Whispers from the Warped Past

Chapter 6

So, here I was, Nathaniel Seymour, immortal cleaner of cosmic catastrophes. The ink on my divine-infernal contract was barely dry, and already the universe was breathing down my neck, or rather, the *lack* of a universe was. My patron deities, who apparently shared a celestial break room with the Devil himself, had decreed my first task: go back and un-mess a specific bit of mess I’d made. Apparently, my initial “Oops, I opened a wormhole” moment wasn’t a singular event, but more like a leaky faucet that sprung a geyser. And the geyser? It had a name, and it was a doozy: the Great Widget Debacle of ’78.

“The Great Widget Debacle?” I’d repeated, incredulous, to the shimmering, vaguely disapproving presence that had delivered the divine mandate. It had the distinct aroma of ozone and regret. “You’re telling me my universe-ending screw-up started with… widgets?”