"Dr. Wilman, are you ready?"

John Wilman regarded his assistant quizzically. "Would you be?"

"I beg your pardon, Doctor?"

John Wilman said nothing. Metaphysics was lost on his assistant. As was humor. Both of which were the reasons he had selected this particular indixidual to be his assistant in the first place.

"Nothing, Henry. I meant nothing by it."

Henry, used to such conversational detours, wisely kept counsel to himself.

"I suppose there's no need in checking everything again,' Professor Wilman stated aloud, more for his own benefit than Henry's.

"Doctor, are you sure about ... the press?" Henry pushed on without allowing an off-handed reply, "I mean, this is a momentous event. Certainly more so than anything that history has produced up to this time. Don't you think it should be recorded? For history."

Professor Wilman sighed but then chuckled lightly. "For history? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to make a joke." He waved his hand dismissively. "We've been over this, Henry. This first time, I want it to be a test. This is nothing more than another experiment. I would like to see if this device actually works before I reveal the existence of time travel to the press. I do not need a recorded witness if it should fail."

"You know it won't though, Doctor."

Professor Wilman paused in reflection, something he had found himself doing too much of lately.

"Yes, and that too might not bear recording either."

Henry merely provided Professor Wilman with a blank look. All Professor Wilman could think of in return was that Henry resembled a book without a cover. He did not trust people with blank looks: in fact, he did not trust anybody.

"Well," added Henry, solicitously, "history, at least, won't forget."

"I wonder," Wilman said aloud. He shook his head, his remaining white hair rustling slightly. "Let's get on with it. Everything is set? The date? The place?"

"Yes," Henry said. "Though I have never understood why you wish to go to that particular time and place. I'm not sure going to see ... well, seeing him would be my first choice."

"I can confess to you, my young man, that I am not certain of mv reasons myself. It just feels . . . right. Like it is something I should do."

Wilman stood up and approached the cubicle door. He peered at Henry once'last time through his thick spectacles. "If everything goes correctly, I should be back within seconds. If it does not go correcth', then I suppose I shall not be back at all."

Henry said nothing but merely afforded the professor another meaningless gaze.

Wilman briefly considered staying in the past, just to reach a time before Henry's birth so that there would be no chance of running into this individual agaim

Wilman closed the door and settled himself into the seat. He looked around at the dials, but knew them all by heart. So many years. So many years. just to reach this one point. What had he been thinking of when he was younger to spend an entire life for an experiment that was more likely to fail than succeed? No wife, no children, no life really outside the laboratory. What had possessed him? Well, soon he would know if it indeed had been worth it.

He glanced at the time and geography coordinates then pushed the button.

Nothing happened.

He had not been particularly sure just what he had expected to happen, but the nothingness of it did surprise him.

"No sense in staying in here forever," he said to himself, his voice sounding odd in the enclosed space. He stood up and opened the door of the cubicle.

The sight gave him some relief for the room he had just left was different than this one. And Henry was nowhere in sight. But had he indeed reached the year, the age, he had hoped for -- fortysix years in the past? That was the sixty-four dollar question.

Professor John Wilman stepped into the room.

"Well, well, John," a voice greeted him. "I see you made it."

Seated against a wall was a young man who was smiling up at him. But there was something about the smile that Professor Wilman did not like. Too smirky behind the eyes.

If he had not expected this, then John Wilman at his age could very well. have been a likely candidate for a massive coronary. But he had expected to see the figure who was now regarding him pleasantly. But he had not expected to . . . well, be expected.

"Are we surprised, John?" the young man said to his much oldervisitor. "I think it is safe to say so. Certainly I am surprised. Considering how much could go wrong, the possible variations, the . the overwhelming chance of it all. And yet you still made it. Now, that's what I call surprising."

Professor Wilman regarded his new acquaintance skeptically. "If I didn't know any better. . . " he said aloud but then stopped, his eyes narrowed at the~ sight of the young man in front of him.

"Maybe you should say, 'If we didn't know any better."' The man gave his smirky smile again. "Isn't that the proper way to address us? As we? After all, I just does not sound right since there are now two of us."

Professor continued to stare intently at the younger version of himself. At the man he had been forty-si:x years ago.

"Tell me, John -- may I call you by your first name -- after all, I feel I know you so well. Tell me, did you have to invent the biochip in order to overcome that nasty conversion problem?"

Old John Wilman merely nodded his head.

"I thought so," said his younger self. "And tell me, did it take about fifteen years for the technology to advance to use the bioChip?"

Old John pulled himself out of the brief reverie he had wandered into. "No, closer to twenty, iFthe truth be told."

"And then I bet you figured out that the bio-chip was only the beginning. Well, never mind. judging from your looks, I can surmise two things. One: you needed about twenty more years after the biochip. And two: they have not yet figured out how to stop aging. Or did you cease being vain in your -- our -- old age? Now why are you giving me that look. John. After all, I do know you." The young John Wilman waved a hand dismissively in the air. "Well, up to a point, I know you. That I will concede."

The older man moved slowly farther into the room.

"Obviously my plan worked," said the young John Wilman, that condescending smirk now firmly entrenched in his tone as well.

"Your plan?" echoed his older self still dumbfounded.

"Well, John, the mere fact that you are here at this exact moment verifies my statement. Yes, I planned all of it." He took a prolonged look at his wristwatch.

" But ... how?"

"How? Come on, you know me, John. But then, maybe you don't know me. Maybe you have forgotten what it is like to be young and impetuous and... impatient. Not to mention the s martest man on the planet. Maybe you have forgotten what is like to have all your hair, all your original teeth, afl your youth. My God, how could anyone possibly conceive of time travel without thinking of himself along the way is beyond me? I know I did. Well, we did. But I guess one of us has forgotten. I wonder who that could be, John."

"What exactly are you getting at?" the older John asked, more firmness returning to his voice.

"Now, that's more like the 'old'John Wilman," complimented the younger man. "That's more like the John Wilman who was willing to give up everything for his dream. Or is it more like the John Wilman who is going to give up everything? Or not give up? I don't know. I guess we will just have to invent a new verb tense which will make millions of school children even more confused. Or did our dear youth finally master the art of grammar? I doubt it."

"What are you talking about?" demanded the old John. This was not going where he had expected. This was not happening as he had expected. He had intended no interaction at all with his younger self. He had just wanted to see himself at an age when he still had dreams. When he still thought he might have believed in dreams.

The younger man regarded the older man seriously. "Are you saying you really don't know what I am talking about?" He shook his head. "You disappoint me, in a way. I would like to think that I would have seen through my own game. But obviously you didn't. I would love to chat forever, but if indeed everything is to go the way I intend -- intended for your sense of time -- then I believe that there are only about five minutes left before the machine returns to its old time."

"But ... but how could you know that? How could you know that I would come here, at this time, at this place?"

The young man shook his head. "If you are what I can look forward to in my old age, well then I am glad I am doing what it is I have done -- will do -- oh, who cares.

"Here's the story. I am now twenty-eight years old, as you know. And I am quite br-illiant, in my own way. But unfortunately I am not naive. I know quite well that time travel is achievable, but the cost will be a lifetime devoted to it. That means no family, no children, no weekends off, no pleasure in other words. But as they say, I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. So, being the intelligent person I am -- we are -- I -- we -- came up with a plan." He paused to smile at the thought "Have you ever heard theexpression: 'If only there were two of me, then I could achieve everything'? Of course you have heard it since I have. Well, I made two of us. And what is amazing is that I only thought of this last week."

The old man continued to stare incredulously at his younger self.

"Still in the dark, are you. Obviously senility is still the rage of the geriatric crowd in your day. As I said, I planned all this, John. Do you remember a drug that was later outlawed called Memo7? At least, I presume it is going to be outlawed. Do you remember that drug, John T'

The old man had to think carefully before he finally nodded his assertion. "That drug altered people's minds. It irreparably changed their..." He stopped suddenly.

"0h, so a few of those grey cells are still working.  Here's my plan: I use hypnotic suggestion before and after the drug. I hire someone to implant certain ideas before the drug and another hypnotist after the drug. Plus I start an investment portfolio and put in all the money I can get my hands on into it. That information too is blotted out. Fortunately I have a head for business so I may not be filthy rich but it will give me a start later on. After all, some forty, fifty years of reinvestment of dividends in blue chip companies should amount to something by now. Of course, now being your now."

"What do you mean'later on 'T' asked the old man softly.

"You mean you still haven't figured it out?" He shook his head. "You disappoint me -- I disappoint me." He stepped up closely to his older counterpart. "I have no intention of spending my entire life to invent a device for the good of mankind when that good comes before my own good. In other words, I come first. And where does that leave you, John. Exactly where you wanted to be. Here, in the past. You wanted to travel in time. Congratulations, you've done it. As for myself, I think I was bom to live in a different time. And to think that all I had to do was merely think of it. You did it for me, John."

" I won't let this happen!" cried the older man. "I won't agree." He moved forward menacingly.

The young John shook his head, almost sadly. "I am sorry that you don't appreciate the beauty of it all. But as for letting me, that was never part of my plan."

The young man punched the old man in the stomach with a quick left, then followed up with a rapid combination to the jaw. The old man teetered for only a few seconds before crumbling to the floor.

The younger man regarded the old man on the floor for a moment. "Knowing myself, I think I deserved that. Don't you, John?"

The old John Wilman was fumbling for his glasses which had been knocked off.

"Sorry, John, I must be off. I would really love to chat about new times, but I would rather make them myself than listen to yours." He shook his head in amazement. "I can't believe that you could actually forget what a conniving, heartless, cold-blooded s.o.b. you were when you were my age. It's hell being the smartest man on the planet, isn't it." He gave a small wave. "I will say hello to the future for you."

Young John Wilman stepped into the cubicle which disappeared a few moments later.

The old man groaned on the floor for several moments before he was able to sit up. Blood poured freely his split lips. He managed to stem the flow with a handkerchief which he worked out of his jacket pocket. Once he had regained his breath, he removed a device from another inside pocket.

"Well, my young self," he mumbled aloud through swollen lips, "unfortunately, I do remember what a jerk I had been. And I have not changed."

He opened a lid on the metallic device and read the panel which provided him with the affirmation that his earlier plan was being implemented. A plan he had devised in case something would go wrong. After all, he did not trust anybody. Even himself.