"...2011," Steve echoes, awed. He's not even an octogenarian, then, he's a... He doesn't know the word for someone who's ninety-five years old. Gosh.

He's noticed, too, all these people who know him from later on in time don't seem to be real forthcoming with details. Just that they know him. Maybe it's some kind of rule about knowing a guy's future, you don't tell him. Or something. He's still getting the hang of the multiverse.

"Pleased to meet you, Laura. Can I get you a drink or something? I could use a soda."