The Man Who Folded Himself by David Gerrold Read Free Book Online Page B

it, closed it, and vanished forward into time. The air gave a soft pop! as it rushed in to fill the space where he had been.

    After he left I stumbled through the apartment, wondering what to do next—another trip through time? No. I decided not. I was too tired. First I’d get some sleep. If I could.
    I paused to pick up the clothes that I’d scattered on the floor this afternoon when we’d changed for dinner; I realized I was picking up his clothes too—wait a minute, that meant that he’d left wearing some of my clothes.
    I looked in the closet. Yes, the good sport jacket and slacks that he’d borrowed were missing. So was my red tie. But the sweater and slacks that he’d discarded were still there.
    No, they weren’t—they were in my hand! I blinked back and forth between the clothes I was holding and the clothes in the closet. They were the same! I’d lost a jacket and slacks, but I’d gained a sweater and a pair of pants identical to the ones I already owned. I had to figure this out.
    Ah, I had it. The jacket and slacks he’d borrowed had traveled forward in time with him. They’d be waiting there for me when—no, that wasn’t right. I’d be going back in time tomorrow—that is, I’d be coming back to today, where I’d put them on and take them forward with me. Right. They’d just be skipping forward a few hours.
    And the sweater and the other pair of pants—the duplicated ones—obviously, that’s what I’d be wearing tomorrow when I bounced back, leaving only one set in the future. The condition of having two of them was only temporary, like the condition of having two of me. It was just an illusion.
    Or was it?
    What would happen if I wore his sweater and slacks back through time? The sweater and slacks that he brought from the future would then be the clothes that I would leave in the past so that I could put them on when I went back to the past to leave them there for myself, ad infinitum . . . and meanwhile, my sweater and slacks would be hanging untouched in the closet.
    Or would they?
    What would happen tomorrow if I didn’t wear either sweater or pair of slacks? But something else entirely? (But how could I? I’d already seen that I had worn them.) Would the pair that he brought
back cease to exist? Or would they remain—would I have somehow duplicated them?
    There was only one way to find out . . .
    I fell asleep thinking about it.

    The morning was hot, with that crisp kind of unreality that characterizes the northern edge of the San Fernando Valley. I woke up to the sound of the air conditioner already beginning its day’s work with an insistent pressing hum.
    For a while I just stared at the ceiling. I’d had the strangest dream—
    â€”but it wasn’t a dream. I bounced out of bed in sudden fear. The timebelt glittered on the dresser where I had left it. I held it tightly, as if it might fade abruptly away. All the excitement of yesterday flooded back into me.
    I remembered. The race track. The restaurant. Don. The check. It was sitting on the dresser too, right next to the belt—$57,600!
    I opened the belt and checked the time. It was almost eleven. I’d have to hurry. Don would be arriving—no, I was Don now. Dan would be arriving in three hours.
    I showered and shaved, pulled on a shirt and pants and headed for the car. I wanted to go to the bank and deposit the check and I had to pick up a newspaper—
    Actually, I didn’t need the newspaper at all, I could remember which horses had won without it, but there was a headline on the front page of the Daily News: FIVE-HORSE PARLAY WINS $57,600!
    Huh—? I hadn’t seen that before. But then, Don hadn’t shown me the front page.
    The story was a skimpy one and they’d misspelled my name; mostly it was about how much I had bet on each horse and how it had snowballed. Then there were some quotes from