"There are more of them every day," he grumbled, his voice faint but still audible. "Who would have thought I'd live to see the day when a man would fear for his life walking down the road to Cliff House? When I was a boy, Edwin, tens of thousands of men, women, and children came here from San Francisco on fair days. And there were no bears then. Yes, my boy, people paid money to watch them in their cages. They were that rare."
"What's money, Grandpa?"
Before the old man could answer, he remembered the boy and reached into a pouch under his bearskin and pulled out a worn, faded silver dollar. The old man's eyes twinkled as the boy held the coin out. "I can't see," he muttered. "Look, Edwin, and see if you can read the date."
The boy laughed and exclaimed with delight, "You're brilliant, Grandpa. You always pretend these little marks mean something."
The old man showed his usual irritation as he brought the coin closer to his eyes again.
"2012!" he exclaimed. Then, in a strangely high-pitched voice, he cackled, "That was the year the Council of Magnates appointed Morgan V President of the United States. It must have been one of the last coins minted; the scarlet plague came in 2013. My! My! Think of it! Sixty years ago, and I'm the only person today who lived in that era. Where did you find it, Edwin?"