In Search of the Time Traveler

Welles and Wells

Orson Welles and H.G. Wells in San Antonio, Texas, October 28, 1940

The Second Hunter and Ellison Time Travel Adventure and immediate sequel to Tracks Across Time.

“Seventy percent of all archaeology is done in the library. Research. Reading.”

“Thank you, Wyatt. I recognize the quote from the 1989 film Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. One of Harrison Ford’s lines I believe.”

“Of course you recognize it, Josue. That’s why I said it. Only a Historian would have understood what I meant.”

“Which explains why we’re here, the library I mean.”

“Precisely. We’re here to find our mysterious Time Traveler.”

For weeks, Josue Hunter and Wyatt Ellison, two of the top Historians at the Balancing Point Institute, had examined the ancient time machine, created in the late 19th century and almost publicly uncovered in 1966. Only Hunter’s and Ellison’s intervention, which happened to be their job, prevented the premature discovery that time travel was possible. If humanity, or any subset of it, came into possession of a working time machine, the normal time line would be drastically changed, perhaps in both directions, forward from 1966, and backward.

They knew the time machine was invented by someone at the Royal College of Science in 1885. They knew that H.G. Wells, who was attending the College on a scholarship at the time, was acquainted with the Time Traveler and used the Traveler’s invention as the basis for the 1888 short story “The Chronic Argonauts,” and later for his famous 1895 novel “The Time Machine.”

The log of the initial time trip Ellison retrieved from the Time Machine, which now resided with many other historical artifacts at the Institute’s Antiquities Store, revealed that the Time Traveler spent a week in London in early September of 1940, right before the Nazi Blitz began, then travelled up the time line, finally stopping at April 2nd, 8885.

Then the Traveler came back in increments, stopping in 2015, 1960, and 1946, before returning to 1885. The stop in 1946 was the most telling, because it was the day history records that H.G. Wells died.

They knew the Traveler had taken several more trips in time in 1885 and 86, but they weren’t sure how many. They also knew that at some point, the Traveler took the Time Machine forward to some date prior to 1966 and abandoned it, but just when was that?

“We have to discover who the Time Traveler was or is.” Wyatt still had trouble with tenses given the nature of his work. After all, should they consider the Traveler to be alive or dead…or both?

“We’re looking for someone who attended the College at the same time as Wells, but who would have vanished without a trace sometime in 1886.

The Library was virtual. They could access it from anywhere, including their temporal lab, but Ellison preferred visiting the physical access point at the Institute’s “main branch”. Some Historians were just “old school” and wanted a “Library” experience.

It was a vast digital repository of every scrap of historical information available, both from traditional data sources, and from what was learned by each Historian in their trips to the past.

The volume of documentation was almost inexhaustible but not totally comprehensive. History and time still had secrets to keep, including the identity of the Time Traveler.

“The school records themselves state that three students dropped out of the College during 1886, Alister McClellan, Boyce Wrightwell, and Colbert Mann.”

“Cross-referencing those names now, Josue.” The screen flickered momentarily. “No good. All three appear subsequent to 1886. There’s a death certificate for Wrightwell. Hit and killed by a Trolley in 1890. Marriage certificates for McClellan and Mann, 1886 and 1891 respectively.

“Death certificates, too. Mann became a correspondent and died in France in 1916.”

“World War One, Josue?”

“Right, Wyatt. He was too close when the engine of a Spad decided to throw a rod. Head injury. Killed instantly.”

“What about McClellan?”

Died in…1946? Same year as Wells. No, January 4th in Leeds. For a second, I thought we had an unreasonable coincidence.”

“In this case, coincidence means time anomaly.”

“Not here, though.”

“A graduate? I mean someone who graduated in 1886?”

“Cross-referencing, but it’ll take several minutes. While we’re waiting, try looking at the faculty. You never know.”

“Right, Josue. I’m on it.”

Hunter and Ellison silently manipulated virtual keyboards and it was Wyatt who spoke next. “Nothing mysterious about the facility during that time period. Only one left the College at that time and it was to take a sabbatical in Germany. Returned the following year.”

“Wait. We’ve got something. Three, no, make that two disappearances.”

“Why not three, Josue?”

“The system hiccupped for a second. Arthur Reeves boarded the RMS Titanic late on April 9, 1912, and we all know what happened on the 14th.”

There were certain events that sometimes caused momentary data retrieval faults and anything to do with the Titanic during April of 1912 was one of them. The disappearance of Amelia Earhart was another, as well as the assassination of U.S. President John F. Kennedy. There was a general Institute directive for Historians never to attempt to visit those events or several others like it on the list. It was rumored that these events, though part of the normal time line, represented anomalies so profound that they either prevented a time portal from being formed or, a Historian arriving at or near those events would never be able to return to the present.

“Okay, so what about the other two?”

“Looks like a Mr. Phillip Remington joined a research expedition to New Guinea in June 1886. I can’t find any mention of him or the expedition in any subsequent records, Wyatt.”

“The information could have just been lost. We don’t have a total record of history. What about the other one?”

“Now this is interesting. Heloise Amanda Westcott.”

“Let me guess, the College’s only female graduate up to that point.”

“Not quite. There were two other women to attend the College before Westcott, but only one graduated.”

“Anything special about her besides being an extremely early participant in STEM education?”

“Yes indeed, Wyatt. Supposedly, she moved back into the family home with her brother, Charles Joseph Westcott. Their parents had died some years before and they inherited the house and a small fortune, which incidentally paid for Ms. Westcott’s tuition.”

“I think back then, she’d have still been a ‘Miss,’ Josue. Then what?”

“Then nothing. No marriage certificate, record of her having children. No death certificate.”

“The brother?”

“He had modest success as a painter. Known during his active period, actually up to his death, but then his works faded into obscurity.”

“I mean what happened to him. When did he die?”

“Holy cats. July 31st, 1940. That was a month before the date the Time Traveler stopped and spent a week in London.”

Ellison and Hunter turned to each other and said in unison, “Time anomaly.”

“You’re going to love this, Wyatt. The family home, where Miss Westcott went to live and supposedly spend the rest of her life, where her brother lived until his dying day. We’ve been there before.”

Wyatt looked over Josue’s shoulder. “That address in Richmond, Surrey. It’s where we found the Time Machine. That must mean Heloise Westcott is our Time Traveler.”

“I’m expanding the parameters searching for any mention of a Heloise Amanda Westcott circa 1940 and going forward.”

“If she set up a permanent identity for herself in her future, she doubtlessly used a pseudonym, Josue.”

“Nothing ventured, Wyatt.” The results of Hunter’s search query arrived at that moment. “But you’re right. Nothing, at least nothing specifically referencing that name. I have a ton of responses regarding Amanda Westcott all the way into the 21st century.”

“Not that uncommon a name. I think I even went to elementary school with an Amanda Westcott.”

“Then we’re out of options.”

“Not quite. There’s the data from the ancient Time Machine to consider.”

“What data, Wyatt? We’ve gone over the log of Westcott’s original trip through time with a proverbial fine-toothed comb.”

“I’m talking about the machine’s capacities.”

“Such as?”

In the Wells novel, the machine could travel forward and backward in time, but not geographically. It always existed at the same physical coordinates, longitude and latitude.”

“Right, so? Oh I see.”

“Exactly, Westcott built her machine so she could move geographically as well as temporally. If, for example, she started her trip in 1886 in her home in Surrey…”

“…she could move to other places. Anyplace on the globe?”

“In theory, but I suspect she limited the physical shifts to the general area of London and the immediate surroundings, let’s say, fifty kilometers or so.”

“What if she materialized into some building that didn’t exist in the past?”

“The machine has an on-board computer that would prevent it. The device would either move forward or backward in time as necessary, or the physical geographic location would be adjusted to prevent it.”

“Wyatt, this is an incredibly sophisticated device. How the hell did she build it with the materials, technology, and knowledge of the late 19th century?”

“That’s a question only Westcott herself can answer.”

“Maybe not. We know she had a confederate in 1885.”

“You mean Wells.”

“Right. I say we look up H.G. Wells and see what he can tell us.”

“You think we’ll really get permission to do that, Josue?”

“We’ve already got it.”

“You what? You approached the Council? This was supposed to be a secret.”

“Wyatt, you said it yourself. Heloise Westcott represents one of the largest if not the largest temporal anomaly we’ve ever detected. For all we know, our time line has been contaminated for centuries. To undo it, we have to find her, have to stop her from reproducing, have to stop her from spreading her descendents throughout the time line.”

Ellison took a deep breath. The Time Machine represented everything he had ever desired as a Historian. The chance to find a working time machine from the past was a childhood fantasy. H.G. Wells’ “Time Machine” novel was among his favorites (it’s considered one of the top ten favorites of all Historians). He didn’t like the idea that the Council was involved. It made the mystery of Heloise Westcott just another mission.

“What do you suggest?”

“Death bed confession. We visit the old boy on August 13th, 1946 and get him to spill everything he knows about her, including her last destination in time.”

“What makes you think he knows?”

“She visited that date on her first voyage. Your own analysis of the logs tells us it was Regent’s Park, London, Wells’ home.”

“That’s no good. Wells’ death is an anomaly point. We can’t visit it. There were other reports that he really died of a heart attack at a friend’s flat in London. Even today, we’re not sure what the truth is.”

“Then how about a few days before?”

“How about August 31st, 1940?”

“That’s the date of one of Westcott’s visits, the one where she spent a week. Why then?”

“Maybe she had a good reason to stay a week in the vicinity of Wells’ home the first week of September. That was in the logs, too, Josue.”

“We both know it’ll be tricky.”

“Right. Normally, we get exact coordinates for a temporal jump from the Temporal Event Indicator. It’s what zeroed us in on the location of the Time Machine in 1966.”

“This time, we won’t be using the Indicator.”

“Which means our coordinates will be approximate.”

“So what? Historians have made approximate jumps before. It’s not common, but it’s not unheard of, either.”

“It’s a little unpredictable. We might not have a lot of control over where and when we arrive.”

“The variation is never more than a few weeks to a few months and maybe a kilometer off at most, Wyatt.”

Ellison pondered for a moment, but the prospect of chasing down the world’s first Time Traveler was too tempting, and the risk she represented to the time line was too great.

“Okay, Josue. August 31st, 1940 London, here we come.


“I’ve set the Wayback for the early morning hours of August 31st. We should find Wells at home. He was actively writing during that period of his life.”

“Right, Josue. He was also actively fretting over the outbreak of World War Two in September of 1939, something he predicted in his book “The Shape of Things to Come” in 1933.

“One crisis at a time, Wyatt.”

Both had been properly attired, so their appearance wouldn’t attract undue attention. Even as adept Historians with a great deal of information committed to memory, they had undergone artificial augmentation, the result of which is that they would act and even feel as if they were natives of the time and place they were visiting.

Normally, trips back in time were scheduled to last a particular interval, such and thus hours, minutes, and seconds. However, this trip required that Hunter and Ellison control the duration, so they both possessed a retrieval signaling device that was temporally linked to the Wayback. One push of a button by either of them and they both would instantly find themselves back in the present.

“Stealth device engaged. No one will see or hear our arrival, Josue.”

“Unitools and retrieval devices morphed into time pieces and cigarette lighters respectively. We even each carry a pack of cigarettes.”

“Good thing those drugs were banned centuries ago. Yuk.”

“Also a good thing our bodies have been adjusted to tolerate the environmental contaminants in 1940. You could even smoke one of those things and it wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Except for the taste. Our Initial Trainer made us try one once, remember?”

“I’ll never forget it, Wyatt. If we have to smoke one for the sake of playing our role, try not to vomit this time.”

Josue knew Wyatt hadn’t actually vomited, but his first reaction to taking a puff was to violently gag. Sure, they’d all reacted badly, but Wyatt’s performance was the most outstanding.

“The Wayback is set. Friday, August 31st, 1940, here we come.”

“Would you quit saying that?”

The familiar hum filled the room and the large, metallic looking ring standing upright before them represented their portal back through the centuries. The field surrounded Hunter and Ellison and then they were gone.

“Yikes! Whoever heard of a snowstorm in August? Josue, what happened?”

Ellison and Hunter were standing across the street from the home of H.G. Wells but it was definitely not August 31st.

Hunter checked his watch which was really his unitool. He set it to show him the log of their journey to the past.

“It’s…” Josue was shivering with the cold. “…Tuesday…January 2nd…1940.”

“The…approximation effect. We’re over eight months early.”

“Hurry. Let’s get to Wells’ house before we freeze.”

There was some road traffic, but not much, either because of the snow or gas rationing. The two time travelers managed to make it across the street, although Ellison slipped and nearly fell just before he got to the opposite sidewalk.

Hunter rang the bell several times. He thought of retrieval back to the present, but there was no guarantee that a second trip would get them closer to August or, if they went back for winter clothing, that they wouldn’t end up arriving in August anyway.

After a frozen eternity, the door opened. “You gentlemen seem quite impatient.”

It was Wells himself. They’d expected a maid or some other servant.

“Whatever are you doing out in such weather without winter coats?”

Hunter had intended for his introductory remarks to be more stoic, but he just managed to pull his identification out of his inner jacket pocket and present it to the seventy-three year old Wells. “Joseph Hunter, Scotland Yard. This is my associate Wyatt Ellison. May we please come in?”

“Yes, of course, gentlemen.” Wells pulled the door open wider and stepped aside letting them in.

He closed the door and turned to them. “I have a fire in the study. Perhaps you would enjoy warming up there.”

“That would be wonderful, Mr. Wells. Thank you.” Wyatt took off his hat and was brushing off the snow, then tending to what had collected on his jacket. Josue did likewise, then they followed an obviously puzzled H.G. Wells down the foyer and through the open doors of his study.

Wells bid them both to sit in chairs by the fire and let his visitors warm themselves for several minutes.

“May I offer either of you some tea or other refreshment?”

“No, Mr. Wells.” Hunter would have preferred a steaming hot cup of coffee, but chances are Wells didn’t have any on hand. “We are quite fine. However we do have some business with you.”

Then taking a seat next to them, he inquired, “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Scotland Yard, even a underdressed one?”

By this time, Hunter and Ellison had composed themselves and were ready to play out their roles as police inspectors again.

“We’ve come about a person you went to school with, Mr. Wells. Heloise Amanda Westcott.” Hunter used the most “Joe Friday” voice he could muster.

It was clear that for several seconds, Wells couldn’t remember her. Then, “Oh, yes. I recall now. We both attended the Royal College of Science for a time. I had an acquaintance with her before she graduated. What of her, gentlemen?”

“I believe you’re playing coy with us, Mr. Wells. We know Miss Westcott developed a device in 1885 and we know you were aware of its capacities.”

Wells looked at Ellison with what seemed to be genuine confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand Inspector…?”

“Ellison, Wyatt Ellison. Mr. Wells, Heloise Westcott invented a time machine and you knew of it. Either you discovered this information by accident or she told you about it. Don’t bother to deny it. I can give you an exact description of its appearance and capacities.”

Hunter and Ellison were taking a shot in the dark. If Wells continued to deny his knowledge of Westcott’s time machine, they couldn’t force him to talk, at least without great effort. This would have been more effective if they had come during or after Westcott’s visit in August 31st.

Wells looked at Ellison and then turned to Hunter. He looked them up and down as if attempting to determine why two Inspectors from Scotland Yard would visit on a bitterly cold winter’s morning dressed as if it were summer.

“Are you truly from the Yard or at least this Scotland Yard?”

Hunter got that ‘Oh crap’ feeling. Wells knew. He knew they were time travelers. They’d come trying to stop one time anomaly only to create another.

“Mr. Wells. We know Miss Westcott is a time traveler. We know at some point, she chooses to stay in the future relative to 1886, the last time she used the machine in her original history. We just need to know where…when to find her.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything, gentlemen. I have no idea of where or when she is.”

Are you absolutely sure, Mr. Wells? This is incredibly important.” Ellison held Wells’ attention while Hunter checked his unitool which was set to assess the older author’s physiological and electroencephalographic responses, being in essence, a sophisticated lie detector.

“I assure you both that I don’t know where Miss Westcott can be located.”

“He’s telling the truth, Wyatt.”

“Fine. So when is the last time you saw her?”

Wells hesitated. “Last September. It was when the war broke out. Of course she knew. She’d already looked ahead. I assume you gentlemen don’t find that quite impossible.”

“No we don’t, Mr. Wells. Why did she visit you?”

“To reassure me, Inspector Hunter, if you’re really an Inspector. To reassure me that there would not always be war, although there will be wars after this one.”

“She gave you detailed information?” Hunter took over again as the lead questioner. It was Ellison’s turn to covertly use his unitool to determine Wells’ level of truthfulness.

“No, of course not. She has better ethics than you credit her for, Inspector. However, we have become close friends, I being one of the few individuals she can confide in. She knows my sentiments regarding war.”

“As do we, sir. I assume we can rely on your integrity not to discuss this conversation with anyone.”

“Inspector Hunter or Mr. Hunter or whomever you actually are, I have kept Heloise’s confidences for the past fifty-five years, barring my disclosure to the two of you. You may rely in my discretion in this matter as well since, after all, it amounts to the same thing.”

Ellison stood and Hunter followed his lead.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Wells.” Hunter extended his hand and Wells shook it, then repeated the action with Ellison. “It seems we have no further questions.”

As the duo turned to go, Wells stopped them. “I don’t suppose you can tell me who you actually are and what business you have with Miss Westcott?”

“No, Mr. Wells.” Ellison spoke with a combination of nostalgia and chagrin. “We’ve already said too much.”

“I believe I understand, gentlemen.” Then, almost whispering conspiratorially, he continued. “Say ‘hello’ to the future for me.”

Ellison was tempted to respond, but there was no use in giving Wells any more information than he already had. “Good-bye, Mr. Wells.”

“Let me see you out, although how are you going to survive in such weather?”

“We’ll manage.” Hunter wasn’t looking forward to the cold again, even for a few moments.

Wells bid them a farewell, and then Hunter and Ellison stepped outside and down the stairs to the sidewalk as Wells closed his front door.

“Quick, before he can get to a window.” Ellison pressed the Retrieval button and activiated the Wayback. The Stealth technology hid their disappearance, and even if anyone had been looking at them directly, it would seem as if they’d seen two men at one moment, looked away, and then looked back to see them gone.

The glow and hum of the portal ring died as both travelers brushed off snow from their clothing that had fallen hundreds of years ago.

“Damn. Back to square one.”

“Maybe not, Josue.”

Wyatt sat at his console and started keyboarding. His screen flickered and he looked at the data he recalled for nearly a minute. Josue went over to the food station and called up a hot, steaming cup of Sumatra. He was sipping and warming his hands on the cup when Wyatt said, “Look at this.”

“What is it?” Josue stood behind his partner and looked at the screen.

“The Time Machine. When we found it in August of 1966, it had been buried for approximately twenty-six years.”

“1940. The machine was buried in 1940, but when?”

“The analysis took some time. The materials the machine is made out of all but defies chronological analysis, but the covering, we traced it to a plastics manufacturer in Oakland in 2015, finally yielded a pretty good idea of the date. The time machine was buried under the basement of the house in the Westcott home sometime in August or September.”

“Maybe that’s why we couldn’t get to late August 1940, because the date of the burial of the 19th century Time Machine is a time anomaly, Wyatt.”

“If that’s true, then maybe we’ll never find Westcott.”

“Unless we look up Mr. Wells again, after it was buried. I have a feeling he’s the one who had it buried.”

“What about the brother Charles Westcott? He died the previous July.”

“End of July.”

“If he was the sole owner, who did he leave his estate to?”

“Not his sister, Wyatt. No record.”

“Let me look. Oh crap. He left everything to Herbert George Wells.”

“We have to get away from the time anomaly and find Wells again after 1940.”

“Let’s give it a rest for today. I need to run some numbers to find a more likely date and we’re both cold and tired.”

Josue finished his coffee. “Looks like I picked the wrong day to give up coffee.”

“The 1980 film ‘Airplane.’ Actor Lloyd Bridges delivered the line, or rather, you’re paraphrasing.”

“You’re too sharp. Can’t trip you up on film trivia.”

“Just try me on ‘Citizen Kane’.”

“Ha, ha. Because Orson Welles starred in and directed the film, and because he presented that October 30th, 1938 radio drama based on Wells’ novel ‘War of the Worlds.'”

“And because on October 28th, 1940, Orson Welles interviewed H.G. Wells at a radio station in San Antonio, Texas.”

“October 28th, 1940.”


This time, Hunter and Ellison were only five days early, arriving in San Antonio on Wednesday, October 23rd. Fortunately they had brought the appropriate currency and rented a room in the same hotel that Wells would be staying at. They needed to purchase a few changes of clothing, but being Historians, they spent the time taking in the sights, and they spent nearly two days at the main branch of the San Antonio public library looking up and digitally recording books that were not in the Institute’s database.


The interview was over, and Wells was packing to leave for the airport when he heard the knock on his door. After opening it, he paused for a few moments. “You two, again.”

“May we come in, Mr. Wells?”

“Of course, gentlemen, and I see you’ve dressed more appropriately for the occasion.”

Hunter waved Wells to a nearby chair while Ellison closed and locked the door behind them.

“I assume our interview today will be more productive than the prior one last January.” Hunter was standing over Wells, knowing this time the famous writer must know the location of Heloise Westcott.

“I told her about you.”

“I’m sure you did.” Josue’s impatience made him sound threatening.

“Easy, Hunter.” Ellison briefly put his hand on Josue’s shoulder. Then turning to Wells, “We just want to know where and when she is, Mr. Wells. I assure you we mean her no harm.”

Wyatt was struggling with whether or not he was lying. As Historians, they had a mandate to remove anomalies from the time line, at least most of them. They certainly didn’t intend to hurt Westcott, only to neutralize her influence on events in this continuum. They had vast resources at their disposal. He hoped their more benign tools would be enough.

“I suppose I am expected to trust you, men of whom I have no knowledge except you are like Heloise, travelers in time.”

“Mr. Wells. You once asked if we were Inspectors, whether from Scotland Yard or not. I can’t tell you exactly what we are, but Inspectors is a close approximation. We have a duty to enforce certain laws that have to do with time.”

“Is there a punishment, incarceration involved, Mr. Hunter?”

“We aren’t police officers as such. We’re more like guardians protecting history. We need to make sure Heloise Westcott doesn’t do anything to endanger the history we know. We need to know she hasn’t or won’t change anything.”

“Mr. Wells,” Wyatt stepped closer. “This is more important than one individual. We’re talking about everyone who has ever or will ever live. We need to keep eternity safe for all of them, and believe me, most of the time, they’re not even aware of it.”

That’s correct, Mr. Wells. You’re a special case obviously. For the rest of all of the people in all of the times we visit, they’re never aware of who and what we are. In fact, most of the time, they never even see us.”

“Then Heloise Westcott is also what you call a ‘special case’.”

“Yes, Mr. Wells. But what she invented was by individual design and purpose. We don’t randomly travel. We make very specific visits for specific purposes. Miss Westcott, as far as we know, is a random element in the time line.”

“How can I assure you, Mr. Hunter, Mr. Ellison, that she means no harm. She only wants to live out her life in peace, having completed her journeys and having experienced their nature and consequences.”

“Mr. Wells, it’s consequences we need to determine. Will you help us?”

Hunter wondered what would happen if he didn’t. What would be the ramifications of taking H.G. Wells forward in time and exposing him to a full interrogation and memory wipe? Even if they returned him completely intact to this very time and room in San Antonio with no recall of their current visit to him and his own journey to the future, how could they be sure some small detail of history wasn’t changed, enough to ripple forward in time?

“Very well. I spoke to Heloise at length regarding your visit and my suppositions regarding your identities, and she gave me permission to disclose her whereabouts, or should I say ‘whenabouts.'”

Wells took a notepad and pen on the table he was sitting at and wrote down an address and date. Then he tore the sheet away from the pad and gave it to Hunter.

“Here, Mr. Hunter. You’ll find her here.”

Hunter looked at the paper and Ellison peered over his shoulder.

“Thank you, Mr. Wells. I hope this is the last time we meet.”

“Please leave, gentlemen. My dealings with you have become very distressing.”

Wells was sweating and looking pale. He wasn’t supposed to die for another six years and Ellison especially was concerned with the toll their interrogations were having on the older man.

“Good-bye, Mr. Wells.” This time Ellison didn’t offer his hand knowing it would be unwanted. Then the two turned and left the room. Wells had just enough time to pack and make his flight that would eventually take him back to England.

I had intended to conclude this adventure in today’s story, but the word count keeps climbing, and there’s still so much more to tell. I’m ending it here with a Part Three still to be composed.

Who is Heloise Amanda Westcott? How did a person from the 19th century develop a sophisticated time machine and for what purpose? How long has her association with H.G. Wells been going on and what is the full nature of that relationship? Most of all, what is the address and date on the paper H.G. Wells gave to Josue Hunter and what will Hunter and Ellison find when they get there?

The third and final story in the trilogy is Time Line Twisted.

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