The Pusher

The Pusher
The Pusher

Two AM on  a Saturday morning. Nobody noticed that both the time machine and the quantum transporter were both left on. The janitor was finishing up in the lab–a new gal, nobody told her to leave the lab alone. But she was drawn to it–the candy wrappers, potato chip bags, and pop bottles taunted her sense of rightness and world order.

And then she saw the floor: no one had cleaned up the dinosaur poop from the Friday run. So she set to it with a mop.

And of course she bumped the time machine, and a TV from the late 1980s (BC, before the Crystalization) popped onto tray #7, not more than an inch and a half away from the transporter booth. She went at the cleanup with mad passion: swinging that mop, rinsing that dino poo into the bucket (it’s a shame the University never sprung for a Zapper, but even in 2732, human labor is still often cheaper than robots), whacking the mop handle against the machinery without a care for what it might mean.

That was how a Gleanarian wound up in the transporter booth, diverted from his expected therapy session. How was he to know? In an attempt to work out his anger at the enslavement of his people  in the summer of 1968 (BC), he attacked the TV and pushed it off the try just nanoseconds before it had cut clean from the time threads.

The universe was titled by 16.813 degrees as a result–not that anyone noticed until Tuesday, due to the gravity holiday. It was fixed sometime on Wednesday, but since there was no snapshot before the tilt, no one knows how far off the universe is–well, not beyond seven decimal points. Which mostly doesn’t matter, except the odds were altered a bit for poker, and scoring is down in the NBA across the board.

A University committee has been appointed to look into the matter.

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