The Time Tamperer (part 37)

Initially Mincey felt threatened by the unexpected arrival of the RoboSecGua – especially when it caught her in a pincer movement with Heathrow…

But any suspicions that she might have harboured concerning their motives were dispelled when the RoboSecGua informed her that she had won the lottery…

…and invited her to jump aboard Heathrow so that he could transport her to Lottery Central with alacrity and gusto. Naturally, trusting the security forces with an unthinking passion, she complied without a qualm…

But Sir Dodger was a far wiser earplug. “I say, old chap.” He whispered into the robot’s rear auditory receptor, “you weren’t being entirely truthful just then. What’s this all about?”

The RoboSecGua admired Sir Dodger, not only because of his appearances in thrilling motion pictures, such as ‘The Earplug Who Haunted his Dad‘, ‘Pewter!’, and ‘North Sea High Jinks’, but because he adored mobile eyebrows to such an extent that it simply couldn’t lie. “Um,” it began uncertainly, “nothing much really. We are…ah…protecting the Museum of Future Technology from an insidious threat.”

“My daughter.” Sir Dodger said with a sense of familial disappointment. “She’s as lousy an earplug as she is a movie producer. Not a bad actress though. Best not put her on trial: she’ll have the judge wrapped around her finger in three seconds flat.”

“We don’t intend to.” The RoboSecGua replied, which Sir Doger thought sounded rather ominous. Especially when Mincey discovered that she was trapped upon Heathrow’s back by a series of tiny suction cups that had extruded from his shell and affixed to her buttocks like limpets.

Her subsequent screaming hadn’t stopped even when…

…they arrived at the Tubo Di Tempo and the RoboSecGua pulled rank and told the Time Techs to ‘shove off’ in no uncertain terms. And the noise intensified by several quanta when…

…Heathrow undeviatingly carried her straight into the time machine.

“No,” she managed between breaths, “not temporal relocation: I’m allergic to the passage of time – specially in the wrong direction!”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018



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