(Time Across Space)

Hank washed his hands in the tiny sink. It was four in the afternoon, and the day was almost done. His arthritis was acting up, and he'd just about make it home for his meds before both his hands cramped up permanently.

He dried his hands and exited the restroom into the gift shop. Evelyn was selling tickets to a young couple and issuing them wristbands. Better get back to my post, he thought, and he hustled as much as his arthritis would allow. He passed the miniature monuments and the old'76 flags and the tiny jugs of maple syrup and went out onto the deck.

The Bennington Battle Monument was there as always, a stout reminder of one of the greatest battles in the Lizardman Wars. Der Chelonian Mobile was there as well, restored to close to its glory - with only a few repaired cracks and scorch marks left to tell the tale of its role in the epic battle.

There were a few kids still left at this hour, running frantically about, avoiding their parents. There was one guy on the deck of the ship looking around wide-eyed with wonder. He'd seen that look before - the look of amazement one gets upon seeing this site for the first time. The man looked the monument up and down, watching the kids for a minute before turning to face the gift shop. He made eye contact with Hank, and for a moment Hank saw the look of a man gone mad.

He looked the man up and down quickly, noting that he looked like some sort of period beaver trapper. Buckskin breeches, coonskin hat - was there a reenactment I today I didn't know about? Hank looked back up in the man's face, but by now the look had gone. The man looked around the park one more time, then retreated back to the interior of the ship.

Huh, Hank thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd think the poor guy was cracking up...