"Say it again," he muttered.
He knew what the answer would be even before the man repeated it in that quiet voice.
"This is June 3, 2054."
The fellow wasn't kidding him. He was serious enough. But a couple of minutes ago it had been May 15, 1954. He looked at his watch and grunted. Less than four minutes ago it had been 1954. Reality. Now it was June 3, 2054. There were four steel walls. There was a steel chair. There were no windows.
He tried to take it calmly. But the unbelievable horror of being where he was and when he was and the man calmly repeating, "This is June 3, 2054," screamed for release.
"No! No! You're lying! It's impossible!" He grabbed the man's tunic and drew back a doubled fist. His chair went over behind him.
Then a stiff thumb jabbed him in the short ribs and he grunted and went down.