marmalade

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: "We're causing it," the Prof said. "This isn't our own timeline, I suspect. Our presence here is : disrupting it." : "Which means?" : "The end of the Universe," Buffy said. She was on familiar theoretical ground. "This one, : anyway." : That required at least a cup of tea for the Prof. "Vortex," he muttered, staring into it. : Brownian motion. Ripples in spacetime. Even the cloves in it bobbed up and down. Wouldn't : it be nice. Beach Boys. If what? : "Milk, no sugar, right?" Buffy enquired. : "Or exactly the opposite," the Professor said. The opposite of a great truth is another great : truth. Niels Bohr. There was something missing from the equation. : I meant the tea, Buffy thought. He was off on a tangent again, and the orange juice she'd : gotten for herself wasn't about to inspire her to wherever he'd gone. "Want anything else?" : "Toast." : "Anything on the toast?" : "Um, end of the Universe?" Sam wondered. "Bit of a bother, that. Anything I can do?" : "No rind," the Prof said, glancing at the juice glass. "Unpeeling." He didn't quite understand : that, so he invoked a Helper. : "Unhalfbricking," he requested. It was a sideline, he knew, but he had to check it. Buffy put : the album on the stereo. Fairport Convention, late sixties. : The answer was staring them all in the face. It was in a small glass jar in the pantry. : "Not right now," Buffy said. "Just get some rest. Burnish your sword. Whatever that means." : "I'll be in the Library," the Prof said suddenly. : "We don't have a library," Sam pointed out gently. She made a face at Buffy involving : twirling fingers pointed at he temples. : "Um. Pantry. My study. Somewhere else." : "You take his his feet," Sam said. He was heavier than he had been, and she knew why. Her : wicked stepgrandaunt had done it with her pheromones. Rejuv. And she's so tall, she : thought. : definitely not the time for an Electra complex, she thought again. and she's really very nice. : then she thought toad fallout and everything went fuzzy for a second something else : "How long have we got?" she asked. : "Off the top of my head? About minus thirteen minutes, external time. In here, I don't know. : We're drifting backwards. Dilation factor, unknown." : Shipwrecked.