There were many advantages to sleeping away a century or two every now and then. In particular, when the world was teetering on the brink of an atomic war. It was certainly nice to wake and find out that the atomic war had been cancelled.

However, there are certain disadvantages to it just the same. One of them was that speeping for a few decades made your stamina and strength go to hell. It always took a while to get back to shape after waking.

That was also why he had decided to stop by the next pub or bar he saw down the road, to rest a bit. It wasn't like he had any places to be yet. He was just strolling around the world, trying to get his bearings. Trying to get an understanding of where things had gone that went beyond what his machines and computers down in his deep-sea sphere had told him. Once he was reasonably sure he would be able to pass without causing any undue attention, he would go and investigate that place called Lower Tadfield. The one with two decades of strange weather patterns that had set off his computer's alarms.

There was that bar. Very well, he deserved a drink or two. Change jingled in his pocket, and he knew there was more paper money in his wallet. Most of it was fake, but faked well. No one had yet seen through his counterfeits.

He pushed open the door and looked around the room for a moment.

In case you didn't notice yet, his extra-sense informed him unbidden, you're somewhat underdressed.

He snorted inwardly. Leave it to that independently thinking part of his brain to state the obvious.

Thank you, he thought back icily. I'll manage anyway.