Untimely
A short story, published in Capital of Nasty.
Someone was banging on the heavy steel door.
Mich took another drag from his cigarette. ‘Siggie? Doc?’ he asked, proffering a smoke to the old man in the white lab-coat who was nervously punching at a keyboard attached to a huge bank of computers.
‘No thanks, my body is my temple.’ The scientist replied without looking up.
Mich put the pack of French cigarettes back into his back pocket and looked the old man up and down. ‘You must pray to some strange gods, Doc.’
The old scientist ignored this remark and kept on working while Mich smoked.
‘OK, let’s try again. I’m pretty certain it will work this time.’ The man addressed as Doc had turned to face Mich. ‘I’ve upped the energy throughput and refined the coordinates. We should have you back in time in no time.’
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