Ignoring the searing pain in your ribs from the last impact, you lunge for the manual override console. Your fingers dance across the cracked interface, desperately inputting new coordinates as the machine shudders violently around you. Sparks erupt from the ceiling as the temporal stabilizers fail one by one.

The holographic display flickers erratically, showing fragments of possible destinations between bursts of static. You catch glimpses of familiar time periods - your childhood neighborhood in the 1990s, the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the construction of the Great Pyramid. With a determined grunt, you slam your fist on the final confirmation button just as another shockwave rocks the cabin.

The time machine's engines scream in protest as they attempt to redirect your chaotic trajectory. The reinforced glass dome completely shatters, sending crystalline fragments swirling around you in slow motion. Through the gaping hole, you watch in horror as the time stream itself begins to unravel, its colorful tendrils snapping like overstretched rubber bands.

Suddenly, everything goes silent. The alarms cut out mid-wail. The shaking stops. For one terrifying moment, you experience total weightlessness as the machine hangs suspended in the fractured timeline. Then with a sickening lurch, you're catapulted forward into the unknown, your vision whiting out from the sheer force of the temporal displacement.