If I'm Here, Imagine Where  
          They Sent My Luggage  

                  by Robert J. Sawyer  

              Copyright © 1981 by Robert J. Sawyer
                      All Rights Reserved.




         First published in The Village Voice: The Weekly
                    Newspaper of New York,
                        January 14, 1981



       One look at the eyes of that allosaur had been enough: fiery red
with anger, darting with hunger, and a deeper glow of . . . cunning.
Those sickle claws may be great for shredding prey, but he can't run
worth a damn on mud. 

       Come on, Allo-baby, you may have the armament, but I took
Paleo 250 with Professor Blackhart! 

       Damn the professor, anyway. If it weren't for his class, I'd be on
Altair III now, not running for my life across a prehistoric mud flat. 

       Those idiots at Starport Toronto said teleportation was a safe way
to travel. "Just concentrate on your destination and the JumpLink belt
will do the rest." 

       Hah! I was concentrating, but when I saw that fat broad, I couldn't
help thinking of a brontosaur. So I let my mind wander for half a
second: the JumpLink belt still shouldn't have dumped me here with the
dinosaurs. There should be enough juice left for one more Jump, if I
can get it to work. 

       Damn, it's hard fiddling with your belt buckle while doing a
three-minute kilometer. Let's see: if I re-route those fiber optics through
that picoprocessor . . . 

       The thwock-thwock of clawed feet sucking out of mud is getting
closer. Got to hurry. Thwock-thwock! 

       There! The timer's voice counts down: "Four." 

       Concentrate on Starport Toronto. Concentrate. Thwock-thwock! 

       "Three." 

       Toronto. The Starport. Concentrate. Thwock-thwock! 

       "Two." 

       Concentrate hard. Starport Toronto. No stray thoughts.
Thwock-thwock! 

       "One." 

       Boy, am I going to give them Hell --       



                           THE END