Is It Safe to Tell?
Hans received the complete rundown of my trip later that night, after I had made sure that my father had cloistered himself in his bedroom with the curtains drawn. We met at the gazebo this time, both of us dressed in black pants and shirts to help us blend in with the night. I laid almost the whole story of my trip to 1978 at Hans’ feet while we sat opposite one another on the benches of the gazebo. He showed interest the entire time, particularly when I discussed the actual trip itself. He had not realized that the Torstein essentially pushed a person backward through the currents of time—his words—but he did not seem surprised about the whispers, moans, and fearsome laughter that had plagued me throughout the trip. “It’s quite likely that those whispers, though you
