Free Report on Probability A by Brian W. Aldiss Page B

bungalow, which the report describes only briefly and in general terms. We’re getting a much more ample report of it now. It seems to me a bit fishy that the same picture should hang in both places.”
    â€œI don’t see why, Midlakemela. What is this picture?”
    â€œIt’s a shepherd and his girl friend, sir. Evidently in a rather promiscuous situation. Could we check on it? It appears it was painted by a W. H. Hunt, and is called The Hireling Shepherd.”
    The Governor rubbed his nose. “Never heard of him.”
    He called a subordinate and despatched him scurrying for an encyclopaedia. The subordinate returned, leafing through a fat volume, finally to read aloud with an air of triumph:
    â€œâ€˜Winkel Henri Hunt (1822-1887). Russian-born German of British extraction, b. at St. Petersburg. Displayed from childhood equal liking for art and science. Professional career that of expert chemist, all spare time devoted to painting and bear-shooting. First canvases show influence of Fuseli.… Well known portraits of such muscians as Gazakirski and Borodin, with whom v. friendly. Discovered hunterine oxide (1850); best-known paintings include On the Steps of the Winter Palace (1846), Death of Attila (1849) and The Hireling Shepherd (1851). Married in 1859, Countess—’”
    â€œEnough!” said the Governor. “Well, Midlakemela, the painter exists in our probability-world, just as in Probability A. It is something to go on, I suppose. But as to why both G and S should have copies of one of his pictures.…”
    The girl’s face was oval. It did not appear particularly intelligent, nor particularly pretty; yet it was not unattractive. The two eyes were large and set widely apart; they lay under heavy, even puffy, lids, while the lower lids were also noticeable. Above these lids were broad soft eyebrows, untouched by art. The nose seemed not too long and rather soft, and on the whole an attractive nose, ending in a little soft bulb of flesh. The mouth too looked attractive in texture, though the broad lower lip gave it something of a pout; if it was pouting, there was no reason within the context of the picture not to suppose that the girl was pouting because she mistrusted the advances of the young shepherd. The look in her eyes could be read as reinforcing this impression, for they glanced sideways at him with an expression which might have been lazy contempt; on the other hand it might easily have been one of indolent complaisance.
    It was tantalizing to imagine that the painter could have created a second representation of this same imaginary scene, setting it say fifteen minutes (they would have to be imaginary minutes on an imaginary time scale, since art has little relation to the ordinary clock) ahead of the existing representation. Many doubts could then have been resolved, for one paradox of the existing picture was that its ambiguities were engendered by the fact that it showed only one moment on its time scale. Suppose that the second representation, depicting the same scene some fifteen minutes later, could be produced. It too would only show one moment on its time scale; but by comparison with the earlier moment in the first and existing picture, it would make much clear. For instance, it might show the shepherd some distance away in the middle distance, back tending his sheep; in which case it would be clearer that in the first and existing picture the shepherd’s interest lay at least as much in the moth as in possession of the girl, and that the girl’s expression contained more lazy contempt than complaisance or concupiscence under the heavy summer lids of her eyes. Or the second picture might show that the warmth of the summer day had worked in these young bodies, and that the more instinctive side of human nature had had its way, that the girl’s expression in the first and existing picture might indeed have been sly, but was also full of