Section F: Fairy Tales & Physicists

Chapter 37

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I had a bit of a poke around up in the control room, while you and Graham were off flambéing the prof. I figured there had to be some snacks stashed away up there, somewhere. You know what I found?" Hair ruffling in the portal-generated wind, Peregrine's expression darkened. "Two-minute noodles. Two-bloody-minute noodles. You call those carbs? 'Cause I don't. I mean—"

"Peregrine!" Fields hauled his complaining partner back from the very brink of the portal's ravenous advance. "The charger! What was it you said about the charger?"

"Huh? Yeah, there's a drawer up there full of cables and chargers and stuff. But seriously? Two-minute noodles? I mean they didn't even have oriental flavour. You'd think—"

"Will you bloody shut up about noodles?" snapped Fields, backpedalling frantically, while trying to avoid a fatal slip and also simultaneously steer Peregrine out of harm's way. "Why the hell didn't you say so earlier?"

"I dunno. It didn't seem important." Finally realising their portalisation was apparently to be postponed for a bit, Peregrine broke into a half-hearted jog. "Hey, I thought we'd decided not to run."

Fields was finding his live partner even harder not to punch than the dead scientist. "That's because I didn't bloody know there was a freaking charger in the building. How the hell is that not important?"

Peregrine shrugged as she ran. "I just figured it'd all be over by the time the phone with the code thingummy charged. After all, that kind of thing takes hours." A hint of uncertainty crept into her voice. "Doesn't it?"

Fields gaped at her. "No! Well, maybe. But it wouldn't need to fully charge. We could enter the code while it's charging!"

"Are you sure?" Peregrine's face radiated scepticism. "That doesn't sound right to me."

"Of course I'm sure! What planet have you been living on? Anybody would think you've never had to plug your phone in when you're halfway through a movie or something."

"But I haven't. I haven't had to charge my phone for years."

"What?" Fields goggled at her, and then groaned, as understanding dawned. "You got your bloody phone in the future, didn't you? Don't tell me—that sucker is nuclear."

"Nah." Peregrine grinned at him. "It runs on methane."

"Methane?"

"Yeah. Methane—from the atmosphere."

Fields absorbed this. "Let me get this straight. You're telling me your phone runs on farts?"

"What? Of course not." Peregrine looked affronted. "It runs on methane, like I said."

"And where the bloody hell do you think methane comes from?"

"Well, you know—it comes from..." Her eyes widened. "Son-of-a-bitch," she breathed, "my phone runs on farts." She shook her head. "Anyway—the upshot is, I may be a little fuzzy on the whole charging thing. Are you sure we'd be able to enter the code?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm bloody sure! I'm sure because unlike a certain dead, dumb-arse scientist I could name, or my infuriating, future-faring, fart-phoned partner, I charge my phone every day. It was charging this morning when I got the text telling me to meet you at the Novus Institute, fourteen hours, a truckload of regrets and a whole bloody lifetime ago. So, yes—I am sure! Now, tell me where that bloody drawer is, so we can try to bloody well save the stupid world and I can maybe get a shower and a nice lie down."

As Peregrine did so, Fields attempted to orient himself, while another great section of the hangar wall crumpled and fell and was whisked away into the portal's ever-widening maw. Heart sinking, he realised their flight was taking them on an angle that was increasing the distance from the control room. That had to stop.