Cookie Redding

Artist, Designer, Educator

31

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T.A.R.D.I.S. USB Hub

“All of time and space–you decide.”

            The Doctor peers at me expectantly. It feels as though I’ve waited my entire life for this moment. This is the moment to escape, to explore. I walk around the console, mindlessly running my fingers around the knobs and buttons.

            “Anywhere?” I ask.

            “Anywhere,” he states, with a slight furrow in his brow. Perhaps I am ruining the moment.

            “Egypt. Around 47 B.C.”

            He dances around the console panel, the dash whirling and whistling to life. The lights flash and the all-too-familiar grinding sound emerges from the core. This is it. Time travel.

            As an art major, the majority of my formative years (in both studies and in “normal” life) was spent in the library, digging up new information on artists, their techniques and their histories. If I found something interesting, I would mark it and take it to the photocopier. All the photocopies were then assembled neatly into binders and organized by either artist, subject or time period.

            One of my favorite periods to study was ancient Egypt. The mastabahs, ziggurats, the pyramids. The hierarchical proportion. The scribes and scrolls. The floods and the harvests. Every facet of their world was fascinating to me, and what better way to really study an event than to actually see it!

            The T.A.R.D.I.S. grows silent. We have landed. We have landed in Egypt. Not just in Egypt, but Egypt in the time of Cleopatra! This couldn’t get any better.

            “So, uh, we may wish to avoid a glimpse of Cleo. She and I have some, uh, unrequited issues that haven’t been dealt with,” the Doctor nervously states, his eyes glancing about nervously as he pokes his head out of the door. “You see, there was supposed to be this big to-do party and I maybe, possibly, undoubtably didn’t make it and she’s rather in a twitch about it.”

            I nod and rally myself. This is it. I poke my head outside the door. Egypt. In all it’s glory. My feet touch the sand, it’s grit should wake me from my dream. But it’s no dream.

            We stroll through the market, eyeing delicious produce and dried meat. Beautiful weavings hang in stalls and the craftsman peddles his ware. The heat is heavy but it feels right.

            “Camels, eh?” he states, grabbing at the reins. “Let’s have a look-see, shall we?”

            I shrug and join him in the caravan of two. When in Rome, I think to myself! Or Egypt, even.

            The desert seems to stretch on for miles and I finally get to see the pyramids in all their glory. It’s almost too overwhelming. This feels too good to be true.

            “You alright?” the Doctor asks?

            “You alright?” I hear again.

            “Hey, Cookie, are you alright?”
            I open my one eye, and see my coworker eyeing me anxiously. Crap. It was just a dream. And sleeping on the job no less!

            “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just brainstorming,” I say.

            It’s back to work for me.

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