Kaelen looked up with a perplexed expression on his face.
     He watched as more than a few private arguements broke out.
     It was Benson who finally came right out and asked the 
computer what to do.  After all, with all its memory and even 
Kaelen's own synaptic patterns imbedded in its processors, 
certainly it could theorize how to fix this mess.  "Computer, he 
shouted into the air, theorize on how to reverse Breakpoint 
incursion concerning Coordinator Kaelen without his existence 
outside the Chamber being compromised."
     The answer came quickly; so quickly it shocked them all into 
silence.
     "Repair the Breakpoint at source."
     "And just how in the hell do we do that ?" the President 
demanded.
     "Adjust power flow to compensate for high temporal stress 
factors and intentionally make a breach in Time.  Send Temporal 
Coordinator Laws back to 589 BC to Breakpoint to repair damage by 
making sure the boy in TIF589.3472.388 is NOT gelded, " the 
computer replied.
     "What is a TIF 583 whatever it said ?" Benson asked.
     "Temporal Image File and allocation, " one of the techs added 
helpfully.
     "Oh that's just lovely, " Kaelen groaned, "and how can we be 
sure that won't make an even bigger mess of things ?"
     "Imaging started, " the computer replied, and on the monitor, 
there suddenly appeared the view of ancient Babylon, zooming in to 
the slave block where the boy who looked like Kaelen was being 
inspected by the wealthy buyer.  The burly attendants were still 
holding him up off the stage and the Master was eyeing the boy 
speculatively. 
     "It's the same image sequence, " Benson said.
     "Negative, " the computer replied.
     On the monitor, the Master looked at the auctioneer of slaves 
and said, "I can't wait until he's old enough to breed, and only to 
the finest beauties in my harem.  Certainly I can do without a few 
of them for the sake of the riches their children will bring me !"
    Then the monitor opened another smaller window in its upper 
left corner and replayed the Master's ominous words, "Geld him for 
me !"
    "Files both acquired at Breakpoint.  Two outcomes - the boy is 
gelded or he is not, " the computer stated.
    "And just how do I stop them from gelding him ?" Kaelen 
demanded of his computer, "We can only use you to SEE into the 
past, not GO there !"
     The computer replied instantly, "There are sufficient 
deviations interacting with the temporal fields around the Chamber 
to create sufficient breaches.  Mere focusing of these deviations 
to a single point will suffice, provided there is enough power to 
increase field density by factor one million."
     Kaelen and all the technicians and some of the staffers choked 
on that one.  When the computer had detected this Breakpoint in the 
first place, they told him, it had nearly caused a hemisphere-wide 
blackout by pulling all the power it could lay hold of to 
compensate.  To do it again was unspeakable.
    "Well, I guess that's what we do then, Kaelen, " the President 
began, "We make an announcement, from this room that at 3AM local 
time we are shutting down power in the whole Alliance for what ?  
uh, computer, how much time ?"
     "Ten seconds at the most."
     "Alright, " he continued, "ten seconds.  We inform the populus 
we have a computer reset to do and at 3AM the lights go out for ten 
seconds.  Hell most of  'em should be in bed anyway.  Gentlemen, I 
have to ask that we all stay here in the Chamber.  Out there, it 
seems they still know who we are, at least our good PGC tech here 
did, with the exception of Kaelen.  We have food, etc. brought in 
to us and we send our good Coordinator back to rescue his ancestor 
to restore his own existence.  Any questions ?"
     No one said a word.  Most of the staff and guests were already 
lounging about on the assorted furniture of the Chamber, having 
studied and already guessed as to the course of action.  Most of 
them didn't know Kaelen that well, but they still respected him.  
In fact, most of them were too afraid to leave the safety of the 
Chamber to take his or her chances with the altered Timeline.  It 
was clear from the looks on their faces as they stared at Kaelen in 
sympathy : how many of them still existed out there ?  Had their 
lives changed if they did indeed still exist ?  None of them was 
willing to take that chance, it seemed.
    Kaelen sighed and got up.  "That leaves one thing, computer, 
where do we focus ?"
    "Prime location is in front of the Viewer over the temporal 
core."
    "Alright, let's do it.  Computer, begin compiling and schedule, 
uh, I guess I'll call it an Incursion, for 3AM our time, center of 
the Viewer's frame, one meter out."
     "Working, " the computer replied.
     The sun was beginning to sink into the west as they all stared 
out the window to await the coming of 3AM.

     Kaelen had retreated to an unused small office space behind 
his main console with his laptop linked to the main computer.  
There were several obstacles to overcome, the language barrier 
being the worst of them.  He hated to distract his ultimate 
creation, the computer that had detected this whole mess and kept 
him from the fate of nonexistence, but he had to have help.  And he 
also wanted to be left alone.  The face of that boy on slave 
trader's block haunted his memory, distracted his mind from 
rational thought.  That one beautiful boy, the epicenter of his own 
private temporal paradox.  Private ?  Not exactly.  Why didn't the 
crowd out there in the main Chamber leave ?  They weren't viewing 
anything in the past now, just sitting and waiting.  Certainly they 
were not his friends, just working acquaintances.  None of them 
really cared about him.  Only his parents - his adoptive parents.
     Then it came to him - his biological parents might be out 
there somewhere now, his adoptive ones not even knowing who he 
was.  But were they still friends in this altered Timeline ?  
Perhaps they were, perhaps not.  Kaelen wondered then dismissed the 
thought.  If I don't exist, neither does my father nor his father . 
. .
for want of that one boy.
     Fortunately, the computer had offered sufficient memory 
resources to "listen in" on random conversations taking place circa 
590-600 BC and had learned the language well.   It had had also 
suggested a hearing aid of sorts, small enough to disappear in 
Kaelen's ear canals.  The computer would keep a tight beamed 
communications channel open, translating and telling him what to 
say.  "I never would have thought of that, " he told the computer, 
as he sent an order out to a costume shop for a few changes of 
suitable dress for the period.  One problem, however, was his 
hair.  Since he had been a little boy, Kaelen had preferred to have 
his thick, straight black hair shaved down to the skin with a 00000 
guage clipper.  He had tried shaving it with his father's razor 
once, but the irritation and the nicks broke him of that habit.  He 
thought about the timeframe and what he had seen - the slaves had 
their heads shaved, except for the women.  The free men seemed to 
wear ornate headdresses in public, but there on the Viewer in all 
its clarity Kaelen could see hair sticking out here and there.  A 
rather sturdy hat was definitely in order, lest he be mistaken for 
a runaway slave.
     His next problem was what to do once he got there.  When he 
had arrived, the computer would only have to devote a small amount 
of power to run his translator.  He had come up with the idea of 
taking several spare batteries for his laptop and downloading the 
data and images of the timeline where this "Breakpoint-Boy" was 
free and Kaelen's own life secure.  Of course, there was a flaw in 
that plan.  It was nothing short of miraculous that the boy had 
caused only two possible futures in the moment he was sold to his 
Master.  But the data that the Viewer could supply would be data 
that was formed BEFORE Kaelen went back to try to restore his own 
Timeline.  Once he stepped through the breach, there could very 
well be a multitude of new Breakpoints heading up the Timeline to 
affect his own present.  The very thought of it made his head hurt.
     Finally, in desperation, he asked the computer to theorize and 
it had confirmed his suspicions.  The best it could offer was to 
monitor the Timeline into which he was stepping and compare it to 
the old one that had existed before the Breakpoint had been 
detected.  He had viewed the two different series of events over 
and over, taking in only enough of them to realize that he had to 
meet with this Master who had bought his great-great-God-so-many-
greats-grandfather as a boy.  He would have to persuade the Master 
that the boy should be kept and bred, allowed to mature into a man 
and continue his line.  Kaelen sighed as he wondered what kind of 
lives he would be forcing his own ancestors to live.  But the boy 
could NOT be gelded, and if Kaelen failed, he doubted he would get 
another chance.  He wondered if he himself might not end up 
marooned in ancient Babylon, Persia, wherever, unable  to get 
back.  If he failed, then what ?  It was almost too much for his 
mind to ponder.
     He checked his watch.  10PM.  He had time to view it one more 
time.  It made him ill to see it, the horror of it, but yet he was 
fascinated by it.  It was the critical nature of his situation 
which drove him to it.
He triple checked his supplies as the computer reset a small 
monitor to view the scene once again.  A knock at the door from the 
President of all people announced that his costuming had arrived.  
Kaelen found himself, amazingly, telling the President of the 
Western Alliance to just set it by the pack - as if the President 
were his butler !  
     President James said only one thing as he turned to leave 
Kaelen with his planning and private suffering.
"Kaelen, I wouldn't do this for just anyone and if I hadn't been in 
HERE when it hit, I would never had believed it.  You're the 
greatest mind we've ever seen, and your Viewer is the greatest 
invention of all time.  We can learn so much and we owe you this 
one chance."
     What a great one he is for speeches, Kaelen thought and said, 
"Thank you."
     President James nodded and left the room.
     When he had closed the door, Kaelen ordered the computer to 
begin playing the imaging sequence again  on the small viewer.  
Benson, with his history studies, would probably have liked to see 
it but Kaelen was not sharing it with him or anyone.  He stared at 
the still image and word PAUSE flashing in the corner of the small 
screen.  The Master was standing with his arm around the slight 
shoulders of his recent purchase.  They seemed to be staring at 
something, the two of them.  The Master had a contemptible look of 
satisfaction on his face, while the boy - naked and pale looking - 
seemed to be taking in the same scene with a look of terror on his 
face.  
     But he's still a boy, not a eunuch, Kaelen thought, and if I 
get there he'll stay a boy !
     With a great sigh, Kaelen spoke.
     "Computer, resume playback of TIF sequence last viewed.  The 
meeting with the caravan factor.  It's a better place to look."

4

     Fadil was a very rich man who had made his fortune years ago 
in the ports of the Red Sea.  He had been a merchant, a sailor, and 
a shop-keeper.  He had taken risks, gotten lucky in a good market, 
and was now enjoying the benefits of a financial empire that was 
run by hirelings.  He knew that they were robbing him, of course, 
all wealthy men knew their underlings robbed them, but there was 
enough money coming in to make him one of the wealthiest men in all 
of the region, so what did it matter ?  He had money and time to 
give himself over to a life dedicated soley to his own pleasures.  
He had an ornate estate, a large harem, servants, horses (which was 
one of his biggest money-makers) and everything a man could dream 
of.  His many wives had given him healthy strong sons and many 
beautiful daughters.  With all this and more, a man  should feel 
his life fulfulled, but not Fadil.  There was always more. 
     Of course he had slaves, most of them black Africans which his 
contact in Arabia supplied when he needed them.  Mostly, the 
contact that was on his payroll ran a slave trade in eunuchs from 
Arabia, and arrived yearly in an impressive caravan to bring the 
spoils of ruined lives to his employer in the form of gold and 
jewels and other precious materials.  This factor, as he was, made 
his own way and made Fadil even richer by dealing in human 
suffering.  But Fadil did not think of such things as the eunuch 
servants of the caravan took care of the menial details whilst the 
factor and he made merry in the harem, guarded by even more 
eunuchs.  They paid scarce attention to the huge black men who 
stood at the doors outside as they entered.  They didn't think 
about the razor sharp sabers or the thoughts running through the 
brains underneath those shining and shaven blacks scalps.  They 
thought only of their own pleasures.
     The guards, of course, were slaves, but they also were well 
indulged.  They worked the harem in duty shifts, and when they were 
off duty they each had their own private quarters and indulgences.  
Fadil was not a stupid man, by far.  Most of his guards and 
attendants were Africans who had been selected for their size and 
stamina and totally gelded well into adulthood.  Any one of them 
could have picked him up and broken him in half with hardly 
breaking a sweat and Fadil made sure that they were all happy 
workers.
     None of this concerned Kaelen as he watched his small Viewer, 
however.
     He was listening to the computer's many voices translating the 
conversation of this factor and the Master, Fadil, who might / 
might not be responsible for erasing his existence.  Kaelen watched 
from centuries later, looking back at the two self-centered and 
currently - very horny - men headed for the harem.
     "Fadil, you spendthrift ! " the factor was saying, "I hear you 
picked up a prize today at the market !"
     "Word travels fast, I see."
     "I hear he's a real beauty, this one, " the factor pried.
     Fadil, being the egotist he was, was more than happy to 
describe his prize.  "Ah, yes, a young boy of Persian stock and one 
of the most fascinating I have ever seen.  Did you know that when I 
was inspecting him he looked me STRAIGHT in the eyes ?"
     Adis, the Factor, was stunned.  His jaw dropped.
     "But I dared not hit him, not that perfect face.  I was so 
taken all I could do was stare back, " Fadil explained.  Still, 
Adis stared and shook his head.
     "I must see this prize for myself then, my friend.  You always 
were one to tell a good story !"
     They had reached the main hall of the harem, and the two huge 
eunuchs on duty saluted with their sabers and said, "Master !" as 
they pulled the great doors open.  
     Fadil and Adis returned a small gesture to the huge black men 
and thanked them.  Then, almost a side thought, Fadil added, "If 
you are not on duty day after tomorrow around noon, we shall have 
an entertainment, I believe.  Have YOU heard about the boy as well 
?"
     One of the eunuchs nodded.  The other shook his head.  "Word 
travels fast, Master.  Those who have seen him say that his looks 
are almost beyond possibility."  The other eunuch looked at his 
companion and said, "You did not tell me of this !"
     "I would have gotten to it, " the first replied.
     "Anyway, " the Master continued, "I think I shall have him 
gelded very soon.  The auctioneer offers this service to buyers and 
is more than happy to come here and complete his sale."
     The two eunuchs nodded, their eyes seeming to be gazing off 
into some unknowable place.  Indeed, they wanted to see it.  At 
some point in time, they themselves had gone under the knife and 
received some perverse pleasure still in seeing it done.
     "As the Master wishes, " the first eunuch replied, "and the 
Ladies are waiting, " he concluded, gesturing at the door.  Fadil 
and Adis smiled and stepped through into the waiting harem.

     Kaelen sat and wondered why he had spun the recording back to 
this conversation and then it came to him.  He could place himself 
in the caravan on route to Fadil's estate with the yearly payoff of 
the eunuch trade.  He would take plenty of gold and jewels with 
him, all carefully formed and cut to period specs.  He would buy 
his way into a greedy man's house and flatter him.  Kaelen thought 
he could appeal to what drove a man like this, and once in, he 
would talk of riches to be had in the trade of offspring of this 
beautiful boy and some ravishing girl of the harem.  It would 
work.  It had to.
     Still, Kaelen found himself drawn to the other segment of 
images.  
     "Computer, forward this TIF sequence to 898.3498.894, the 
gelding, " he ordered, tapping the keys on his laptop that 
contained his notes.  Notes on critical points he had observed.  
Places to 'drop in.'  Places to make his attempt at restoration.  
This was definitely not a good one, but Kaelen had to see it 
again.  It was so unbelievable.
     The screen blurred a bit as images raced by too fast to 
comprehend then came back to the paused scene of Master and boy 
staring at something.

     His name was Rahim, and he was eleven years old, having just 
had a birthday that no one noticed.  He had come from a village far 
outside the city, from a small community of farmers.   Some raiders 
had spotted him when he had wandered too far from home and decided 
that they could sell him off in far away Babylon for a handsome 
price.  He was a good-looking boy, they said, and fortunately for 
Rahim none of them had had a taste for boys.  He had simply been 
bound and gagged and secured to a spare horse for the long 
journey.  After weeks of travel, they had finally arrived in the 
city and gone straight to the slave auctioneer's home.  Rahim could 
not help but figure out that his abductors obviously did this on a 
regular basis.  He was taken in, inspected, and placed in chains in 
small sideroom of the auctioneer's house.  The next morning, he had 
undergone the humiliation of having his long black hair shaved with 
a gleaming razor, the mark of a slaveboy.  For several weeks after 
he was well fed, bathed, yet never let out of his chains.  As time 
passed, he gained weight and good color.  Then came a day when his 
keeper told him that it was time he be sold off.
     Rahim had cried at bit at the news, expecting a beating.  He 
had heard of the slaves in the cities, but never dreamed that he 
would someday be one.  But his captor never once struck him and 
always made sure that he was fed and clean and free of disease.  
Even his manacles were lined with soft cloth to keep from chaffing 
his smooth skin.  He soon learned that boys like himself were money 
- worth a fortune - and nothing more.
Rahim realized as he was collared and led out the front door by his 
captor that his days of carefree boyhood were indeed over.

     Kaelen knew the rest of the story too well, the scene at the 
auction . . . the Breakpoint.  That moment of indecision by a 
greedy Master who could almost not choose between his own curious 
lusts and his familiar lusts of money and possessions.  Indeed, he 
had not chosen one or the other; he had chosen both and in doing so 
wiped out Kaelen's entire history and life.
     Kaelen sat staring at the paused image of man and boy and 
ordered the computer to continue.

     Master Fadil was standing in the doorway, his arm about the 
slight shoulders of Rahim the slaveboy.  They were flanked by the 
two large attendants, and two more standing guard at the door.  All 
of them were shaven-headed Africans, large and threatening and all 
carrying sabres.  Into the small room off to the side of Fadil's 
private infirmary (he even had his own estate physician) they 
entered.  In the corner of the room stood a finely polished wooden 
frame of sorts, almost like a table with thick leather straps at 
various points.
Rahim was staring at it in terror.  He knew what it was from things 
he had overheard in his period of confinement with the man who had 
bought and sold him.  It was a gelding bench.
     He felt the grip of the Master's arm about his shoulders 
tighten.  He glanced up and looked at the Master's face and was 
stunned to see a smile there.  He looked around at the guards, who 
were all trying without much success to suppress grins as well.  
Rahim knew what they were going to do with him and he knew that 
there was escape through that veritable wall of black muscle and 
sword.  He felt his chest tighten up and he gasped for breath.  The 
physician of the estate was busily undoing the straps and wiping 
down the polished and very clean surface.  Then he turned to his 
workbench and picked up a small curved knife with a pearl handle 
and tested the edge.  He turned to looked at his employer, Rahim's 
Master, and nodded.
     The Master took a step forward.  Rahim didn't.  At that point, 
as if expecting it, two of the eunuch guards stepped forward 
without a word.  Each took one of Rahim's arms and lifted him up 
off the floor and carried him, kicking and screaming, towards the 
bench.  One of Rahim's kicks caught the eunuch to his left square 
in the crotch and the large black man tightened his grip and 
smiled.  "THAT, my boy, may well be the ONLY advantage of our state 
!" he said.  Neither of them missed a step though as they set Rahim 
down on the frame, one holding him while the other tightened the 
straps around his wrists, upper arms, and waist.  Then he took a 
step back and began strapping the helpless boy's legs into place, 
spread apart and held down at the ankles and just above the knees.  
Rahim let out a choked sob and went limp, the fight gone out of 
him.  Yet he did not beg, and spoke not a word.  His flaming gaze 
said it all.

     Kaelen took a drink of his coffee and snarled deep in his 
throat at the image, unconsciously crossing his legs and scooting 
his chair forward.

     "Has he been properly prepared ?" the physician asked.
     The Master turned to the two eunuchs who had accompanied them 
in.  "Yes, " one of them spoke up, "The Master placed the boy in 
our care for purging and preparation two days ago.  He has had only 
a very sips of water since and no food.  He is thoroughly empty."
     "Excellent, " the physician said, picking up a small cup of 
something that smelled foul.  "Make him drink this and stoke up the 
fire, I'll need it nice and warm in here."
     One of the black eunuchs took the flask and pried Rahim's 
mouth open.  With one huge hand gripping the boy's nose shut, he 
poured the nasty smelling drink into his mouth and then held it 
shut.  After about a minute of trying to retch, the boy gave up and 
swallowed.
     "Perhaps if you sweetened it a bit, " the Master suggested.  
The physician shrugged.
     "We will need about a half an hour I think, Master.  I am not 
a cruel man and I don't wish any more pain on the boy than is 
necessary.  Besides, I am certain that his survival is my survival 
as well ?" the physician asked.
     Master Fadil simply nodded and smiled at Rahim, who was 
already beginning to moan softly, turning his shaven head from side 
to side but seeing  nothing through his glassy eyes.  Two of the 
black eunuchs stood at the door, sneaking glances while the other 
two worked at building up the fire and placing a pot of water and 
another small pot of oil over it to boil.
     "I am curious, " the physician mused as he inspected his 
cutting tools one final time, "why did you not use the auctioneer's 
gelding services instead of me, Excellency.  I am can only assume 
that you want the utmost assurance of the boy's wellbeing ?"
     The eunuchs turned to look at Fadil but said nothing.  The 
room was warming up nicely.  The Master, his gaze not wandering 
from the now insensate boy on  the gelding bench, merely nodded.  
He pulled a small flagon from inside his robe and took a long 
drink.  "I had thought to have the auctioneer services, since I 
decided that the boy would be better to me gelded, but then I 
thought to myself - Fadil, your own physician is much much more 
reliable !  "
     "You flatter me, " the physician replied.
     Master Fadil took another drink and looked directly at his 
physician.  His gaze spoke volumes.
     "I have not lost a man or boy in gelding for a long time now, 
Excellency, and I still believe with all my heart that the last one 
simply had no will to live, " the nervous physician offered.
     Fadil made an indelicate sound and removed his outer robe.  
The room was getting warmer and warmer as the eunuchs stoked the 
fire and the oil and water began to boil.  "All is ready, " one of 
them said.    
     The physician nodded and inspected first the pots and then the 
boy.  Everyone was beginning to sweat heavily.  "Very well, " he 
stated, let us begin.  You there, " he said to one of the eunuchs 
by the fire, "aid me."  The eunuch nodded and stepped over to the 
workbench, offering the physician a small bottle.  It was clear 
that he was familiar with the procedure as well.  The physician 
took the bottle from his large black hand and pulled the stopper 
out.  The smell of alcohol was strong, and he poured some of it 
over Rahim's genitals, slackened and hanging a bit with the heat.  
Next the eunuch handed the physician a length of thin cord.  The 
cord was wrapped around the unconscious boy's genitals, pulled 
tight, and tied.  They would wait a few moments.

     Kaelen winced at the scene and checked his clock.  1AM.  He 
glanced around and checked his supply pack again.  On the screen in 
front of him, the boy lay unconscious as his undeveloped manhood 
turned slowly red, then blue to an ugly shade of purple.

     Fadil watched his physician's progress with interest.  The boy 
would survive, he knew it.  There was fire in this boy's spirit 
that shone through his dark, round eyes.  That look had captived 
Fadil when he had first seen it, and even when the boy had stood on 
the slave block, bound and helpless and defiantly met his gaze, 
Fadil felt himself captured by it.  He remembered his thoughts of 
keeping the boy to breed him, to sell the certainly beautiful 
offspring for a  handsome sum.  But then then the boy's priceless 
beauty which he had been so taken with would surely be lost as well 
to the maturity of manhood.  Of course Rahim would have grown into 
a handsome man, there could be no doubt, but somewhere inside Fadil 
was a strange new emotion that stirred and somehow could not bear 
the thought of that beauty escaping.  He had almost given in to his 
greed, but in fact he had given in to his own newfound lusts.  He 
had always enjoyed the company of women, but he had always been 
tempted by good-looking eunuchs.  It was not uncommon, he knew.
     He watched with anxiety as the physician heated the knife 
until the blade was almost glowing red.  The same eunuch was 
standing ready, the other boiling white bandages in the pot of 
water on the fire.  As the physician reached down and grasped the 
boy's genitals and pulled them a bit, the eunuch by his side picked 
up a small and long plug and waited for the red hot knife to do its 
work.  Very slowly and with great precision, the physician drew the 
curved blade up under Rahim's scrotum and pulled up.  The razor 
sharp edge continued to slice thru the soft tissue, up and into the 
penis until finally severing the genitalia in one sweep.  The cord 
held as the severed genitals dropped to floor, and the eunuch 
quickly inserted the plug into the exposed urethral opening.  The 
physician had turned and pressed a cloth to the wound to catch some 
of the blood, but there was not much.
     Even in his unconscious state, Rahim uttered a small cry and 
turned his head.
     
     Kaelen cried out as well, a bit louder.  It was a shocking 
thing to see.

     As Kaelen watched from the relative safety of his temporal 
field, the eunuch at the fire picked up the pot of oil with some 
tongs and grabbed a small ladel from the workbench.  As the other 
eunuch stepped back, the physician took the tongs and pot and 
ladelled some of the boiling oil onto the wound to cauterize it.  
He was careful, even artful.  "I hate scarring, " he muttered, 
handing the tongs and pot back to the waiting eunuch.  From across 
the bench, Fadil watched and wondered what Adis was up to in the 
harem where he had left him.  Adis when been taken by the boy's 
looks as well, but had declined to watch the operation, claiming 
that it always turned his stomach.  Rahim moaned in his sleep.
     Then, quickly, the first eunuch produced a small knife and cut 
the cord.  There was no seepage of blood through the angry red 
tissue where Rahim's manhood had once been.  The second eunuch 
brought a tray with the hot bandages on it, letting them cool just 
enough to wring the water out of them and the physician dressed the 
young eunuch's wounds and secured the bandages.  The first eunuch 
bent down under the workbench and retrieved Rahim's severed 
manhood, placing it in a small jar of foul smelling liquids and 
driving in a tight stopper.  He handed the jar to Master Fadil, 
bowed and departed with his companion.
     The physician stepped back to inspect his work and nodded.  
"Shouldn't scar too badly, I think.  Most of my work looks like 
they were never men to begin with, you know."
     "Take care of him and inform me when he is up and about, I 
shall not want to see him until then, " the Master ordered.  And 
with that, he turned and left.

     Kaelen could not remember ever being so angry.  To do such to 
a man was monstrous, but to do it to a helpless child was 
unspeakable.  This Master Fadil would not go unpunished.  Kaelen 
made up his mind then, that as soon as Rahim, his ultimate great-
grandfather, was safe from gelding that Fadil would pay for his 
moment of indecision and the wrong choice with his life.  He 
checked with the computer about Fadil's descendents.  Time passed.  
2:30AM.  All of Fadil's children were already born.  He would have 
no more and Kaelen did not ask why.  It seemed safe enough to 
assume that this monster of a man would live out the rest of his 
life given over to his own debaucheries.  The Timeline would be 
better off without him.  Deep in thought, Kaelen watched his clock 
tick, all the Viewers dark.  In the Chamber, the frightened guests 
were still waiting.  The show they had seen of Coordinator Laws vs. 
Coordinator Smith made them wish they had not come in the first 
place.  At 2:55AM, Kaelen emerged from the small office where he 
watched the horrors of one little slice of history.  
     "Well, Sultan, " the President spoke up.  He, like the rest 
was unable to sleep nor did he want to.
     Kaelen smiled a viscious smile and hitched up his pack a bit 
over his shoulder.  He was in costume and ready to go.  More than 
ready.
     "Computer, " he shouted into the air, "begin assembling 
deviations for Temporal Incursion."
     Time passed and didn't inside the Chamber.
     The computer compiled, power was shut down all over the West, 
and the whine of the field generators grew to a deafening pitch.  
The Viewer came on, filling with a vision of the ancient Persian 
landscape so real one wanted to touch it.  Then, a glowing 
blue/green distortion formed in the center of the viewer, one meter 
out from its surface.  Kaelen turned to the faces all staring at 
him and then took one final look at the man who had given the go-
ahead on his project, his dream, his nightmare : the Leader of the 
Western World.
     "Save him, " he said over the din.
     "Breach in progress, portal open.  Instability in seven 
seconds, " the computer warned.
     "I will, " Kaelen answered, and stepped through the distortion 
for want of that one boy.