“So this is what you really look like!” she said, wiping her eye as we hugged.
“Marta! Or should I say, Dr. Mackenzie, you look almost like you did in 1971!” I wiped my eye, too.
“Yes, I still look weird, and you can call me Marta. No one calls me Dr. Mackenzie around here.”
I sat next to her on a tall lab stool, and quietly watched her set up an apparatus for some experiment. We spent a few minutes like that, while we got used to each other again.
“Now, let’s get down to business,” she finally said. That part of her hadn’t changed. “I asked your age over the phone because it would stand to reason that if a 58-year-old could be trapped in a 20-year-old body, then it could be possible that a 20-year-old Peter Federson had phoned me.”
“Wow, I never thought of that…!”
“Well, thank
