"We have an invention," he said, "which I don't pretend to understand. You saw the thing?"

"Yes," I said. It wasn't easy to overlook.

"Walker calls it Cronus—for the Greek God of Time. It gives us random glances around the city on what looks like a large TV screen—random glances into the future!" He paused for dramatic effect, and I probably disappointed him. I already knew that much. "The picture is hazy," he went on, "and sometimes we have a hell of a time figuring out the location of whatever it is we're looking at. We also have trouble pinpointing the time of an event. But we can't deny the potential. We've been in operation for three weeks, and already we've seen half a dozen holdups days before they happened."

"At least it's an ideal we've always worked for," I offered. "I mean, to prevent crime, rather than just catch the criminal."

"Oh!" he said, and went to work on his pipe again. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear. We saw the holdups on that screen, but we couldn't prevent a single one. All we managed to do was catch the criminal a few minutes after he had committed the crime. So it raises an interesting question: Is it possible to change the future?"

"Why not?" I said.

Captain Marks thought a moment. "It isn't too critical, where the holdups are concerned. The criminal is caught immediately, the loot is recovered, and the victim goes his way thinking kind thoughts about the efficiency of the police force. But what about assault, or rape, or murder? Apprehending the criminal ten minutes later won't be much comfort to the victim. But now that you're here to follow up the leads given us by Cronus—well, we'll see what we can do. Come on. I want you to meet Walker. And Cronus!"

Walker—Dr. Howard F. Walker—was huddled over his creation. There was no doubt about it being his baby, as you could see from the way his hands caressed the dials. He was a gangling-looking man, six feet one, maybe 170 pounds, fifty-odd years old. He had a long neck, an overly pronounced Adam's apple, and thinning hair. He wore thick glasses, his face was gentle and dignified, and he looked like a very tired university professor.

He didn't hear us come up, and the Old Man waited quietly until he noticed us.

"Walker," the Old Man said, "this is Forsdon, our new detective."

He nodded at me. "Cronus has something," he said. 

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