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Professor When: Chapter 3

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The Time Void


Existing as a plasmatic cloud of subatomic particles, I was still capable of cognizant thought and what I was thinking now was…..

” Man does feel good to be dissociated!”

Looking at me in the dark expanse of the void all you would see is an amorphous prismatic cloud.  Separated into the various components that made up my nature everything about me was revealed. Epochs ago in time immemorial the void was were rogue professors were trialed for interspatial and dimensional crimes. Now it’s only used by me as a quick recovery area while I travel between planes. Yep, I’m one lucky, lucky girl. Especially, since the countercharge of the solar-flare is currently floating away from my “body” in a navy nebulous cloud.

“Goodbye, and good riddance.”

It’s dangerous to remain here too long. A living thing is a product of time, and in a place where time does not exist, they can disappear. Slowly I began to reconstruct myself, particles flowing together to create a ” me” that was incorporeal but whole; then I leave.


Interspatial Station

Earth, Quadrant 8

June 9, 3020 A.D.


Landing chin first really sucks.

” Saints alive and dead that hurts!”

Rubbing my, hopefully unshattered, jaw I note the sound of approaching footsteps, and what I’m sure is cynical slow clapping.

” Another excellent landing Professor When.”

Turning on my knees I face what could be one of the most striking men to exist in the galaxies. Six ft 3, amber hair, emerald eyes, a perpetual look of mischief, and an adorably foppish lop-sided smile. Meet my oldest friend and boss Aruway Kinglerly. His eyes hold immeasurable warmth and I feel my own smile overcoming me.

” I just saved another pretty planet for you, you really should consider giving me a raise.”

He quirks an eyebrow.

” It thought you weren’t in it for the money.”

“That was before my favorite coat got destroyed.”

Looking at the scraps of fabric precariously clinging to me he lets out a low whistle and a wicked grin.

” I’ll bring this up at the next budget meeting.”

” You mean the one that isn’t scheduled to take place for another 3 millennia?”

” Yep.”


My sarcasm should be evident.  Ignoring his offered hand, I move to stand upright then promptly land on my butt as crippling nausea over-whelms me.

“Time -travel sickness,” we say simultaneously.

He sweeps an arm under my arm-pits and hoists me upright: the ground looks more appealing.

” Come on, I’ll help you to the  med-ward”

” Because you’re so magnanimous?”

” Because I can’t afford to have my only professor put out of commission.”

“Well gee, don’t I feel loved.”

” You should, I could’ve made one of the drones carry you.”

Drones, I hate them. Memories I’ve beaten into a bloody submission threaten to make their presence felt; I put them under another figurative six-feet.

” Calm down, I wouldn’t cross your line.’

I don’t relax, and we slowly amble along. The station is colossal. It is completely made of animated organic matter that perpetually grows and repairs itself.


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