Romanowski and Rosemary

5. Fameophobia

A few days had passed since Cheryl's arrival in the 21st century, but she was still bedridden. Thanks to the murderous way she got transported back. 

Several tests went on, which stated that the mechanism to return had temporarily weakened her muscles as she sat against the lab's bed, bored as hell, eating the blandest of foods.

Being kept unconscious for most of the time as they treated her, she didn't notice the tightly wrapped bandage around her wrist.

"The AI chip?" she muttered, "You took it… off?" She asked slowly as the doctors assessed her health through the various monitors.

"Yes, we did," answered one of her mentors. "It will go to the AI team for a thorough analysis. They could identify useful things relating to ancient times through it," the mentor smiled.

Cheryl went white. "Uh, does that mean whatever we… uh, like, talked through the chip, it's all recorded?"

The mentor furrowed her brows. "Though it had a self deletion system, maybe the AI team can still restore it. What's the matter, though?" she asked, confused when she noticed the heartbeat machine connecting to Cheryl depicting erratic waves.

Wow, now I can't even hide this acrobatic heartbeat of mine. Cheryl thought, biting her lip.

"Well… there were some… uh, private messages which I wouldn't want anyone coming across so…" She wished she could escape back into the fourth century somehow as she said that. 

"Why, what's so private? You all were talking as part of the teamwork, right?" The naïve mentor asked further, concerned.

Yeah, the teamwork of two highly bored people results in damn sexts! She thought and groaned inwardly as the doctors nearby had their fists pressed to their mouths to avoid a chuckle. They obviously understood her context. 

"Claire…" she sighed, "You don't realise how boring it can get in the fourth century sometimes. So I was chatting with Lorenzo and… well, our conversation went sort of… off track. Yes," she smiled sheepishly as her mentor's mouth formed in an 'o', then she nodded.

"Oh, okay, okay, I get it," she laughed. "It's nothing to worry about."

"We hadn't thought about retrieving info from the AI chip until recently," Dr Warton quipped, coming beside her bed as he scribbled something onto a clipboard. "Some archaeological critics think all this time travel is a fake show by us."

"What?" Cheryl spat.

"Yes. They claim that we just hid the five of you for years and the data we gained from your AI book is an unrealistic story to make it appear we sent you back in time."

"What the fuc- " Cheryl stopped, then took a deep breath, "Okay, I know. No cursing in the lab," she fumed, her blood instantly to a boil. 

Of course, this was about to happen. There would be a dumb bunch of people out there who'd think this life-threatening, near-death experience of time travelling was a fake.

"Why don't you strap that floppy excuse of a critic to the steel table, give him an electric shock close to heart fibrillation, and let him transport back?" She gritted out.

"We offered him so," Dr Warton nodded, adjusting his spectacles, "But he backed out. Stating he would die on the table than transport back after we told him the procedure."

"Ha! What a bitc- oops," she coughed. "Anyway," she sighed. "I had hidden some of my gifted jewels and ancient objects in the deserts of Egypt. Hope we find it through excavations."

The scientists beamed at that. "Yes, we read your account on this from the AI book. That's an excellent approach." They smiled, then opened a box that had a dainty cloth inside.