I strap myself into the time travel device, uncertain whether it will operate according to the inputs I have set or if it will malfunction and temporally transport me to some unknown time in the past or future. There is little time to contemplate such worrying possibilities, as the appointed hour grows nearer by the second, and is almost upon me.
A single bead of sweat rolls down the bridge of my nose as 1:59:59 switches over to 2:00:00 on my digital readout. Screwing my eyes shut, I hit the large green button in front of me, praying that if I do end up in a time not my own, the inhabitants of that time aren’t keen to eat or kill me.
There is some rattling and whirring as the time machine undertakes its arduous expedition through the temporal vortex. Then, all is silent. I open my eyes and check the readout again: 3:00:05. Exactly one hour in the future, just as expected.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I unbuckle myself from the seat, clamber out of the time travel chamber, and remove my time travel helmet. Glancing around my home, very little has changed in the intervening hour. Even Japurri Purrker, my kitty, is snoozing in the same spot he was when I left him to make my daring journey through the very fabric of time, a journey I was unsure I would ever return from. “Okay. Time for Otto Porter highlights.”