UNBORN TOMORROW

 BY MACK REYNOLDS

 Unfortunately
 , there was only
 one thing he could bring back
 from the wonderful future ...
 and though he didn't want to
... nevertheless he did....

 Illustrated by Freas

 Betty
 looked up from
 her magazine. She said
 mildly, "You're late."

 "Don't yell at me, I
 feel awful," Simon told
 her. He sat down at his desk, passed
 his tongue over his teeth in distaste,
 groaned, fumbled in a drawer for the
 aspirin bottle.

 He looked over at Betty and said,
 almost as though reciting, "What I
 need is a vacation."

 "What," Betty said, "are you going
 to use for money?"

 "Providence," Simon told her
 whilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,
"will provide."

 "Hm-m-m. But before providing
 vacations it'd be nice if Providence
 turned up a missing jewel deal, say.
 Something where you could deduce
 that actually the ruby ring had gone
 down the drain and was caught in the
 elbow. Something that would net
 about fifty dollars."

 Simon said, mournful of tone,
"Fifty dollars? Why not make it five
 hundred?"

 "I'm not selfish," Betty said. "All
 I want is enough to pay me this
 week's salary."

 "Money," Simon said. "When you
 took this job you said it was the romance
 that appealed to you."

 "Hm-m-m. I didn't know most
 sleuthing amounted to snooping
 around department stores to check on
 the clerks knocking down."

 Simon said, enigmatically, "Now
 it comes."

 There was a knock.

 Betty bounced up with Olympic
 agility and had the door swinging
 wide before the knocking was quite
 completed.

 He was old, little and had bug
 eyes behind pince-nez glasses. His
 suit was cut in the style of yesteryear
 but when a suit costs two or
 three hundred dollars you still retain
 caste whatever the styling.

 Simon said unenthusiastically,
"Good morning, Mr. Oyster." He indicated
 the client's chair. "Sit down,
 sir."

 The client fussed himself with
 Betty's assistance into the seat, bug-eyed
 Simon, said finally, "You know
 my name, that's pretty good. Never
 saw you before in my life. Stop fussing
 with me, young lady. Your ad
 in the phone book says you'll investigate
 anything."

 "Anything," Simon said. "Only
 one exception."

 "Excellent. Do you believe in time
 travel?"

 Simon said nothing. Across the
 room, where she had resumed her
 seat, Betty cleared her throat. When
 Simon continued to say nothing she
 ventured, "Time travel is impossible."

 "Why?"

 "Why?"

 "Yes, why?"

 Betty looked to her boss for assistance.
 None was forthcoming. There
 ought to be some very quick, positive,
 definite answer. She said, "Well,
 for one thing, paradox. Suppose you
 had a time machine and traveled back
 a hundred years or so and killed your
 own great-grandfather. Then how
 could you ever be born?"

 "Confound it if I know," the little
 fellow growled. "How?"

 Simon said, "Let's get to the point,
 what you wanted to see me about."

 "I want to hire you to hunt me up
 some time travelers," the old boy
 said.

 Betty was too far in now to maintain
 her proper role of silent secretary.
"Time travelers," she said, not
 very intelligently.

 The potential client sat more erect,
 obviously with intent to hold the
 floor for a time. He removed the
 pince-nez glasses and pointed them
 at Betty. He said, "Have you read
 much science fiction, Miss?"

 "Some," Betty admitted.

 "Then you'll realize that there are
 a dozen explanations of the paradoxes
 of time travel. Every writer in
 the field worth his salt has explained
 them away. But to get on. It's my
 contention that within a century or
 so man will have solved the problems
 of immortality and eternal youth, and
 it's also my suspicion that he will
 eventually be able to travel in time.
 So convinced am I of these possibilities
 that I am willing to gamble a
 portion of my fortune to investigate
 the presence in our era of such time
 travelers."

 Simon seemed incapable of carrying
 the ball this morning, so Betty
 said, "But ... Mr. Oyster, if the
 future has developed time travel why
 don't we ever meet such travelers?"

 Simon put in a word. "The usual
 explanation, Betty, is that they can't
 afford to allow the space-time continuum
 track to be altered. If, say, a
 time traveler returned to a period of
 twenty-five years ago and shot Hitler,
 then all subsequent history would be
 changed. In that case, the time traveler
 himself might never be born. They
 have to tread mighty carefully."

 Mr. Oyster was pleased. "I didn't
 expect you to be so well informed
 on the subject, young man."

 Simon shrugged and fumbled
 again with the aspirin bottle.

 Mr. Oyster went on. "I've been
 considering the matter for some time
 and—"

 Simon held up a hand. "There's
 no use prolonging this. As I understand
 it, you're an elderly gentleman
 with a considerable fortune and you
 realize that thus far nobody has succeeded
 in taking it with him."

 Mr. Oyster returned his glasses to
 their perch, bug-eyed Simon, but then
 nodded.

 Simon said, "You want to hire me
 to find a time traveler and in some
 manner or other—any manner will
 do—exhort from him the secret of
 eternal life and youth, which you figure
 the future will have discovered.
 You're willing to pony up a part of
 this fortune of yours, if I can deliver
 a bona fide time traveler."

 "Right!"

 Betty had been looking from one
 to the other. Now she said, plaintively,
"But where are you going to find
 one of these characters—especially if
 they're interested in keeping hid?"

 The old boy was the center again.
"I told you I'd been considering it
 for some time. The Oktoberfest ,
 that's where they'd be!" He seemed
 elated.

 Betty and Simon waited.

 "The Oktoberfest ," he repeated.
"The greatest festival the world has
 ever seen, the carnival, feria , fiesta to beat them all. Every year it's held
 in Munich. Makes the New Orleans
 Mardi gras look like a quilting
 party." He began to swing into the
 spirit of his description. "It originally
 started in celebration of the wedding
 of some local prince a century
 and a half ago and the Bavarians had
 such a bang-up time they've been
 holding it every year since. The
 Munich breweries do up a special
 beer, Marzenbräu they call it, and
 each brewery opens a tremendous tent
 on the fair grounds which will hold
 five thousand customers apiece. Millions
 of liters of beer are put away,
 hundreds of thousands of barbecued
 chickens, a small herd of oxen are
 roasted whole over spits, millions of
 pair of weisswurst , a very special
 sausage, millions upon millions of
 pretzels—"

 "All right," Simon said. "We'll accept
 it. The Oktoberfest is one whale
 of a wingding."

 "Well," the old boy pursued, into
 his subject now, "that's where they'd
 be, places like the Oktoberfest . For
 one thing, a time traveler wouldn't
 be conspicuous. At a festival like this
 somebody with a strange accent, or
 who didn't know exactly how to wear
 his clothes correctly, or was off the
 ordinary in any of a dozen other
 ways, wouldn't be noticed. You could
 be a four-armed space traveler from
 Mars, and you still wouldn't be conspicuous
 at the Oktoberfest . People
 would figure they had D.T.'s."

 "But why would a time traveler
 want to go to a—" Betty began.

 "Why not! What better opportunity
 to study a people than when they
 are in their cups? If you could go
 back a few thousand years, the things
 you would wish to see would be a
 Roman Triumph, perhaps the Rites
 of Dionysus, or one of Alexander's
 orgies. You wouldn't want to wander
 up and down the streets of, say,
 Athens while nothing was going on,
 particularly when you might be revealed
 as a suspicious character not
 being able to speak the language, not
 knowing how to wear the clothes and
 not familiar with the city's layout."
 He took a deep breath. "No ma'am,
 you'd have to stick to some great
 event, both for the sake of actual
 interest and for protection against being
 unmasked."

 The old boy wound it up. "Well,
 that's the story. What are your rates?
 The Oktoberfest starts on Friday and
 continues for sixteen days. You can
 take the plane to Munich, spend a
 week there and—"

 Simon was shaking his head. "Not
 interested."

 As soon as Betty had got her jaw
 back into place, she glared unbelievingly
 at him.

 Mr. Oyster was taken aback himself.
"See here, young man, I realize
 this isn't an ordinary assignment,
 however, as I said, I am willing to
 risk a considerable portion of my
 fortune—"

 "Sorry," Simon said. "Can't be
 done."

 "A hundred dollars a day plus expenses,"
 Mr. Oyster said quietly. "I
 like the fact that you already seem
 to have some interest and knowledge
 of the matter. I liked the way you
 knew my name when I walked in the
 door; my picture doesn't appear often
 in the papers."

 "No go," Simon said, a sad quality
 in his voice.

 "A fifty thousand dollar bonus if
 you bring me a time traveler."

 "Out of the question," Simon
 said.

 "But why ?" Betty wailed.

 "Just for laughs," Simon told the
 two of them sourly, "suppose I tell
 you a funny story. It goes like
 this:"

 I got a thousand dollars from Mr.
 Oyster (Simon began) in the way
 of an advance, and leaving him with
 Betty who was making out a receipt,
 I hustled back to the apartment and
 packed a bag. Hell, I'd wanted a vacation
 anyway, this was a natural. On
 the way to Idlewild I stopped off at
 the Germany Information Offices for
 some tourist literature.

 It takes roughly three and a half
 hours to get to Gander from Idlewild.
 I spent the time planning the
 fun I was going to have.

 It takes roughly seven and a half
 hours from Gander to Shannon and
 I spent that time dreaming up material
 I could put into my reports to
 Mr. Oyster. I was going to have to
 give him some kind of report for his
 money. Time travel yet! What a
 laugh!

 Between Shannon and Munich a
 faint suspicion began to simmer in
 my mind. These statistics I read on
 the Oktoberfest in the Munich tourist
 pamphlets. Five million people
 attended annually.

 Where did five million people
 come from to attend an overgrown
 festival in comparatively remote
 Southern Germany? The tourist season
 is over before September 21st,
 first day of the gigantic beer bust.
 Nor could the Germans account for
 any such number. Munich itself has
 a population of less than a million,
 counting children.

 And those millions of gallons of
 beer, the hundreds of thousands of
 chickens, the herds of oxen. Who
 ponied up all the money for such expenditures?
 How could the average
 German, with his twenty-five dollars
 a week salary?

 In Munich there was no hotel
 space available. I went to the Bahnhof
 where they have a hotel service
 and applied. They put my name
 down, pocketed the husky bribe,
 showed me where I could check my
 bag, told me they'd do what they
 could, and to report back in a few
 hours.

 I had another suspicious twinge.
 If five million people attended this
 beer bout, how were they accommodated?

 The Theresienwiese , the fair
 ground, was only a few blocks
 away. I was stiff from the plane ride
 so I walked.

 There are seven major brewers in
 the Munich area, each of them represented
 by one of the circuslike tents
 that Mr. Oyster mentioned. Each tent
 contained benches and tables for
 about five thousand persons and from
 six to ten thousands pack themselves
 in, competing for room. In the center
 is a tremendous bandstand, the
 musicians all lederhosen clad, the
 music as Bavarian as any to be found
 in a Bavarian beer hall. Hundreds of
 peasant garbed fräuleins darted about
 the tables with quart sized earthenware
 mugs, platters of chicken, sausage,
 kraut and pretzels.

 I found a place finally at a table
 which had space for twenty-odd beer
 bibbers. Odd is right. As weird an
 assortment of Germans and foreign
 tourists as could have been dreamed
 up, ranging from a seventy- or
 eighty-year-old couple in Bavarian
 costume, to the bald-headed drunk
 across the table from me.

 A desperate waitress bearing six
 mugs of beer in each hand scurried
 past. They call them masses , by the
 way, not mugs. The bald-headed
 character and I both held up a finger
 and she slid two of the masses over
 to us and then hustled on.

 "Down the hatch," the other said,
 holding up his mass in toast.

 "To the ladies," I told him. Before
 sipping, I said, "You know, the
 tourist pamphlets say this stuff is
 eighteen per cent. That's nonsense.
 No beer is that strong." I took a long
 pull.

 He looked at me, waiting.

 I came up. "Mistaken," I admitted.

 A mass or two apiece later he looked
 carefully at the name engraved on
 his earthenware mug. "Löwenbräu,"
 he said. He took a small notebook
 from his pocket and a pencil, noted
 down the word and returned the
 things.

 "That's a queer looking pencil you
 have there," I told him. "German?"

 "Venusian," he said. "Oops, sorry.
 Shouldn't have said that."

 I had never heard of the brand so
 I skipped it.

 "Next is the Hofbräu," he said.

 "Next what?" Baldy's conversation
 didn't seem to hang together very
 well.

 "My pilgrimage," he told me. "All
 my life I've been wanting to go back
 to an Oktoberfest and sample every
 one of the seven brands of the best
 beer the world has ever known. I'm
 only as far as Löwenbräu. I'm afraid
 I'll never make it."

 I finished my mass . "I'll help
 you," I told him. "Very noble endeavor.
 Name is Simon."

 "Arth," he said. "How could you
 help?"

 "I'm still fresh—comparatively.
 I'll navigate you around. There are
 seven beer tents. How many have you
 got through, so far?"

 "Two, counting this one," Arth
 said.

 I looked at him. "It's going to be
 a chore," I said. "You've already got
 a nice edge on."

 Outside, as we made our way to
 the next tent, the fair looked like
 every big State-Fair ever seen, except
 it was bigger. Games, souvenir
 stands, sausage stands, rides, side
 shows, and people, people, people.

 The Hofbräu tent was as overflowing
 as the last but we managed to
 find two seats.

 The band was blaring, and five
 thousand half-swacked voices were
 roaring accompaniment.

 In Muenchen steht ein Hofbräuhaus!

 Eins, Zwei, G'sufa!

 At the G'sufa everybody upped
 with the mugs and drank each other's
 health.

 "This is what I call a real beer
 bust," I said approvingly.

 Arth was waving to a waitress. As
 in the Löwenbräu tent, a full quart
 was the smallest amount obtainable.

 A beer later I said, "I don't know
 if you'll make it or not, Arth."

 "Make what?"

 "All seven tents."

 "Oh."

 A waitress was on her way by,
 mugs foaming over their rims. I gestured
 to her for refills.

 "Where are you from, Arth?" I
 asked him, in the way of making
 conversation.

 "2183."

 "2183 where?"

 He looked at me, closing one eye
 to focus better. "Oh," he said. "Well,
2183 South Street, ah, New Albuquerque."

 "New Albuquerque? Where's
 that?"

 Arth thought about it. Took another
 long pull at the beer. "Right
 across the way from old Albuquerque,"
 he said finally. "Maybe we
 ought to be getting on to the
 Pschorrbräu tent."

 "Maybe we ought to eat something
 first," I said. "I'm beginning to feel
 this. We could get some of that barbecued
 ox."

 Arth closed his eyes in pain.
"Vegetarian," he said. "Couldn't possibly
 eat meat. Barbarous. Ugh."

 "Well, we need some nourishment,"
 I said.

 "There's supposed to be considerable
 nourishment in beer."

 That made sense. I yelled, " Fräulein!
 Zwei neu bier! "

 Somewhere along in here the fog
 rolled in. When it rolled out again,
 I found myself closing one eye the
 better to read the lettering on my
 earthenware mug. It read Augustinerbräu.
 Somehow we'd evidently
 navigated from one tent to another.

 Arth was saying, "Where's your
 hotel?"

 That seemed like a good question.
 I thought about it for a while. Finally
 I said, "Haven't got one. Town's
 jam packed. Left my bag at the Bahnhof.
 I don't think we'll ever make
 it, Arth. How many we got to
 go?"

 "Lost track," Arth said. "You can
 come home with me."

 We drank to that and the fog rolled
 in again.

 When the fog rolled out, it was
 daylight. Bright, glaring, awful daylight.
 I was sprawled, complete with
 clothes, on one of twin beds. On the
 other bed, also completely clothed,
 was Arth.

 That sun was too much. I stumbled
 up from the bed, staggered to
 the window and fumbled around for
 a blind or curtain. There was none.

 Behind me a voice said in horror,
"Who ... how ... oh, Wodo ,
 where'd you come from?"

 I got a quick impression, looking
 out the window, that the Germans
 were certainly the most modern, futuristic
 people in the world. But I
 couldn't stand the light. "Where's
 the shade," I moaned.

 Arth did something and the window
 went opaque.

 "That's quite a gadget," I groaned.
"If I didn't feel so lousy, I'd
 appreciate it."

 Arth was sitting on the edge of
 the bed holding his bald head in his
 hands. "I remember now," he sorrowed.
"You didn't have a hotel.
 What a stupidity. I'll be phased.
 Phased all the way down."

 "You haven't got a handful of
 aspirin, have you?" I asked him.

 "Just a minute," Arth said, staggering
 erect and heading for what
 undoubtedly was a bathroom. "Stay
 where you are. Don't move. Don't
 touch anything."

 "All right," I told him plaintively.
"I'm clean. I won't mess up the
 place. All I've got is a hangover, not
 lice."

 Arth was gone. He came back in
 two or three minutes, box of pills in
 hand. "Here, take one of these."

 I took the pill, followed it with a
 glass of water.

 And went out like a light.

 Arth was shaking my arm. "Want
 another mass ?"

 The band was blaring, and five
 thousand half-swacked voices were
 roaring accompaniment.

 In Muenchen steht ein Hofbräuhaus!

 Eins, Zwei, G'sufa!

 At the G'sufa everybody upped
 with their king-size mugs and drank
 each other's health.

 My head was killing me. "This is
 where I came in, or something," I
 groaned.

 Arth said, "That was last night."
 He looked at me over the rim of his
 beer mug.

 Something, somewhere, was
 wrong. But I didn't care. I finished
 my mass and then remembered. "I've
 got to get my bag. Oh, my head.
 Where did we spend last night?"

 Arth said, and his voice sounded
 cautious, "At my hotel, don't you remember?"

 "Not very well," I admitted. "I
 feel lousy. I must have dimmed out.
 I've got to go to the Bahnhof and
 get my luggage."

 Arth didn't put up an argument
 on that. We said good-by and I could
 feel him watching after me as I pushed
 through the tables on the way
 out.

 At the Bahnhof they could do me
 no good. There were no hotel rooms
 available in Munich. The head was
 getting worse by the minute. The
 fact that they'd somehow managed
 to lose my bag didn't help. I worked
 on that project for at least a couple
 of hours. Not only wasn't the bag
 at the luggage checking station, but
 the attendant there evidently couldn't
 make heads nor tails of the check
 receipt. He didn't speak English and
 my high school German was inadequate,
 especially accompanied by a
 blockbusting hangover.

 I didn't get anywhere tearing my
 hair and complaining from one end
 of the Bahnhof to the other. I drew
 a blank on the bag.

 And the head was getting worse
 by the minute. I was bleeding to
 death through the eyes and instead
 of butterflies I had bats in my stomach.
 Believe me, nobody should drink
 a gallon or more of Marzenbräu.

 I decided the hell with it. I took
 a cab to the airport, presented my return
 ticket, told them I wanted to
 leave on the first obtainable plane to
 New York. I'd spent two days at the Oktoberfest , and I'd had it.

 I got more guff there. Something
 was wrong with the ticket, wrong
 date or some such. But they fixed
 that up. I never was clear on what
 was fouled up, some clerk's error,
 evidently.

 The trip back was as uninteresting
 as the one over. As the hangover began
 to wear off—a little—I was almost
 sorry I hadn't been able to stay.
 If I'd only been able to get a room I would have stayed, I told myself.

 From Idlewild, I came directly to
 the office rather than going to my
 apartment. I figured I might as well
 check in with Betty.

 I opened the door and there I
 found Mr. Oyster sitting in the chair
 he had been occupying four—or was
 it five—days before when I'd left.
 I'd lost track of the time.

 I said to him, "Glad you're here,
 sir. I can report. Ah, what was it
 you came for? Impatient to hear if
 I'd had any results?" My mind was
 spinning like a whirling dervish in
 a revolving door. I'd spent a wad of
 his money and had nothing I could
 think of to show for it; nothing but
 the last stages of a grand-daddy
 hangover.

 "Came for?" Mr. Oyster snorted.
"I'm merely waiting for your girl to
 make out my receipt. I thought you
 had already left."

 "You'll miss your plane," Betty
 said.

 There was suddenly a double dip
 of ice cream in my stomach. I walked
 over to my desk and looked down at
 the calendar.

 Mr. Oyster was saying something
 to the effect that if I didn't leave today,
 it would have to be tomorrow,
 that he hadn't ponied up that thousand
 dollars advance for anything
 less than immediate service. Stuffing
 his receipt in his wallet, he fussed
 his way out the door.

 I said to Betty hopefully, "I suppose
 you haven't changed this calendar
 since I left."

 Betty said, "What's the matter
 with you? You look funny. How did
 your clothes get so mussed? You tore
 the top sheet off that calendar yourself,
 not half an hour ago, just before
 this marble-missing client came
 in." She added, irrelevantly, "Time
 travelers yet."

 I tried just once more. "Uh, when
 did you first see this Mr. Oyster?"

 "Never saw him before in my
 life," she said. "Not until he came
 in this morning."

 "This morning," I said weakly.

 While Betty stared at me as though
 it was me that needed candling by a
 head shrinker preparatory to being
 sent off to a pressure cooker, I fished
 in my pocket for my wallet, counted
 the contents and winced at the
 pathetic remains of the thousand.
 I said pleadingly, "Betty, listen,
 how long ago did I go out that door—on
 the way to the airport?"

 "You've been acting sick all morning.
 You went out that door about
 ten minutes ago, were gone about
 three minutes, and then came back."

 "See here," Mr. Oyster said (interrupting
 Simon's story), "did you
 say this was supposed to be amusing,
 young man? I don't find it so. In
 fact, I believe I am being ridiculed."

 Simon shrugged, put one hand to
 his forehead and said, "That's only
 the first chapter. There are two
 more."

 "I'm not interested in more," Mr.
 Oyster said. "I suppose your point
 was to show me how ridiculous the
 whole idea actually is. Very well,
 you've done it. Confound it. However,
 I suppose your time, even when
 spent in this manner, has some value.
 Here is fifty dollars. And good day,
 sir!"

 He slammed the door after him
 as he left.

 Simon winced at the noise, took
 the aspirin bottle from its drawer,
 took two, washed them down with
 water from the desk carafe.

 Betty looked at him admiringly.
 Came to her feet, crossed over and
 took up the fifty dollars. "Week's
 wages," she said. "I suppose that's
 one way of taking care of a crackpot.
 But I'm surprised you didn't
 take his money and enjoy that vacation
 you've been yearning about."

 "I did," Simon groaned. "Three
 times."

 Betty stared at him. "You mean—"

 Simon nodded, miserably.

 She said, "But Simon . Fifty thousand
 dollars bonus. If that story was
 true, you should have gone back
 again to Munich. If there was one
 time traveler, there might have
 been—"

 "I keep telling you," Simon said
 bitterly, "I went back there three
 times. There were hundreds of them.
 Probably thousands." He took a deep
 breath. "Listen, we're just going to
 have to forget about it. They're not
 going to stand for the space-time
 continuum track being altered. If
 something comes up that looks like
 it might result in the track being
 changed, they set you right back at
 the beginning and let things start—for
 you—all over again. They just
 can't allow anything to come back
 from the future and change the
 past."

 "You mean," Betty was suddenly
 furious at him, "you've given up!
 Why this is the biggest thing— Why
 the fifty thousand dollars is nothing.
 The future! Just think!"

 Simon said wearily, "There's just
 one thing you can bring back with
 you from the future, a hangover compounded
 of a gallon or so of Marzenbräu.
 What's more you can pile
 one on top of the other, and another
 on top of that!"

 He shuddered. "If you think I'm
 going to take another crack at this
 merry-go-round and pile a fourth
 hangover on the three I'm already
 nursing, all at once, you can think
 again."

 THE END

Simon goes to his desk as Betty remarks that he is late. He tells her that he needs a vacation, but she asks him where the funds will come from and her weekly salary. Suddenly, the door knocks, and a man named Mr. Oyster comes in. Despite having never met before, he is impressed that Simon knows him and asks the other man if he believes in time travel. Betty says it is impossible, and Mr. Oyster questions her about why. Simon then asks why he came, to which the potential client responds that he wants them to hunt up some time travelers. He asks Betty some more about science fiction and explains that he is willing to gamble his fortune to investigate the presence of time travelers in the current era. Mr. Oyster further says that these time travelers will be at the Oktoberfest in Munich, which is considered the greatest festival globally. Simon says that he is not interested in taking up the case. Betty is surprised, and Mr. Oyster tries to offer him a substantial amount of money. Simon then tells them a story where he accepts Mr. Oyster’s offer. Simon thinks about how much fun he will have and a fake report to generate for Mr. Oyster. He then goes on to be suspicious about how five million people can appear to attend a festival in a remote part of southern Germany, especially considering the population of Munich is less than one million. There is no hotel space in Munch, so Simon must go to Bahnhof to apply for hotel service. It is suspicious how the five million attendees are accommodated for this festival. The circus-like tents represent the seven major brewers of the Munich area, and many people are going around. Simon finds a space at one of the tables; he notes that the crowd is made up of both tourists and Germans. A bald-headed person and he both drink beer. The bald man accidentally reveals that his pencil is Venusian and tells Simon that his dream is to sample each of the seven best beer brands. The man then introduces himself as Arth and tells Simon that he is from a strange location. Arth offers to take him to his hotel later, and Simon goes with him. Arth gives him a box of pills for his hangover, and the scene cuts to them drinking at the festival again. Simon feels that something is off and decides to go back to New York. He returns to the office, where Mr. Oyster tells him that Betty has just finished the receipt. They are both confused and say that he has only been gone for about three minutes. Mr. Oyster is furious and leaves, while Betty asks why he didn’t just take the money. Simon tells her that he experienced the trip three times and says that he will not be dealing with a fourth hangover on top of the three already-present ones.

One day, Mr. Oyster comes to Simon’s office and tries to assign a mission of finding a time traveler in a huge festival, Oktoberfest, in Munich and bring back the secret of eternal youth. However, Simon refuses his request. While Mr. Oyster is confused about why Simon rejects such a large amount of money and a chance to go on a vacation, Simon tells him a story.

In the story, Simon accepts Mr. Oyster’s request and goes to Oktoberfest. When he gets to Munich, he cannot find a hotel to stay in since there are too many people to be accommodated. While drinking in the big tent held by the local brewery, Simon meets a guy who wants to try all the beer. He then accompanies him to drink. When they get drunk, Simon tells the guy that he doesn’t have anywhere to stay, and the guy invites him to his place. While they talk in the guy’s place, the guy carelessly leaks information about where he comes from, which seems like a time traveler. On the following day, when the time traveler realizes what he did last night, he tells Simon not to move and goes into the bathroom. After he comes out, he gives Simon a pill and lets him go. When Simon takes the flight back to his office, the time seems to be reset to when he just left the office to catch the flight to Munich.

Mr. Oyster thinks that Simon tries to ridicule him through his story, so he angrily leaves. Betty, Simon’s clerk, asks Simon why he didn’t want to accept the request, and Simon tells her that the story is what truly happened. Moreover, it has already happened three times, but they never believe him as they cannot sense the time reset. In the end, Betty cannot understand what Simon is trying to say, and Simon is also too tired to explain it. The only thing sure is that he will not make the whole trip again.

This story follows Simon and Betty, his assistant, who are two investigators. As Simon nurses a headache and Betty laments over making enough for a week’s salary, a new client enters, an old man wearing an expensive suit. Identifying the old man by name - Mr. Oyster - he details his desire to investigate time travel. Insisting that time travel is possible and real, with all the paradoxes explained away, Mr. Oyster passionately hypothesizes that time travelers often congregate at events like Oktoberfest and propose for Simon and Betty to attend the festival and nab a time traveler. Simon expands on the latter’s desire as to him wanting the investigators to exhort from the time traveler some secret of eternal youth, and hence be willing to pay a premium rate of upwards of fifty thousand dollars. Despite this generous amount, Simon declines, and instead tells the pair a story.

The story goes: he took a thousand dollars from Mr. Oyster as an advance and departed on the first flight out to Germany. When he arrived at the festival, Simon found an available space in a brewers tent. He sat down across a bald-headed man who appeared to be noting down the various beers being tried. Introducing himself as Arth, Simon and Arth end up traversing the rest of the festival’s breweries together, getting more and more inebriated with each one. After a while, both of them head back to Arth’s hotel and pass out. The next morning, Arth is surprised to find Simon and gives him a pill to help with Simon’s hangover. In the next scene, Simon finds them the next day back at the festival, nursing another mug of beer. With a terrible hangover and not remembering the details of the previous night, Simon says his goodbyes and heads to pick up his luggage, only to find it lost. He decided to head to the airport and fly out without it, found himself with a momentary bump with a ticketing error, and went directly to his office after landing. At the office, Simon is surprised to find Mr. Oyster there, surmising that he is eager to get the report. However, as Betty expresses that she just met Mr. Oyster that morning, he soon realizes that he somehow indeed time traveled.

When Simon finished telling his story, Mr. Oyster is in disbelief and believes that he is being ridiculed and storms out of the office, leaving behind fifty dollars for the investigator's time. Betty comments that he is surprised he didn’t take the offer. Simon reveals that he did, actually, three times. It turns out that Mr. Oyster’s hypothesis on time travelers’ existence and their congregation at Oktoberfest was correct. However, these time travelers - like Arth - will immediately reset the track if the space-time continuum was threatened - like they did to Simon. Nursing several hangovers, Simon implores Betty to let it go.

This story centers around two private investigators, Betty and Simon. Betty seems to be working under Simon, and asks Simon for her payment. They have a little disagreement, but it ends when a new client arrives. The client is Mr. Oyster, an old and rich man who is looking to find time travelers and is willing to pay handsomely. After the 3 of them go back and forth debating about the existence of time travel, Simon starts to tell a story about him going to Oktoberfest, and how an entanglement with a time traveler could go. The story starts with Simon arriving at the festival, and immediately becomes friends with a time traveler, Arth. After drinking together, they end up going to Arth’s hotel. When Simon wakes up, he is in a very futuristic room. When Arth notices him, he gives him a pill and then Simon wakes up in the Oktoberfest again. Arth tells him it is the day after, but Simon ends up going back to New York. When he gets there, he arrives not 10 minutes later after he left. After the story ends, he rejects Mr. Oyster’s proposal and it is revealed the story was real, and that Simon had in fact gone to the future with Arth, and had found time travelers.

Oktoberfest, as described by Mr. Oyster, is held in Munich. It is the greatest festival the world has ever seen; each brewery opens a tremendous tent on the fairgrounds, holding five thousand customers apiece. There are millions of liters of beer, hundreds of thousands of barbecued chickens, oxen roasted over spits, millions of pairs of weisswurst sausage, and millions of pretzels. Since there are many people at Oktoberfest, it is perfect for strange people to blend in since nobody will notice. Oktoberfest is also mentioned to start on a Friday and continues for sixteen days. In Simon’s story, the seven major brewers of the Munich area are all represented by circus-like tents. Each tent contains benches and tables that can seat up to five thousand people. There is a tremendous bandstand in the tent's center, where the musicians are lederhosen-clad. The music is described to be Bavarian as well. It is described that there are many desperate waitresses as well, scrambling around and handing people masses of beer. In terms of people, it is extremely loud and crowded; tourists and German natives are all present and try to squeeze into the tents.

Oktoberfest is an annual festival held in Munich, the biggest one that has ever been seen. Five million people attend annually. It originates from celebrating a wedding of some local princes about a century and a half ago. Since then, Bavarians have maintained such a tradition. The Munich breweries will have a special beer called Marzenbräu. Each brewery will set up a circus-like tent that allows five thousand customers to stay. Each tent contains benches and tables, and there will be a music band in each tent. A tremendous amount of beer, barbecued chicken, and pretzels will be provided. Foods like weisswurst, a special sausage, and roasted oxen will also be in plenty. The whole event usually lasts for sixteen days. People will drink beers and enjoy the food from one tent to another.

Oktoberfest is a famed beer festival that takes place in Southern Germany, beginning on September 21st and running for sixteen consecutive days. As described by Mr. Oyster, its historical origins began as a celebration of the wedding of a local prince centuries ago, and have since continued as a great time. Each year, many Munich breweries will brew a special batch - Marzenbrau beer - and will erect tents that can hold up to five thousand people.

In Simon’s own experience, Oktoberfest just like Mr. Oyster described. Simon marvels - and questions - at the fact that five million people come to attend Oktoberfest, when the population of Munich itself does not go over a million. Because of the large number of event attendees, Simon is unable to find hotel space in Munich and has to go to Bahnhof and be put on the waitlist for a room. He finds seven major brewers in the Munich area, arranged in circus-like tents as described, with Bavarian musicians playing. Alongside the mugs of beer, fellow festival go-ers are also enjoying platters of chicken, sausage, kraut and pretzels.

Oktoberfest is described as the greatest festival in the world. It is said that over 5 million people attend the festival in southern Germany yearly, which Simon considers to be weird, as he wonders where those many people come from. The festival has different tents and is full of food and loud music where people get drunk and have a good time. The festival is also described as super packed, as Simon and Arth had a lot of trouble finding chairs in the tents.

Who is Arth, and what are his characteristics?

Arth is a bald man at Oktoberfest. He is first introduced as a bald-headed drunk who sits across from Simon. They share a beer together and toast. After, Arth makes a note to write down the name engraved on his mug in a small notebook with a pencil. When Simon asks if he is German, Arth accidentally responds that his pencil is Venusian. Arth is very determined to fulfill his pilgrimage of trying every single beer at Oktoberfest, but he is disappointed that he will never make it. Simon asks him where he is from when they go to another tent, and Arth responds that he is from 2183 South St in New Albuquerque; it is situated right across Old Albuquerque. Arth also has a kind side to him, as he offers to take Simon to his hotel to rest for the night. He even offers Simon a box of pills to help with his hangover. When they go back to drinking again, he looks at Simon cautiously when the latter does not remember where he spent the night. Arth looks at Simon strangely as he goes back, even though he is initially portrayed as a friendly and kind bald man.

According to Simon's story, Arth is a time traveler that Simon meets in Oktoberfest. He is bald. He has a small notebook and a Venusian pencil in his pocket. He is from 2183 South Street, New Albuquerque. He is a vegetarian. He meets Simon, a detective who comes to Oktoberfest to search for time travelers, in a tent in Oktoberfest. He invites Simon to go to his place when he knows that Simon has no place to stay. He resets the time when he wakes up the following morning and realizes that he may leak information about his identity to Simon. He gives Simon a pill and sends him out after resetting the time.

Arth is a fellow Oktoberfest go-er that Simon meets at one the brewery tents, who is on a pilgrimage to try every beer from the seven best brands, but has only made it so far as the Lowenbrau beer. He and Simon set off together as a pair to try the rest of the beers. In making conversation, we find out that Arth often slips in what he says. For example, when writing down the beers he is trying, Simon inquires about the odd type of pencil he is using and assumes it is German, but Arth corrects him and says that it is Venusian. As an afterthought, Arth says that he should not have said that. Similarly, when Simon asks where Arth is from, Arth simply says ‘2183’ before correcting it to a supposed street address in New Albuquerque.

After a couple more beers, Arth brings Simon back to his hotel room as Simon has yet to find one himself. The next morning, Arth expresses regret and stupidity towards himself for bringing Simon back and hands him a pill - supposedly aspirin - for Simon’s hangover. The next day, as Simon continues nursing his hangover, Arth details the memories of last night cautiously to Simon and they end up saying their goodbyes. Overall, Arth appears to marvel at Oktoberfest in an odd way. He also seems to be cautious - oftentimes slipping up with revealing too much or a certain information and regrettably having to correct it.

Arth is described as a bald man, who seems to be very drunk when Simon befriends him at the festival. Throughout the story, it becomes clearer and clearer that Arth is a time traveler. He said he is from 2183, probably referring to his year, as well as referring to his pen as being “venusian”. Arth is on a pilgrimage to complete the 7 tents within the festival, as he wanted to experience the greatest festival ever. He ends up taking Simon to the future with him, but when he realizes his mistake sends Simon back to the present using a pill.

Who is Simon, and what are his characteristics?

Simon works with Betty investigating many cases at their office in New York. He initially has a terrible headache and has to take aspirin for his hangover. He is perceptive as well, knowing who Mr. Oyster is without having seen him before and informative about time travel. However, he does show a stubborn side when he refuses Mr. Oyster’s offer no matter how much money the other man offers him. Even though he could just create a false report for Mr. Oyster, he refuses to take the job. Simon later reveals to Betty that he has already experienced going to Oktoberfest three times and has brought nothing but multiple hangovers back. In the story he tells, Simon is very friendly towards Arth and tries to help him on his pilgrimage. He ends up getting extremely hungover and goes back to New York, which then resets the entire cycle of events again.

Simon is a detective who constantly searches for his aspirin bottle. He is weary and tired when Mr. Oyster comes to give a request on hunting a time traveler. He needs a vacation. In his story, he does not find a place to stay, so he leaves his bag in one of the hotels. After he goes into a tent to have some beers, he meets a time traveler in Oktoberfest without knowing the identity of the time traveler. He is invited to the time traveler’s home, and the next day, he is sent out after taking a pill. After leaving the time traveler’s house, he cannot find his bag in the hotel since there is no check receipt to show that his bag has been stored there. His flight ticket also has a weird, wrong date. When he gets back to the office, he realizes that he goes back to when he had just left to catch the flight. He tries to tell other people that he has the same experience as the story, but no one believes him.

Simon, the protagonist, is an investigator alongside his assistant, Betty. He is recruited by Mr. Oyster to further investigate and locate a time traveler in Oktoberfest, and exhort a time traveler’s secrets to eternal life in return for a generous sum. Initially described as someone looking to make money, it is surprising that he turns down the opportunity.

However, it is revealed through the story that he did initially take the offer. Simon’s disbelief at Mr. Oyster’s insistence of time travelers is attributed as whilst on the plane, Simon plans to embellish and dream up the material in Mr. Oyster’s report. However, he soon begins to have suspicions about the feasibility of such time travelers, as facts like the vast number of people attending Oktoberfest and cost of expenditure in contrast to the location and timing of the festival do not appear to make sense to Simon.

Simon is also described as friendly and open, as he instantly makes conversation with Arth and makes casual conversation with him about his time at Oktoberfest, where he’s from, etc. The two of them fall into an easy companionship and set off to try the rest of the beers together. He is also smart and pragmatic, choosing to cut his losses at Oktoberfest and head back home early. Whilst at the office in discovering that it was the same day as he had supposedly left for Oktoberfest, he demonstrates his intelligence in being able to suss out what had happened to him.

Simon is a private investigator. He seems to be a very pragmatic person, as he knew exactly what he needed to do in order to get his client happy and comfortable. He also knew how to manage Betty’s expectations, as she wanted him to pay him but he knew what to say in order to make her happy. He also learns from his mistakes, as he already tried to find a time traveler, but he refuses to try again because of the situation that he suffered the first time.

How does the story Simon tells relate back to Mr. Oyster’s initial request to find time travelers?

The story that Simon tells relates back to Mr. Oyster’s initial request about time travelers because he is the one who time traveled. Although he calls it a funny story, the sequence of events he describes is all actual events he experiences. The entire purpose of Mr. Oyster’s request and his desire to spend a portion of his fortune is to find a time traveler and come to a conclusion that they exist. However, he fails to realize that the very person he is asking has time traveled. Since the events were repeated three times, Simon’s refusal now changes the flow of events in the near future to avoid a fourth hangover. Even though Mr. Oyster leaves angrily, Simon’s story serves as a true report of time traveling and fulfills Mr. Oyster’s request.

Mr. Oyster’s initial request is to find the time traveler in the Oktoberfest in Munich and bring back the secret of eternal youth from them. On the other hand, Simon tells the story about what will happen after accepting the requests and going to Oktoberfest. Simon will not be able to find his accommodation in Munich as there will be too many people to be accommodated. Simon will meet a time traveler and have fun with him. Since they are both drunk, the time traveler will take Simon back to his place and leak some information about the future. On the following day, once the time traveler realizes what he did last night, he will reset the time to where Simon starts and send Simon back. When Simon is back, it will only be him remembering the whole thing. And if Simon tries to tell Mr. Oyster and his clerk about what happened, they will only consider him as ridiculing them since they do not believe the time has been reset. Therefore, the story Simon tells reveals that even if Simon accepts Mr. Oyster’s request and meets a time traveler, he will not be able to bring back the secret of eternal youth but only a severe hangover because the space-time continuum track is not allowed to be changed.

Simon’s story relates back to Mr. Oyster’s initial request to find time travelers because it confirms Mr. Oyster’s theory: that time travelers exist and they do attend Oktoberfest. To us as readers, the meeting between Mr. Oyster and Simon and Betty in the beginning of the story marks the first time all three of them meet. However, Simon’s story tells us the opposite, that it is actually the second or third time Simon has met Mr. Oyster and completed his request, each time nursing a hangover.

We find out through Simon that while Mr. Oyster was correct in his insistence at the existence of time travelers, he was wrong in thinking that time travelers would give up the secrets of eternal life and threaten the space-time continuum. In fact, we can see from the interactions between Simon and Arth that time travelers will do whatever it takes to reset the timeline and prevent the space-time continuum from being threatened. It is clear through Simon’s repeat experiences with the same meeting, same day, and same hangover that Simon had investigated a little too closely to the time travelers, and as a consequence, returned back to his office on a reset day, with only his hangover and change from the initial thousand dollars as the only witness to the alternate reality.

Simon’s story begins simply as a story of a trip to Germany to the Oktoberfest. Simon recounts his story of how he met a friend, Arth. In the end, we realize that in fact Arth was a time traveler, and that when Simon went to Arth’s hotel it was in fact the future. We learn that at the time of recounting the story to Mr. Oyster, Simon had already gone to the future with Arth.