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humans or animals present that could get sucked up into the subject’s area. When the chip was activated, the subject needed to find the safety zone and be retrieved there, so as to ensure no one else would come back to the present. Though Vere had an annotation that indicated even he was unclear on that point. In someone else’s handwriting was the cryptic note “Intent—they have to want to go with you,” which left Ambrose more confused than ever.
    Ambrose worked through the rest of the evening and into the next day, interrupted every so often by his impatient boss urging him to work faster.
    “You want to get stuck centuries in the past?” Ambrose demanded at one point, feeling exhaustion and hunger overtake him. “Then, sure, bloody well let’s shove this thing right into your hand and just hope everything sorts itself out. I’m sure your citizens will be comforted knowing you died needlessly from your own fucking hubris.”
    Claudio stalked off, muttering about Ambrose’s retirement plan getting smaller by the hour.

    Saturday, June 7, 2070, Avon, Vermont, NBE
    Several days after he’d first arrived, it was time for Wilbur to return home, leaving Vere and Alison to work out ideas in the present.
    “Now, now, none of that.”
    Alison turned around to face Wilbur, who stood with one foot on the plate. She readied the retrieval mechanism, a flat square of metal fitted into the palm of a fingerless leather glove. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. She gestured to Wilbur’s left hand. “Let’s see if this fits.”
    “I see the shimmer in your eyes,” Wilbur said. He held his hand out.
    Alison had assumed he would take the glove from her and put it on himself, but this seemed to indicate otherwise. She took his hand in hers. His skin was rough, with callouses along each fingertip. As she tugged the glove onto his hand, her thumb brushed one of the hardened spots. “Does that hurt?” she asked. “Is it from controlling the plane? I imagine that’s not easy, keeping everything level and steady without electronics.”
    Wilbur looked at his hand. “There? No.” He laughed softly. “That’s from the winding key on my Kodak. I do have other interests, you know.”
    Alison felt her face grow warm.
    Wilbur cleared his throat. “I have to go. It’ll be fine, Miss Keller. Not to worry.” He finished pulling on the glove and gave her a salute. “If I’m able to influence my present, perhaps your future will be brighter.”
    ~
    “How long before we can tell if it’s worked?”
    Vere looked around his still-shabby laboratory. “It didn’t,” he said. “It’s been hours, but for him it’s been a lifetime. If it had worked, my equipment wouldn’t have to be cobbled together like so much driftwood after a hurricane, and I wouldn’t have shrapnel in my leg or memories of young people being blown to pieces around me. We would have funding, and I wouldn’t have only you here to assist me.”
    Alison tapped at one of Vere’s data pads. “His encyclopedia entry hasn’t changed,” she noted. “Still dies the same date, the same way.”
    “And, honestly, it may have nothing to do with the machines that hastened his demise,” Vere said. “Disease and contagion aren’t uncommon back then.”
    “But my shots are all up to date,” Alison said. “If Wilbur wasn’t able to do anything on his own, what if I gave him some help?”

    Friday, July 11, 2070, Flussville, South Carolina, RAA
    A full week after Claudio’s return, Ambrose knocked on his door, a small box in his hand.
    “Got it,” he said. “But Mister Florence, before I do the install, I think…” He hesitated, running his hands together and staring at the floor.
    “Spit it out, boy.”
    “I’ll say again, sir. We ought to run you through some medical tests.” Ambrose flinched as he spat out the words.
    Claudio saw himself running a scalpel along Polly’s abdomen, pictured feet of blood-slicked intestines spilling from