Mammoth

The food was a hamburger steak with gravy, mashed potatoes, peas, bread and butter, a slice of melon, and a cup of coffee. He ate it with the only utensil provided, a plastic spoon. The next two meals were pretty much the same.

THE second time he woke up it was to find two men in suits sitting at the table.

They were fairly unremarkable, with more of the bureaucrat than the cop or the torturer in their appearance and demeanor, perfect FBI types. One was blond, midthirties, tall and clean-cut, the only thing out of place about him being the argyle socks Matt could see above his black wingtips. The other was sixtyish, short and rather portly, with a rim of feathery white hair around a shiny pink dome of baldness, thick glasses, and a look of perpetual puzzlement on his smooth baby face. Matt felt somehow that he should know him. Later, when the questioning began, it was clear he was conversant with the higher mathematics needed to ask intelligent questions about time travel, so it was entirely possible Matt did know him; it was a small world. But he could never place the face with a name, and he finally put it down to a slight resemblance to Albert Einstein.

Argyle went first.

He started by emptying a box he had brought with him. It contained the things that had been in Matt's possession when he was abducted. He spread out the change, took every card and scrap of paper and dollar bill from the wallet, then opened the Swiss Army knife and meticulously opened all the seams of the wallet, searching for things that might be concealed there—a small display of arrogance and power that was not lost on Matt. He dumped the banded stacks of money from the canvas bag, riffled idly through them, and tossed them aside. He set out the three computers and turned them on.

The last item to emerge from the box was an ordinary glass marble, red in color, in a tiny square cage. He held it up to the flickering overhead light and squinted at it, turning it this way and that. At last he put it down and pushed it toward Matt with his index finger, and for the first time looked Matt in the eye.

"What is this?" he said.

"It's a marble in a steel cage," Matt said.

Neither Albert nor Argyle said anything for almost a minute, both of them looking down at the object on the table. Then Argyle looked up again.

"What is this?" he said.

Matt sighed. It was looking like it would be a long day. He had done nothing wrong, but he knew somehow that that would not matter to these people. He didn't really have a lot to hide, either.

Just one small thing. But, of course, that was what they were after.

"It is a component of a device I was hired to re-create for Howard Christian. He believed it would make it possible to travel backward in time. So to speak."

Albert jumped in.

"Explain that last sentence."

"It's hard to. I mean, the phrase 'travel backward in time' is an attempt to put into language a concept that the language is not equipped to describe. 'Travel' is almost certainly not the correct verb, 'backward' may or may not be a useful modifier to the concept of traveling, and 'time' is a concept that I've come to realize is far from adequately defined." "But you did go somewhere."

Albert was nodding. Argyle was gazing fixedly at Matt, mouth slightly open, apparently about as

sentient as a cow. Argyle took over again.

"Where is the time machine?"

"I don't know." Truth.

There was another pause.

"Where is the time machine?"

"It went somewhere I can't follow." Truth.

"Or somewhen?" Albert asked.

"Possibly."

Another long silence. Matt had never been interrogated before. But no literate human in America could be totally unaware of a few interrogation techniques. He supposed he was meant to feel a kinship to Albert, who at least seemed to know a little math and was conversant with some of the quantum dichotomies present in the idea of time traveling, and it was plain as could be that Argyle intended to be menacing with his silent contempt and simple, repeated questions.

Matt found he was indeed frightened of Argyle, very frightened. The man stank of suppressed violence and Matt felt sure that, if orders came from his superiors, Argyle would do absolutely anything to obtain the location of the missing time machine.

If he was supposed to like Albert, though, the man wasn't doing his job.

Albert spoke again.

"Matthew, are you aware that it is no longer necessary to hook a man up to a lot of wires and

clamps and springs to run a polygraph test on him?" "No, I wasn't, but I'm not surprised. Everything's high-tech these days, isn't it? I don't guess you

need rubber hoses or thumbscrews or anything so primitive to torture a man today, either, do you?"

Albert looked elaborately around the room, as if searching for instruments of torture.

"Have you been threatened in any way?" Matt laughed.

"You don't need a lawyer. You haven't been accused of anything. It's all perfectly legal. Haven't

you heard of the Patriot Act? We just want you to answer some questions."

"I have. You have more questions?"

"Yes, but there's no point going on with them right now. Your responses have not been entirely

forthcoming."

"You mean you think I'm lying?"

"No. You're telling the truth, but not all of it. You're hiding something." He gave Matt a small

smile. "I'm afraid I need to regroup a little, too. It's just possible I'm not getting the right answers because I don't know how to ask the right questions."

"Join the club," Matt said.

The inquisitors put everything back into the cardboard box and left.

MATT was not surprised when they drugged him. It was the logical next step.

There was nothing to prevent them from simply tying him down and jabbing a needle into him, but they elected to put it into his food, or his water. And what could he do? He had to eat and drink,

so he ate and drank, and then felt the strange feeling of euphoria overcome him.

He laughed.

They let him laugh for an hour, Albert and Argyle, and then came back in again. All they brought

this time was his computers.

"Good morning, Matt," Albert said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling great," Matt said... and then realized he hadn't said anything at all. He had opened

his mouth, he had taken a breath, he had sent the signals to his lips and tongue that should have produced words, but something had short-circuited and no words had come out.

He laughed again. It was very fu

"You know you have to answer these questions, don't you?" Albert said.

"Yes, I know," Matt didn't say, and laughed again. What was so fu

"Where is the time machine?" Argyle asked.

Matt tried to tell them. Without success.

Albert drummed his fingers on the table, then abruptly got up and left the room.

Matt and Argyle sat there for ten minutes, staring at each other. Argyle had absolutely no expression on his face, and no nervous ma

But he was not capable of worrying about such things at the moment. Thoughts, observations, conclusions entered his mind and were filed away impartially, with no emotional component. If Argyle had told him he intended to cut off Matt's arms and legs he would have filed that way, too, with no fear. Maybe Argyle knew that, and was saving his venom for a time Matt could appreciate it.