Explore "Crossroads of Destiny" by H. Beam Piper on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I still have the dollar bill. It's in my box at the bank, and I think that's where it will stay. I simply won't destroy it, but I can think of nobody to whom I'd be willing to show it -- certainly nobody at the college, my History Department colleagues least of all. Merely to tell the story would brand me irredeemably as a crackpot, but crackpots are tolerated, even on college faculties. It's only when they begin producing physical evidence that they get themselves actively resented.
When I went into the club-car for a nightcap before going back to my compartment to turn in, there were five men there, sitting together.