"New venture ... ground floor ... are you sure you're talking to the right person? I study fossils. This doesn't sound like my line of work. Besides, I've already lined up some fieldwork this summer." Ann ignored his question. "You should be a senior this semester," she said, "except you haven't fulfilled the core requirements. Just biology, geology, comparative anat-omy, and paleontology courses, some of them on the graduate level. You won't get a degree that way."
Rick sighed. "I've heard this before. Did my brother put you up to this?"
"No, I brought it up to make a point. Single-minded people like you generally have a hard time in this world. If you ever want academic work, you'll have to study literature and history also."
"Now I know my brother set you up."
"No, quite the contrary, I'm here to offer you a way out. To do what you love without the compromises." She pulled a small viewer from her pocket and inserted a disk. "This is raw input, straight from the datacam. Take a look."
Rick peered at the screen and saw an aerial view of an open landscape dotted with clumps of trees. The ground was covered with low vegetation upon which a herd of large animals grazed. The view zoomed in closer on the herd, and soon Rick recognized them. "They're ceratop-sids. Triceratops . .. Torosaurus
... I don't know that one ..." He watched for a while with fascination. "This is very realistic, who programmed this?"
"I said it was raw input. It's not computer-generated. It's realistic because it's real."
"You mean a theme park?"
"No. Real. Actual living animals."
"Genetically engineered?"
"No," replied Ann, "these are wild animals in their nat-ural habitat."
"Cut the bull," said Rick good-naturedly. "That's not possible. You're talking time travel."
"Yes."
Rick's only response was a derisive snort.
"Time travel's not only possible," responded Ann, "but you can experience it yourself. That's what I'm here to talk about."
"This has got be a hoax."
"My client requires strict secrecy, hardly what you'd expect in a hoax ... don't you agree?"
"How can this be real?"
"I don't expect to convince you," said Ann. "You can see it for yourself. I'm just here to make that possible. If you agree to go, I'm authorized to transfer a five-thousand-Euro advance to your account, plus provide you with airfare." Rick whistled at the sum. "That's real money," continued Ann, "maybe not proof, but a start."
Rick stared silently at Ann with an expression of dis-belief. She read his thoughts, and said, "You're not the only candidate. If you're not willing to listen, then I'm wasting my time." She shut off the viewer, put it away, and started walking for the door.
Rick watched her with a perplexed expression on his face. As she reached for the knob, he called out,
"Wait. Wait!"
"Why? You obviously think I'm a charlatan."
"Look, you appear out of the blue and tell me my wild-est fantasy has come true. Of course I'm skeptical. Who wouldn't be? If you were in my place, would you believe it?"
"Maybe not," admitted Ann, "but I'd keep an open mind."
Rick looked at her with indecision, as hope battled with skepticism. When he spoke again, it was as if he were pleading on behalf of hope. "All I think about is fossils. Searching for them ... imagining the animals that made them. Can I really visit their world?"
"Yes," said Ann.
"Why are you offering this?"
"We need a naturalist on our project."
"A naturalist?"
"That's what we're calling the position. Someone who is knowledgeable about the animals and plants of the area."
"The Upper Cretaceous, judging from what you showed me."
"Correct."
"Why me? Surely there are more qualified people."
"This is a commercial venture, not a scientific one. I think you meet our requirements perfectly. To be frank, we're looking for a tour guide, not a researcher. Someone with personality. Professor Harrington assures me you have one ... when your nose isn't in a rock."
Rick smiled at her remark. "Assuming that I don't wake up and find I've been dreaming, what kind of tours are you talking about? Aren't you afraid of having your clients eaten?"
"Of course, that's why we have a special aircraft for sight-seeing and our base is on an island. You'll be point-ing out the sights from a safe distance."
"Can I see that disk again?"
I've got him, thought Ann. "On one condition," she said, knowing she had gained the upper hand. "My client insists on strict confidentiality."
"Sure," said Rick, reaching for the disk.
"I'll need that agreement in writing. You must keep our discussion strictly confidential, regardless of whether you accept our offer or not." Ann produced some legal documents from her suit pocket.
"Where do I sign?" asked Rick.
"Read them first," insisted Ann. "There are severe sanctions for violating its provisions. This is a serious document."
Rick took the document and quickly skimmed through text specifying the damages should he ever mention someplace called Montana Isle, its physical or temporal location, or the means of traveling there without the ex-plicit permission of... Rick stopped reading and quickly scrawled his signature on the page. There was a faraway, eager look in his eyes as he said, "Okay, show me the dinosaurs again." PETER GREEN HAD listened to Ann's report about her meeting with Rick Clements and grudgingly conceded that he would do. Afterward, he had abruptly terminated the call. He did not wish Ann to feel comfortable about the situation. He certainly was not. He was already upset about that girl, Greighton's daughter. Now this naturalist, Clements, added another factor to his plans. Still another person he would have to include in his calculations.
Green paced about with an anxious restlessness. Then, for the third time that day, he left his office and entered the fenced area behind the building to check the time machine. It stood there looking almost exactly like the twentieth-century conception of a flying saucer. Just as in the old movies, the saucer stood on three legs with an open panel on its underside, which functioned both as door and staircase. Only the black solar panels on the saucer's upper surface marred its resemblance to the fic-tional spacecraft.
It was these panels that were Green's concern. The short, overcast winter days and the high fence cut down on their input. He climbed the stairs into the machine and went to the controls to check the charge. Little had changed; the machine would not be fully powered for another week. Damn! he cursed to himself, another week of exposure. If Greighton comes in on this, that's the first thing I want to change.
At least, Green thought, a* soon as the machine's ready, we can go. Part of the sales pitch for the resort was that, from the perspective of the present, a trip there would seem almost instantaneous. "Just think," ran the sales script, "you'll leave for a two-week vacation and return, rested and relaxed, only a few seconds after you departed." Such a getaway was easy to fit into anyone's busy schedule. It was a great selling point, and Ann had used it very effectively, all the more so, because she didn't know it was a lie. Green believed in telling the truth only when it was useful. By the time it was neces-sary to tell Greighton the truth, Green hoped that Greigh-ton would be on his side. As for the others, he would find new lies for them.
The idea of an instantaneous vacation had another ben-efit—no one would feel the need to explain where they were going. Everyone involved with the trip had agreed not to talk about it and probably wouldn't—for a while. It was the long term that bothered Green. He had little faith in nondisclosure agreements. It was his experience that people talked; a piece of paper wouldn't stop that. In the end, there was only one way to assure silence.