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But we can’t get rich by knowing the future. We can’t bring any physical object from the past. Not our dad’s antique watch. Or any sentimental item we’ve got our heart set on. We can’t secret away the Willie Mays baseball card that’s worth a quarter of a million dollars today. And no, I can’t buy some valuable stock, squirrel it away in a safe deposit box, then look
“If there was something—or someone—there, why didn’t the police find them after the accident? And if it was people—humans—who ran across the highway, why didn’t they stop when they heard the accident?” “Elizabeth’s right. Maybe light was playing tricks on our eyes,” Logan says. “It’s dark on that highway. Why would anyone be running across that highway at 11:30 at night?” My voice is small. “Maybe for the same reason Sam was there.”
“Once we knew we could send up to four people to a specific date, we decided to scour the applications to find candidates. We received an application for the man who was paralyzed on August 25, 2025. I realized then that he was the man you and I’d been searching for all this time. The former drug dealer who’d been in the same accident as Sam. Logan Sandoval. The Aeon board had initially disqualified him because of his health issues. But once I saw the application, I convinced them to put him through.”

