Under the veil she sees gobs of raw time congealing and plopping into the molten psychic plasma, stuffing up the flow with its viscous energy. Not good. Not good at all.
In the material world there is a Tyrannosaurus chasing red buses in London. Ice that has been absent from the earth for ten thousand years is creeping over the Sahara. Most pressing of all, an Imperial American dreadnought from the far-flung future is destroying satellites in orbit, plunging the world into darkness, preparing to reign with the tyranny of tomorrow, today.
Not good.
She pulls on her gauntlets, the jewels glittering in their knuckle sockets. Someone has to do some astral unclogging, and it looks like it’s going to have to be her.
Paddy Dobson
20th August 2022