“Yes. The other will show 1863 time. You won’t be able to reset the first dial—but for goodness sake remember to keep it wound—and set the second for ... 11:54, zero. That means in six minutes youll leave, to arrive at midnight. Remember to keep that one wound too, for youll go by that regardless of variations in local clocks. Whatever else happens, be in the center of the barn at midnight—allow yourself some leeway—by midnight, July Fourth. I don’t want to have to go wandering around 1863 looking for you.” “You won’t. I’ll be here.” “Five minutes. Now then, food.” “I have some,” I answered, slapping my pocket. “Not enough. Take this concentrated chocolate along. I suppose it won’t hurt to drink the water if youre not observed, but avoid their food. One never knows what chain might be started by the casual theft—or purchase, if you had enough old coins—of a loaf of bread. The possibilities are limitless and frightening. Listen: how can I impress on you the importance of doing nothing that could possibly change the future—our present? I’m sure to this day Ace doesnt understand, and I tremble every moment he spends in the past. The most trivial action may begin a series of disastrous consequences. Don’t be seen, don’t be heard. Make your trip as a ghost.” “Barbara, I promise I’ll neither assassinate General Lee nor give the North the idea of a modern six-barreled cannon.” “Four minutes. It’s not a joke, Hodge.” “Believe me,” I said, “I understand.” She looked at me searchingly. Then she shook her head and began making her round of the engines, adjusting the dials. I slid under the glass ring as I’d so often seen her do and stood casually under the reflector. I was not in the least nervous. I don’t think I was even particularly excited. “Three minutes,” said Barbara. I patted my breast pocket. Notebook, pencils. I nodded. She ducked under the ring and came toward me. “Hodge....” “Yes?” She put her arms on my shoulders, leaning forward. I kissed her, a little absently. “Clod!” I looked at her closely, but there were none of the familiar signs of anger. “A minute to go, it says here,” I told her. She drew away and went back. “All set. Ready?” “Ready,” I answered cheerfully. “See you midnight, July Fourth, 1863.” “Right. Goodbye, Hodge. Glad you didnt tell Catty.” The expression on her face was the strangest I’d ever seen her wear. I could not, then or now, quite interpret it. Doubt, malice, suffering, vindictiveness, entreaty, love, were all there as her hand moved the switch. I began to answer something—perhaps to bid her wait—then the light made me blink and I too experienced the shattering feeling of transition. My bones seemed to fly from each other; every cell in my body exploded to the ends of space.