Chris Bosh sat comfortably in his bed, propped up in a veritable nest of pillows. In his hands was a copy of Leo Tolstoy’s “Анна Каренина.”, or “Anna Karenina”.
As Chris read each word, he found himself engrossed in the worlds that they shaped. “This is truly a masterwork of Russian realist fiction,” he thought to himself. “If only I could read Russian, and thus take in Tolstoy’s remarkable prose in his mother tongue, then I might reach true contentment; a literary nirvana.”
Thoroughly drawn into the great literature, Chris didn’t notice that his house had been broken into by several invaders. They had made somewhat of a ruckus breaking down the door, and now they crept silently down the hallway, towards the master bedroom where Chris was preoccupied.
When his door opened, Chris looked up, startled. “Hey, I’m not expecting visitors!” he shouted, carefully closing the book and placing it on his nightstand. “Get out of here!”
The three invaders, dressed in white lab coats, didn’t even seem to hear Chris’ words. “It’s just like the tests indicated. A real, live dinosaur, right here in the modern era,” one bespectacled scientist said to his colleague. “A marvel, certainly, but he must be sent back to his proper place and time.”
Chris stared, stunned, at the group of men. “Wait, wait. You have the wrong dude. I am definitely not a dinosaur, and I’m staying right here, thank you very much.”
“He’s trying to communicate!” the fattest of the three exclaimed excitedly. “Dave, are you getting this?”
Dave, the one with the glasses, nodded. “Yes, and more. The surveillance we have set up on the property has recorded this beast’s every action for the past three months. But there is no time to dally. This creature is a threat to the city, not to mention himself.”
Chris walked up to the group, explaining, “Man, I already told you, I ain’t no dinosaur!” However, his sudden movement sent the frightened scientists running to the opposite side of the large room.
“Quick, the tranquilizer! He’s becoming agitated!” yelled the third scientist, a tall, grey-haired man. In response, the fat one pulled out a small dart gun from his pocket, loaded a tranquilized dart into the barrel, and fired. Chris ducked, avoiding the drugged projectile, but soon found all three scientists shooting darts at him.
Chris could only dodge for a few seconds before he felt a dart puncture the skin on his thigh. The effect was immediate; feeling drowsy, Chris stumbled over to his bed and sat down. As the group of scientists bundled him up in restraints, he tried to shake them off, but found that his muscles were severely weakened.
Struggling to maintain consciousness, Chris was carried outside his home, to a large metal chamber that had been set up in his driveway. “I’m not a dinosaur. For real,” he whispered, trying in vain to forestall his fate, but his words were again unheard, as his three captors were talking happily about all the grant money they were surely going to receive for their achievement.
As his final connections to the waking world were severed, Chris was dumped unceremoniously into the time machine. Eyes almost lidded shut, he saw the dial get set to 120,000,000 B.C., and the door shut. He couldn’t muster the strength to try one last escape, and the tranquilizer took full effect just a few seconds before the machine disappeared into the past.
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Opening his eyes tiredly, Chris abruptly remembered his predicament. He banged on the metal door of the chamber a few times before looking to the control panel. A large button read “door open”; he pushed it urgently, hoping to find himself still in front of his richly-appointed Miami home.
When the door slid open, Chris looked upon an alien landscape. In front of him was a steamy jungle, thick with the trunks of proto-trees, with no trace of human habitation in sight. To his left, a large pterodactyl sat perched in a tree, looking with interest at the new visitor. To his right, a T-Rex stomped through the growth, hunting for his next meal.
“Oh, no,” Chris groaned, sinking to his knees in despair.