After accidentally telephoning himself two months in the future, George Bledsoe wonders what
would happen if he doesn’t answer that call.
Don’t argue, dammit. I’m talking to you from October ninth.
I’m sitting in a boat, twenty-eight miles and two months from where you are and I’ve
got a pile of newspapers, Georgie, that haven’t even been printed yet, back there in
August where you’re talking from.