The Relic Management Division was predictably dusty, smelling faintly of ancient granite. Schneeball Cookie stood at her reinforced workbench, her thick orange lenses obscuring the excited gleam in her eyes. She had just received a new shipment—a seemingly unassuming, dull gray orb labeled 'Temporal Sediment Lump #47: Possible Void Debris.'

"Void Debris, indeed," Schneeball Cookie muttered, adjusting the cuffs of her jacket and then pulled on her gloves. "More like geological procrastination."

Ammonite Roll, her loyal pet, was attempting to sleep into a moldy velvet cushion nearby, the rhythmic tapping of its owner preparing her tools lulling it into a deeper slumber.