"I have no successor," said Adams, coldly. "There's been no talk of one. I'm good for another hundred years. Maybe more than that."
"Yes," the stranger said, "for more than a hundred years. For much more than that."
Adams leaned back quietly in his chair. He put his pipe in his mouth and lit it with a hand that was steady as a rock.
"Let's take this easy," he said. "You say you are my successor…that you took over my job after I quit or died. That means you came out of the future. Not that I believe you for a moment, of course. But just for argument…"
"There was a news item the other day," the stranger said. "About a man named Michaelson who claimed he went into the future."
Adams snorted. "I read that. One second! How could a man know he went one second into time? How could he measure it and know? What difference would it make?"
"None," the stranger agreed. "Not the first time, of course. But the next time he will go into the future five seconds. Five seconds, Mr. Adams. Five tickings of the clock. The space of one short breath. There must be a starting point for all things."
"Time travel?"
The stranger nodded.
"I don't believe it," Adams said.