Daryn stepped out of the kettle, and down the steps. Josene, the operator, was staring at her, subconsciously tapping at an imaginary watch on her wrist. Daryn shrugged.
“Took a little longer that I thought it would.”
Josene sighed, and let her gaze wander down the mile long metal tube that was secretly buried beneath London. It was called the Kettle, and it’s what facilitated their time travel mission.
“You stopped the war on the peninsula?” asked Josene, returning her attention to the list on her padd.
“Ah man, that was a pain, but yes.” Daryn was trying not to get animated, but it was proving hard, and she had to constantly check herself. “Who knew? It was nothing to do with the language in the bogus communique. It was all down to a typo in a tweet. Who knew?”
Josene clucked her tongue, unimpressed, and asked, “How did you accomplish this?”
“Would you believe, it was just as simple as pointing and saying ‘boobs’? Diverted him enough, and I corrected it.”
“This is getting stupid.”
“Tell me about it. I dowsed the trade war with a plate of nuggets.”
“And the other thing?”
“Not yet. I think we need to go elsetime and try something there instead.”
“Right.” Josene stroked her finger up and down the screen in a decisive manner, drawing a large green tick through the e-form. “That’s 2018 fixed. On to 2019.”
“Put the kettle on then.”
The whine of massive bus-sized motors began to fill the underground cavern, and Daryn watched on as the huge steel drum started to spin, slowly at first, but then faster and faster until it was a blinding blur, and the air was howling around them.
She stepped up, and through the event horizon.
She knew her work was far from perfect, but what she had prevented was so much worse than what history would record. It was getting a bit ridiculous, but patching time was never simple.
