I’ve often thought of Time as an ocean. Ridiculously large from an outside viewpoint, endless, dangerous, and every now and then a little bit of it manages to get a long way away. Can’t really explain exactly why it’s there; yet it’s so necessary. We all swim in it.

And some of us drown. That’s what time travellers do. We drown in the stuff. We think we can dominate the waves, but the tide will eventually come in, and we’re suddenly up to our necks in tenses.

Even now, I am miles and days away, back on Lanipus; simultaneously I am here; and just as equally, I’m somewhere new, running from an enemy I’ve yet to meet. In Time’s great ocean, I tread water in every depth all at once. Shallow enough to breathe freedom and deep enough that everything I fear is just one, dark shape.

That ocean will never stop moving, and shall never let me go. I’ve polluted it far too much to get off that easily. All I can do is swim and struggle before Time finally gets the best of me.

My apologies. Open Space got dull after a while.  “Bigger on the inside” just translated to them as “smaller on the outside” and they lost interest. So I’ve wandered off to look at the Earth for a while. I don’t often get a chance to look at it from this angle. Usually I’m down there, sorting things out or messing it back up again. Bit plain from this distance. All I can really make out are the oceans.  

Womble’s still in Open Space I think, probably trying to convince them or himself of something. Now, Womble. Timeless. His ocean must have dried up for him to think it irrelevant. Or perhaps I travel with the only being with the strength to make it ashore. He may deserve my lordship.

No. His ocean is as real and threatening as my own. He just doesn’t see it yet. He beat Time once before, and thinks it over. I don’t know when or how exactly he first travelled through time, but he definitely did before he met me. The TARDIS is sure of it, it’s had long enough of his time-anomaly self walking around it to figure that out. 

Every instance one travels through time, our ocean fights back. Its unnatural to travel in the fourth dimensions, and always leaves repercussions. My ocean currently feels like Poseidon’s anger management session during a relapse. I don’t think Womble’s would be that bad, but the longer he stays with me, the worse it’ll get. I only hope he has a chance to put right whatever showed him Time’s irrelevancy in the first place.

Ah, here he comes now. Clutching…pieces of the Mars Rover. Great Uncle Bulgaria, eat your heart out.



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