A. Because, being in hyper-time, the slip-up is both in the past and the future in simple time. The last trip is going on now.... * * * * * Katherine was lying on the lab sofa with her hands behind her head. The sofa was shabby and was alleged to have belonged at one time to a psychoanalyst. Its present function was to offer temporary rest to anyone working late in the lab. Today was Sunday and no undergraduates were there. "What are you fiddling around with, Phil?" Katherine asked. "The electron microscope," he said. Phil Kaufman was an assistant physics professor, short, bony and intense-looking, and at the moment he was engaged in extra-curricular research. "You know, I bet this old chaise-longue could many a tale unfold," she said. "Well, according to rumor, many have been unfolded on it." "Professor, your mind wanders. I'm thinking of its previous condition of servitude. Think of the dreams it used to hear." Phil Kaufman didn't answer. There was a pause and she said, "This afternoon you're working with the microscope, and last night it was the telescope. You were in the observatory until dawn." "How did you find that out?" "I have my methods, Watson. I don't see how you expect to keep going on no sleep at all. Russ is worried about you." "Pro or con?" "Pro, of course. He likes you very much. In fact, he thinks you are the best brain on the faculty." "Coming from the president, that's praise indeed." Phil got up and went to a desk, where he looked at some notes. "Speaking as my boss's wife, would you say he was pro or con about this work I'm doing?" "I would say he can't make it out. Alternating between the Microcosm and the Macrocosm. Incidentally, why don't they call that thing in the observatory a macroscope? I don't think Russ is very good at understanding the unfamiliar. I was telling him about the concept of hyper-time the other day, and his reaction was one of solicitude--he got me a drink." Katherine stretched her arms. "What are you doing now?" "Checking some figures. You know, that was odd, your bringing up the business of hyper-time. This thing I'm working on seems to involve it." "Oh?" Katherine put her arms behind her head again. "Tell me something, Phil--what does he look like?" "Doctor Russell Farley?" "Yes. I suppose it's a funny sort of question to ask about one's husband. How does he look to you?" "Like the youngest college president in America, I guess. Brawny but brainy. You make what they call a handsome couple." "Yes, I was going to ask you what I looked like, only it's a waste of time. People never tell you." "I can," Phil said, "but I won't, for fear of giving you a swelled head." * * * * *