The first thing they noticed: London stank.

It stank like the river, like the open sky, like industrial smog, like greasy food and women's perfume. Every scent in the city seemed to attack them at once; it made Christel pale in the face.

Nothing smelled like this in the modern world. Sensory input was carefully measured, kept to a bare minimum. Allen had heard that past centuries had unfiltered sensory data, but this was ridiculous. It scarcely seemed believable that anyone lived like this.

" Can you pull up a map with data about Marian's current location," Allen asked tightly, throat burning.

" I don't have a temporal pin on her yet," Christel responded, leaning against a railing.

" Eye witness testimony, case data," Allen insisted.

" Right, case data..." His eyes flicked back and forth. " One of these eye witness interviews says she had brunch with friends at an upscale café... It's a few blocks from here. Coffee At The Docks."

" Let's head over there, then," Allen said, starting to walk. Christel made a face at him.

" It's cold," he complained. " It looks like it's about to rain..."

" It's always cold and rainy in this era's London," Allen responded, waving him off. " We're dressed appropriately, so it's not a problem."

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