“Mister Aardvark,” Proctor Lewis intoned, his voice an octave lower than Aaron typically heard in these plan reviews, “it is the Consortium’s determination that you may take the machine as far as the year 2063.”
Finally, Aaron thought – after all these months of pleading, after all this time submitting to the investigations, limiting himself to random sex only ten times per week, on the concern that too much might sway the jury’s decision – he’d be able to witness the future. What fun!
“A word of warning, however,” the proctor said. “We’re programming a chip into the machine. On your return, you’ll enter Purgatory Cove and remain there for two hundred eleven minutes, during which time you’ll be administered Acrovarstanin.
Aaron knew Acrovarstanin – the anti-memory drug. The Consortium would allow him to visit the future, but he wouldn’t remember any of it.
“You’ll fall asleep, during which time we’ll destroy any evidence of the future. And when you awaken, you’ll have forgotten anything that happened on the trip. Do we have your agreement?”
“Yes,” Aaron said, cursing inwardly. What was the point in visiting the future if he couldn’t relate his tales to Nero? But Nero had gone back to the Roman Empire for a few weeks to help his mother do the emperor’s laundry. Aaron had to get back there to fetch him. And then a thought –
“Hey, wait a second,” he said. “People do future time travel all the time without being forced to take Acrovarstanin. Look at Nero –“
“He’s not a sexual deviant like you are,” Proctor Lewis said. “He won’t corrupt the morals of a whole generation of hot guys and bodacious babes.”
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