Free Time Is the Simplest Thing by Clifford D. Simak Page B

something which naturally must concern even so unworthy a servant of the Church as I. For whatever may concern the souls and the minds of men is of interest to the Church and to the Holy Father. It has been the historic position of Rome that we must so concern ourselves.”
    Blaine bowed slightly in recognition of the sincerity of the man, but there was a fleck of bitterness in his voice when he answered: “So you’ve come to study me. You are here to question me.”
    There was sadness in the old priest’s voice. “I prayed you would not see it in this light. I have failed, I see. I came to you as to someone who could help me and, through me, the Church. For, my son, the Church at times needs help. It is not too proud to say so, for all that it has been charged, through all its history, with excessive pride. You are a man, an intelligent man, who is a part of this thing which serves to puzzle us. I thought that you might help me.”
    Blaine sat silent, and the priest sat looking at him, a humble man who sought a favor, and yet with a sense of inner strength one could not help but feel.
    â€œI would not mind,” said Blaine. “Not that I think for a moment it would do any good. You’re a part of what is in this town.”
    â€œNot so, my son. We neither sanction nor condemn. We do not have facts enough.”
    â€œI’ll tell you about myself,” said Blaine, “if that is what you want to know. I am a traveler. My job is to go out to the stars. I climb into a machine—well, not exactly a machine, rather it’s a symbolic contrivance that helps me free my mind, that possibly even gives my mind a kick in the right direction. And it helps with the navigation—Look, Father, this is hard to say in simple, common terms. It sounds like gibberish.”
    â€œI am following you with no difficulty.”
    â€œWell, this navigation. That’s another funny thing. There are factors involved that there is no way to put one’s tongue to them. In science it would be mathematics, but it’s not actually mathematics. It’s a way of getting there, of knowing where you’re going.”
    â€œMagic?”
    â€œHell, no—pardon me, Father. No, it isn’t magic. Once you understand it, once you get the feel of it, it is clear and simple and it becomes a part of you. It is as natural as breathing and as easy as falling off a log. I would imagine—”
    â€œI would think,” said Father Flanagan, “that it is unnecessary to go into the mechanics of it. Could you tell me how it feels to be on another star?”
    â€œWhy,” Blaine told him, “no different than sitting here with you. At first—the first few times, that is—you feel obscenely naked, with just your mind and not your body.…”
    â€œAnd your mind wanders all about?”
    â€œWell, no. It could, of course, but it doesn’t. Usually you stuff yourself inside the machine you took along with you.”
    â€œMachine?”
    â€œA monitoring contraption. It picks up all the data, gets it down on tape. You get the entire picture. Not just what you see yourself—although it’s not actually seeing; it’s sensing—but you get it all, everything that can possibly be caught. In theory, and largely in practice, the machine picks up the data, and the mind is there for interpretation only.”
    â€œAnd what do you see?”
    Blaine laughed. “Father, that would take longer than either of us have.”
    â€œNothing like on Earth?”
    â€œNot often, for there are not too many Earth-like planets. Proportionately, that is. There are, in fact, quite a lot in number. But we’re not limited to Earth-like planets. We can go anywhere it is possible for the machine to function, and the way those machines are engineered, that means almost anywhere.…”
    â€œEven to the heart of another sun?”
    â€œNot the machine. It