120
R. Barrett and P. P. Delsanto
she could read the time. “Well obviously it’s stopped. Possibly
something to do with you dropping it into Angela’s martini.”
They were both awake now. Jim got out of bed, and spooned
instant coffee into two mugs. All this would change when his
promotion came through. Then it would be an espresso machine
and freshly roasted beans from Kenya. He switched on the T.V.
to check the time. The screen was full of snow, and the hiss of
white noise emanated from the speakers. Now this was unusual.
A voice broke through the crackle: “… all the reports coming
in have the same basic theme. People went to bed in one place
and woke up in another. One man claims that he woke up next
to his best friend’s wife.”
Jim chuckled, thinking of Angela. His smirk vanished as Sarah
joined him.
“What’s wrong with the T.V.?” she asked.
“Shh! Listen.”
“The nation’s transport system is in chaos. … One moment,
please. We’re getting Professor Karl Profundis on the line.”
“Ach!” Jim scoffed. “He’s the science bozo from our college.
Nutty as the proverbial.”
“Professor, you have an explanation for what’s going on?”.
“This is exactly what I said might happen. Read my book.
Space–time is the fabric of the universe. In the neighbourhood
of a black hole, it becomes stressed and warped. It’s starting
to break down, just like any other material. Wormholes are a
distinct possibility.”
Sarah pulled back the curtains and peered through the grimy
window. Jim joined her, and together they stared at the scene
outside.
Enormous holes were opening up everywhere in the street,
and buildings were collapsing into them. An unearthly blackness existed in some directions, containing not even a flicker
of light. In the sky, scores of people were floating around on a
mad carousel, clinging as hard as they could to what was surely
a fragment of space–time.
The carousel dipped and veered towards them. As it swung
around Jim noticed a group of revellers, oblivious to what was
happening, sloshing drinks and shouting to each other across a
coffee table laden with unappetising finger food. They looked
familiar.
R. Barrett and P. P. Delsanto
she could read the time. “Well obviously it’s stopped. Possibly
something to do with you dropping it into Angela’s martini.”
They were both awake now. Jim got out of bed, and spooned
instant coffee into two mugs. All this would change when his
promotion came through. Then it would be an espresso machine
and freshly roasted beans from Kenya. He switched on the T.V.
to check the time. The screen was full of snow, and the hiss of
white noise emanated from the speakers. Now this was unusual.
A voice broke through the crackle: “… all the reports coming
in have the same basic theme. People went to bed in one place
and woke up in another. One man claims that he woke up next
to his best friend’s wife.”
Jim chuckled, thinking of Angela. His smirk vanished as Sarah
joined him.
“What’s wrong with the T.V.?” she asked.
“Shh! Listen.”
“The nation’s transport system is in chaos. … One moment,
please. We’re getting Professor Karl Profundis on the line.”
“Ach!” Jim scoffed. “He’s the science bozo from our college.
Nutty as the proverbial.”
“Professor, you have an explanation for what’s going on?”.
“This is exactly what I said might happen. Read my book.
Space–time is the fabric of the universe. In the neighbourhood
of a black hole, it becomes stressed and warped. It’s starting
to break down, just like any other material. Wormholes are a
distinct possibility.”
Sarah pulled back the curtains and peered through the grimy
window. Jim joined her, and together they stared at the scene
outside.
Enormous holes were opening up everywhere in the street,
and buildings were collapsing into them. An unearthly blackness existed in some directions, containing not even a flicker
of light. In the sky, scores of people were floating around on a
mad carousel, clinging as hard as they could to what was surely
a fragment of space–time.
The carousel dipped and veered towards them. As it swung
around Jim noticed a group of revellers, oblivious to what was
happening, sloshing drinks and shouting to each other across a
coffee table laden with unappetising finger food. They looked
familiar.