Sound of swift and forceful typing. "Named it what you already knew it was called? Ah, geez. If this guy who sent you back in time was trying to use you as a cat's paw for this nonsense, they're going to get fined into next week. Who'd you say it was, Arce--"

"Ah. Hm. I think I'm going to need to talk to my boss about this one, actually. Can you stay reachable at this number for the next few hours subjective?"

In most of London, the discovery of a candlestick telephone attached to the bulky box of a Corresponding Sounder would attract either confusion as to the purpose of the unusual device, grave concern about the implications of this latest innovation in Khaganian communications technology, or (most likely) larcenous impulses with an eye towards the scrap value of the brass machinery.

Lettice isn't the average Londoner. Faced with such a device, the obvious thing to do is to lift the receiver to her ear and start spinning the dial at random... and, when the ringing of the device gives way to the telltale click of a connection, to voice a boisterous "Hello!"

"Hello, this is and always has been the Time Police number, how can I help you?"

"Indeed? Well, time could certainly use some policing down here! This is the fourth year in a row that it's been 1899!"

"Did you notice anything strange when you first entered the loop, and do you notice anything strange when it resets? Is there anyone else you know or suspect is retaining memories between loops, or is it only you?"

Lettice laughs, a rasping cackle roughly torn from her ancient throat.

"Anything strange? Oh, you'll have to be far more specific than that, dear! In my long experience, there's always something strange happening down here! Most people don't bother to pay much attention, too wrapped up in the petty cycles of their own little lives to notice or care, but I've gotten far too old for such caution to appeal. But no, I'm not the only one who has noticed the way that December 31, 1899 is followed by January 1, 1899. Not quite everyone who notices seems to care, and the ones who do admit to caring about it are the types who care a little too much about the Calendar, if you get my meaning. They seem to think blowing up the Palace will help, but those types thought that before all this started... and since not a one of them has managed to blow up anything and make it stay gone, it feels like a waste of time to support their antics. Especially since most of those fools get killed in the process without even managing to set their bombs off, not that that discourages them from trying again after they do come back."

"I'm afraid I don't get your meaning, actually. The people who are blowing themselves up once a loop, are you sure they're aware of the loop? What's their theory of why blowing up the palace would break it?"

"Ah, a local term; the so-called 'Calendar Council' is what passes for organization among the anarchists. They complain about the situation often enough, so I presume they're aware of it? Being anarchists, they blame the government for the whole mess, adding this current situation to their existing list of grievances. And so they bomb themselves, or the Constables, or old statues, or anything else official-looking they can manage to attack about as often as they can manage... which would be a far more exciting prospect if they ever managed to leave any meaningful lasting damage! But it doesn't seem much use, as this city remains quite resistant to change, and it's not at all hard to find the same things over again once more... from the same unconscious drunk getting knifed yet again in the same alley, to the same centuries-old tomb restored to its original condition and ready to be ransacked once again."