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"Oh," said the Professor. He looked around,
clearly agitated, giving the impression that he would
prefer to get rid of some of his guests.
The figure that emerged in the doorway was very strange
indeed. He was perhaps 20 years old. His hair was long
and sandy. He was very short and he slouched. He wore
a strange floppy hat, a Hawaiian shirt, baggy trousers
and sandals. As he walked his body seemed to follow
a private dance, as if it heard a rhythm it liked but
hadn't fully decided to commit to. His elbows were tucked
into his sides and his hands were forward. Every few
beats he reached out as if to play a single note on
an invisible keyboard.
He looked like a malnourished hobbit, dressed for a
bet. When he saw them he took a step back. "Whoa!
Company!"
"Hector, please," the Professor said. "Come
in. It's alright. Sit down. Have some tea."
He looked at the tray. "Tea? Man! Is this for
real?" He sank slowly into an armchair, staring
at the tray.
"I thought you left. Why did you come back?"
the Professor asked. Hector looked up and studied the
Professor through baleful eyes.
"You just gotta get me back home. You gotta."
He reached for a piece of shortbread and ate it whole.
"I can't take it here. I don't understand nothing."
"Are you hungry?"
"Man, I'm starving."
"I have some ham and cheese. Would you like a
sandwich?"
A look of horror spread across Hector's face.
"Ham?" He seemed horrified. "That's,
like, meat?"
The Professor nodded.
"From a cow?"
"From a pig," the Professor corrected.
"I think I'm going to be sick." Hector brought
a hand to his mouth, his face already a shade of green
so deep that they knew he was not exaggerating.
Lea saw it was time to intervene. "It's OK. Relax."
He stared at her. "My name's Lea. This is Michael.
What do you like to eat?"
"Regular food," he said, imploringly. "Fruit,
vegetables, Ottris Alpha."
"Well, fruit we can do. Vegetables too. Not too
sure what that last one was."
He shrugged again. "That's OK. I can just drink
water. Or, do you have?." he paused. "Coke?"
She laughed. "I'll take a look," she assured
him but then she noticed that Michael was looking alternately
at Hector and the Professor. His jaw was slack with
disbelief. He cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly.
"Hector. I have a question. Is that OK?"
Hector grabbed another cookie and munched it. "That's
a good goal," he said, without looking at Michael.
This seemed to be affirmative so Michael continued.
"What's your date of birth?"
Hector glanced at him without any great interest. "Man,
why do you look so serious? It's 8/5/15"
"So your birthday is in early May?"
Hector blinked. "Early August."
"And the year was 15?"
He nodded, and Michael hardly dared ask the next part
of the question. "Two thousand and fifteen? Is
that right?" Hector nodded again.
"Oh, my God," Lea muttered. She turned to
the Professor, suddenly full of understanding. "Your
time machine," she began, amazed at what she found
herself saying. "Is it the cause of all these storms
and power cuts?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
The Professor looked absently around the room. It took
him a long time to gather his thoughts. "I don't
have a time machine. I have a prototype of a time machine
but it doesn't work. You're right though, it does seem
to be the cause of power cuts, the storms, and the subsequent
police interest.
"Police?" asked Hector. "Those lasers
hurt!"
Michael detected a flaw in the argument. "Professor,
if the time machine doesn't work, where did Hector come
from?"
The Professor sighed and looked up at him wearily.
"Good question. But I can think of a better one."
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