As the machine's death throes intensify, your fingers find the secondary recording device - the personal one you always kept hidden beneath the control panel. The small silver locket recorder feels warm in your palm as you activate it with your thumbprint. The familiar chime of startup sounds absurdly cheerful amidst the chaos.

'Victoria,' you begin, your voice cracking as a tear cuts through the grime on your cheek. The image of her face forms so clearly in your mind - those green eyes that always saw through your bravado, the stubborn set of her jaw when she disagreed with you about temporal physics. 'If you're hearing this, I didn't make it back. I'm so sorry, my love.'

The machine bucks violently, throwing you against the restraints. You taste blood where you've bitten your tongue. Gritting your teeth, you continue: 'Remember our last fight? About whether we should have children? You were right. I was terrified of bringing someone into this world when I kept jumping through time like a damned fool.' A sob escapes you as the oxygen levels drop further. 'Tell our future daughter... tell her I would have...' The words catch in your throat as the glass dome begins to shatter inward.

With the last of your strength, you whisper into the recorder: 'The coordinates are pre-programmed. Find me in the Cretaceous period. Follow the butterfly effect. I love y-' The recorder slips from your fingers as the time machine's core explodes in a silent burst of white light, sending you spinning through the temporal void.