La Rose rest area, 23:51
Dan finds herself back in her cold and clammy car, her outstretched hand still reaching for her card. But the lab, Ric, and her licence have dissolved like mist in the sun. In slow motion, she curls her fingers into a fist and slams it onto the steering wheel, welcoming the flash of sudden pain. At least it tells her she is wide awake and far from hallucinating.
Then it hits her that Ric took custody of her card, and she is stranded without a possibility to retrieve it or to contact him. There's nothing but to wait for the next change of dimensions—or whatever the shifts she's caught in are called. If only he stays put and doesn't wander off with her precious driving licence.
How long will it take until the lights go out and she transfers back to him? Experience tells her it's a matter of minutes at most, and an irregularity in the power supply announces the shift. She stares at the closest street light until rainbow-coloured spots dance in front of her eyes. But she wishes for a flicker in vain. Is there a possibility to speed up the process?
She fidgets in her seat, realising how cold the night has become. The lab was comfortable in comparison. Dan considers starting the engine but remembers the broken heater. Cursing softly, she evaluates her options. Driving on is out of the question. She might disappear from her moving car. That's not a risk she's willing to take: Left driverless on the motorway, the car would crash for sure. The mere thought of reappearing in a mangled wreck sends shivers down her spine. The only safe option is to stay put in the parking lot.
At least I hope it's safe, she thinks, taking in the empty compound. Perhaps she should move the car into the shadows beneath the trees on the fringe? For a moment, she imagines seeing a movement there and decides the well-lit centre is the wiser choice. Here, she can see if someone approaches.
To take her mind from potential dangers, she decides to use the waiting time to order her thoughts and observations. With closed eyes, she tries to ignore the cold creeping into her bones and reconstruct Ric's words and movements. He offered interesting information on several topics during the last episode, willing or not.
For one, Ric showed honest surprise when she told him her birth-year. Strange that he thought she erred on the century. Did he really think I could forget in which century I was born? And, why 2081? That's in the future, for god's sake.
Dan's mind hesitates to accept the implications of Ric's question. The future... She sighs. The mess she finds herself in reminds her of a quote.
"When you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
Dan combs her tired brain for the author of this piece of literary wisdom. She's pretty sure it is from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, attributed to his famous character Sherlock Holmes. Lightheaded, she decides to give the great detective's insight a go at solving her problems. Who better than Sherlock to help her tackle the riddle of this crazy night?
With newfound determination, she orders her thoughts. What is impossible in my case?
Frustrated, Dan brushes an annoying strand of hair out of her face. All events since she entered the tunnel qualify as impossible according to all her knowledge and beliefs. This approach won't get her anywhere. She lacks talent as a master detective.
It might be best to use her trusted scientific approach instead. She's used to building, testing, verifying, and falsifying hypotheses. Ultimately, the process should leave her with the most plausible theory. Dan takes a shaking breath. Stop procrastinating, Watson.
One explanation seems obvious: Everything was a dream, including the flickering lights, Ric, and his lab. It's also easy to test this one. With a smug smile, Dan opens her wallet and searches for her driving licence. The card is missing, and a second, more thorough search also fails to bring it back. She drops her wallet into her bag. One hypothesis down.
Theory number two: I'm crazy and imagined the entire thing, shifts and all. A cold fist clamps around Dan's stomach. But without the help of a psychologist, stranded late at night in an empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere, she can't dive deeper into this scenario. And if she calls for professional help at this hour, they might send her straight to the bin. Better to set this one aside for the moment. I'm sure there are more.
Dan moves on to hypothesis three: Everything took place in her imagination, perhaps under the influence of a hallucinogen. But Bowler didn't offer her a glass of water, and even the thought of food makes her stomach groan. If not drugged, how did her unaltered mind construe tonight's crazy events? Her right hand wanders to her left wrist, where an all-too-real bruise reminds her of Ric's grip. The yellow-tinted light of the street lamps shows angry dark spots.
While she examines her injury, Dan realises the painful reminder of her visit to the lab contradicts both, hypothesis two and three. Relieved, she rubs her wrist, savouring the pain that tells her she isn't nuts.
Now the whackier explanations remain to be checked. Dan rubs a hand over her forehead. Her skin is icy, a fever can't explain her hallucinations. Is it possible she leads a double life in different dimensions? That would be something...
A quick scan of her mid- and long-term memories flattens her hope of an adventurous explanation. She remembers only one life that leads to the moment when she drove into the tunnel. It's the mundane life of a disillusioned scientist called Dan and must, therefore, be her real and only life. It led her straight into the horrendous situation in Mister Bowler's office. She gags in memory.
Fortunately, the fifth, even wilder hypothesis takes her mind off Bowler's proposal: What if her senses work correctly, and she was transported into another time? Into a future, where —or when—a lab still resembles a lab. But that coffee maker looked like a cross between a watering can and an alien mushroom. Ric's assumption she must be born in the late twenty-first century and his reaction to her birthdate support the theory. Still, the attitude to steal data from the lab's owners throws a doubtable light on him. He might be a notorious criminal.
Dan inhales, glad she reached a point beyond panicking. Perhaps Sherlock helped her to achieve her goal after all. If she is neither insane nor dreaming or hallucinating, she might be involved in a time travel incident.
A few hours ago, Dan would have called time travel impossible. Now, it doesn't only seem possible, but even probable. But why her? She doubts she was chosen by accident or because of her long eyelashes. Not with her name popping up in a database in the future. The explanations Ric owes her are overdue, and next time she meets him, she will get them.
Startled by the flickering of the street lamp above her, Dan looks up. The abnormal behaviour spreads as fast as a disease down the rows of lights towards the end of the parking lot, and the rest area drowns in darkness.