Tama of Tomeowrrow

Amazing grace

"All right, kids, it's anachronism o'clock. What you got?" Sara asked, her tone all business.

Meow! This one!

I pawed at one of the anachronisms on the screen, drawing attention to it.

"Giant mammoth in 1973, interesting," Amaya noted. "Or how about this one? It's a category two during the Belle Epoque in Paris. Sounds romantic," she smirked, leaning against Nate.

"Hmm. Or, um, this category three, which is the launch of the Spirit of St. Louis. I always wanted to join the mile-high club," Nate mused, tilting his head.

Sara rolled her eyes, letting go of Nyssa's waist and moving closer to the screen. "Hey, really cute that you guys are crazy in love, but date night is going to have to wait. If these anachronisms are loosening Mallus' cage, we need to double down."

I rolled my eyes as well. You and Nyssa aren't much different either, Sara.

"New look, Mr. Heywood?" Nyssa asked, eyeing Nate with curiosity.

"Huh? What are you talking about? What?" Nate looked around in confusion. Nyssa handed him a mirror, letting him see for himself.

"What is it? What happened to my trademark volume and sheen?" Nate frowned, running a hand through his noticeably flatter hair.

"Who changed my rat's name?" Mick walked in, carrying his rat cage with a perplexed look.

"Yo, who switched my game?" Zari waved around her game, now labeled 'Trombone Hero,' clearly frustrated.

"Gideon?" Everyone said in unison.

"A scan of the timeline reveals a change in Memphis, Tennessee, 1954," Gideon answered.

"Oh, it says here Memphis became a ghost town after a mysterious bout of mass hysteria in July 1954," Ray read from his tablet.

"That's what caused the changes. Memphis is the birthplace of rock and roll. If rock never makes it out of Memphis, then none of these things exist. Your pet rat's namesake, electric guitar," Nate explained.

"Your hair gel," Wally pointed out.

"It's not hair gel, Wally. It's Royal Crown pomade. It's the same product used by..." Nate began.

"Elvis Presley," Sara cut him off.

"See, she knows what I'm talking about," Nate mumbled.

"No, dodo. Look. 'While the population fled in hysterics, one person was left standing in the aftermath, a local teen named Elvis Presley,'" Sara read out from the newspaper.

"Don't tell me they messed with the King," Nate sighed in disbelief.

"Whatever he saw drove him crazy. He was taken to Bolivar State Hospital and treated for insanity," Ray added.

"If Memphis is abandoned in '54, then rock doesn't hit the mainstream, which means there's no Howlin' Ray, no Little Richard..." Nate listed.

"And no Elvis sandwich—peanut butter and banana fried in greasy bacon fat. The man was a visionary," Mick chimed in, that prompted puzzled looks from the others.

"But if this didn't show up on the anachronism map, then..." Nyssa trailed off, her brow furrowing as she pieced the puzzle together.

"Darhks. The only people evil enough to wanna kill rock and roll. Oh, and I bet you that sick bastard likes ska," Nate narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"All right, let's go check this out. We need to find Elvis before panic sets in," Sara said decisively

"Elvis Presley's uncle preached at the Church of Zion every Sunday. The boy never missed a service," Gideon informed us.