"So I can tell what's going on by the color-coding of the sand. But how can I be here at all? This is far outside my timeline! No, don't give me three
squeezes; I'll figure it out in a moment. I'm here—but not solidly. I'm like a ghost here. I can't touch anything, and probably no creature can touch
me or even perceive me. So it's like looking at a holo—the world is a holograph, less real for me than it seems, and it is not aware of me at all."
He paced along the paleontological terrain. "I can travel anywhere in time, probably, forward and back. But I can't do anything; it's just a visit, a
sightseeing tour. Only in my own time span—the span of my living life—can I actually affect the world. Once I figure out how."
Squeeze.
"Good enough. Let's go home now." He concentrated. Back to starting point—but not as fast.
The Hourglass glowed a little more brightly. The black sand changed color, becoming pink. The world moved.
The sun traveled across the sky, picking up speed as the sand darkened. Night came—and passed in a minute. Day and night, of course! He saw an animal,
in the day, but it was gone so quickly he had only a fleeting impression of something reptilian. The creature might have taken half an hour to pass,
but that would have been mere seconds to Norton. Rain came, making the herbiage sparkle momentarily.
The pace picked up. Now it was like an old-fashioned motion picture, the frames flickering; he was able to tune out the dark intervals and see the land
as a continuing thing, the plants growing and aging and disappearing. The seasons passed, but there seemed to be no winter here, just a browning of
some plants; this was before the day of deciduous trees. Overall, there was very little change.
Faster, he thought. The sand became a brighter red, and the world buzzed through its paces at accelerated velocity. A fir tree sprouted near him, grew
in seconds to a robust specimen, stabilized—and was abruptly gone. A bolt of lightning? Root rot? Life ended so suddenly for plants! But, of course, a
century or more had passed.
A hundred million years, he discovered, was a long time, even at the rate of a century a minute; he would have to watch, at this rate, for a couple of
years, his time. Full speed, he directed, and the grayness of impossible temporal velocity returned.
Then he remembered: he had changed his position! He had walked away from his starting point, looking at vegetation. He would land a similar distance
away—perhaps in the middle of a building. In the middle of a wall!
Before he could correct his error, the world firmed. He stood in the vacant lot, on the X. The two figures remained nearby.
