The time pod popped into existence at the corner of Robertson and Beverly. A woman stepped out, startling the pedestrians. A car slammed into the back of another at the stoplight.
She was pretty. Her eyes were a glowing blue—no pupils. Her hair was blond until she turned her head. Then it was black. Blond again when she turned back.
“Let me guess,” she said to the people on the sidewalk. “There’s a war on, right? If not in name, then in action? No? That seriously limits this to only three time-grids in all of history.”
Blank stares met her. She noticed.
“Wait. Do you guys worship Superman?” she asked, scanning the crowd. She studied women’s jewelry, men’s hairlines, everyone’s shoes. Took a breath, clocked the temperature, did some fast mental math.
“Oh gods, no,” she groaned. “I’m two thousand years too early for that.” She laughed. “You should see their faces when I tell them Superman was a comic book character and not a real guy.”
The crowd looked at each other.
“I’m gonna nail this without checking my watch,” she said. “No blue faces. Not many mutations. That means I’m…”
She stopped. Checked her wrist. No time left for guessing games.
“Damn. Oh, people. I’m so sorry. You’ve got about two minutes before the—”
She cut off, spun, and dove back into the pod.
“Gotta check the timer before I pop out,” she muttered as the door started to close. “I damn sure don’t want to emerge right when—”
The pod sealed. She was gone.
Everyone looked up when the rumbling began.