2022-07-16, 05:04 PM - Word count:
It happened almost before he realised it. Bob Babipperson was rounding second, having hit a smoking line drive to the right field wall, when he heard a buzzing sound, and felt a huge pressure over the field, as if a storm was about to burst. He was sliding into third below the despairing tag attempt from the third baseman, when the air ripped apart just behind third base and a glowing, swirling oval portal appeared. A man in a black suit stepped lightly out onto the field, carefully avoiding the sprawling third baseman, and stood in front of Bob.
Bob started up from the infield dirt, a look of utter confusion on his face.
"Tom... Tom Cruise?" He stammered.
The man returned his look of confusion, then shook his head. "No, Tim Possible. There's no time to explain." And he reached down, grabbed the nonplussed Bob under the arms and threw him through the portal.
Flashing lights floating through the air like ink on water. A susurration of sibilant, swirling syllables. A sensation of somehow rapid and yet serene movement through time and space. And then...
Bob Divesinalot heard the roar of the crowd as the ball was knocked over the top. The striker peeled off his shoulder as he pivoted and raced backwards towards goal. He sprinted shoulder to shoulder, then dived in, knocking the ball out for a corner with a sprawling foot. As he stood up, looked around and waited for the corner taker to jog over he suddenly felt estranged from this reality. Was he really Bob... Divesinalot? What did it mean, that he couldn't clearly recall anything beyond... well, beyond the last few minutes of this match to be honest.
Meanwhile on a baseball field several realities over, Bob Babipperson took his lead from third and pondered the incredibly bizarre lucid dream he'd just had. Something about a portal and Tom Cruise?!
What was happening? What might the implications be? Who can say but it is probably quantum.
Bob started up from the infield dirt, a look of utter confusion on his face.
"Tom... Tom Cruise?" He stammered.
The man returned his look of confusion, then shook his head. "No, Tim Possible. There's no time to explain." And he reached down, grabbed the nonplussed Bob under the arms and threw him through the portal.
Flashing lights floating through the air like ink on water. A susurration of sibilant, swirling syllables. A sensation of somehow rapid and yet serene movement through time and space. And then...
Bob Divesinalot heard the roar of the crowd as the ball was knocked over the top. The striker peeled off his shoulder as he pivoted and raced backwards towards goal. He sprinted shoulder to shoulder, then dived in, knocking the ball out for a corner with a sprawling foot. As he stood up, looked around and waited for the corner taker to jog over he suddenly felt estranged from this reality. Was he really Bob... Divesinalot? What did it mean, that he couldn't clearly recall anything beyond... well, beyond the last few minutes of this match to be honest.
Meanwhile on a baseball field several realities over, Bob Babipperson took his lead from third and pondered the incredibly bizarre lucid dream he'd just had. Something about a portal and Tom Cruise?!
What was happening? What might the implications be? Who can say but it is probably quantum.
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| 334 words. |
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