[ WP ] The sky ripped open , and through it fell a book .

“ This is some thunderstorm ”, Francine remarked to no-one in particular. It was an understatement of course, as it was the most spectacular thunderstorm she had ever seen. She knew the science behind it of course, but even so, seeing these arcs of pure electricity leap across the sky, accompanied by a low rumbling soundtrack of thunder made her feel like a little girl again. She turned from the window to see if anyone was listening. As she had expected ( but hoped not ), no-one was. They were watching TV, listening to music, picking their noses, anything except actually listen to her. she sighed. It was always the way. 
 
 Francine stepped out into the garden, feeling each raindrop hit her skin, enjoying its coolness. Out here, amongst the storm, the clouds towered into the sky like terrible mountains, and every few seconds a great bolt of lightning would appear to cleave these colossal clouds in two. Francine, grinning with unreserved joy, watched as the lightning grew more and more intense, taking on the quality of strobe lighting, and the thunder grew to a roar, filling the air like a chorus of bass drums. 
 
 The crescendo rose and rose, the sounds and spectacle devouring whoever was in the middle of it, when at its peak, an enormous lightning bolt split the sky in half, accompanied by an ear-splitting crack. All this happened not 100 feet above Francine ’ s head. Out of the widening crack in the sky left by the lightning bolt came an impenetrable darkness, and out of that impenetrable darkness came a small rectangular object. She squinted, trying to see what was going on. Something was wrong. She shivered in her clothes, though it was a clammy night. A loud, muffled thump, not 10 feet away from her, made her gasp as she instinctively jumped back. From the flashes of lightning still blazing across the sky, she could see what had caused the modest-sized crater to sprout at the end of her garden. It couldn ’ t possibly be though... a book! Needless to say, none of this made any sense to Francine. She stood frozen in fear for a while, but curiosity got the better of her and she gingerly made her way towards the crater, one foot in front of the other. When she reached the book she lowered herself closer to it, and after hesitantly touching the book to make sure it was safe to hold, she lifted the book out of the ground. 
 
 Although damp, it was still hot. Francine wiped off a bit of dirt on the cover and read aloud, “ Fundamentals of Motor Vehicle Technology... wait what?! ” 
 
 
 114 years later and hundreds of miles from Francine, Quintus was setting up the lab before his fellow scientists came in. He had brought in a rare find from an antiques fair, it was a book concerning a hobby of his, one that most people find quirky or eccentric. He couldn ’ t wait to show his colleagues. 
 
 
 Francine ’ s head was a whirlpool, completely unable to process what had just happened, so she did the only thing she could think to do. She staggered into the house, soaking and in shock, turned off the TV, and told them what happened, all while clutching the book to her chest. None of them believed her of course. Her son and daughter thought it was an embarrassing adult thing that that only adults find funny. They demanded to know where the hidden camera was but their attention spans were unbelievably short and they soon returned to their rooms, seeking refuge from their embarrassing mother. Her husband gently suggested, in that boring and dismissive way he had, that she wasn ’ t getting enough sleep. Francine knew then that if her own family wouldn ’ t listen to her then no-one would, and if she continued she ’ d be locked away. She replied to her husband meekly, “ Perhaps you ’ re right ”. 
 
 Her husband ’ s suggestion turned out to be true. her night became more and more sleepless, for she was plagued with nightmares of lightning bolts, accompanied by the never-ending thunder. She found herself in the kitchen in the dead of night, waiting for the milk to heat up for some hot chocolate, confronted with the book. Having resigned herself with knowing that she ’ d never understand what had happened, ‘ Fundamentals of Motor Vehicle Technology ’ was all she was left with. She sat down and began to read, hoping to see something, anything important. And as it happens, she did. 
 
 Reading the dry mechanical descriptions of car components and their interactions reminded her of her university days, when she had a wonderful circle of friends and a prosperous career ahead of her. She remembered, mournfully, of all the prestigious postgraduate opportunities declined so she could devote herself to her family. Yes, her ‘ family ’, she thought bitterly. Her husband, for a start, was dull, uncaring, and with dead eyes. As for her kids, well, now she finally had the confidence to bring to the surface a deep-seated source of shame, that she was not all that bothered about her kids. They seemed bratty, they seemed distant from her, and they seem to have taken all of their father ’ s traits. 
 
 “ I ’ m done. ” 
 
 Francine spoke aloud, softly and to herself, alone in that kitchen at night. She spoke calmly, but there was a great weight behind those words, all the weight of those towering clouds, that lumbering thunder, and there were flashes of the lightning in her eyes. She stood up, still completely calm, with a thousand-yard stare. She grabbed the keys from their usual place, and headed to the garage, which now, strangely, seemed like her home. The oil needed changing, but the old Francine had left that for her husband to put off. Now though, she began to change the oil, smoothly, quietly, mechanically. She finished shortly and methodically put the tools back in their proper places. She was nearly there. A smile crept onto her face, as she made the final preparations to follow her dreams all over again. 
 
 She got in the car, with the book - her book - next to her. She drove out the garage carefully, slowly, out the driveway, just before dawn, into the big bad world. 
 
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 The experiment had been a resounding success, Quintus thought as he was performing the closing down procedures for the lab. They had successfully opened a ‘ time window ’ into the past, and although the didn ’ t have enough power to maintain it for more than a few minutes, it would guarantee them years of funding. He was just about to turn off the lights when he remembered his antique book. He hunted everywhere for it, then with a heavy heart he looked through the viewing window, and saw the charred remains of the stool he left it on. His book, ‘ Fundamentals of Motor Vehicle Maintenance ’ was nowhere to be seen. 
 “ Oh man ”, he sighed, “ What a bummer. ”
