There was another time, like all the other times, except that Von Ulrich seemed much older, his hair thinner and now all of it gray. There seemed to be something tired about him, except for the brightness coming from behind his intense questioning eyes.
Suddenly he asked, "Barton, what time is it?"
Barton glanced at the chrono. "Quarter of four, sir."
"Keep looking."
After a while Barton said, "Still quarter of four."
"That chrono hasn't been working for three years. I stopped it three years ago. You haven't even noticed it, have you?"
"I guess not, sir."
"Take a long look out there, Barton. Nothing to see but blackness. No feeling of distance. Imagine your mind going out there, exploring, trying to fit in somewhere. You look out there, you project your thoughts out there, nothing comes back. So what time is it? Where are you in all this? There was nothing out here until you came along, not even any meaningful kind of time out here. But there has to be some feeling of time, Barton!"
Barton felt a tinge of uneasiness. He looked out. It looked cold.