Professor David Melville was certain about three things in his life. The first: physical time travel was impossible. The second: a secret he had kept for the past thirty-five years was known only to him. And the third was that if the elevator in his building ever broke down, he would die from a heart attack attempting to climb the stairs.

Recently, David had become very unpopular in the physics community, but more specifically, the Perimeter Institute, because of his very plausible and undeniable theory that physical time travel was impossible, therefore making a mockery of several respected scientists’ careers.

Today though, he had woken from a surprisingly restful sleep. Surprising for him, as he felt completely rested and not as he usually did, which was hungover, even if he hadn’t been drinking the night before.

But that was not the only difference this morning. In fact, everything felt different, even the bed felt more comfortable. He lay there staring at the ceiling for a long moment, in total and utter confusion at what he saw there. A complete map of the galaxy shining down on him, made of small green luminous stars, that he was positive weren’t there when he went to sleep.

Looking around the rest of the room, everything was familiar but completely out of place. At first, he was confused by what he saw, but then realised where he was. This was his childhood bedroom, confirmed by the array of different posters, arranged neatly on the walls.

The first was of a Van Veen. A motorcycle he had once obsessed over as a ten-year-old boy. Not because he was in any way interested in owning a motorcycle, but because it was powered by an unconventional rotary Wankel engine, the physics of which had fascinated him.

The only person who had shown any genuine interest in the Wankel engine was his uncle Keith. Someone he had met only once on his tenth birthday, and although his uncle had shown great interest in everything he was doing, David remembered a great sadness about him that seemed quite out of place.

Alongside the Van Veen poster were the stats for Muhammad Ali and George Foreman, as they prepared for their Rumble in the Jungle. There not because he had been an ardent boxing fan, but as an attempt to be part of his father’s sports-mad world, an endeavour that had failure written all over it. Finally, there was his beloved poster of Farrah Fawcett-Majors from her Charlie’s Angels years – smiling down on him in a red one-piece bathing suit, with long, perfectly highlighted, 1970s hair and brilliant white teeth. David had once genuinely believed that American women had more teeth than anyone else in the whole world. She was there, not because he had been a big fan of her acting talents, but because he was a ten-year-old boy and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He smiled, he still couldn’t believe his parents had let him put it up.

Along with the posters were several scale models, neatly positioned on different shelves along the walls. Mostly of spacecraft, both real and fictional, such as the rockets from the Apollo space programme, and spaceships from the TV series of his youth, like Thunderbirds and Fireball XL5.

Standing alone in the corner of the room was a small cabinet. His dad had made this especially for him. It was meant to hold all the sporting trophies he was sure his son would win, but unfortunately it had remained empty. Except, that is, for a small piece of rope, which had been used when he entered and won the three-legged race back in primary school. The only reason David had won that event was because he had been paired with Stinky Rogers, whose parents were experimenting at the time with letting him decide for himself if he needed a bath or to clean his teeth. The smell was unbearable. David remembered barking orders at him so he would keep in time and, as a result, they almost sprinted the entire course without missing a step.

Stinky had subsequently cleaned up his act, but his nickname stuck with him right to the end of his school days – and beyond, as is often the case. He had once made the mistake of attending a school reunion, only to find his name badge was made out for ‘Stinky Rogers.’

This was David’s first and only success, and clear evidence of his complete lack of sporting prowess. The cabinet had eventually been used to store books on what was to become his real passion in life, science, both factual and fictional.

The ceiling, which was David’s first clue to where he was now, was a softly glowing star-scape, made up of hundreds of luminescent stars that he remembered painstakingly arranging in their correct position in the galaxy, the memory of which brought a warm smile to his face.

The one thing in the room that was distinctly unfamiliar to him was the window. It was long, curtainless and curved around the corner of the room – outside of which was a view of the most spectacular galaxy-scape David had ever seen.

Beyond the window was a grey, rocky moonscape, trailing away to meet the curve of the horizon, but beyond that was an enormous planet, so large it filled one half of the window. The surface of the planet was covered by the most extraordinary streaks of what appeared to be swirling liquids or gases, all in vivid blues, purples and fiery yellows, which mingled together as they drifted slowly across its surface. It was stunningly beautiful and exactly the kind of world he had dreamed of exploring as that ten-year-old boy.

Thinking he was still asleep, and this was just a great dream, David went to turn over and continue it, when he suddenly became aware of two figures standing at the foot of the bed. He could have sworn they weren’t there a moment ago.

One was dressed in beach shorts and a bright Hawaiian shirt, which had multicoloured palm trees on it. He had short, thick, but very neat, jet-black hair in a side parting. The figure to the right of him was dressed in a perfectly tailored navy-blue business suit, a crisp white shirt and thin navy-blue tie. He too had short, jet-black hair, his combed back from his face. They both had exactly the same facial features – rugged good looks, a strong square jawline, a broad nose and thin unsmiling lips. They were the same height and build as each other, and their clothes fitted them perfectly. Apart from the clothes and hairstyles, they were identical, like twins trying to look as different as they could from one another. If David were asked to guess their age, he would have said they were about forty, as they both had that appearance of experience and fortitude often not evident in a younger person. They appeared to be perfect specimens of masculinity, as if they had been designed and not born.

Surprisingly though, he didn’t feel at all threatened by their presence. Even though they were both wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses, indoors.

It was only at this point that David realised he was unable to move. His head felt heavier than it normally did and although he couldn’t see or feel any obvious restraints, he was pinned to the bed. He felt a wave of panic. A tingling feeling, like a million tiny needles stabbing at his brain. Different scenarios filled his head. Had he been kidnapped? But what for, he was just a physics professor, an unpopular one at that, so who would pay a ransom for him?

‘Maybe this isn’t a ransom thing at all, this is a body parts thing. Oh my god!’ he thought to himself. ‘That’s why I can’t move and why my head feels like it’s full of lead, the anaesthetic has paralysed me. Oh no! I’ve been harvested.’

These were just two of the many ridiculous scenarios that flashed through his racing mind – which is probably why the first words he spoke were, ‘You bastards, you could have had the decency to kill me first.’

Before adding in a complete act of defiance – but not a million miles from the truth – ‘I’m an alcoholic you know, so those kidneys and the liver will be worthless!’

The one in the suit turned to his colleague and said in a rich smooth velvety voice. ‘Are you sure he is the best person to help us?’ His voice had a strangely calming quality to it.

‘Yes,’ came the reply. Astoundingly in exactly the same voice. ‘He is the only one of them to have realised the impossibility of actual physical time travel, he will understand the implications of the issue.’

‘Where am I?’ demanded David, realising he was in no position to be demanding anything but continuing anyway with, ‘and who are you people?’

‘People, did he just call us people?’ said the one in the suit, turning to his colleague.

‘Well, as far as he knows we are people,’ replied the one who looked as though he was either on his way to – or home from – the beach, as he casually gestured to their outward appearance.

‘What are you two talking about, where am I and why am I tied to this bed?’ said David, again in a demanding – but this time not very threatening – tone, as the two men seem unaffected by the tone of his first question.

‘You are not restrained,’ replied the one in beach attire. ‘I think we must have calculated your density figures incorrectly, it’s just the gravity here is … well, let’s say it’s different to Earth’s.’

At this, the one in beach attire walked towards the wall by the door and adjusted what appeared to be just an ordinary thermostat. He turned it anti-clockwise and there was an audible click. A screen emerged from the wall next to him and seemed to float in mid air. It was a glossy black panel, about three feet long with brightly coloured graphics, and was filled with lots of symbols and strange writing. He started to interact with it, without actually touching it, and David began to gently float upwards from the bed, his head now feeling very light. Seeing this, he made further adjustments and David suddenly, but softly, flopped back down.

‘What the f–’ and ‘oh, hi–’ were all that David could splutter out on his short excursion, before it was all over and he was back where he started, not really sure if it had actually happened.

Looking for some logical reason for these events, a grin appeared on David’s face as he looked around the bed.

‘Very funny, guys,’ he said. ‘I take it you’re the jokers from the astronomy department. Well, I’ve got to hand it to you – the special effects are bloody fantastic. But, you do realise, I was only joking when I said astronomy and astrology are basically the same thing.’

As he said this, he started waving his arms around, looking for the wires responsible for his sudden levitation.

The two men looked at each other, quite mystified. As if they were both now unsure if he was the right man to help them.

‘To answer your question, you are not on Earth any more,’ said the one in the suit, ‘we are on a small moon called 38 29.42.’

David, who was still distracted and searching for an explanation to his sudden, but brief levitation, casually interrupted with, ‘Well, that’s a really stupid name for anywhere.’

With a sideways glance at his colleague, but without commenting on this remark, the one in the suit continued. ‘But we are from much further away. Our home world is called …’ He made an unexpected high-pitched noise that to David sounded like ‘Luli-lee-lar,’ but he was sure it was more nuanced than that.

Now realising that he was not actually restrained or drugged and that all his body parts were still intact, David pushed himself up into a seated position. The bed sensed his actions and reconfigured itself into a very comfortable armchair. More half expletives were uttered.

It was only at this point David realised he was wearing a set of Batman pyjamas, just like the ones he had as a child. They smelled so familiar and comforting, like, well, like a favourite pair of Batman pyjamas freshly washed by his mother. ‘But these couldn’t be them,’ he thought to himself. ‘These pyjamas are man-sized.’ But they were identical in every way, right down to the small tear in the breast pocket.

This had happened as he was crawling out from under his bed, after his fabulous and danger-filled adventure recovering pirate treasure – which was actually just a five pence piece – and he had caught the pocket on a floorboard nail. ‘Oh no,’ he had exclaimed out loud upon seeing the tear. ‘What will Mum say?’ Ignoring the fact that he was covered from head to toe in dust – and had not long since had had his evening bath – with clean pyjamas to boot.

‘No, these couldn’t be the same,’ he thought to himself. As those had a distinctive diamond-shaped ink stain on the bottom edge of the ripped pocket, from when his Batman pen had leaked. He pulled the pyjama top outwards to reveal a diamond-shaped stain exactly as he remembered it. He immediately checked his waist. ‘Hmm, no utility belt, that makes the time frame for these pyjamas just before Christmas 1971.’ He had got them as a tenth birthday present in May, along with the pen which had leaked in the October, but he didn’t get the Batman utility belt until Christmas along with his Johnny Seven. He remembered this as probably the time in his life when he was happiest.

‘So,’ he continued, turning his attention back to the two men. ‘Where are we exactly?’ Convinced now that these people were not actually members of the astronomy department.

As he said this, he stood up. The bed-chair once again sensing his actions and rising up – not unlike those rise-and-recline chairs they have in retirement homes, but distinctly unlike any rise-and-recline chair David had ever seen. He turned to inspect the bed-chair, only to see it evaporate. Like millions of tiny lights being turned off in a very specific sequence.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said upon seeing this, watching until every twinkling light had disappeared. He turned to face his abductors and said. ‘So, you’re not humans then.’ He asked this in a very matter-of-fact way, convinced that this was just a weird and wonderful dream.

‘No, we certainly are not,’ they both said in unison.

Still not really believing that he wasn’t on Earth, despite the bed-chair and the fact that he was stood in the middle of his bedroom from nearly fifty years ago, wearing his childhood pyjamas, he said, with a half-smile. ‘I suppose you’re Thermians, from the Klaatu Nebula then.’ Galaxy Quest was probably one of David’s all-time favourite science-fiction films.

‘No, we are from much further away than that,’ came the sobering reply from the suited one.

If someone had told David that he would ever casually use the phrase ‘So, exactly how far from Earth are we,’ he would have told them they were mad.

‘So, exactly how far from Earth are we?’ he asked, not really acknowledging the absurdity of the question. However, this was how David’s brain operated. To his analytical mind, everything was a problem to be solved, a puzzle to be completed, a wrinkle to be ironed out, regardless of its nature or gravity. It was isolated, examined and a solution found. His stock saying whenever asked how he felt about some life-altering situation he found himself in, which would probably devastate someone else, was simply, ‘This is the chapter we are on now, worrying about it won’t make it any better, or resolve the issue, that's just a waste of energy, so let’s just deal with what’s in front of us.’

At this moment, David like any other sane human being was in the phase of denial about his current situation. Part of his brain was convincing him this was just some bizarre dream and any minute he would wake up from it drenched in sweat. But over the following few minutes, his axiom was going to be tested to its absolute breaking point, as David definitely was not expecting the answer that resulted from his question.

‘Give or take a few, 24,750 light years,’ replied the one in beach attire, as casually as if he were telling someone the distance to the nearest pub.

There was a small pause and then David burst out laughing. ‘And you were doing so well,’ he said, ‘but there is no way we can be 24,750 light years from Earth.’

The one in the suit turned to his colleague and said, ‘Well, you brought him here, you explain it.’

The one in beach attire looked at David and considered the best way to convince him of his current reality. A few moments past until he suddenly hit on a device which would illustrate the position perfectly. With that, he simply closed his eyes. The posters and models instantly disappeared and the room was suddenly filled with a 3D model of the solar system. It looked so real, each planet appeared to be solid.

Earth had appeared right next to David’s head, the moon revolving very slowly around it. He stared closely at the Earth and saw actual moving weather, as it meandered its way across the side facing the sun, and the tiny twinkling light patterns of the cities on the dark side. Surrounding the Earth was what at first appeared to be a haze, but on closer inspection David saw thousands of tiny satellites revolving in tune with it. Suddenly engrossed in what he saw, he went to touch it, but before he did, he looked at the two men as if seeking permission. The one in beach attire nodded with a smile. David prodded the Earth gently with his finger and pushed it off its axis, but as soon as he took his finger away, it just returned slowly to its starting point. He then put his hand around it and pulled it towards him. It felt heavy and solid. He could feel the gentle pull of it trying to return to its correct place in the solar system, but there were no visible means by which it, or the moon, were suspended. The moon, as it happened, had just gently crashed into the side of David’s head, like a large grey, gritty, crater-covered marble.

The Earth felt strange in his hand, almost like static electricity. The top and bottom of it that represented the poles were icy cold, but the middle was almost too hot to touch on one side. He let it go, and it drifted slowly and silently back to where he had taken it from. The satellites floated back to their correct positions and the moon continued its slow revolution.

He saw there was an animated dotted line that extended from Earth, travelling away from it, like some intergalactic satnav. As David stepped back to look at it from the side, he saw all the planets had name tags by them, as they stretched away from the much larger sun, which at this scale didn’t fit into the room. David guessed that it would be unwise to approach it, as even at this distance he could feel its warmth.

The two men joined him, and the one in beach attire pinched the air gently. The solar system began to shrink, until it was just a small dot, but the animated line continued on its way. It was now as if they were travelling along the line, passing other exoplanets, the planets beyond our solar system, like HIP 65426b, which David was familiar with and remembered it being discovered only a few years ago. He realised this was supposed to be a simulation of the journey they had taken to their current alleged location. Then the dotted line started passing planets he had never seen or heard of before. They also looked real with their own moons, mountains, valleys and seas. He didn’t recognise them because they were yet to be discovered by science. These planets, too, had name labels, but David couldn't read nor understand the language which they were written in. Suddenly David saw their destination come into view, a small grey moon next to an extremely large planet. As the moon grew closer, he saw it had its own label of ‘38 29.42.’ It had majestic mountains, deep canyons and vast plains, but all quite barren and rocky.

The dotted line continued as they moved closer and closer to the moon, which grew in size as they got nearer, until David could see its rocky terrain in more detail. A single small building came into view on the surface. This was where the dotted line ended. The scene zoomed in on the windows of the building and David could see three people in a room which had a curved window. The people were looking at a small model of the galaxy. As David watched, looking in through the window like some giant peeping Tom, the one in the beach attire left his side, went over to the window and started waving. To David’s complete and utter bewilderment, he could see someone waving back from the curved window in the model, and realised this was the man in the beach attire. He could also see himself in his Batman pyjamas, looking intently at the model. David raised his hand and the tiny David in the room raised his at the same time.

Shocked, he jumped away from the model, temporarily dumbstruck, his face etched with the fear of sudden understanding of what this meant. Stumbling backwards, he hit the wall with a large thump, his mouth open and his face ashen with shock. He looked at the dotted line stretching back in the direction of Earth, which was no longer visible and identified only by a pinprick of light which was the sun.

This astounding and inexplicably very real map of the galaxy brought the distances and his current situation into sharp relief for him, as he examined the facts. The faithful recreation of his childhood bedroom, the bed-chair that magically vanished, the spectacular view from the room and even the detail of his Batman pyjamas. It dawned on him, like a falling Acme anvil, that this was not an elaborate practical joke, but in fact real, and these two ‘men’ were not humans and he was no longer on Earth.

There was a long pause, as David looked first at the model and then the two men as he struggled to process what he had been shown. With his mind still reeling with all the facts, he came back to the vast distance that the one in beach attire had revealed to him. Then with a sudden eruption of realisation, he exclaimed. ‘Oh my god, you idiots, what have you done, what have you done? Twenty-four thousand, seven-hundred and fifty light years?’

To David, this reaction was quite understandable as he knew that even if they had travelled at the speed of light, which was 670 million miles per hour, it would still have taken them 24,750 years to get there. Therefore, he was now almost 25,000 years in the future, and everyone and everything he had ever known or loved were gone, and he was now truly alone in the universe.

‘Give or take,’ said the one in beach attire, maintaining his casual tone, as he closed the model.

‘It wouldn’t matter if it were give or take a thousand,’ said David, breathing heavily, a terrified tremble to his voice. ‘Why … why have you done this, what could be so important that you would want to destroy my life in this way?’

The one in the suit said coldly, ‘Well, as far as I can see all you were doing was working, drinking and sleeping. Not much of a life is it?’

Not even acknowledging this, David asked, ‘Do you know how far 24,750 light years is?’

There was another pause as the two men looked at each other as if they were being asked something very simple like, how far it was to the door and back. ‘Well, yes we do,’ came the reply from the one in beach attire. ‘But that number is a bit long, and even more of a mouthful, so that’s why we use light years.’

Once again, the one in the suit asked if David was the best choice. The reply was the same.

‘Yes, just give him a minute to acclimatise, remember, to him 24,750 light years is a long way.’