（外文电子版资料）Sizemore, Susan - Wings of the Storm.doc

Wings of the Storm By Susan Sizemore 1 Step into my time machine, said the drunken boy. He wasnt joking. David Wolfe had Jane cornered in the back of his private lab, and it was obvious he wasnt going to let her out of the door. There was a tall blue booth behind her. He kept trying to herd her into it. He was smiling stupidly, an expression ill-suited to his unfinished-looking face. Normally, he wore a furious scowl. It went well with his fashionably shaved head and the gold hoop earring in his right ear. Itll be fun, he told her, taking a step closer. You want to go. I know you do. You have to. Itll only be for five years. No, I dont. She tried to be reasonable. Dr. Wolfe, youre not yourself. You know too much. You said you saw five years into the future. Cant allow you to know about the future. You want to know about the past. Jane Florian wished she hadnt stayed late in her lab at the Feynman Institutes Time Search Project. Shed remained long after the rest of the Time Search Staff left, partly because she didnt want to drive home in a bad spring thunderstorm, partly because she found her work more interesting than what she had to drive home to, Shed even declined an invitation to party with the particle physicists down by the accelerator ring. It seemed a new quark had just gotten discovered and it had been declared an occasion for champagne. She wished shed gone. If she had, she wouldnt have been by the screen when the lightning caused the power surge and the impossible happened. Shed ended up seeing into the future instead of the past. The time monitor was only supposed to scan backward, not forward. The whole thing had lasted for no more than five seconds. In those five seconds shed seen previews of five years worth of upcoming events—wars, celebrity weddings, earthquakes. Wolfe had come in just as the screen faded to black. He hadnt seemed his usual serious self, but shed been too upset to notice at first. Shed told the young physicist what happened. He h