You wake in a strange room.

Your clothes are foreign and the walls are covered in objects from a different world.

You don't know where or when you are, or if you're still dreaming.

There are footsteps in the hall.

Jumping up, you race out of the room and into the streets.

You have just entered the Twilight Histories.

The Twilight Histories. The... The

The Your arm. I see we forgot something. It's an interesting antique. Quite nice, really, from a collector's point of view, the Plymouth Deluxe of the

Robotics Age, before we really got good at bioengineering.

I don't know if you want to keep it, but if you'd rather update it to, say, a replica of your

old arm, I know a guy in Almaty. He's very good. He did one of our staff after a suicide

bombing. Two new legs, and you couldn't even see the scar. I definitely wouldn't recommend the local hacks here.

Oh, you know someone in Hong Kong? Well, that's fine then.

On your form, you wrote one word, Napoleon.

We get this request a lot.

Napoleon is extremely popular.

If all we did were Napoleon tours, we'd probably be booked up until the end of the century,

so we have a few good ones in the vault. Between you and me, we do get a few strange requests for Napoleon. Some people want to kill him. Others want to have sex with him. Some have death wishes to die in his grand army.

But most simply want to wear a fancy uniform and go on an adventure.

From what I know of you, I'd guess you're in that last category.

You don't seem like the type to just hang out in Paris and go to operas.

Oh, and I should mention, in this world we're sending you to, Paris really is quite the city.

...