“That’s one of the problems with the machine,” said Peter. “When I send myself forward, I can’t seem to stay there for long. I snap back to my own time after only a minute. Anything I bring with me snaps back to its own time, too. So my rose has gone back to this June.”

I was finally convinced, and I began to see possibilities. “Wow, just think: If I don’t want to do the dishes, I can send myself forward to the time when the dishes are already done.”

“That won’t do you much good,” said Peter. “You’d soon pop back to the time when the dishes were still dirty.”