"I couldn't eat! After so much work—" I stared in fascination at the master switch—the door. "This is it, Marilyn! What I've been working toward all these years!"
She saw the way I felt and maybe she was a little excited herself.
"Go ahead, Ted," she told me.
I closed the door.
There was more ozone and a blurring in the middle of the room. We stepped away from the thickest of the blurring, where something seemed to be gathering substance.
The something, we soon saw, was a man sitting in a chair surrounded by strange apparatus, most of which I couldn't guess the purpose of. It was a very young man, when I could see him better, probably nineteen, wearing bright clothes in what I figured must be the style of 1989.
"Man-o!" he said. "This time machine is low Fahrenheit, o-daddy! Right to the bottom! It's the deepest!"