Harold slowly and thoughtfully lowered the test tube beaker from his inquisitive, blue eyes, replacing it in the wooden rack. “But where do we come from?” he mused aloud.

Harold turned around, away from the Formica countertop. A man across the room was opening and shutting cabinet doors in rapid succession, glancing in them for only a moment before moving onto another door. He was like a hurricane, scattering all things in his path. As Harold watched, a pile of his carefully organized papers went flying from the counter, scattering all over the floor. He grimaced as the man's muddy boots trod all over his students' work in his frantic search. This was Professor Dilbert Dingle, Harold's mentor and head of the science department at Weier University.

“Well,” the Professor answered, still immersed in his hunt, not bothering to turn around to face Harold or even to pause in his disastrous effects. “As I remember, Harold, you told me you grew up in downtown Detroit and I'm a Philadelphian myself. Now, where have I put my glasses!?”

“They're on your head, Professor,” Harold wearily told him. “And that's not what I meant.” Some people might consider his mentor to be... well, ditzy, a sign of a failing memory, but Harold knew better. The Professor was often so immersed in the unanswered riddles of science that he had little attention left to bother with the trivial matters of everyday living.

Professor Dingle wasn't listening. His hand reached up, brushing his wildly growing, white hair, and felt blindly around. He pulled the glasses from the top of his balding head and stared at them with narrowed eyes, as though checking to be sure they were truly his. “Well, what do you know! So they are!” he said. He put them on. They magnified his eyes to an alarming size. “Now, what is it you were asking, my boy?”

“Where we come from. Mankind, I mean,” Harold added quickly, remembering the Professor's previous response.

To Harold's great surprise, a smile - a real one, not the vauge, dreamy kind he usually wore - split Professor Dingle's wrinkled face, causing his overly large eyes to glint. “Ah, and what an interesting question it is....” he said quietly.

The Professor strode across the room and stood behind one of the many workstations. Harold couldn't see precisely, but he appeared to be playing with the handle to one of the drawers.

Whatever he did, it had an alarming effect. Harold jumped back, staring, as, with a hiss, thick billows of steam began to issue from the sides of the white eraser board in the front of the room. Professor Dingle turned toward it, smiling his vague smile again. The clouds became quite thick and Harold was tempted run and pull the fire alarm. But he was stopped from doing so the next second.

The white board had begun to slide away, moving first back and then to the right, disappearing from view entirely. The front of the classroom was entirely veiled in steam clouds. Horrified, Harold saw a brilliant flash of light. Fire? No. More lights erupted, red, orange, and yellow, scattered amid the clouds. There was a dull, rumbling sound issuing from the steam wall and, peering at it through narrowed eyes, Harold saw something beginning to creep from behind the veil of steam, something huge. Harold stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a stool. What had the Professor done!?

The Professor! He was still standing beside the board, apparently indifferent to the terrifying happenings around him. Harold stumbled upright again. He wanted to run forward and drag the Professor back, but, very nearly paralyzed with fear at the creeping thing in the mists, he could not. Instead, he had to settle for staring wild-eyed at the emerging creature. But he could see nothing of it save the lights, which, he supposed, were its eyes. It sure had an awful lot! At least ten.

The rumbling, which had been growing steadily louder as the thing drew closer, suddenly stopped. The was another hiss and the steam curtains began to roll back, revealing the creature to Harold's wondering eyes.

It looked like a giant, silver sleigh with very car-like features added. It had headlights, for one, and blinkers too, by the look of it. Its seats were lined with red velvet and it had seat belts.

Professor Dingle moved toward it, very obviously unimpressed by the machine's spectacular and suspenseful entry. Harold too took a nervous step forward, following the lead of his mentor. “What is it?” he asked in wonder.

“Time machine,” Professor Dingle told him lightly. He placed a hand upon it, patting it as if it were his pet dog. “Yep. This beauty's taught me all about man's evolution. Best thing I've ever wasted my time with.”

“Evolution?” Harold asked.

“Evolution. It's the small changes in our genetics which, in time, lead to whole new species.” Professor Dingle climbed up into the drivers' side of the giant sleigh. He buckled his seat belt and then looked around at Harold. Joyfully, he cried, “Well, don't just stand there, my boy! Hop in!”

“What? In there?” Harold questioned, his voice rising an octave out of fear.

“But of course!” the Professor exclaimed. “You did say you want to know where we come from, didn't you? Well, I'm going to show you. Now, hop in.”

Seeing that there would be no use in argument, Harold started forward. He placed his foot upon the sleigh's gleaming step and sat down beside Professor Dingle. The dashboard of the sleigh was covered in all manner of buttons, knobs, dials, lights, and monitors.

“Buckle up,” the Professor commanded lightly.

As Harold did as he was bidden, his mentor reached over and began to twiddle with the dials and knobs. “Now,” he told his apprentice, “are you ready?”

Harold nodded and the Professor yanked down upon a shift. Immediately, the time machine began to roar again. Harold felt a tug behind his ear, and he, the Professor, and the time machine were flying backward.

The world had become a swirling vortex of ever-shifting light and color. Harold wanted to keep his eyes open but, at the same time, was afraid to. He shut them fast, listening to the roar of the machine. What had he done?

At long last, the machine swayed to a stop. Feeling slightly sick, Harold cautiously opened his eyes once more onto a fantastic landscape. A wide savanna stretched all around him, tawny grasses swaying in the slight breeze. The air was hot and dry, the sun blazing. “Where - where are we?!” Harold gasped.

“Not where, when,” the Professor said, lightly hopping out of the time machine. “We have traveled back in time. About 3.2 million years ago, if I'm not mistaken. We're in East Africa somewhere. Come on, I'll explain on the way.”

“Where are we going?” Harold asked, jumping down to the caking ground.

“To meet the native peoples,” Professor Dingle said, setting off. “Now. Some people believe we first evolved from primates - you know, monkeys, apes, and the like - but there's no concrete evidence yet, so all we can do is guess. Of course, science is never exact, is it?

“We're going to see Australopithecus now. They're not so closely related to us as some of the others who followed them; we're in separate families. However, they are the first hominids and the first creatures we know of to walk on two legs - bipedalism, that's called.”

“What a hominid?” Harold asked, gawking at the Professor, entirely absorbed in what he was saying.

“Hominid. It means that they're more closely related to us than to any other species.”

Professor Dingle fell silent and Harold found himself buzzing with far too many questions. “Have you done this before?” he blurted out. “Traveled back in time, I mean? I thought it was impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible if you've got enough nerve,” his mentor patiently explained. “And yes, I have. Would I take you on my maiden voyage and risk your health?”

“Wow,” Harold said quietly, impressed.

“Quietly now, Harold. I think we're drawing close to them.”

They crept silently behind a scrubby bush and the Professor carefully parted the branches so that they could see.

A group of some six people was before them, except they were more like apes than modern humans. They were short, all ranging between three and four feet tall. Their heads were about the size of a softball and their arms dangled apishly before them. One, a female, was nosily chewing on a berry, another was slurping from a bird's egg.

“Here we are: Australopithecus afarensis. That's Lucy,” Professor Dingle said, pointing to the female. “In our own time, an archeologist named Donald Johnson will find her here. She's named for the Beatles' song, you know, ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.' I guess that's a pretty big compliment.

“Amazing, aren't they?” the Professor asked, staring dreamily at the afarensis clan. “I mean, when you think that we could be looking upon our forefathers....”

Harold had to admit it was pretty amazing. He wanted very much to stay longer but the Professor wouldn't let him.

“Well, come on,” he said, uncharacteristically brisk. “Much more to see before we return home.”

Reluctantly, Harold turned around and followed the Professor back to the time machine. After they buckled up, Professor Dingle yanked upon the shift and the they were sucked back once more into the vortex of time, Harold with eyes tightly shut.

They screeched to a halt and Harold, opening his eyes wondered if something had gone wrong. It didn't look as though they'd gone anywhere; the scenery was the same. What if they were stuck in the past forever?!

“Did it work?” he asked worriedly.

“Of course it did,” the Professor replied. “Our next closest ancestors, Homo habilis, also lived in East Africa. But we're one million years nearer our own time.”

“Right,” Harold said, climbing down beside Professor Dingle.

They set off in silence across the African savanna, searching for the inhabitants. A short way off, they found a group of the habilis crouched beside a large pile of boulders. They looked very much liked the older Australopithecus. They were each about three feet tall, slightly shorter than their ancestors had been. They had the same, gorilla-ish arms but their heads were larger and more round. Harold looked and was shocked to see them using tools! They had a rotting carcass they had scavenged before them and were cutting the bones open with some very crudely made, stone tools. They seemed to be eating the marrow, the fats of which would give them the energy they needed and which were also essential to brain growth and development.

“‘The Handy Man,' Homo habilis,” Professor Dingle muttered from beside Harold. “See how they use those tools? Oh, they may not look like much to you and me, but they were a major help to habilis and a major development in man's evolution.

“See how much bigger their heads are than Australopithecus afarensis's? It takes a big brain to be able to figure out how to make those tools. They take a rock and smash it against another, see? It gives them a razor edge.

“Homo habilis were also some of the first to eat meat. We'd been herbivores before this. Habilis has to contend with Australpithecuis boisei, though - they also live in this region at this time. They're the ones who eat the plants now.”

The Professor turned. “Well that's them. Ready, my boy? We've got one more stop before we return home.”

“Yeah, all right,” Harold said, pulling his eyes away from the Homo habilis. Together they headed back toward the time machine, waiting, gleaming in the hot sun, for them.

“Professor?” Harold asked quietly. “There's something that's been bothering me.”

“What's that?” Professor Dingle asked, staring out into open space.

“Well, all of these... men you've been showing me, they look more like apes!”

“Well, it was a slow process, wasn't it!?” the Professor exclaimed, clearly shocked that Harold would ask. “We didn't evolve over night, you know! No! Haven't you noticed? Every time we travel, the native peoples become a little more like today's man.”

“Well, yes, but I just thought it would be... I don't know, more noticable.” Harold hung his head and kicked at a loose stone, ashamed by his own question.

He didn't have long to dwell though. Climbing back into the time machine, the two fastened their seat belts and the Professor sent them hurtling through time once more.

They stopped, this time in the middle of a dense bamboo forest.

“Where are we now?” Harold asked sliding down to the moist earth of the forest floor. A mist hung like a veil around them and he could hear the calls of strange birds echoing through the towering bamboo branches.

“Indonesia. 1.8 million years ago.” The Professor looked around, breathing deeply of the humid air. “Yes. This is the home of Homo erectus.” The Professor pointed and Harold saw a tall figure moving among the mists. He seemed to be carrying a giant pole, no doubt made from a stick of bamboo. “That's him.”

The two scientists crept closer, peering with narrowed eyes through the fog. There was a whole group of the Homo erectus. They stood in a circle around a tree and were all staring up into the branches. One of the nearer men reached up and jabbed his spear into the air. The leaves trembled as it struck a branch with an echoing, hollow sound. A small squawk followed.

The erectus had to be nearly six feet tall, far taller than their ancestors. Their heads were huge by comparison of the other two.

“We've learned to become hunters,” Professor Dingle was saying. “And our brains have grown to nearly their present size.”

“What are they hunting?” Harold asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh, an ape, maybe. Could be anything though.”

“An ape?” Harold repeated.

“Yes. We've become that distant from them now.

“Now, Homo erectus went on to evolve into other types of man even nearer to us, including the Neanderthals you always hear about. But I think we'll leave it there. That's all the important develops. There's only slight changes left to undergo. Do you have a better understanding of where we come from now, Harold?”

“Yes. Much better,” Harold assured the Professor, turning away from the hunting party. “But I think I'm ready to go back to our own time.”

Professor Dingle nodded and before Harold knew it they were back in the classroom at Weier University. The Professor returned the time machine to its place behind the white board and looked around at his apprentice. “And so we return to the Homo sapien,” he said somberly. “Modern man. I do enjoy a good time travel but I really would miss modern marvels.”

“Me too,” Harold agreed.

Together the two left the classroom, Harold catching the lights and lock, both of which the Professor entirely forgot about; Harold supposed his mind was on their trip as well. He set off along the quiet corridor, thinking that, however ditzy Professor Dingle might come off, to him, he would always be brilliant.