A punk rock song blasted through the wall speakers. Fifty-eight-year-old Professor von Zeit was rocking in his laboratory, the music genre made him feel youthful. A rainstorm was raging outside his house in Klagenfurt, Austria on that grim black February night in 1996; he always used the English word 'filthy' to describe such weather. He turned off the music and stood in the bulletproof glass dome. Flashes of lightening illuminated the dome as he checked it for flaws, double-checking the dome criss-crossed with thin copper filaments at precise right angles to engulf him in timed lightening energy at its predetermined speed when it struck the copper pole on the roof of the house. He obsessed about one tick of the second's hand on the antique grandfather clock in his study independently passing, and the thunderstorm stopped. He cursed his luck. He'd have to postpone harnessing high voltage electricity bolts into his time machine time travel experiment, and an experimental journey one minute into the future in tribute to 'Einstein' the dog in the film Back To The Future. He doggedly postponed the millisecond journey into his future minute time travel extravaganza.

The clock on the laboratory mantelpiece struck one minute past seven. He heard a knock at the front door as he disappointedly exited the dome, so he disconnected the electrical circuit to the time machine before answering the door. Time pounded. He answered the door. It was the captain.