He found a secondhand copy of J.W. Dunne’s An Experiment with Time and lost sleep for a week. He copied off the charts from it, Scotch-taped them to his wall; he wrote down his startling dreams every morning as soon as he awoke. There was a time outside time, Dunne said, in which to measure time; and a time outside that, in which to measure the time that measured time, and a time outside that. . . . Why not? 

  . . . run backward run . . . 

 The homesickeness, though, that’s what eats you. Little things you never noticed. Some particular food, the way people walk, the games played, the small-talk topics. Even the constellations. They're different in the future. The sun has traveled that far in its galactic orbit. 

 He could become the richest man in the world, wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice. All he had to do was to take short trips into the future to learn what stocks had gone up and which horses had won races, then come back to the present and buy those stocks or bet on those horses. 

1. Donald and the Wheel (21 Jun 1961) Donald Duck
2. Sir Gyro de Gearloose (6 Oct 1987) Duck Tales
3. Time Is Money (25 Nov 1988) Duck Tales
4. Goofy Baby (27 Jan 2008) Mickey Mouse Clubhouse
5. Pluto’s Dinosaur Romp (3 Jul 2010) Mickey Mouse Clubhouse

 This cat is really nowhere; in some circles, we’d call him square. 

 Having conquered Time and Space, They have now returned to them, as children do to long-forgotten toys. The collectors of string, match-boxes, old bottle-caps, have finally inherited the earth, and the City, built in the first star-reaching flush of power, has now become a dusty antique shop stuffed with every period Man ever knew. People in queer costumes parade the streets; the Old Vehicles Club has outings along SP@ Ave. (and only They, who can control time and motion, could keep Anglo-Saxon carts and Hexabiles from the 4th archy going at the same pace.) 

 Upon the bit of flimsy fabric which emphasized, rather than concealed, her bosom, was a large name-pin reading Cleopatra. This she removed, the action revealing to astonished Hank two small but distinct areas on which he had never till this moment realized that rouge might be applied. 

 Too late. Emmeline’s little pale wreath slithered down the curve of a hoop and knocked a switch and two spirals as it did so. Again the Machine quivered. But this time something delecate near the circlet—another spiraled wire—was flicked to a new position. The Machine jarred. Al reached toward the three switches but only had time to pull one. 

 Don’t argue, dammit. I ’m talking to you from October ninth. I’m sitting in a boat, twenty-eight miles and two months from where you are and I’ve got a pile of newspapers, Georgie, that haven’t even been printed yet, back there in August where you’re talking from. 

 Yes, I’ve missed so much. I wasted a lot of time. If only I could have avoided the blind alleys, I could have done many times as much. 

 “The Alamo, sir.” A slow, steady excitement seemed to burn in the Britainer’s bright eyes. “Santa Anna won’t forget that name, you can be sure. You’ll want to talk to the other officers now, sir? About the message we drew up for Sam Houston?”