He woke up surrounded by sand. “Oh cool” he thought, “I’m at the beach, I love the beach!” He was almost used to the time travel lurch, the waking up in a new place and wondered if this might be in the nineteenth century since the sand was clean and pristine. He slowly stood up and found he was not at a beach but in a desert, surrounded by nothing but constant waving sand as the hot breeze drifted the tiny grains. The sun was extremely hot and he felt his tongue was rough against his cheek and gums. He tried gathering some saliva into his mouth but the action choked him. He opened his mouth and felt with his fingers—nothing but a dry film, of what? And then he realized it was sand! I must have fallen asleep in my journey, and reached for his handy water bottle. It wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t, he thought again, because it’s a twenty first century item and he couldn’t take it on any trip to…to…where was he anyway? He looked around and the thirst he experienced was now dangerously closing his throat. It must be a trick by my colleagues, he grimaced, thinking that okay, this is a joke but it needs to be over. “Get me back to the lab!” He shouted into the sun, but no one answered. He started panicking and choking, feeling no moisture coming.



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