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Long and meaningful discussions have taken place on the subject of ham.

Yes, ham. Ham and its place in the diet of a growing krakenbaby.

Fortunately, there was plenty of ham in the farmhouse kitchen. But in a post-apocolyptic world, who's to say how long the ham will last? There are the number of pigs to think about, as well as whether a sustainable population can be re-established, and storage (a fridge here, but who's to say whether electricity has survived elsewhere?), and a host of other things.

Well, this is the point... one of the points... one of the many points at which Stephen's motto is: experiment!

A sausage is being dangled curiously into the murky water.

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Is it can be sausage tiem nao? Spots dismisses Joe as Obviously Not Mummy, since he's not instantly descending on him to feed him and love him.

(That doesn't mean he doesn't get a thoughtful attempt at a cuddle.)

Spots gets the sausage, with much adoring praise of the kind one would give a baby who's just taken a step.

Joe gets grinned at. Kraken cuddles are never not funny when experienced second-hand.

"Likewise. My name's Stephen. Did you just..." he's tempted to say 'poof' here, "...arrive?"

"Very recently, yes." Joe says, trying to get away from the cuddle.

THERE IS NO GETTING AWAY FROM THE CUDDLE.

"Were you doing anything out of the ordinary when you left? Or somewhere you don't usually go? There was a bright light and a crash, am I right?"

Stephen will offer himself up as a cuddle substitute, for Joe's sake.

"Er, yeah. Bright light and a crash while I was doing ... relatively normal things ... and then I was in the mountains somewhere."

Oh, well, Steve is more fun to cuddle anyway.

Spots cuddles Steve happily, and will stay doing so until dropped back in the pond. Or until there's no more food. One of the two.

Stephen makes a Thinking Face.

"I've been trying to find constants in people's experiences, eh, so I can work out how we all got here," he says by way of explanation. "The light and noise seem to be the only ones so far, though, and they sound more like symptoms than causes to me."

Cuddlecuddlecuddlechicken.

"Could just be chance."

Stephen pulls a face.

"I hope not. There's got to be some kind of explanation behind it, even if it's in some really obscure quantum mathematics behind the principles of wormholes."

Stephen gets a blank look.

"Wormholes?"

"Holes through space. Like portals. In this case, starting in one universe and finishing in another, though they could also punch through folds in space like little staples, or in time..."

"... I see. All that complex theological stuff is beyond me, I'm afraid." It sounds like theology, at least, to Joe. Quantum physics aren't exactly popular in Joe's time.

"Oh, it's not theology." Stephen is anxious to enlighten. "It's physics. Advanced and pretty experimental, but still quite real and provable."

"More advanced that any physics in my time. No physicist would dream of speculating into the nature of ... holes in space."

Steve goes ooh. Because of meeting people from different eras. In the name of Science!

"What time is that?"

"25000 AZ, 1700 A12." Beat. "You may not be familiar with that system of timekeeping. The last person I met here wasn't."

"No," he admits. "Why two different dates? Is there not a widely-accepted point to start recording time from in your world?"

"Some people count from the first aurora and others from the last." Shrug. "It's easier to just use both."

"I'm assuming an aurora isn't a regular thing for you? It is where I come from."

"If it was, we'd be in trouble."

Joe gets an over-the-kraken look and a 'how so?' sort of noise. They combine to say: this is interesting! Please extrapolate!

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