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According to their proposal, I should have reached the Earth’s past sometime 3.8 billion years ago, and the first time I heard this figure I burst out laughing: not even a billion years ago, at least to my knowledge, had anyone yet arrived. I gritted my teeth and drove on through an increasingly desolate and darkening world: the sky had gone black and the stars were constantly visible. But I didn’t see her, first because the experience was taking place somewhere else entirely, and second because the time tachometer was scrolling its digits on the display far too fast to keep track of anything. I had, therefore, more time to admire the places or, perhaps it would be better to say, the times through which I was returning, so I could see that something was wrong even before I reached the Jurassic. As the team that was to send me to the Precambrian explained to me, in recent years all sorts of hypotheses had been put forward about the origin of life on Earth.