22 and 23 May 1987

Poul Anderson, Time Patrol (New York, 2006).

Luis Catelar's verdict on what he sees of the twentieth century:

an electrically lit city seen from above at night is "'...a blaze of glory...'" (pp. 699-700), like the dwelling place of saints or "'...the gates of Heaven...'" (p. 707);
but thousands of rushing, roaring, demonic engines are more like Hell;
language and ways are foreign;
heresy and shamelessness are rampant;
Wanda is an infidel defying God's laws for women!

We have learned to comprehend that tempora mutantur nos et mutamur in illis (times change and we change with them), whereas Luis' period preceded that understanding. Talking to him, Wanda comes to understand him:

unyielding but polite;
killer, racist, fanatic;
"a man of his word, fearless, ready to die for king or comrade" (p. 706);
humorless and romantic;
good by his own standards, like a medieval warrior whom Wanda is yet to meet.

(If there is any deity that judges us after death, then he is going to have to judge our actions by a whole lot of historically differing standards.)

Wanda had to convince him that the vacuum cleaner was not a gun and, indeed, she does wield it as a weapon, stunning Luis to gain a moment in which to phone Everard. In The Shield Of Time, Everard, grabbing a stolen Time Patrol communicator from an Exaltationist, has only a moment in which to request help. He manages:

"'Unattached Everard. Come immediately. Combat.'"
- Anderson, The Shield Of Time (New York, 1991), p. 113.

Similarly, Wanda, speaking into Everard's answering machine, has time for:

"'Wanda Tamberly. Palo Alto. Time traveler...Friday night before Memorial Day. Help!'" (p. 713)

The answering machine would record time and date so five of her words are unnecessary. In both cases, the short message is enough. Time traveling help arrives immediately.

And in the next section, headed "23 May 1987," we are back to third person narration from Everard's point of view with Wanda for the first time described as seen by somebody else. A first task is to tidy the apartment so that the earlier Wanda returning on Monday evening will not see any signs either of occupancy or of conflict. The present Wanda remembers that she did not notice anything untoward.

For over ten years, I lived in Lancaster but commuted once or twice weekly to work in Merseyside, spending three or four nights in a cheap one-room apartment. Perhaps two or three times, I had reason to spend part of a weekend there. For all the rest of that time, the apartment is empty at weekends unless my future self finds a way to time travel to it.