Learie went back, that same day, to the field where the oak tree still stood; older now, a little stooped. She brought with her three things: her journal from her youth, the page of the Financial Times announcing the Gaia acquisition, and 200 micrograms of LSD.
At some point, somewhere, some hours later, Learie rolled over on her back. Above her the leaves of the oak tree rustled in the breeze, swaying softly to some unheard song. Not swaying. Dancing.
Learie fumbled to the last page of her childhood journal. There, on the yellowing liner of the back cover, she scrawled the thought that had carried through her trip:
What would I have done if I had known that this would happen?