I kicked the thing to pieces and stomped on the pieces. Maybe you can't stop the progress of science, but I knew it might be millenniums before Doc's genes and creative environment were recreated and time travel was rediscovered. Maybe we would be ready for it then. I knew we weren't now.
Miss Casey leaned against my dirty chest and cried into it. I didn't mind her touching me.
"I'm glad," she said.
Andre flowed out of the doorway with a sigh. Of relief?
I would never know. I supposed I had destroyed it because I didn't want the human race to become a thing of pure reason without purpose, direction or love, but I would never know for sure. I thought I could kick the habit—perhaps with Miss Casey's help—but I wasn't really confident.
Maybe I had destroyed the time machine because a world without material needs would not grow and roast coffee.