Free Dr. Futurity (1960) by Philip K. Dick

commemorated in this monument, like some god.
    But now, feverishly rubbing with his shirt, he managed to read the smaller engraving beneath. The plaque did not concern him; it was addressed to him. Foolishly, he sat in the sand, brushing at the letters.
    The plaque told him how to operate the ship. A manual of instruction.
    Each sentence was repeated, apparently to combat the ravages of time. He thought, they must have known that this block would stand here for centuries, perhaps thousands of years. Until I came along.
    The shadows, on the far range of mountains, had become longer. Overhead, the sun had begun to decline. The day was ending. Now, the air had lost all warmth. He shivered.
    Gazing up at the sky he saw a shape half-lost in the haze. A gray disc sailed beyond the clouds. For a long time he watched it, his heart beating heavily. A moon, crossing the face of this world. Much closer than the Moon he knew; but perhaps its greater size was due to Mars being so much smaller. Shading his eyes against the long rays of the sun, he studied the face of this moon. The worn surface . . .
    The moon was Luna.
    That had not changed; the pattern on its visible side remained the same. This was not Mars. It was Earth.
    Here he stood on his own planet, on the dying, ancient Earth. The waterless last age. It had, like Mars before it, ended in drought and weariness. With only black sand-flies and lichens. And rock. Probably it had been like this a long time, long enough to eradicate most of the remains of the human civilization that once existed. Only this plaque, erected by time travelers like himself; persons in search of him, tracking him down to re-establish the contact that had been lost. They had possibly put up many of these markers here and there.
    His name, the final written words. To survive man, when everything else had gone.
    At sunset he returned to the ship. Before entering it he paused, taking a last look behind him.
    Better this, the night falling, obscuring the plain. He could imagine animals stirring, night insects appearing.
    Finally he shut the lock. He snapped on lights; the cabin of the ship filled with pale white, and the control panel glowed red. Overhead the loudspeaker crackled faintly to itself. The semblance, at least, of something alive.
    And on the threshold, a creature that had crawled into the ship during his absence. A hard-to-kill form of life. An earwig.
    He thought, That may survive everything else. The last to die. He watched this particular earwig crawl under a storage cupboard.
    A few will probably still survive, he reflected, when the plaque with my name on it has crumbled to dust.
    Seated at the controls he selected the keys which the instructions had described. Then, in the combination given him, he punched out the tape and started the transport feeding.
    Dials changed.
    Now he had turned control over to them, the people who wanted him. He sat passive as the odd shudder again reached him, and, on the viewing screen, the nocturnal scene jumped. Daylight returned, and, after a time, hues of green and blue to replace the parched red.
    Earth reborn, he thought somberly. The desert made fertile once more. Faster and faster the scenes blurred, altered. Thousands of years passing backward, no doubt millions. He could scarcely grasp it. In his attempts to operate the ship he had run out the string entirely; he had gone into the future as far as the ship was capable of carrying him.
    Abruptly, the dials ceased their motion.
    I'm back, Parsons thought. Reaching out his hand, he touched a switch on the panel. The machinery shut off. He rose and walked to the door of the ship. For a moment he hesitated. And then he unbolted the door and pushed it wide.
    A man and woman faced him. Each held a gun pointed at him. He caught a glimpse of a lush green landscape, trees and a building, flowers. The man said, "Parsons?" Golden, hot sunlight streamed down.
    "Yes," he said.
    "Welcome," the woman said in a husky,