The finger pointed at Matthew. “That is him?”

“Yes. When were you born, Matt?”

“March 4, 2030. Modern Era.”

“Not very,” the curator said dryly. “Are you willing to make the purchase contingent on verifying the bottle’s age?”

“Absolutely,” Arl said.

“I’ll stay in for a while, then,” the curator said, and disappeared, replaced by the floating number. Every time a new bid came in, it was topped by a number ending in the digits 37.

“That 37 is the LA museum system’s traditional code number,” Arl said. “Everybody local knows who they’re bidding against.”

“He didn’t question the idea that a time traveler brought it?”

“No. What, did you think . . . oh, you thought you were the first.”

“What, does it happen all the time?”

“No, just a few times. Ten or twelve, to my knowledge. We don’t know how to do it ourselves.”

“Did any of them come back from your future?” Martha asked. “Traveling back in time?”

“Not that I know of,” he said. “I thought that was impossible. ”

Martha started to cloud up again.

“We don’t know,” Matt said quickly. “I think I have evidence of at least one.”

“The ones we know about kept going forward.”

“Except the Chinese fellow,” Em said, “a couple of hundred years ago.”

“That’s right; he stayed. But he didn’t have a machineas such.” The chime and question mark again. “Question?”

An attractive woman of indeterminate age, wearing something gauzy, more like smoke than cloth, appeared and looked at Matt with a frown.

“I am Los Angeles,” she said. “You are the real Matthew Fuller? The assistant to the physicist Jonathan Marsh?”

“That’s right.”

“The historical record says you stole that machine from Professor Marsh.”

“History has it exactly wrong, then,” Matt said. “I invented the machine, and Marsh stole it from me.”

She brushed that away with a delicate wave. “I’m not concerned with crimes two thousand years cold. I would like to talk with you for a while, though. Perhaps a business proposition.”

“You’re Los Angeles, the city?”

“The county, you would say. I’m the intelligence that animates it and controls it. The spirit of Los Angeles. Perhaps you could come see me after the auction.”

“I’ll be glad to. May I bring my assistant?”

“Please do.” She gave Martha a quizzical look. “You should find something to wear. That makes me feel like sweating, and I’m not even human.” To Matt: “I’ll send a conveyance as soon as the auction is over.” She disappeared.

“Does that happen often?”

“Only at tax time. She can argue forever, in everybody’s house at once.”

Em touched Martha’s elbow. “Let me find you something to wear, dear.”

“But this iswhat I wear. I haven’t worn anything else since I was seventeen.”

“It’s a different world, Martha,” Matt said. “Let’s save the robe for when you get back home.”

“You could afford a few hundred outfits,” Arl said. The auction had reached 21,037. “You want to look nice for the city. Show her what you have, Em.”

“All right,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. “If I don’t have to show my chest.” Curious, Matt thought, that she could show her everything to him, getting ready for bed, but wouldn’t match the older woman’s degree of exposure. She probably hadn’t been in as many topless bars as Matt.

Arl went to the refrigerator and began taking out cheese and fruit. He pushed some buttons on a thing the size of a toaster; it hummed for a minute and produced eight round slices of what smelled like fresh bread.

“Are you two connecting?” he said. “Or whatever they call doing it in your time.”

“No. We’ve actually just met. And she thinks of me as much older than she is. Professor and student. But it’s really only a few years.”

“Were you serious about taking her back?”

“Haven’t thought it through, really. She’d like to go back to her time, but I’d find it pretty horrible. She wouldn’t like mine, either. Godless.”

“You do think you can go back?”

“There are physical models for it, none proven. But I think I already have gone backward, or will.” He smiled. “Tenses can be a problem. I think that I stopped off in 2058 just long enough to save my own skin. It could have been someone else, who looked something like me. But I left a message that almost had to be from a future me.” Get in the car and go!

“Open table,” Arl said to the floor, and part of it rose up and reconfigured into a table with two benches. The top covered itself in what looked like white linen, and he set out the plates of snacks. “Wine or coffee?”

“Coffee.” See whether two thousand years had improved it. “How much do I owe you?”

He cast an expert eye over the table. “It would be about 29 each. But we’re engaged in trading together, so don’t worry. I’ll take it into account when we settle up.”

He filled a carafe with water and it hissed, and the smell of fresh coffee permeated the room.

“I’d like to broker some of those old coins for you. Not too many; if people knew you had bags of them, the price would fall through the floor.” He poured coffee for both of us. “We’d better lock up the time machine before dark, though, or you won’t have any coins to barter.”

No need to tell him yet that the vault was not the time machine. “I’m not sure that we can close the door,” Matt said, “or open it again if we did.” He sipped the hot coffee and it was wonderful. “People would just sneak into your backyard and steal things?”

“Steal?” Arl gave Matt a mystified look. “If it’s not locked up, then it’s not stealing.”

Em and Martha came back. Martha was wearing a light blue shift with a gold chain around her narrow waist. The shift came to midcalf but was slit to well above the knee. She walked stiffly in an unsuccessful attempt to not look sexy.

“She shouldn’t hide so much,” Em said. “ ‘If you have it, advertise it.’ But she wouldn’t even show one mam.”

“We . . . we don’t do that,” she said.

“You didn’t,” Em corrected. “Now is not then. You ought to be comfortable.”

“Let me get used to this first,” she pleaded.

“If it’s any consolation,” Matt said, “you look wonderful. ”

“Professor!” She stared at the ground but did smile. There was an uncomfortable silence. She looked at the cheese plate doubtfully and broke off a small piece. She nibbled at it, made a face, and put it back. “I’m afraid it’s gone bad,” she said.

Arl stared at the piece she’d put back. “That’s a rare Italian gorgonzola!”

“Well, it tastes as bad as it sounds.”

“Gorgonzola!” Matthew snatched it up, rolling his eyes, and got a wedge of apple in the other hand, and took a bite of each. Martha stared.

“If you can’t lock the time machine,” Arl said, “can someone just step in and take it into the future?”

“Not possible, no. Only I can turn it on.” Well, it was true that only he hadturned it on.

“Then we could simply move the money, and whatever else that might have value, into my storeroom for the time being. If you decide to move on, I could deduct a reasonable amount for storage. Assuming that the coins do turn out to have some value.” He leaned back and looked at the floating sum, which changed from BC 35,700 to BC 35,937. “You wouldn’t have another bottle of wine in that bag? Or some other ancient collectible?”

“No, it’s stuff I need for time travel—to make the time machine work.” Like a gun and a porn notebook. “Maybe the bread and cheese would be interesting to scientists. Presumably it would be chemically different from what you make now.”

“I don’t think we have that kind of scientist. But I could try, while it’s still fresh.”

“ ‘That kind’?” Matt asked. “What kind do you have?”

“Well, I’m a food scientist myself. I know thousands of recipes. And Em has a doctorate in shopping science.”

“Arl is just as good at it,” she said modestly, “even without a degree.”