Alice Watson was a physicist in a hurry.
“Come on, come on!” She urged, cycling furiously through Oxford. “
Alice glared at the pedestrians through her thin-rimmed glasses as strands of hair escaped from her neatly tied bun.
She turned off the high street by the church into the square beyond, pedaling past the compact circular form of the Radcliffe Camera.
Sunlight colored the sandstone columns gold, casting shadows beyond the balustrades and parapets above.
Like a mini St Paul’s,
its domed lead roof shone silver in the crisp morning light.
She was going to be late, which was ironic
considering what she would be late for.
“Look out!” Alice shouted. “
A man in an old-fashioned jacket and a bow tie stepped off from the pavement in front of her,
concentrating intently on a handheld device.
She swerved to avoid him.
And the man spun awkwardly out of her way.
Texting.
The streets of Oxford were pregnant with near collisions between cyclists and inattentive road crosses.
Accidents statistics were probably available somewhere.
Alice like numbers.
She made a mental note to look them up.
In another five minutes she’d reach the earth’s science area.
The professor would co-opt to the lab from the geology people when they’d realised they had more rooms than fellows.
Alice stopped at the traffic lights.
If she could’ve told herself 11 months ago all she knew now,
she wasn’t sure she’d believe herself.
“In fact,” Alice thought, “I might put that theory to the test.” “
It was Saturday, 23rd of November 2013,
the day the human race discovered time travel.