"Awa wi ye," the draigon said, "Winter maks me fauchelt." "Please," said the veelagers, "come an sleep by the mercat square." "Hou, sae ye can beek yersels wi ma heat?" "Weel, aye," the veelagers admittit, "but so ye're no lanesame, forby." "Hrmpf," said the draigon, "Awricht."

Naebody coud be fashed tae read the terms an condeetions o thair robot servands. No till the clip shaws appeart on the net. "If A'd kent as it recordit awthing, A'd no hae treatit it liek that." "Haud on. Dae ye think sayin that maks ye luek better?"

"Hou are ye sae keen on larnin leids onyweys?" "A can mind ma past lifes." "Er. Awricht?" "A've aye loued readin." "A'm no follaein." "Ilka life, A was haulfweys throu a buek when A dee'd." "Erm." "A hae tae feenish them! Dae ye ken hou few bueks are translatit tae Scots?"

If A'm unnerstaundin richt, professor, it's no juist theoretically possible but prestable tae traivel tae change byganes?" "Aye." "Hae ye tried it?" "Aye, that's whit inspirt ma resairch." "Wad ye tell us whit ye changed?" "Nae." "A 'nae' is saucrit." "Aye, it is that."

A prentit the sign oot an stack it up in the lab. "Ye are awreadies in the futur." Baith trite an inspirational. Perfit for us as wis daeing temporal displacement resairch. Ane mornin A noticed a body had scrieved oan it: "No the day A'm no" Luek close. Is that ma haundwrite?