Surfing the 4th Dimension
You blink. You're awake.
It's a brightly lit room, and you're propped up in a comfortable armchair. The room looks like a living room you saw on a documentary about the 1970s once. It's all there - the disgusting wallpaper, the groovy radio, the egg chair - but there's another addition: a large control panel, like a mixing desk in a recording studio, with a set of small computer screens above it.
"You OK, buddy?" Mike hands you a cup of tea and you drink it happily.
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine," you reply, "I just went a little woozy for a sec."
Mike laughs and slaps you on the back.
"Fantastic!" he smiles, "See, Peggy? Told you there was nothin' to worry about!"
The woman you've assumed is Peggy emerges. She has an 80s perm, and is wearing bellbottom jeans and a crisp white shirt. She opens her mouth and speaks with her familiar British accent:
"Well, it was still very irresponsible of you, Michael."
"I'm sorry to interrupt," you interrupt, "but where am I?"
Peggy looks worried. Mike looks at Peggy.
"You're...ah..." Mike stumbles, "You're in Tremolo Four."
You're stunned.
"Tremolo Four," you repeat, incredulous.
"Ah... yeah." Mike nods.
"We're part of a team who travel through time and space, scouting for information for the future," Peggy explains. "One day, in the future, there will be a horrific event. We lost all records of past civilizations. So we built this."
Mike shrugs sheepishly.
"We're data collectors."
You sip your tea thoughtfully.
"I can tell you about 2032 if you like," you offer.
"No thanks, honey," Peggy smiles, "We've been here far too long anyway."
"Yes! Far too long!" Mike smiles and rubs his hands together before strolling over to the mixing desk. "Where's the next gap in the research, Peggy?"
"487 A.D"
"487 A.D it is then!" Mike twiddles with nobs and levels and a great whoosh shakes the entire living room.
Peggy speaks into an old-fashioned telephone, "This is Tremolo Four LivingRoom to Bathroom. LivingRoom to Bathroom. 4-8-7 A.D."
You begin to splutter as the room tilts.
"You're taking me with you!?" you squeak.
"Well of course!" Mike says, "You don't think we'd let you tell everyone you know that a time machine landed on you, do you?"
"It will be fun," Peggy smiles. "So. Where do you want to go?"
It's a brightly lit room, and you're propped up in a comfortable armchair. The room looks like a living room you saw on a documentary about the 1970s once. It's all there - the disgusting wallpaper, the groovy radio, the egg chair - but there's another addition: a large control panel, like a mixing desk in a recording studio, with a set of small computer screens above it.
"You OK, buddy?" Mike hands you a cup of tea and you drink it happily.
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine," you reply, "I just went a little woozy for a sec."
Mike laughs and slaps you on the back.
"Fantastic!" he smiles, "See, Peggy? Told you there was nothin' to worry about!"
The woman you've assumed is Peggy emerges. She has an 80s perm, and is wearing bellbottom jeans and a crisp white shirt. She opens her mouth and speaks with her familiar British accent:
"Well, it was still very irresponsible of you, Michael."
"I'm sorry to interrupt," you interrupt, "but where am I?"
Peggy looks worried. Mike looks at Peggy.
"You're...ah..." Mike stumbles, "You're in Tremolo Four."
You're stunned.
"Tremolo Four," you repeat, incredulous.
"Ah... yeah." Mike nods.
"We're part of a team who travel through time and space, scouting for information for the future," Peggy explains. "One day, in the future, there will be a horrific event. We lost all records of past civilizations. So we built this."
Mike shrugs sheepishly.
"We're data collectors."
You sip your tea thoughtfully.
"I can tell you about 2032 if you like," you offer.
"No thanks, honey," Peggy smiles, "We've been here far too long anyway."
"Yes! Far too long!" Mike smiles and rubs his hands together before strolling over to the mixing desk. "Where's the next gap in the research, Peggy?"
"487 A.D"
"487 A.D it is then!" Mike twiddles with nobs and levels and a great whoosh shakes the entire living room.
Peggy speaks into an old-fashioned telephone, "This is Tremolo Four LivingRoom to Bathroom. LivingRoom to Bathroom. 4-8-7 A.D."
You begin to splutter as the room tilts.
"You're taking me with you!?" you squeak.
"Well of course!" Mike says, "You don't think we'd let you tell everyone you know that a time machine landed on you, do you?"
"It will be fun," Peggy smiles. "So. Where do you want to go?"