Isso é "Lúcifer! , um pequeno shory de E. C. Tubb , publicado pela primeira vez em Visões de Tomorros # 3, Novembro de 1969 , disponível no Arquivo da Internet . Estando nos EUA, você pode ter visto na primeira impressão de 1972 ou na segunda impressão em 1975 da antologia As Melhores Histórias de Terror do Ano, número 1 editadas por Richard Davis (A história de 1999 de Tubb, "Fallen Angel" , é uma versão revisada de "Lúcifer". Eu acho que ou ambas as histórias poderiam ter inspirado ou influenciado o episódio Futurama de 2013 "Meanwhile ".
O protagonista está trabalhando em um necrotério quando um corpo é trazido. O homem morto era um jet-setter que foi morto de repente - atropelado por um ônibus, ou algo caiu sobre ele.
Like a steel cable snapping when the safe it was supporting hung twenty feet above the ground. The safe fell, smashing the sidewalk but doing no other damage. The cable, suddenly released from strain, snapped like a whip, the end jerking in a random motion impossible to predict. The odds against it hitting any one particular place were astronomical. The odds against one of the Special People being in just that spot at that exact time were so high as to negate normal probability. But it happened. The frayed end of the cable hit a skull, shredding bone, brain and tissue in an ungodly mess. A surgically implanted mechanism sent out a distress call. The man's friends received the signal. Frank Weston got the body.
Durante o processamento do corpo, o protagonista encontra um anel no dedo do corpo e decide mantê-lo.
Sometimes, in his job, an unscrupulous man could make a little on the side. Frank had no scruples only defensive caution. The ring could have been lost before the stiff arrived in his care. The hand was caked with blood and maybe no one had noticed it. Even if they had it would be his word against theirs. If he could get it off, wash the hand free of blood, stash it away and act innocent the ring could be his. And he would get it off if he had to smash the hand to do it. Accidents sometimes made strange injuries.
Pouco depois, alguns amigos do homem morto no jet-set aparecem procurando o anel, mas o protagonista finge ignorância e os amigos acabam indo embora.
"One moment." The two men looked at each other then the one who had spoken turned to Frank. "Our friend wore a ring. It was something like this." He extended his hand. "The ring had a stone and a wide band. Could we have it please."
Frank was stubborn. "I haven't got it. I haven't even seen it. He wasn't wearing it when he came in here."
O homem descobre que apertar o anel lhe permite reviver o minuto anterior de sua vida, e ele pode viver esse minuto de forma diferente.
He frowned and tried again. Abruptly the man was back at his table. He rose, stretched, headed towards the door. Frank pressed the stud and held it down, counting. Fifty-seven seconds and suddenly the man was back at his table again. He rose, stretched, headed towards the door. This time Frank let him go.
Se bem me lembro, ele usa o anel para seduzir uma mulher refinando sua técnica até que ela funcione, por assim dizer.
He reached out and took her in his arms, heart still pounding from the pleasure of having inflicted pain. He kissed her with practiced skill, nibbling her gently with his teeth. He ran his hands over her body, thin material rustling as it fell from her shoulders. He bit a little harder and felt her tense.
"Don't do that!" she said abruptly. "I hate anyone doing that!"
One bad mark. Frank counted seconds as he reached for the light switch. With darkness she squirmed, pushed herself free of his arms.
"I hate the dark! Must you be like all the others?"
Two bad marks. Twenty seconds to go. Time for one more quick exploration. His hands groped, made contact, moved with educated determination. She sighed with pleasure.
He activated the ring.
"Frank!"
He reached out and took her in his arms, this time making no attempt to either nibble or bite. Her clothing rustled to the floor and the skin gleamed like pearl in the light. He looked at her, boldly admiring, and his hands moved in the way which gave her pleasure.
Mais tarde, ele usa o anel para ganhar muito em um cassino. Logo o homem está a caminho de ser um membro do jet set.
Luck, the fortuitous combination of favourable circumstances, but who needs luck when they know what is going to happen fifty-seven seconds in advance? Call it a minute. Not long?
Try holding your breath that long. Try resting your hand on a red-hot stove for even half that time. In a minute you can walk a hundred yards, run a quarter of a mile, fall three. You can conceive, die, get married. Fifty-seven seconds is enough for a lot of things.
For a card to turn, a ball to settle, a pair of dice tumble to rest. Frank was a sure-fire winner in more ways than one.
Finalmente ele está em um avião, voando para a Europa ou algum lugar. Há uma emergência em voo e o avião se desfaz no ar.
Something hit the roof of the cabin. There was a ripping sound, a blast of air, an irresistible force which tore him from his seat and flung him into space. Air gushed from his lungs as he began to fall.
O homem encontra-se condenado a continuar apertando o anel, pois acho que a última linha vai, "porque a alternativa era cair no mar à espera".
The clouds passed. Below the sea spread in a shimmer of light and water. His stomach constricted with overwhelming terror as he stared at the waves, his lurking acrophobia aroused and tearing at every cell. Hitting the sea would be like smashing into a floor of solid concrete and he would be conscious to the very end. Spasmodically he activated and immediately was high in the air again with almost a minute of grace in which to fall.
Fifty-seven seconds of undiluted hell.
Repeated.
Repeated.
Repeated over and over because the alternative was to smash into the waiting sea.