Sometimes the best ideas come from sitting down and having a cup of tea.
Corella’s great-grandmother always said the best inventions were born from necessity and a good cup of tea. So, it was no surprise that Corella’s latest invention was a time machine disguised as a porcelain teacup. It had a delicate floral pattern belying the intricate brass gears, miniature levers, and a tiny, ticking clock face embedded in its side.
It was hidden in plain sight on a 3-tier brass rolling tea cart, with other tea cups, saucers, plates, and a designer condiment set. Linen napkins completed the illusion and kept the device safe. The food distribution center was a week late with provisions, which meant Corella would eat poorly or have nothing at all. Her stomach was already growling with the thought of hunger.
“I think I’ll visit great-grandma Hardwick. She’ll have what I need.”
Carefully adjusting a minuscule dial that looked suspiciously like a sugar cube, Corella went back in time 100 years, in the seconds of several heartbeats. Her goal: to take family notes on how to safely forage wild mushrooms and cook them safely.
Corella never questioned why her long-ago relatives received her as family. She socialized with them in wood cabins and drank Earl Grey tea before going on a foraging hunt, taking notes on what was edible. When the hunt was over, she had a basket full of mushrooms, potatoes, carrots, and notes to prepare several meals high in flavor, low in calories.
The bounty made her happy, but it bothered her that this intellectual knowledge was lost to her family after several generations of relying on the state for sustenance.
“Look where depending on the state got me,” she said, promising her kin she would return monthly to learn the craft of self-survival and pass the knowledge on to current family and friends. Then it was time to go back home. Saying her goodbyes, she repeated the same procedure to return home.
Pouring a steaming, fragrant chamomile tea into the cup, the liquid shimmered with an almost otherworldly glow. Taking a deep breath, she pressed a tiny, ruby-red button on the handle. The room around her blurred, the scent of tea intensified, and a soft, humming vibration filled the air. It wasn’t a violent lurch, but like the tea, it was gentle and comforting.
When the world solidified again, the sun streamed through the window at a slightly different angle than when she left. The teacup sat innocently on the brass cart, its gears silent.
On the floor next to her in the kitchen was a basket full of wild mushrooms and plenty of vegetables to last her well past the next state food delivery.
With a triumphant grin, Corella hopped off her stool and headed straight for the recipe box. She found a new index card, scribbled down what her great-grandmother and other kinfoke taught her.
As she cooked, the house filled with an aroma of mushroom stew with onions, potatoes, and carrots. Corella realized time travel wasn’t about grand historical interventions or saving the world. Sometimes the most profound use of a time machine was simply ensuring a perfect healthy home-cooked meal, provided by nature, not man. And perhaps, a reminder that the most extraordinary things can hide in plain sight when accompanied by a good cup of tea.
The End
Note: As with many inventions, the TeaCup Time Machine was a spinoff of the Liquor Tea Machine, without the time-travel component. Corella showed off this device at the Screen Savers workshop for the world to see. She changed the name to ‘The Tea Engine’ for the sober workshop audience. 😊
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