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had no trouble getting things to work. All the machinery seemed to be in excellent condition, and memory came back as if the skills had been used only yesterday. Every now and then Norlund paused for about two seconds, thinking to himself: What in the hell have I got myself into?
    Ginny, watching him handle the truck, seemed reassured. “Good, I think we can assume that the driving per se is not going to present a real problem.” And she looked at her watch.
    “Ginny?” It was the first time he had called her by name.
    “Yes?”
    “How did you manage that? With Andy?”
    “We haven’t time to go into that now. You’ll talk to Andy again before you go. We went and got him, that’s all.”
    “And now there’s no time.”
    Her manner softened briefly. “I realize it may sound crazy. But there are ways in which we can manipulate time, and ways in which we can’t, and right now we’re in something of a bloody hurry. I’ve got to start teaching you how to operate the equipment in the rear of the truck.”
    A door in the inner wall of the garage opened, to admit the septuagenarian medic, still in his white coat. Ginny went to him and they spoke together in low voices. Norlund shut off the truck engine and heard her call him Dr. Harbin. Norlund got out of the truck, not knowing what else he was supposed to be doing.
    The doctor approached. He looked into Norlund’s eyes for a moment, nodded as if satisfied, and said: “I want you to listen to these numbers. They’ll come in three groups. Ready?”
    “Whatever.”
    Harbin then indeed pronounced three groups of numbers, sixteen digits in each group. Norlund to his own amazement found himself effortlessly counting and keeping track. When Norlund had heard all three groups recited, Ginny approached him with a small notebook and pencil in hand. He was expecting to be asked to play the numbers back, but instead she interviewed him on his personal preferences in clothing.
    “You know what I was doing in nineteen forty-three and you don’t know what color shirts I like to wear?”
    “That’s not so crazy, if you think about it.”
    “It isn’t?”
    “Just answer, please.” And Ginny wrote down his answers, as if they mattered, and hurried off.
    Harbin confronted him again. “Repeat the second group of numbers for me, please.”
    To Norlund’s considerable surprise, he could still do so, without even hesitating. When he looked for the numbers they were there, sitting in his mind as if projected on a screen.
    “Good. Fine. And now the first group, backwards?”
    Norlund could rattle those off just as readily. Ginny came hustling back from somewhere while he was at it. “He’s ready to learn,” the doctor told her.
    “Great,” she rejoiced quietly. Efficient as usual, she already had the truck door open, gesturing Norlund in. “Step into the back of the vehicle, please, Alan, and sit in the seat there. You’ve got to learn that equipment.”
    He went in. The high body of the old vehicle gave Ginny room to stand behind his swivel seat, lean over his shoulder and point things out. The proximity of her young body was pleasant, yet somehow not distracting.
    The first thing that became obvious to Norlund about the equipment was that the ancient wires and tubes, even though the filaments were glowing, were no more than window-dressing; modern gear must somehow lie concealed beneath. The modern gear was evidently complex, but he learned how to operate it very quickly—too quickly.
    Feeling actually frightened, he interrupted the lesson once. “What’ve you done to my brain? I can’t forget anything if I try.”
    “Then don’t try. It’s nothing harmful, Alan, when it’s used sparingly. We’ve just given you something to speed up the learning process temporarily, make it more efficient. Now, these dials here have a code setting, like a safe. They must be set properly for any of the other gears to work.”
    As soon as the dials were at their proper settings,