"Can you hear the orange trees humming?" the noblewoman exclaimed, her garments flowing like the Tiber River in spate. "They sing of futures unwritten and paths unseen!" An invisible compass appeared in her palm, spinning wildly, pointing neither North nor South, but to realms disguised as dreams.
The acolyte scribbled fervently under the flickering light of an oil lamp. "It is not us who time travel," he mused aloud, "but time that travels through us. My dreams have revealed the walls of Ziggurat bending, revealing corridors to a sky we have yet to touch!" Golden clock hands spun in reverse around him, their whispers secret.
"How's the digital farm doing?" asked the programmer, tapping on holograms of pixelated crops sprouting from silicon soil. "Good vibes, good bytes," she replied, contemplating a matrix that resembled ancient runes. She knew her adventures with binary ghosts would echo through the ether, reshaping the code of existence.