"Hey, Dad," you say, and it's unreal when you hand him a toy elephant - they're extinct in your time - and he hugs it to his little chest. "I probably shouldn't be calling you that. It's against the rules."
For that reason, you hope he won't remember, but you wonder if the Alec you knew had lived this moment already. Wonder if there are no paradoxes, just an infinite loop. The Freelancers don't see it that way, but how can they know everything about time?
"You didn't tell me much about your childhood, like your own dad leaving or living on a farm. There's some cool stuff in the barn, but Ann doesn't want me going in there 'cause I might break something. It's all yours, though, someday. And you'll do so much with it. You'll be a great man. And I know Ann tells you that stuff too 'cause she's your mom and she's supposed to say that sort of thing, but I know for sure. I've seen it."
Alec marches the toy elephant across the rug like it's the savannah.
"I don't know what'll happen in 2012, but for now you're safe, with her."
You gently pat your father on the head and he looks up.
"Enjoy it."