The bald driver asks. I suddenly realise. He asked me something. He is a driver. He is bald. What am I doing here? The windows are shut and I have no idea where we are going.

The carriage is made out of wood. Very nicely processed wood. This is the real stuff, I think? I don't know where you could fake this. Do I hear horses outside? The vehicle rocks up and down and up and down and...

The vehicle is made out of very solid white plastic. The plastic you would expect on androids in a sci fi movies in the 2010s. It's so smooth. It's so shiny. I hear the buzzing you would expect from an aircab in the 25th century. But wait, had I not been in a wooden carriage before? My hand reaches out to the walls, I must touch it, it's just so smooth and...

I rock back and forth and the car is made out of soft textiles and leather seats. The driver seems to be in a hurry, he is taking his turns urgently and my head keeps bouncing against the roof. Through the shaded windows I see concrete roads, filled with other cars. Do I hear a fossil engine? Another turn, my head hits the roof again and...

The bald driver asked me a question, what was it again? I touch my own head. The fuzzy layer of new grown hair disgusts me. How long of a time lapse have I made this time? The thinking hurts my head and...

I wake up in a cyropod. The chilly air is still stuck in my clothes. The vitals in the screen above me are all in green. I touch my hair again, the fuzzy layer has now been replaced by even more hair. I try to resist the urge to gag, but my stomach is so empty and...

I wake up again, a bald man is cleaning up the throw up from around me. He looks annoyed. "Good morning sunshine" he says when he sees my eyes open. I can only respond with a stutter. "Where am I?" I ask. The man shouts to someone across the room "Ah damn it George, we picked up another one that had a bit too much temporal travel". "No worries man, there are still markets for those, I am sure we can make it up in the next haul".

My cyropod slowly closes and the temperature drops significantly. The man turns around, and I recognise the back of his head. The bald driver walks away.