The house Callie and the surly young man were leading me up to was quite large by London's standards. The young man Callie introduced as Ian Caldwell pushed open the red front door and stepped aside to let Callie pass through, followed by myself. I stood in the entrance hall as Callie slipped off her shoes, inspecting my surroundings.

It was quite unlike any residence I'd ever stepped foot in before. There was a sitting room off to the right with a large metal fireplace and what looked like leather furniture. Before me was a long, carpeted staircase, and several framed photographs lined the walls leading up to the second floor.

I could hear laughter echoing from another part of the house, but before I could inquire as to who else was present, I received a sharp jab to my shoulders.

"Move," Ian said quietly. "Before anybody sees you."

I quickly followed after Callie up the stairs, doing my best as a gentleman to avert my gaze from her distracting legs. This was one thing I would never grow accustomed to, now matter how long I was stuck in this century. How was it ever deemed appropriate for young ladies to show this much skin?

Callie cut a path down the rather spacious hallway and burst into a room off to the left of what appeared to be a washroom without preamble, saying loudly, "Mikey, we need your help."

"Go on," Ian said, nudging me yet again. "Get in there."

It was quite obvious to me that this young man was not pleased in the slightest at my being here. I supposed I couldn't blame him for this, intruding such as I was, but I really only wanted their assistance in returning home. As much as I had grown to spite London, I wanted nothing more than to return home.

The room I entered was from another world entirely. The only thing I could actually recognize was the bed shoved in the corner, clothes and blankets piled on top of it. Everything else was a mystery. There were colorful pictures plastered on the walls, and also what seemed to be weapons displayed on top of a small wardrobe.

In front of the drape covered window was a desk adorned with large, brightly lit objects. That was the only word my brain could supply as to what the things actually were. Pictures were moving across it, and I could hear the sounds of grunting and shouting and clanging swords coming from somewhere, but I hadn't the foggiest where it originated.

"Geez, Callie," the young man seated in the chair said, pressing something on the object on his desk that caused the moving pictures to pause in their actions. "Think you could knock next time?"

Callie let out a huffy sort of noise I'd never heard a young lady make and said, "Sorry, Mikey, but this is a bit more important than being polite."

"Yeah, nerd," Ian said, pushing the door shut. "We need your help."

The young man Callie called Mikey dropped some sort of rectangular device on the desk and spun around in the chair he occupied, the better to face us. From the way he was slouched in his chair, I placed him to be much taller than Ian. He was wearing spectacles, his hair was quite messy, and the shirt he wore had a picture of a rather buxom young lady with blue skin and large eyes, a sword held aloft in her grip, plastered on the front.

I couldn't decide which was more embarrassing - seeing Callie's legs, or looking at that shirt.

"Who's this?" Mikey said, gesturing to me. "You look a bit lost, man."

"You could say that," Callie muttered, rolling her eyes. "Look, Mikey. I know this is going to sound totally crazy, but just hear us out, okay?"

Mikey propped his elbows up on the arms of the chair and placed his fingers under his chin in a steeple. "Go on."

Ian gave me a jovial slap on the back, causing me to stumble forward. "Go ahead and introduce yourself, buddy."

"Be nice," Callie snapped at Ian before looking to Mikey again. "Mikey, this is Percy Townsend."

Mikey inclined his head in greeting. "And what brings you into my room on this Sunday afternoon, Percy Townsend?"

"I, ah...seem to be in a spot of trouble," I answered, unsure of how to begin my unusual, distressing tale. "It appears that I have somehow found myself transported one hundred twenty-seven years into the future."

Perhaps Mikey must have heard a similar tale before, because no shock registered on his face. He seemed quite unaffected, actually. "I see."

"I found him in the bathroom at the Cherry Creek Mall," Callie informed him. "He says he's from London in the year 1887."

"I see," Mikey repeated, nodding. "You do look Victorian."

"Ah...I thank you, sir," I said, unsure of what to say.

"Tell me, Percy," Mikey said. "How were you thrown into the future? Magic? Science? You met a witch who offered you an enchanted bean?"

And then he proceeded to burst into raucous laughter, and what little hope I had of returning home to London in my year was crushed.

"You believe I say this in jest, sir?" My voice came out much harsher than I intended, but perhaps it would prove the gravity of the situation, though I cringed internally at speaking so impolitely in front of Callie.

"Obviously," Mikey said, short of breath, still chuckling. "I mean, come on. Get real. I'm a sucker for the science fiction and fantasy genres, but even I know how to stay firmly grounded in reality."

"I can assure you I am not joking, sir," I said sharply. "I have nothing to gain from telling a falsehood, and I certainly have no desire to stay here any longer than is absolutely necessary. Quite frankly, I am shocked and appalled by the conduct of every person in this century, and I highly suspect I shall never recover."

"Wow, Percy," Ian said after a short moment of silence. "Why don't you tell us how you really feel?"

Somehow I did not think Ian truly meant that. He appeared to be a master in the art of sarcasm.

"You've definitely got the whole speech thing down, I'll give you that," Mikey said, now eyeing me with narrowed eyes. "Who's the current president of the United States?"

I was caught off guard by the sudden change of conversation. "That is beyond me," I admitted sheepishly. "I must confess I don't give much thought to the colonies."

"Fair enough," Callie said.

Mikey then proceeded to ask me, "When did the first world war start?"

"I beg your pardon?" I gasped. "When did the what start?"

"Might wanna keep the whole "war" business on the down low, Mikey," Callie said, looking at me quite anxiously.

"Maybe," Mikey agreed. "Percy, you say you're from England?"

"That is correct, yes," I said impatiently.

I wanted to know more about this "war" business, but it seemed as if they were going to avoid the subject from now own.

"Who's the current Queen, then?" Mikey asked.

"Queen Victoria, obviously," I said exasperatedly.

Honestly, shouldn't this be common knowledge when one took into account the size of the British Empire? Even ones living in the former colonies would surely know that.

"Er, no," Mikey said. "The current Queen is Victoria's something-or-other granddaughter, Elizabeth the Second."

"I believe you are mistaken, sir," I said curtly, choosing to ignore this new piece of information. "The queen is due to celebrate her golden jubilee in just a few short - "

"I think that's enough with the questions," Callie said, speaking over me. "I'm pretty sure we've established Percy's a bit...unusual."

"I'm quite normal, thank you very much."

"That might be pushing it, Percy," Ian said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You're a little out there, you know what I mean?"

"I think it is quite obvious that I do not know what you mean."

I was very much done with having my intelligence insulted. If that was all Ian and Mikey were prepared to do, then perhaps I would beg Callie to look for assistance elsewhere.

Mikey banged the top of his desk with a fist, startling Ian, Callie, and myself. "I've got it!"

"Got what?" I said, admittedly confused. "I don't understand."

"Google," Mikey said, as if suddenly all of our queries were now answered.

Callie sighed, sounding quite exasperated when she spoke. "Mikey, you really think Google is going to tell us how to time travel or - "

"Hang on, we'll get to that part," Mikey said, spinning around in his chair. "First I want to figure out if this guy actually is who he says he is. What did you say your last name is again, Percy?"

"My surname is Townsend," I answered. "But I must confess I'm rather curious as to what this 'Google' object is."

The three of them paid me little attention as Mikey began to clack around on something perched on his desk. Callie and Ian moved forward to stand on either side of Mikey's chair, inspecting the objects on the desk, emitting a great amount of light and color.

"Percy Townsend from London, England," Mikey said. "That ought to give us something."

My frustration continued to increase at an alarming rate.

"Percy, was your dad's name Augustus?" Callie asked, sounding far away. "And your mom's Helene?"

"Yes," I said, taken aback. "Yes, that's correct."

Mikey let out a whistle, and I heard the tapping noise again. "Says your family was the second largest textile manufacturer in the United Kingdom."

I approached the desk where the three remained huddled. "I demand to know where you are getting this information."

"The power of Wikipedia, my friend," Mikey told me. "Oh, hey - here's where it gets interesting. This bit is about you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Listen," Mikey said, ignoring me yet again. "It says, 'Percy was the only child of Augustus and Helene. Months before Percy was set to take over as head of the family company, he mysteriously disappeared in August of 1887. Scotland Yard conducted one of the largest manhunts London has ever seen in order to find him, but with little success. In September of 1891, the Townsend family had Percy declared legally dead. No trace of him has ever been found."

The room became deathly silent when Mikey finished speaking. It had become quite difficult to breathe, and I no longer felt capable of standing on my feet.

 I stumbled over to the bed against the wall and collapsed onto it, my head dropping into my hands. I was never one to be overcome with emotion, but I could feel hot tears dripping down my face, and I was producing this very odd, gasping noise.

I was dimly aware that someone was calling my name, but I could not bring myself to respond. I seemed to have lost the ability to formulate a coherent thought. There was only one thing I had garnered from what Mikey had read aloud, and it was that my family believed me to be dead. I was most certainly not dead. I could feel my heart pounding erratically against my chest, trying to break free. This was not a type of pain that I was familiar with, and it was disorienting.

I may not have wanted to go to that cursed dinner party or marry Madeline Bradley or even take over my father's company, but I didn't want this. I was now - what I suspected permanently - stuck in some Godforsaken century with little hope of ever returning home. 

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Goodness! It feels like it's been ages since I've last posted anything! I hope you're still excited enough to read this next chapter! :) 

But I promise you guys, I'm still here and writing every spare chance I get, so stay tuned!

Lots of love,

Ally