“Denise is a strong girl,” Masterson said. “She’ll make out fine.”
“All right, if you say so.”
Masterson looked at Chuck, then said, “I hadn’t expected your younger brother to be with us.”
Owen grinned. “I wangled permission from the government. On the records, he’s my assistant.” Owen noticed the look that crossed Masterson’s face and he hastily added, “I think Chuck can prove mighty helpful on a hunt. This is his first time slip, but he knows prehistoric animals the way he knows house pets.”
Gardel lifted his brows incredulously. “Really?”
“I just know a few,” Chuck murmured.
Owen laughed. “A few, huh? He can name every beast that ever walked the earth.” He paused and then said, “And he could probably draw pictures of most of them.”
“Gee, Owen,” Chuck said, “I’m not really that...”
“When do we leave?” Masterson asked suddenly.
Owen looked at his watch. “In about fourteen minutes. If you’ll gather your party, I’d like to go over a few rules.”
“Get every one together, Brock,” Masterson said.
Gardel waved to the man in the truck. “Pete, come on over.” He nodded his head at the girl. “Denise, you too.” He turned to Owen and explained, “Pete’s our cook.”
Chuck had a good opportunity to study the cook and Masterson’s niece as they walked over from the jeep. Together, they formed a blazing riot of color.
Denise had glistening blonde hair that caught the rays of the sun and sent them shimmering across the field.
Pete, walking alongside her, had a fiery crown of red hair capping his skull. He was a corpulent little man, waddling next to Denise like a pet duck. His green eyes were sparkling and seemed to shower his face with thousands of freckles that fell helter-skelter on his skin.
Denise, on the other hand, was tall and slim, her hair clipped short on her neck, her eyes as brown as the earth. She smiled happily as she made herself comfortable in the tight circle.
“I’ll just give you the rules and the reasons for them,” Owen said simply. “We’re not here to argue them. These are all government regulations, and I have the authority to place under arrest any person violating them during the slip. Is that clear?”
Owen took the silence for assent, cleared his throat and went on.
“To begin with, no one is to shoot with anything but a camera when we get to the past. That’s the rule; the reason for it is simple. If hunters were allowed to kill off animals at random, we’d likely find a present-day species wiped out because we’d killed off all its ancestors. Remember that the present is built upon the past. Any change in the past will necessarily affect the present. Therefore, no shooting. Just cameras.” He smiled and added, “And I hope you’re bringing plenty of film.”
“Go on,” Masterson said, “let’s get on with this.”
“Second, no one will go within three feet of the force field.”
“What’s that?” Gardel asked.
“A field of energy enclosing a mile-square area. The invisible wall generated will keep the animals out and us in. I don’t want to chance any short circuit, however, so no one will go any closer than three feet from it. That’s the second rule.”
“This sounds like a school for bad boys,” Masterson said. “You’d hardly think I was paying — and heavily, I might add — for the privilege of going back into the past.”
Owen grinned. “I’m sorry, but the rules must be obeyed.”
“All right, what’s your next edict?” Masterson asked.
“Simply this. I give all the orders on this slip, and the orders will be obeyed. That’s all.”
“That’s enough,” Masterson said, a slight smile on his lips.
“Does everyone understand?” Owen asked. A chorus of yeses greeted his question. “Fine.” He looked at his watch again. “We’d better get into the trucks and get ready for the slip,” he said. “The process is all automatic, you know. We’ll have to move the stuff up a little.”
“Where to?” Arthur asked.
“See those white blocks set into the ground up ahead? Just drive up until your wheels touch them.”
Arthur started the truck, with Owen clinging to the running board outside the cab. Owen waved back and shouted, “Bring the jeep up alongside it.”
The truck stopped with its front wheels against the blocks. Gardel hopped into the jeep and brought that up, too. It stopped alongside the truck, looking like a sparrow perched near a mountain.
Owen looked at his watch again.
“We’ve got about four minutes. See those four red blocks in the ground?” He pointed to four large wooden blocks sunk into the ground to form the corners of a large square. “If we’ll just keep inside those while the Slip is in operation, we’ll all be fine.” He paused and looked at his watch again. “Any questions?”
“Plenty,” Masterson said. “How does the Time Slip work?”
Owen laughed a little and answered, “Everyone asks that. Truthfully, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Don’t misunderstand me. I have some idea of the principle behind the operation, but I certainly don’t know what makes that enormous machine tick. As a matter of fact, I don’t think any one man knows.”
“What’s the principle, then?” Masterson asked.
“Well, we’ve got to picture time as...” Owen scratched his head. “Now, let me see. How can I best explain this to you?”
He thought for a few seconds, and then said, “Well, picture time as a phonograph record. Circular, with grooves cut into the wax. You place your needle in the outermost groove and it works its way toward the center of the record. The picture clear?”
“Yeah,” Gardel said dubiously.
“All right, just take it a step further. Assume that the outermost groove of the record is the past. And the groove nearest the center is the present. When you play the record, the needle travels from past to present, right?” Owen glanced at his watch again. “I’d better hurry. We’ll be slipping soon.”
“I still don’t get it,” Masterson said.
“The point is simple. Most people erroneously feel that the past is dead and gone. But if we compare time to the record, we can see that the past is always there, coexistent with the present. For example, when we play the record, the first few bars of the song are over and done with as soon as the first groove is passed. But they are not dead and gone. All we have to do is move the needle back to the first groove and we’ll get the first few bars of the song all over again.”
“You trying to say that the past is going on right now, at the same time as the present?” Gardel asked.
“Exactly. All the Time Slip does is to move that needle, in effect. In other words, it slips the needle over the record, back from the innermost groove which is the present, to the outermost groove which is the past.”
“How?”
“By shocking us back mostly,” Owen replied.
“What? What’d you say?”
“When you’re playing your phonograph, a sharp bump will cause the needle to slip over the record. Same principle here. We’ll be getting a series of sharp bumps, so sharp and so fast that we won’t even feel them. Each bump will actually suspend us in time, like the needle popping into the air over the record. Each time we come down, we’ll be slightly farther back in the past.” Owen looked at his watch again and said, “We’ll be going in about ten seconds. I’ll have to cut this short, I’m afraid.” A serious look crossed Owen’s face, and he kept his eyes glued to the moving sweep hand of his watch.
“Nine seconds,” he said. “Stand by.”
Chuck felt a tight hand clutch his throat. Up until now, he had succeeded in keeping a firm grip on his emotions. But now they were ready to go! All the way back, far back into the past, back to the dim beginnings.