I align the crystal mirrors: laser precision.
The bearings are set: four dimensions.
A century reverses in a swirl.
I stand on a storm-swept hillside. A croft crouches under ragged skies. My footsteps pad on cracked, moss-covered flagstones. I lift the latch: bob under damp eaves.
Warm peat embers glow soft inside, deep red.
I lift the bundle from the sleeping cradle: I’ll set free an unknowing, faraway generation from his crazed future as I steal away.
The crystals, their facets raindrop-streaked, glow under the bronze sky in the purple heather.
I step between, to return.
The drops deflect: scatter.
C.L. Spillard has had stories published in ‘Mad Scientist Journal’, ‘Luna Station Quarterly’ and three anthologies including ‘Steampunk Universe’. She has two ‘Science in SF’ essays on Dan Koboldt’s page.
Her fantasy novel ‘The Price of Time’ was published last autumn.
A physicist by training, she lives in York, U.K. with her Russian husband, two almost-bilingual children, a vegetable allotment and nine solar panels.
Her website lives at: