Mr Hook's Big Black Box

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"Again?" Ferrari smirked, "I thought you'd somehow managed to miss out on the world going to hell the first time. You didn't even realise the Russians had guns."

"Well, maybe. But my plan to move the Box had already failed once, and 'leave it in the room while we decide what to do next' had been pretty much a disaster even if I didn't know the full story."

"You got very poetic words," Destinee beamed at Dwayne, "Maybe you should write a book or something."

"And make a deal with Cheese House Publishing? No thanks. No, maybe I'm just naturally a good storyteller? Did you ever think that the electrician-turned-programmer might have an active left-brain as well?"

"Right brain," Ferrari corrected under her breath, "Left is logic."

"No," Destinee got as close to panic as she ever did, at the thought she might have inadvertently offended one of her friends, "I like it! I was impressed!"

"It does seem a bit out of character though," Marco said, "I never thought you'd put so much effort into your wording. And defensive like that, you almost make me wonder. Is that what these reminiscences are really about? You're writing a book about it or something, cash in on the current contemporary fantasy boom, and you want our stories to fill in the gaps?"

"Sharing stories wasn't his idea," Ferrari just shrugged, "And I wouldn't mind. It's great to put together all the pieces at last."

"Okay, you caught me," Dwayne sighed, blushing again, "When I heard about the time capsule thing, I thought I'd write it up like a story, our adventures deciding whether or not to open this thing. When we opened it in the end, I'd say 'Why don't we put this in?', and years down the line it might go viral or something, if I was lucky. I wrote loads up on my phone, I had a word processor on it so I could write as easily anywhere as at my desk."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Now, yes. Back then it was still pretty primitive, but it meant I was taking notes. When it became obvious this wasn't just a time capsule I carried on writing, mostly out of habit. Just something almost normal I could hold onto, you know?"

"That is so neat," Destinee smiled again, "Anyway, you should continue. How did stuff go to hell? I mean, I know I was there. I've got the vague memory of shaking as the truck moved, faster and faster. And Ferrari calling out it's going to be alright. But that's about all."

"More than I've got," Dwayne shrugged, "I was lying on my back in the plant room, plugging a circuit breaker back in and trying to wipe my fingerprints off everything with a chamois. I texted Marco when it was ready to go, and then I had a blissful hour and a half thinking everything had gone to plan."

"How about I take over, then?" Marco asked, then glanced around the table to see if anyone wanted to argue. Nobody did, so he stepped back into his own, somewhat less rehearsed, narrative.