I was completely stunned as I watched that scene. Future Marge looked furious; she had the kind of look I never even suspected she could get on her face. But I think I was more enraged at my future self than at her. At the time, I was seriously in love with Marge--although it seemed evident it wasn't going to last--and I loathed myself for acting that way toward her. And after all those rash promises I had been making, too! I was really a tangled mess of emotions as I watched our future selves battling it out. I became conscious of not being alone as I watched. It didn't take long to discover that it was Marge who had come to join me. I should have expected her--she must have been just as curious about her marriage as I was and, like myself, would naturally take her Projector to the two-year limit. Of course we couldn't hold hands the way we would have if our bodies had been there, but then we probably wouldn't have held them long. We were both pretty embarrassed by what we saw. The cause of the fight was very obscure, and though we saw and heard everything perfectly, we still didn't really understand. However, the emotions expressed were plain enough. "You aren't going to die, Marge," my future self was yelling at her. "Try and get that through your damned thick stupid skull!" "I am! I am!" she was screaming back at me. "You know I'm going to die. You want to get rid of me. Our marriage has been one long fight from the start." "Don't talk such damned rot," my future self hollered back at her. "There's probably a perfectly good explanation for it all and you're too ignorant to see it!" "The only explanation is that I'm going to die," future Marge insisted. She broke down, sobbing into an already saturated handkerchief. My future self stamped around the room, cursing and furiously kicking the furniture. "Why don't you find out for sure? Why don't you go in closer and find out the real reason?" She sobbed even louder. "I daren't! You do it for me. Go find out for yourself and then tell me." That seemed to make my future self even madder. "You know I wouldn't touch one of those things even to save my life. I mean it, too! Besides, if you do die, it'll be your own fault. You'll have _believed_ yourself to death! You think you're going to die and now you won't be happy until you _are_ dead." Future Marge began to sob hysterically and _my_ Marge, who had been right beside me, suddenly seemed to grow a little more remote. Then a strange thing happened. My future self stopped pacing up and down the room and turned to look straight at me with the queerest expression on his face. That was enough for me. I got out of there fast and flipped back to the peace and security of 2017. * * * * *