A crowd of sixty seven journalists, hand-picked by Eldridge Pahl’s publicist, filled the small conference room. When he came out, blue blazer crisp as his facial features, he raised a thick, masculine hand and he smiled like he was running for president. The cameras reflected off his forehead like gunfire from an impenetrable tank. Laney had already gone over the rules. The journalist’ that had been mailed a yellow pass were allowed to ask questions, in order of their number. They each had three minutes of Eldridge’s time.

“Mr. Pahl,” said a woman. “What precautions did your team put in place to assure your return trip?” Besides him, before the blue curtain backdrop, his wife stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She was his publicist. Eldridge flashed an endearing smile to her, then turned back to the crowd.

“Well, I do have a very strong desire to return to this time. I have two children.” They, six and eight years old, stood alongside his wife, one on each side. “We have thoroughly tested the machine. In fact, I have personally already travelled into the future.”

A series of gasps rose in the audience. “I was unaware that any testing had been done.”

Then Eldridge turned and looked behind a curtain. He said something which was inaudible to the audience. He said, “Is he ready?” He turned back to the crowd. “Ladies and gentleman, allow me to present to you. Me, from three weeks from now.”

A mirror distorts a reflection more than the image of the future Eldridge who walked out onto the stage, with a silver-hued endothermic space suit clinging to his Heisman trophy frame just like an astronaut’s. He shook hands with himself. And then, the crowd cheered; the image of the future man before them demanded sheer astonishment. The clapping and whistles took almost a full minute to settle.

The celebration subsided but the clamor did not; every journalist in the room had their hands and were shouting questions in a entwined mess of potential. What does it feel like? How long does it take? When did you leave? Is there a limit to how far you can travel? What does this mean for humans?

The man and his future self held their arms up in an identical fashion to try to quiet the room. When the room quieted they both looked over behind the stage and waved on the surprise. From behind the stage came another Eldridge Pahl, and then another, and another, and another, and another. In all, forty seven Eldridge Pahls came onto stage and lined up in rows, surrounding the podium. Their dress belonged to men in the beginning of time, and from the end of time. They had seen the world unravel, and they had seen it roll itself up again.