"So why can't you tell me what to do and where to go?" I demanded.He turned a calm face to me. "You instructed me not to." He said.I frowned; I mean I...couldn't remember doing any such thing. I mean it would help a lot if we only knew what would happen ahead of time. I opened my mouth but Aristotle beat me to it. "It was a book that you wrote in the future, giving full details of this event and my words. In it you were told that to give details of the future would change the future, an event. Rather than a proper driveway,gravel wheel ruts with weeds sprouting up in between wove back toward thestorage buildings.He pulled up in front of a small cinder block building. Rust stainsstreaked the formerly whitewashed walls tracing the path of years ofrainwater shed from the corroded tin roof. A sign hung crookedly over thedoor said this was the office. Colin stepped from the F-450 into an eerie silence; not a bird chirped,no highway noise, not even the rustle of wind disturbed the. More

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