Confident that he was alone, he let out a sigh of relief that he’d been holding deep inside for the past seventeen years. He threw some water over his face, took a deep breath, and waited. And waited.
“Why hasn’t it happened yet?” he muttered, staring down at his hands. His Nigel Farage hands. “I got the UK out of the European Union, just as I was supposed to. I’m supposed to have…”
“There’s been a problem, Sam”, came a guilty voice from behind him.
Nigel span round to be confronted by his old friend Al, dressed in a shirt far more garish than any he’d worn previously.
“What do you mean, a problem? I’ve been stuck here for nearly two decades now, and you assured me that…”
“Hey, don’t blame me, Sam! I’m just the guy who passes on the information.” He angrily slapped the handset that he used to communicate with the hybrid super-computer Ziggy against his side. It beeped noisily in complaint.
“I think there’s been what Ziggy called a hyper-quantum catastrophe. Turns out that doing this ushers in something of a second dark age.”
Al squinted at the results on the handheld device and shook his head, sorrowfully.
"It’s not looking good, Sam.”
“Jesus, Al. Why didn’t you tell me? If the experts had warned me about this, I would have done something different! I’d have done anything to avoid this! Can you not bring me back and we’ll try again?”
“I’m afraid not, Sam. All knock on effects from the dark age. I don’t have long - just me being here is a paradox that’ll shortly resolve itself. The finances that would have been used to fund the quantum accelerator in the New Mexico lab went on building a wall. You’re stuck here – best just get on as best you can.”
Farage looked down at his feet, despondent. “Oh boy.”