Sure? I'm not that invested in you believing me, I do not at present have much use for that state of affairs as far as I know, you're the one who ostensibly needs help here, I'm fine. Do you want to challenge me to make something real specific?

I don't have a great handle on what you're alleging to be able to do, here.  A Special Circumstances hoverboard but decorated like the one I had as an ugly.  The costumes Tally Youngblood and I wore on the night she got accepted into the Crims.  Another little wing attached to your arm that you can flap autonomously.

'The night she got accepted into such and such an organization' isn't a conjurable parameter but if you give me a date that would be. My indestructibility is not friendly to alterations to my anatomy that I'm not authentically happy about. Hoverboard.

The guy blinks at the hoverboard.  Floats his chair over to touch it, some.

Then makes some gestures at the wallscreen and has it scroll quickly through what looks like his personal photos, sending it back to the generic display before Cam can really parse them.

December 21st?

This most recent one?

He nods.

Cam conjures. He looks at the neatly folded Nazi uniform in his hand.

You have incredibly poor taste.

I didn't really expect it to work, or for you to care.  It's been 500 years, here.  No one even got the reference when I wore it, beyond "some Rusty dictator's assistant" when I explained.  He holds out his hands for the outfits.

He hands them over. I guess at least you did not set out to offend anyone at the time, then, ex hypothesi.

He nods distractedly a few times, the movement of the tattoos on his face growing faster even than they were when Cam first appeared as he inspects the other costume.  It looks like a somewhat standard hand-knit sweater.

After peering intently at the stitches and sniffing at the air a little, he kicks his chair over to, well, a hole in the wall, and stuffs the uniform in.  A screen displays 'Recycling' with a progress circle; it continues for several seconds before the guy cancels the job, extracts the uniform, and dumps it on the floor.  In goes the sweater.  'Non-recyclable material in bay,' flashes the screen.

He puts his head in his hands for a moment, tattoos flashing around his fingertips.  Then he takes the sweater back, carefully, sets the uniform back in the hole, and turns his attention back to Cam.

"He must, he thought, have been ten or eleven years old when his mother had disappeared," says the voice print.

!
(He does not have a very "!" demeanor.)

Cam waves at him.

Can you remake the archive library that the Smoke lost last year when Special Circumstances destroyed it?  Can you remake things from the Rusty era that were lost centuries ago?

I don't see why not but is this really the time or place?

I wasn't asking if you /would/ /right now/.

Then we are on the same page about that, great. What's next.

He takes a deep breath.  It slows the tattoos some.

Proving the things I said?  Unless you already think that the hoverboard implies a Special Circumstances for it to be from.

I mean, the fact that some person place or thing is called Special Circumstances means nothing to me, really.

He spends a few of the voice print's sentences thinking.

It would be easier if I knew more about how you expect things to be.  It sounds like it's really not like I can just have you look at a map and have that be it, like I might guess of some other magically appearing magical person.

I'm a bit concerned that if I conjure up the thing that explodes petroleum it will explode and that might do you some harm, I'm not sure what other evidence I should be conjuring up here. I expect what I guess you're calling "rusty" civilization to be continuous with the civilization that summons guys like me all the time and is therefore post-scarcity and settled on Mars and stuff. - there's three kinds of guys, I'm a demon, we make stuff, there's also fairies who move stuff and angels who change it.

We aren't settled on Mars.

Mars, the one that is somewhere in the sky from here, as it is right now, lil desk ornament size?

Looks like a blank dirt ball!

He runs his thumb over it and then sets it on the table. ...he fills in all the writing on the table with matching ink. All right, that's not my Mars.