"You've reached the voicemail of Trevor Goodchild. Leave your name, number, and a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you."

After his clinic shift, Trevor came straight back to his apartment to continue working on his transporter belt.

( There had to be a way to get it working again. Even in his future, this kind of machinery wasn't that complicated. )

Trevor hovered over his laboratory desk, scribbling a note to himself as he added another vial of liquid to his petri dish. He was thankful that Freya had left him alone for the afternoon, so he could try to get some work done. She was certainly a good assistant, but that was the limit to what he needed - an assistant, not someone to take care of ( Read more... )