In the bustling Port Prosper, an unsecured set of barrels belonging to an hour-hawker at his stall sits, waiting for a deal to be reached and to be shipped off further. Otherworldly artefacts are on display in an airy foyer above, curving blue and silver things of mysterious purpose and provenance. There is a drunken stumble, a crash of breaking glass, a fire caused by the hawker startling and tipping over a lantern. The artefacts fall into the open barrels and react badly to the sizzling Hours nearest the fire. One unravels - the fire accelerates by minutes in seconds - and the whole mess amalgamates into a riot of color and light.
A great many people judge it a good idea to be somewhere else. When the dust settles, the spare time is gone and several things not of this world are now present - A piece of someone's house, a chunk of rusting metal billboard, a rapidly spreading bit of ocean-water, a patch of scraggly - now soaked - soil with a man lying upon it.