And Johnson's uncle fell down the cellar stairs and split his skull open. So Johnson became the owner of a thriving business after giving his uncle a simple funeral, because he knew his uncle wouldn't have wanted him to waste any more money on that than he had to. "But we have a time machine," Marilyn said fondly. "That's something Johnson would give us a lot on--if it worked." "We _almost_ have a time machine," I said, looking around at my life's work. Our kitchen was the time machine, with a great winding of wires around it to create the field I had devised. The doors had been a problem that I solved by making them into switches, so that when they were closed the coils made the complete circuit of the room. "Almost," I repeated. "After twenty years of work, I am through except for a few small items--" I looked at her pleadingly. "It will run about twenty dollars. Do you think--?" She didn't care much for the idea, but finally she slid off the wedding ring. "You'll redeem this first thing, Ted? Before any of the rest of the stuff?" I promised and took off at a dead run. Johnson didn't have to inspect the ring; he'd seen it before, and he counted out twenty dollars. That was the only item he'd give me a decent price on. He knew I'd be back for it. "How's the time machine coming along, Ted?" He had a little smirk, the way some people do when they hear I'm building a time machine. "Get in touch with Mars yet?" "I have no interest in Mars," I told him. "I plan to make contact with the future--about thirty years from now. And for your information, the time machine is practically finished. The first test will be tonight." He wasn't smirking now, because he never forgot the way I passed him in school and he had a good respect for my brain. He looked a little thoughtful--only a little, because that's all he was capable of. "You get to the future, Ted, suppose you bring me a newspaper. I'll make it worth your while. I've always treated you fair and square, Ted, now haven't I?" I looked over his shelves. Too many of those dust-covered items were mine. And I didn't have to be a telepath to know what he was thinking. "Maybe you'd like a paper with the stock market quotations, Uncle? From about thirty years from now, say?" The smirk was completely gone now. "You get something like that, Ted, I'll pay you! Wouldn't help you out any, because you have nothing to invest. Me now, I could buy something that will keep me in my old age. I'd give you a--hundred bucks for something like that." I laughed at him. A hundred dollars! Uncle always had his nerve. He was scowling when I left, still trying to figure how he could get in on the gravy, because outside of Marilyn he was the only person who ever thought I might succeed. * * * * * Marilyn cooked dinner for us while I was putting the final touches on the time machine. "Tonight we celebrate," she said. "Steak."