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Jake poured out more of his family’s one-hundred-year-old Scotch from the old cellar. He didn’t usually drink, but he’d been at it for several days now. Time blurred. He stank. He didn’t care. On the table was the model for Marlowe’s utopian American exhibition. “Here’s to the future,” Marlowe said, and poured his Scotch over the whole thing.
Down the hall, fast footsteps rang out.
“Mr. Marlowe! Mr. Marlowe!” One of the scientists. He rattled the locked doorknob.
“I’ve told you, I don’t want to be disturbed,” Marlowe said flatly. Everything he’d built lay in tatters. He didn’t think he could take another blow.
“Mr. Marlowe! Please, may I come in?”
Reluctantly, Marlowe left his chair. He staggered to the door and unlocked it, leaving it open as he moved back to his chair and sat with a plop. “What is it?”
The excited man stopped to catch his ragged breath. “The machine, sir. It’s switched on. It’s receiving.”
Marlowe was suddenly alert. “Is there any word from him? Any new message?”
The young man nodded.
“What does it say?” Marlowe asked.
“‘I am ready. The time is now.’”
