“I think I picked the wrong time to travel,” said Ram Odin. “I’ve already been named as one of the possible pilots of the foldship, so people who are following the starship program know who I am.”

“A pilot is famous?” asked Noxon.

“A very low level of fame,” said Ram Odin. “It won’t get crazy until I’m selected as the pilot.”

“We could have sliced our way through this trip,” said Noxon. “They would never have known we were on the airplane, and the trip would have been over in a few minutes.”

“Next time,” said Ram Odin. “I have to admit that I’m enjoying being home on Earth. I like having money and something to spend it on.”

“Are you rich here?”

“I make a decent living,” said Ram. “But no, not rich.”

Noxon had had his misgivings when they boarded the plane. But he couldn’t say anything at the time, since officially he could speak only Quechua. “Isn’t the pre-voyage version of yourself going to find out you’re here?”

Ram Odin grinned. “He’s going to find out that somebody got a duplicate of his credit chip. My guess is that the police will be waiting to arrest me as an identity thief when we land in Atlanta.”

“How does that help us accomplish our purpose here?” asked Noxon.

“It doesn’t. So we will slice our way off the plane.”

In Atlanta, the police boarded the plane before any passengers were allowed to leave. But by then, Noxon’s and Ram Odin’s seats appeared to be empty. Because time slicing slowed down their movements so much, they were the last ones off the plane before the door closed, and by the time they got to the head of the ramp into the terminal, the police had abandoned their search.

Inside the terminal, Noxon sliced them forward by several days. Ram Odin quickly abandoned his credit chip. “Sorry,” he said to Noxon. “I won’t do that again.”

“You’re going to be recognized,” said Noxon.

“I really am about twelve years older now than I was at this point in the past. My face is thicker and as you can see, I’m ­letting my beard grow. Plus, I expect to spend a lot of time invisible, thanks to you.”

“I have a better idea,” said Noxon. He took Ram’s hand, attached to a path, and popped back to the year before. “Are you famous now?” asked Noxon.

“No,” said Ram Odin. “But it still doesn’t solve the money problem. We can’t afford to walk to where we’re going, and without money, we can’t get transportation.”

“Why can’t we walk?” asked Noxon. “If it takes too long, when we arrive I’ll take us back in time.”