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This isn't Emily's dorm room.
This is Milliways! Awesome.
"Hi, Bar," she says cheerfully. "Looks like I'm the first one in at the moment, huh?" she says, looking around at the otherwise-empty room.

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You just missed a party of space pirates, says Bar.

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"Nifty. What kind of space pirates?"

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Grizzled ones. With magnetic grappling hooks. What can I get for you today?

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"Oh, let's do something with caffeine in it, I've had a bit of a tiring day."

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Zowafruit energy drink? One appears.

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"Awesome, thanks." She picks it up and takes a swig. "Awesome."

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I'm so glad you like it.

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"Of course I do. Your taste is impeccable as always."

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You're too kind.

The door opens.
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Emily hears it and turns around. "Oh! Hello!"

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"...Hi! Do you by any chance know where I am?"

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"This is Milliways, a dimension-hopping bar that hijacks doors that normally go other places. The first drink's free, and the bar herself is sentient and fantastic at recommending drink orders."

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"What a nice and succinct explanation of a completely baffling phenomenon." He steps in, looking around. "I'm Ivan Vorpatril, what's your name?"

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"Emily Xavier. I'm from Earth, Nineteen Eighty-Six. Whence come you?"

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"Oh, yes, I suppose that should be part of introductions in a dimension-hopping bar, shouldn't it, how did I neglect to - Barrayar, 2999. Delighted to meet you."

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"Nice to meet you too! I don't meet many people from that far in the future around here, mostly it's the early twenty-first century."

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"Well, Barrayar is less futuristic than most of the galaxy, we were cut off by a collapsed wormhole for a few centuries and have in living memory gone from inventing gunpowder to acquiring a space fleet."

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"Wow, that sucks. My world has rapidly increased in technological level lately, but that's because you can buy advanced stuff from the bar and take it home so your father's science friend can reverse-engineer it."

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"Sounds like a nice gig. Anything I should be bringing home to 2999 to freak out ImpSec and excite scientists all over the imperium?"

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"I wouldn't know. I've been sticking to stuff closer to my own year, and after the twenty-first century there seem to be all kinds of technological trees. You could ask Bar, she communicates with napkins."

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"But I have no napkins who can communicate with her."

Har har.

"Ah, I see. Any suggestions?"

Most of the things that would make any sense relative to your technological background and represent meaningful improvements would be too large, alive, or weaponized for me to sell. Finding other interesting options might be possible but would likely be time-consuming.

"Thank you anyway."
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"I mostly brought home medical technology. It's excellent, Papa can walk again."

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"That's great! Modern medicine. Heh, Bar, can you come up with an anaesthetic that m'cousin won't complain about?"

Not without knowing more about his medical properties.

"The one day I don't bring his entire medical file with me to the grocery store," says Ivan, snapping his fingers.
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"Oh, what's wrong with your cousin?"

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"His parents were poisoned while his mother was pregnant with him. Very brittle bones. He's getting them replaced in batches, but he has bizarre allergies so this is more complicated than it should be."

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