The North East Entrance of Middlesex House, London, Earth.

  April 13, 7:37pm, Greenwich Mean Time

  Voicemail left for Dr. Angus McBairn by Dr. Keenan Fritz:

  Hello there mate.

  I’m guessing you haven’t seen your phone, or you’re mad at me - and rightly so.

  I’m not even sure what possessed me to betray such a dear friend as you, and in such a duplicitous way.

  And for money! God.

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  We never cared too much about money. That wasn’t the point of it all. Money grubs everything up. When did I forget that?

  I suppose I’m old. I was 35 when we met - that was 15 years ago. You’re in the prime of your life now - I’m just getting further over the hill.

  I suppose the me getting married and having a happily ever after boat has well and truly sailed. Try not to blame an old man for trying.

  Well-in any case - as per the apocalypse scenario we are all currently living through - I still think it best that we recon back at IMPUN to bash our respective noggins together and see if we can think our way out of this. I have a very strong feeling my machine caused all this.

  I think it’s the only way we have a shot really. As far as I can tell, this whole thing isn’t limited to the area around the hall where the presentation was. It may even be the whole of London. Or - God - the whole of London County? Perish the thought.

  I have no idea what’s happened by the way in case you were wondering. We’ve swapped some minds - but with who - I have no idea whatsoever.

  Jesus Gus - what if we freaky fridayed the entire planet?

  I’ll be at IMPUN very shortly. I’ve met a team of strapping locals who have been helping me to batter my way through.

  Please do hurry.