Free Button in the Fabric of Time by William Wayne Dicksion

second glass of
wine, the server appeared.
    “Order as you would at a restaurant where you
came from,” Jan-3 said, “and I’ll have whatever you have.”
    I ordered Caesar salad for two, rib-eye
steaks medium rare, with potatoes au gratin, sour dough bread, and
apple pie for dessert.
    The server disappeared. After a reasonable
time, the he returned with steaks, grilled perfectly. “If you don’t
eat beef, where did the cook get these steaks?”
    “Those are not steaks; they’re manufactured
duplications of steaks. Didn’t you have simulated foods?” she
asked.
    “We had veggie burgers and stuff like that,
but these steaks look and taste like the real thing.”
    Jan-3 said pleasantly, “We’ve been working on
them for a thousand years. Does it surprise you that we have
improved on what you had?”
    I agreed that a thousand years was enough
time to make improvements. Most of our dinner conversation was
about things Jan-3 wanted to know. I was surprised at how much she
already knew, and at how quickly her agile mind grasped everything
I told her. She was particularly interested in my childhood on the
farm.
    “Do you have family farms?” I asked.
    “We produce farm products and care for
animals, but there are no family farms. We harvest milk, eggs and
butter, grow cotton, and produce wool. We grow and harvest grains,
nuts, and vegetables. Most vegetables are grown in multilayered
planters with each layer climatically controlled. By conducting
studies to determine the exact types and amounts of nutrients each
crop needs we can produce food with better taste and texture. By
using artificial sunlight, we accelerate plant growth many fold.
The growing medium is sterilized and reused repeatedly. Air in the
growing modules circulates through filters that cleanse it of all
harmful substances.”
    “Then you don’t need to use herbicides or
insecticides?” I asked.
    “That’s correct. The produce doesn’t need to
be processed. It’s ready to eat just the way it’s harvested.”
    “Harvesting would be an interesting thing to
see,” I said.
    “Then I’ll take you to see that when you’re
not busy helping to develop the time-travel device.”
    The meal was delicious, the conversation
interesting, the music and the setting were wonderful. Jan-3 was
the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I was thinking about
where and how I would spend the night. Not wanting to press my
luck, I said, “Perhaps you could direct me to a hotel.”
    “We have good hotels, and I’ll take you to
one, if that’s what you want. But my feminine intuition tells me
that you would rather spend the night with me. I have plenty of
room, and I think I can make you comfortable.”
    “Your company is all I need to make me
comfortable, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”
    “I’ve been looking forward to it all day,”
she grinned.
    “Then let’s go, but how do I pay the
bill?”
    “It’s been paid,” she said.
    “How did that work?” I asked.
    “The waiter scanned your retina with an
invisible light, and the bill was charged to your account.”
    “But I have no account.”
    “Yes, you do,” she replied. “When we accepted
you as one of us, an account was set up in your name.”
    “But I haven’t put anything into the
account.”
    “Yes, you have. You’ve provided a valuable
service by bringing the button to us, and you’ll assist us in
developing the technology. Your occupation is already determined.
You’re working now, and you’re being well-paid, so don’t worry
about the bill.”
    Rising from the table, she reached for my
hand and said, “Let’s go to my place.”
    I didn’t need a second invitation. We walked
to the entrance, and Jan-3 dialed numbers on a pedestal by the door
and in seconds, a traveling compartment appeared. We were
transported to her apartment.
    Her apartment was near the top floor of the
city and looked out over the ocean. Since the walls, floors, and
ceilings were made of glass,