You force your eyes to focus through the nauseating distortions, your implant flickering as it struggles to process the impossible geometries outside. The floating cities shimmer like mirages, their spires bending at angles that should collapse any structure. Your hand instinctively reaches for the temporal scanner, but the device sparks violently in your grip - its circuits clearly not designed for whatever physics govern this reality.

A particularly large fragment of the fractured vortex reveals a massive creature composed of shifting geometric patterns, its form constantly reconfiguring as it moves between dimensional planes. Your vision blurs as you try to comprehend its movements, blood beginning to trickle from your nose from the mental strain. The translation implant suddenly stabilizes long enough to parse a single phrase from the distress signal response: 'Temporal refugee detected.'

The time machine's hull groans as one of the floating ocean spheres drifts dangerously close, its water moving in slow-motion waves that defy gravity. Through its translucent surface, you glimpse enormous shadowy shapes moving in patterns that resemble mathematical equations. Your fingers tremble as they input commands to record these phenomena, but the machine's memory banks are filling with corrupted data at an alarming rate.