Alex's eyes popped wide open. "It's a real pleasure to meet someone of your stature", she said.
Bond looked at her suspiciously for a moment, then decided she was not being sarcastic. "The pleasure is mine," he responded.
"I've seen all the movies about you," she said, deciding not to mention anything of the parodies and real turkeys. She was surprised by his appearance, so unlike the James Bond in the movies. He looked much too heavy for the acrobatics, and not quite suave enough to be the cinematic lady-killer. His outfit looked like a very old boy scout uniform, with baggy shorts, a wide-brim hat, and a bright red kerchief around his neck.
"Perhaps they were somewhat exaggerated, but thank you," he responded graciously. He turned to Nick and Martha: "Has the operative been briefed fully?"
"No, Mr. Bond, we were just now filling her in on background. There's so much to tell..."
"Yes, yes, get on with it then," he said, and strode out of the room. "I'll return shortly."
"Is that really him?" Alex asked. Quietly Martha replied, "Sometimes the transfer of inspiration works both ways. The James Bond of your novels and movies was a totally imaginary character. Our Mr. Bond, whose real name is Garifaldo, is a government agent whose main job is to guide visitors. Government House can be quite confusing. Unfortunately, 'Mr. Bond' was overwhelmed by your world's fiction, and now fully believes his new identity. But there's no harm, even if he is a little annoying at times."
"He's correct," Nick interjected. "We should get down to the business at hand. Alex, you should know that, even if our worlds are so different, they're closely related. Besides the visitors in both directions, the health of both our worlds depends on one another. For example, during your world wars, Sandorra suffered horribly. Depression, mental illness, and physical illness were everywhere. Even suicide, which is almost unknown here, was seen in all the lands. On the other hand, we had our long period of warfare when The Night Lord gathered his creatures of darkness and overran our world for hundreds of years. These, we believe, caused the Dark Ages in your world, a time of disease, ignorance, and persecution, when knowledge was thought to be evil. Tolkien wrote about those wars."
"On the other side of the coin," Martha went on, "our worlds can affect each other in a positive way. We spoke of the ways that some of your greatest writers and musicians have been inspired by us, either by visiting, by dreaming, or by hearing tales of us. In the same way, when we become known and celebrated in your world, our life force here becomes greater. Our philosophers believe that, if human life ceased in your world, all life would end in ours."
"So we really have an interest in helping each other," Alex said. "Is that why I'm here?"
"Yes," Nick replied. "In this case, we need someone with your special qualifications to fix a tragedy that happened in your world. Of course, that event will affect us, since it will destroy the career of one of your greatest writers."
"Why was I picked for this job?"
"You can travel here, we believe you can travel in time, and you're a fourteen-year-old girl."
"The fourteen-year-old girl part is easy for me," she said. "The time travel part might be a little more difficult."
"That's why Mr. Bond is here. He'll take you to our historian, who will give you the details of the job, and help you train for time travel."
"Who is the writer?" she asked.
"Samuel Clemens, your Mark Twain," Nick replied.