“Yes, it’s perfectly safe,” Lynne says. “You’re the first people to visit the future, so we’re not entirely sure what the future will be like, but if you compare the world now to the world of ten years ago, not as much has changed as you might think. Technology and pharmaceuticals have made great advances, but most aspects of our culture remain the same. We still use the same money, speak the same language, and use the same roads. The risks should be no greater than walking outside your own house today. We’ll also be providing you with supplies and money in the unlikely event that someone from Aether Corporation is not there to greet you.”

Dr. Walters looks like he wants to say something, but Lynne continues. “If there are no further questions at this time, we’ll break for lunch. After that, you’ll be heading to the accelerator and we’ll go over a few more details there.”

“I got a question,” Chris says, crossing his arms. “When do we get paid?”

“As soon as you return from the future and finish your debriefing.” She smiles and heads toward the door. “Now if you’ll all follow me…”

As we stand, I overhear Trent ask Chris, “Dude, do you really thinking we’re going to the future?”

Chris snorts. “No way in hell.”

I hate to admit it, but I agree with them. What Lynne and the scientists are proposing, this “temporal aperture,” it’s impossible. It has to be. And if it is possible, there’s no way they’d choose us for it. They’d use scientists or people in the military. Not foster kids.

But my God, if it is true? We’ll be going to the future. My mind races just thinking about the possibilities. Ten years is a long time. I’ll be twenty-seven years old. Maybe I’ll be married with a kid or two. Maybe I’ll be serving a life sentence in prison like Papá. Or maybe I’ll be a social worker, helping other foster kids like myself. With Aether Corp’s money, that dream doesn’t seem quite as impossible as it did a few days ago.

No matter what the risks are, I’m all in. I mean, who wouldn’t want to see the future?

Lunch is served in a cafeteria where employees probably spend their breaks, except today it’s cleared out. I grab a tray and load it up with food—lasagna, salad, some sort of fancy chicken dish, french fries. They even have a frozen yogurt machine. Throwing this much food in front of foster kids is almost cruel. I eat pretty well at the Robertsons’, but that wasn’t always the case.