ne
through is--basic training, you might say. You know now that it's
possible to travel through time, and what it's like. The initial
shock, in other words, is gone and you're better equipped to do
something for me in another era."

"Something else?" I stared at her puzzledly. "What else could you
want?"

"Let's have dinner first. You must be hungry."

* * * * *

I was, and that reminded me: "I bought a hamburger just before you
brought me back. I don't know what happened to it. My hand was dirty
and the hamburger was gone, as if I'd fallen somehow and dropped it
and got dirt on my hand."

She looked worriedly at the hand, probably afraid I'd cut it and
disqualified myself. I could understand that; you never know what kind
of diseases can be picked up in different times, because I remember
reading somewhere that germs keep changing according to conditions.
Right now, for instance, strains of bacteria are becoming resistant to
antibiotics. I knew her concern wasn't really for me, but it was
pleasant all the same.

"That could be the explanation, I suppose," she said. "The truth is
that I've never taken a time voyage--somebody has to operate the
controls in the present--so I can't say it's possible or impossible to
fall. It must be, since you did. Perhaps the wrench back from the
past was too violent and you slipped just before you returned."

She led me down to an ornate dining room, where the table had been set
for two. The food was waiting on the table, steaming and smelling
tasty. Nobody was around to serve us. She pointed out a chair to me
and we sat down and began eating. I was a little nervous at first,
afraid there might be something in the food, but it tasted fine and
nothing happened after I swallowed a little and waited for some
effect.

"You did try to escape the time tractor beam, didn't you, Mr. Weldon?"
she asked. I didn't have to answer; she knew. "That's a mistaken
notion of how it functions. The control beam doesn't cover _area_; it
covers _era_. You could have flown to any part of the world and the
beam would still have brought you back. Do I make myself clear?"

She did. Too bloody clear. I waited for the rest.

"I assume you've already formed an opinion of me," she went on. "A
rather unflattering one, I imagine."

"'Bitch' is the cleanest word I can find. But a clever one. Anybody
who can invent a time machine would have to be a genius."

"I didn't inven