The elevator opens on the sixth floor, and we quickly follow our leader down a row of offices with closed doors. Most of them have dark windows so you can’t look inside. We only see two other people. They both have their heads bent low over their desks and don’t seem to notice us as we pass by.

We stop at an office labeled with Adam’s name, and the older version uses his thumbprint to unlock it. Once we’re inside, he darkens the windows to opaque, and then his shoulders relax.

“Now we can talk safely.” He rests the glowing jammer on his desk beside a Rubik’s Cube that’s already been solved and a silver spinning thing that floats an inch off his desk.

His office is huge, with a couple of sofas and expensive-looking leather chairs on one side of the room and a mini-fridge and bar on the other. The floor-to-ceiling window behind his desk has an impressive view of downtown and the Hollywood sign in the hills.

Chris crosses his arms. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

“Yeah, what’s with all the cloak-and-dagger stuff?” Trent asks.

“Hang on a sec.” Future-Adam grabs a golf club from the corner and starts to poke at the ceiling vent above him, which bounces with each hit. “Stupid thing. I’ve asked them ten times to fix my air conditioner. I’d do it myself, but I’m too big to fit in the vents.”

“Future you is kind of weird,” Trent whispers to Adam.

Adam scowls. “Tell me about it.”

Seriously, what is with this guy? Who cares about the stupid air conditioner? First he drives like a maniac, then he makes us run through Aether’s building like criminals, and now this. Did he lose his mind in the last thirty years? Maybe that video was right about him…

“Enough messing around,” I say to Future-Adam. “You told us you have answers.”

“Right. Take your jackets off and relax, and then we’ll talk.”

He grabs each of our wet coats and hangs them on a rack in the corner, and then brings a bunch of sodas over to the table. I wish he’d get to the point already, but it is a relief to dry off a bit. We all dump our backpacks around the room and find a place to sit down. Adam picks one of the sofas, and I think about joining him but take one of the leather chairs instead.

Future-Adam sits in the other chair and watches us for a long moment. “I’ve been waiting for this day for the past thirty years. Now I don’t know where to start.”

“Start with who’s gonna kill us,” Chris says.

The older Adam sighs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Chris asks. “What about the girl who’s going to shoot us?”