Imagine a cow wearing a wetsuit, squeezed beef, and a bubble helm for atmospheric protection.
Bessie is surely, using the bovine descriptors naturally, buffaloed in amusement at her temporal journey, sat in a pontoon, to be launched from the deep sea rig in Orkney.
Where are they sending Bessie?
Why are they sending Bessie?
How are they sending Bessie?
Who is sending Bessie?
It is not aliens, as so many crackpots would have you believe, oh no. It is the most banal of monsters; The Government.
For right now, beef is in short supply, GASP! The year is 3032 and we need burgers! Our last remaining cow is being shipped backwards to the year 1200 to build an army of superbeefs with our most trusted farmers.
The public clamour for crumbly burgers! The public demand a meaty treat!
The public are fools! There are bigger issues facing our society than the lack of big macs and whoppers.
All the birds are gone, all the animals are crying and no one knows what the colour green even looks like (this means there are no trees either or grass and the algae is this weird orange)
How do I know about these things?
My real name is Bessie. I am from the future and this grand plan?
It fails and I mutate like turtles and rat, and I wear very loose fitting clothing.
I watch my past self jettisoned into the snaking blue waves and I vanish from this messed up world, and into a mistaken past.