To a fashion, the United States government’s first ever experiment for time travel moving forward, had actually worked. “Precision, needs tweaking by the technicians.” The pilot had recorded later, in his log. “Admittedly,” he’d reflected, “I could have ended up on an atoll in the Pacific Ocean, or inside a mountain of rock, or on a busy and fast moving freeway.” The nightmarish scenarios avoided, proved endless, when given consideration.
According to the read-out on the auto guidance i-device strapped to his wrist, providence had played him in with a lucky hand. Albeit cramped-up inside a small, walk-in maintenance cupboard with his foot wedged inside a plastic bucket, it transpired that Lieutenant Commander John Eagle, of the Florida-based US Special Secret Projects Unit, had rematerialised in a club named Iggy’s. The location: Suthfork, Middle-London England. His mind and body, as far as he could tell, had survived the journey fully intact.