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very generous about money, mostly because he has lots of it. He’s never even close to allowed me to contribute to paying for a meal. I feel like it would be pretty insulting to make him get out his wallet and hand me bills. “It’s okay.”
    “So, um,” he says. “Can I show you what it is?”
    Aside from being for step aerobics? I look closer and see that he’s rigged it up to a large metal canister that’s making an ominous whirring noise, as well as a small laptop computer. There are about a dozen copper wires connecting everything, and for a second, I see one of them emit a small spark. I can’t even imagine what this is. I take a stab in the dark: “Is it some kind of virtual reality thing?”
    Adam shakes his head. “Nope. It’s a device to create wormholes in space.”
    I take a few steps back, horrified. “Adam, is that thing filled with worms ? Because if it is—”
    He laughs. “No, a wormhole . Don’t you know what that is?”
    At least I can say he respects me enough to assume I know as much physics as he does. “Sorry, no.”
    “Okay …” Adam thinks for a second. I know it’s important to him that I understand this, so I try my best to focus on what he’s about to say. “So pretend spacetime is a two-dimensional surface …” Aaaand he’s already lost me. “If you fold this surface along a third dimension, you would create a wormhole ‘bridge.’ It’s basically like a tunnel through different points in spacetime.”
    I just look at him blankly.
    “You can travel through time,” he finally says.
    I stare at him. I must be hearing wrong. “You made a time machine ?” I say, incredulous. “Out of my step from step aerobics?”
    “It’s not a time machine,” Adam says, sounding a little miffed at the comparison. “It creates wormholes.”
    “But the purpose is to travel through time, right?”
    “Yes …”
    I fold my arms across my chest. “So how is that not a time machine?”
    Because he doesn’t want it to be, seems to be the only answer he can come up with. Because time machines are stupid and/or fictional, and what he created is something real. But from what he’s telling me, that’s exactly what this is. And naturally, I’m just a bit skeptical.
    “Can I show you how it works?” he asks, all full of wide-eyed eagerness.
    I have to admit, I’m curious. So I follow him as he wheels over to the side of the room, where there’s a rectangular object covered by a light sheet. He pulls off the sheet and underneath is a metal cage. And inside the metal cage is …
    “The rabbit!” I almost scream. It’s the rabbit from the other day! I’m sure of it because it even has that black patch on its backside. And now I can hear that ticking noise again, coming from the timepiece around its neck.
    “It was your rabbit!” I cry, now nearly furious with him. “You lied to me!”
    Adam digs into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled scrap of paper. He hands it to me and I see it’s a receipt. “I bought this rabbit two hours ago,” he explains.
    I look down at the receipt, and sure enough, it’s dated with today’s date. But that’s obviously got to be a forgery.
    Of course, Adam has never lied to me before. Not that I know of.
    He bends over, opens the cage, and pulls out the rabbit. The rabbit huddles on his lap, obviously already afraid of me. Adam strokes its white fur gently. He’s actually pretty great with animals, unlike me. “Now all we need is a version of this little guy that doesn’t need to eat or take a crap,” he says in a teasing voice.
    “Shut up,” I say, unable to take my eyes off the rabbit.
    “His name is Albert,” Adam says as the rabbit nibbles on his fingers.
    “Like Albert Einstein?” I ask.
    Adam looks at me blankly. “No, I just always liked the name Albert.”
    He wheels over to the step while Albert sits peacefully on his lap. Adam points to the laptop and shows me the screen. “We just have to adjust the settings,” Adam