Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Trapped v2.0

Remember that old story I found?  I reworked it a bit!  Enjoy!

17 Feb 2293


Yeah, that date is right – 2293. I might have gotten myself into a teeny bit of trouble. And here I am, writing a letter to you, which makes no sense at all once I think about it, because how can I mail a letter to someone three hundred years in the past? So I won't think about it, and I'll just write to you, because I could drive myself crazy if I just sit here and think.

You remember Ted, right? The gorgeous physics post-doc in Dr. G's lab? I had a date with him last night. Well, last night for me… whatever. Anyway. We went out for dinner, and drinks, and then he talked me into spending just a little bit more time with him. Because we both have nosy roommates, Ted suggested that we head back to the lab. What can I say? The idea of making out in a place where you're not really supposed to make out was appealing.

There was this huge machine in the middle of the lab, with all sorts of wires and stuff sticking out of it. Inside, there was a nice big bench – lots of room for the two of us! He told me that it was a "material transporter" – something between a time machine and that Star Trek "beam me up, Scotty" gizmo. It was supposed to be entirely theoretical. "Supposed to be" is the key phrase…

So we were there, getting all nice and close, and we heard a noise. Ted told me to wait in the machine, and he got up to see what made the sound. As he stepped out, he stumbled and hit a whole panel of buttons. Next thing I know, there's this loud buzzing, and a bright blue flash.

I called for Ted, but nothing. I stuck my head outside and I was literally outside! I wasn't in the lab anymore. The whole machine was sitting in a park, and I had no idea where I was. I stepped out of the machine, and started looking around. A guy in a dark uniform came up from behind me and asked to see my permit. He looked young, maybe twenty, and cute, so I put on my best flirty face as I grabbed my purse out of the machine. I handed him my driver's license and he gave me this withering look – I felt about two inches tall. Turns out, he wanted my time travel permit. How should I know that??

Long story short, he gave me a surgical mask to put on, then took me to a big, official-looking building. It turns out that in 2293, time travel is fairly common, but you have to have a permit. I'm not sure why exactly – the judge who listened to my story tried to explain some of it, but honestly, I stopped listening after he said something about quarantine.

I'm stuck in this little room, all alone. They feed me three meals a day, and I've got running water and all that, but it's really just a glorified prison cell. They gave me a reason: something about my immune system not necessarily being compatible with the current microbial population. I'm pretty sure that it's the other way around, and they want to be sure I don't have smallpox hidden in my clothes. Of course, that's not an issue, because they took my clothes.

Actually, you'd like the stuff they gave me to wear! For a uniform, it's pretty comfortable and stylish. I wish I could have a tv, so I could get a better idea of what it's like out there… All I know now is that there's at least one park around, and that the government is still just as full of bureaucratic crap as it was back home.

I hope I'll get to give this letter to you, Janie. I'm worried. What if the "material transporter" thing only worked by accident? What if I can't figure out how to get back home with it? What if the government won't give me one of those time travel permits that I need?

For now, I guess, I'll keep writing you – because it's as much a diary of sorts as it is a letter, at least at this point. I miss you. I miss my family. I miss home.


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