Ned started to yell something, but there was a curious flicker, such as he'd seen when Pete sent the dog forward. The time machine blurred over, its surface seeming to stretch into infinity while contracting to nothing at the same time. Then it was gone. Ned groped for the wine bottle, cursing, and drained the contents. Then he sat down to wait. Three days later, the police came looking for Pete, on some mysterious tip, probably from a fellow worker. It was a pretty rough time, for a while, though they finally decided it was just another mystery, and that Ned's yarn of having been there only to keep an appointment was true. Ned had influential friends, even if he didn't have money, then. For three years, he rented Pete's laboratory, before he made enough to buy it. For a decade, he lived in it; but by then he'd begun to know that Pete wasn't coming back. * * * * * "The building's still there," Old Ned finished. "The diagrams of his machine are still in the drawers. But Pete never showed up. I tell you, keep your fool grandson out of time machines, Lem. They don't work. Too many paradoxes--if they'd work, you could steal a future invention, get credit for inventing it, and nobody would ever have to invent it. When things have that many angles that can't work, the thing itself can't work." Lem shook his head stubbornly. "It worked; the kid got the cat back. Something just happened to your friend--maybe his power failed." "Then he wouldn't have gotten all the way--and he'd have reappeared years ago. Pete measured things--and there was no displacement in space. If something had happened to him, the machine would have been there, anyhow. Besides, I had alarms wired to call the police in--told 'em it was to protect a safe--the minute he showed up. He never showed up; he never came back." "So I suppose he just disappeared--time ate him up?" Lem's stubbornness was cracking a bit, though. His voice was higher than even an old man's should be. "I don't know. But time machines don't work. Otherwise where are the time travellers from the future?" They sat quietly for a second. Ned was remembering the years, up to the time he'd given up, disconnected the alarms, and come here to the Arts and Science Club to live. He'd been stubborn, maybe--a little bit--but Pete hadn't reappeared. Behind him, the young man cleared his throat, and the robot moved forward. But there was no rule against intrusion when no one was speaking, and the robot came to a stop. Ned looked back, just as the man decided the robot wouldn't interfere. There was more amusement on the man's face now, but the bitterness still lay there. He grinned at Ned, a familiar grin, and his voice was flat and positive. "Time machines work. And there are no paradoxes--absolutely no paradoxes!" Lem stirred, craning back, and Ned bristled. But something about the younger man caught back the words, as he picked up the thin thread of memory.