Robert J. Sawyer - Just Like Old Times

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Just Like Old Times

by Robert J. Sawyer

Commissioned for the anthology Dinosaur Fantastic, edited by Mike Resnick

and Martin H. Greenberg (DAW, 1993); first published in On Spec: The

Canadian Magazine of Speculative Writing, Summer 1993.

That's the cover of the issue of On Spec this story originally appeared in;

it was also reprinted in several anthologies including On Spec: The First

Five Years, Dinosaurs II, and Northern Stars.

Winner of both the Canadian Science Fiction and Fantasy Award ("the Aurora")

for Best English-Language Short Story of 1993 and the Crime Writers of

Canada's Arthur Ellis Award for Best Short Story of 1993.

Just Like Old Times

by Robert J. Sawyer

The transference went smoothly, like a scalpel slicing into skin.

Cohen was simultaneously excited and disappointed. He was thrilled

to be here -- perhaps the judge was right, perhaps this was indeed where he

really belonged. But the gleaming edge was taken off that thrill because it

wasn't accompanied by the usual physiological signs of excitement: no sweaty

palms, no racing heart, no rapid breathing. Oh, there was a heartbeat, to be

sure, thundering in the background, but it wasn't Cohen's.

It was the dinosaur's.

Everything was the dinosaur's: Cohen saw the world now through

tyrannosaur eyes.

The colors seemed all wrong. Surely plant leaves must be the same

chlorophyll green here in the Mesozoic, but the dinosaur saw them as navy blue.

The sky was lavender; the dirt underfoot ash gray.

Old bones had different cones, thought Cohen. Well, he could get

used to it. After all, he had no choice. He would finish his life as an observer

inside this tyrannosaur's mind. He'd see what the beast saw, hear what it heard,

feel what it felt. He wouldn't be able to control its movements, they had said,

but he would be able to experience every sensation.

The rex was marching forward.

Cohen hoped blood would still look red.

It wouldn't be the same if it wasn't red.

"And what, Ms. Cohen, did your husband say before he left your house

on the night in question?"

"He said he was going out to hunt humans. But I thought he was

making a joke."

"No interpretations, please, Ms. Cohen. Just repeat for the court as

precisely as you remember it, exactly what your husband said."

"He said, `I'm going out to hunt humans.'"

"Thank you, Ms. Cohen. That concludes the Crown's case, my lady."

The needlepoint on the wall of the Honourable Madam Justice Amanda

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