“Gutenberg? Yes, yes, come in,” the metallurgist said, ushering them inside. “I’ve been expecting you. Didn’t know if you would make it with all the quarreling going on.”

“We almost didn’t,” the father said, glaring at his son. “Where is the machine I have traveled so far to see?”

Johannes’s cheeks flamed. The metallurgist pointed toward the adjacent room. “Go ahead,” he directed the elder Gutenberg. “I think you’ll be more than pleased with the progress we’ve made. It can stamp nearly twice as many coins as the last machine.” Johannes, not invited to see the device, hung back. He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew the metal piece out into the light, as if seeing it with his own two eyes might confirm that it was real. It was a coin.

“May I take a look?” the metallurgist asked. He took the coin and bit it between his yellow teeth. “Tin,” he pronounced, flipping it back to Johannes. “Where did you find that?” he asked, his voice as much accusing as curious.

Johannes held up the coin and watched the light dance on its edges. “A man in the street gave it to me. The one they were calling a heretic.”

The metallurgist looked over his shoulder, then back at Johannes. “That man will die today. And his death will mark the beginning of a new age.” He pointed to an image on the coin: a woman’s face. “Do you see this?” he said, voice quivering. “It is the mark of the coming revolution.”

“And what about this?” Johannes asked, indicating an impression on the flip side.

The metallurgist smiled. “That you will have to discover for yourself.”

One

one

The occupants of Flight 1213 weren’t surprised when the lights went out. They had been flickering for the last ten minutes, so it was no shock when the blackness hit. It was more surprising, however, when the airplane dropped from the heavens like a bird shot in midair.

August Adams could hear the scream from first class over the deafening roar of the engines. A drink cart raced down the aisle, narrowly missing a curious youngster who retracted his head just in time. The plane leveled out for a brief moment, then dipped sharply to the left. A suitcase toppled out of an overhead storage unit, striking an old man two rows up on the forehead. He slumped forward. The child next to him began to wail.

At the window in seat 24F, August flipped open his seat buckle and jumped to his feet. He climbed directly over the row in front of him, angering the businessmen parked there. “Watch it, buddy!” one of them said as August put a foot on his shoulder.

August thrust his body over the next set of seats. The boy looked up at him and shrieked, “What’s wrong with Grandpa?”