Aaron finally got a ruling on his petition and found the machine had transported him to ancient Rome. He emerged in a hovel in the forest, God only knew where, and walked to the nearest town.
“Who goes there,” a black-bearded man asked that evening when he walked by the market. “Halt and make yourself known.”
“It is I, Aaron Aardvark of California.”
“I’ve never seen hair that color, nor a face so white. Not even among the most northern of Romans. And your robe wears too closely to your legs.”
“I come in peace, kind man. Please forgive my odd appearance.”
The man reached for his knife, but paused. He squinted his eyes, looked at Aaron shivering in just dungarees and flannel. “Where is this California you speak of? Is it somewhere east of Persia?”
After a fashion, Aaron supposed. “Yes, it is quite east. I come to warn Caesar. He is about to be assassinated by his closest allies.”
The man grunted. “Never a more ambitious group did I ever see. Off you go then, in that direction.” He pointed and went back to his hides and pelts.
Aaron turned down the alleyway the man indicated. Before too long, the small houses of the village came further apart, and then he came upon the Senate. Light came from within. Aaron entered and just as he turned to confront the senators, he saw a three-ringed circus with ponies, acrobats, clowns, and a strong man.
“Once again,” Aaron thought, “Damn that time machine. I knew I should’ve downloaded the latest upgrade when it prompted me.”
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