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two automobiles were absent； as was the shiny quarter marker。
He unloaded the paraphernalia from his pockets and from under his coat； only to realize with dismay that he hadn't taken a single photograph： not one fuzzy picture of a scowling policeman or an industrious sidewalk sweeper。 That omission was apt to be received with something less than enthusiasm。 Chaney fitted a tape cartridge into the recorder and flipped open his notebook； he thought he could easily fill two or three tapes with an oral report for Katrina and Gilbert Seabrooke。 His personal shorthand was brief to the extreme… and unreadable by anyone else…but long experience in the tank enabled him to flesh out a report that was a reasonable summary of the merce and Agriculture yearbooks。 Facts were freely interspersed with opinions； and figures with educated guesses； until the whole resembled a statistical and footnoted survey of that which Seabrooke wanted： a solid glimpse forward。
On the last tape he repeated all that he remembered from the pages of the Congressional Record； and after a pause asked Katrina if she knew what General Grinnell was doing now？ The old boy got around a lot。
Chaney left the gear on the seat and got out of the car to stretch his legs。 He looked at the western sky to measure the ing of darkness； and guessed that he had an hour or two before sunset。 His watch read 6：38 but it was two hours faster than the clock in the basement； the engineering limit of fifty hours was far away。
The inquisitive futurist decided on a tour。
Walking with an easy stride he followed the familiar route to the barracks but was surprised to find it dark… padlocked。 That gave him pause。 The building deserted？ Was he gone from this place？ Moresby； Saltus； himself； gone from the station？
This day； this hour； this now was two years after the successful tests of the TDV； two years after the animals had stopped riding into time and men had taken their places； this was two years after the launching of the field trials and the scheduled launch of the Chicago survey。 All that work was over and done…mission pleted。 Wasn't it then reasonable to assume the team was disbanded and returned to their own corners of the world？ Moresby； Saltus； himself； now working elsewhere？ （Perhaps he should have sent that postcard to himself at Indic。）
Neither Gilbert Seabrooke nor Katrina had ever dropped a hint of future plans for the team； he had assumed they would be disbanded when the Chicago probe was concluded and he hadn't considered staying on。 He couldn't imagine himself wanting to stay on。 Well…with one reservation； of course。 He would entertain the idea of a probe into the opposite direction： it would be sheer delight to poke and peer and pry into old Palestine before the arrival of the Roman Tenth Legion…well before their arrival。
He found himself on E Street。
The recreation area appeared not to have changed at all。 The post theater wasn't yet opened； its parking lot was empty。 The officers' club was already brightly lit and filled with music； but the second club nearby for enlisted men was dark and silent。 The pool area was closed for the winter and its gate secured by a lock。 Chaney peered through the fencing but saw nothing more than a deserted patio and a canvas covering stretched over the pool。 The chairs and benches together with the tables and umbrellas had been stored away； leaving nothing but memories clashing with a cold November evening。
He turned away from the fence to begin an aimless wandering about the station。 It seemed normal in every respect。 Automobiles passed him； most of them going to the missary； he was the only man on foot。 The sound of an aircraft brought his head up； his eyes searching the sky。 The plane was not visible…he supposed it was above the thickening cloud cover…but he could follow its passage by the sound； the craft was flying an air corridor between Chicago and St。 Louis； a corridor which paralleled the railroad tracks below。 In a few minutes it was gone。 A drop of moisture struck his upturned face； and then another； the first few flakes of promised snow。 The smell of snow had been in the air since morning。
Chaney turned about to retrace his steps。
Three automobiles waited side by side in the parking lot behind the lab。 His panions were back； neither of them languishing in a Joliet jail…but he suspected it would be terribly easy to get into jail。 Chaney lifted the hood of the nearest car and laid his hand on the motor block。 He almost burned the skin from his palm。 The hood was snapped shut； and he gathered up the gear from the seat of his own car。
The twin keys were fitted into the locks of the operations door and turned。 A bell rang somewhere below as the door eased open。
〃Saltus！ Hello； down there…Saltus！〃
The hurtful sound hit him with near physical impact。 The sound was something like a massive rubber band snapped against his eardrums； something like a hammer smashing into a block of pressed air。 It struck and rebounded with a tremulous sigh。 The vehicle kicked back following its time path to home base。 The sound hurt。
Chaney jumped through the door and pulled it shut behind him。
〃Saltus？〃
A sandy…haired muscular figure stepped through the open doorway of the fallout shelter below。
〃Where the hell have you been； civilian？〃
Chaney went down the steps two or three at a time。 Arthur Saltus waited at the bottom with a handful of film。
〃Out there…out there；〃 Chaney retorted。 〃Knocking around this forsaken place； staring through the fences； sniffing at the cracks and peeping in windows。 I couldn't find a spoor。 I think we're gope from here； mander…dismissed and departed； the barracks padlocked。 I hope we get a decent bonus。〃
〃Civilian； have you been drinking？〃
〃No…but I could use one。 What's in the stores？〃
〃You've been drinking；〃 Saltus said flatly。 〃So what happened to you？ We looked all over town。〃
〃You didn't look in the library。〃
〃Oh； hell！ You would； and we didn't。 Research stuff。 What did you think of 1980； mister？〃
〃I don't like it； and I'll be liking it even less when I'm living in it。 That milquetoast was re…elected and the country is going to hell in a handbasket。 A forty eight state sweep！ Did you see the election results？〃
〃I saw them； and by this time William has passed the news to Seabrooke and Seabrooke is calling the President。 He'll celebrate tonight。 But I'm not going to vote for him； mister…I know I didn't vote for him。 And if I'm living Stateside then…now…I'm going to choose one of those three states that voted for the other fellow； old What's…his…name； the actor fellow。〃
〃Alaska； Hawaii； and Utah。〃
〃What's Utah like？〃
〃Dry； lonely； and glowing with radioactivity。〃
〃Make it Hawail。 Will you go back to Florida？〃
Chaney shook his head。 〃I'll feel safer in Alaska。〃
Quickly： 〃You didn't get into trouble？〃
〃No； not at all； I walked softly and carried a sweet smile on my face。 I was polite to a mousy librarian。 I didn't sass the cops or buy any pork in a grocery store。〃 He laughed at a memory。 〃But someone will have to explain a parking ticket when they trace the l