"Look, mister—"
"You haven't guessed what's happened, have you? We have it pretty well analyzed at this end. But we didn't really suppose your technology would be equal to it back there."
"Look, just who are you, and where are you?" I said.
"My name is Zon Twenty, as I told you. I'm an historical technician in the Office of Ancient Research in Washington, the capital of the planet, Earth. I'm an Earthman myself, of course. My job is to prepare studies of ancient civilizations such as yours—"
"Now, wait—what kind of a gag is this?"
"A gag? Oh—that's the ancient term for a joke. Good! I'll make a note of that!"
"Come on. Who is it? Did Clipper Moskowitz put you up to this?"
"Oh, dear," said Zon Twenty, and I could hear his heavy sigh. "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to grasp the situation. I'm going to have to offer proof, I suppose. Look here—exactly what date is it where you are?"
"I told you. 1955."
"I mean what month and year?"