Thursday, 3 October 2013
Monsieur Garlan liked the curls of a modern man - leave powdered wigs to lawyers, he thought.
His night shirt ballooned as perfume told him she was near. But on opening his eyes, he stopped, confused at the rifle.
His world suddenly went dark.‘Stop! I specifically ordered a time-jaunt, circa France Empire.’
In the control room, Tom sighed, Holovid was so much easier.