The moment of truth, the point of no return, the die was cast. Aaron turned the machine’s dial all the way to the left and said a small prayer to God. All right, he had to admit he didn’t believe in God anymore. But he was raised Presbyterian by his dead mother and father, so it all came back to him – God, grape juice, and the double funeral.
The machine warped through time backward. Aaron saw Albert Einstein wisk on by – then Abraham Lincoln, then Eli Whitney and the cotton gin, then George Washington and Marie Antoinette, then Galileo holding a compass, then Eleanor of Aquitaine and William of Normandy, then baby Jesus and Mary, Julius Caear … and it became a blur of togas, rocks, and clubs. And then asteroids and flames started filling the sky, and the ocean waters began to rise and fall, then the moon fell into the water and rose again. And then black silence.
The time machine made a heavy grinding noise, began to shake, and stalled. The black silence gave way to a murky cave with a pale blue haze above him. Aaron climbed up through the cave to the opening above, and looked outside. Peace and green and blue everywhere.
But he saw his shadow, so he went back inside for six more weeks.
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