Straight away, she realised that it was a lot thinner than mud – it washed the earth and grime from her body very quickly, aided by the Jacuzzi-style bath jets and refreshing soap. Her hair was a mess, though, so she turned on the shower-like device at one end, and started to wash her hair. There was no shampoo, but this water was green, and she guessed that it had some sort of shampoo built in. Sure enough, it turned to foam when it hit her hair. After a while, she spun a dial, and it changed to water – never had Anna been so glad to see something so ordinary, so familiar. The last of the shampoo washed from her hair, Anna wondered if she could get conditioner too. She spun the dial in the other direction, and out came a liquid that was again green, but paler in colour. Feeling much refreshed, she looked for a hairbrush. There was nothing.
Anna climbed out of the bath, and started to rub herself dry with the towel that she had been given. Briefly, she wondered what she was supposed to wear, so she examined the bundle she had been given.
They were definitely clothes, but not of a sort that Anna recognised. They were similar to those her rescuers had been wearing, only tighter fitting, and lighter in colour. Anna understood that, as archaeologists, the people she had met could not wear anything too fancy or expensive: it would just be ruined.
There was no underwear – that was Anna’s first thought. She retrieved something that looked suspiciously like a white leotard, and as she was contemplating putting it on, there was a knock on the door. Hurriedly, she wrapped herself in the fluffy towel and opened the bathroom door.
“I wondered if you need any help with the … er … clothes,” said the woman standing there. She wasn’t really a woman, more of a girl – Anna guessed only a year or two older than herself.
“Yes, please!” she said, relieved.
“I’m Apple,” the girl said. At the look on Anna’s face, she explained, “Dad’s a bit weird, he named me after a type of computer from millennia ago.” This confirmed Anna’s fears – she was indeed in the future.
“I’m Anna,” she said hurriedly, then moved onto a more important question. “Can I just ask, what year is it?” The words sounded stupid, but she had to ask.
“Why, it’s 3000 PST,” said Apple, giving her a look. This was not much help to Anna.
“PST?” she repeated.
“Where have you been, Anna?” said Apple. “Post Space Travel.”