You set to work the next morning. Bit by bit, the technical challenges intrigue you once again. Let's face it: they do serve to drive out the memory of that horrible day, at least temporarily. They're trickier than you'd envisioned, but Brett simply won't let you give up. At last, you make real progress. She orders the precision clock mechanisms and solar cells, as well as the fastest, smallest, most powerful computer she can afford for serious, real-time number crunching.
Finally, finally, time travel is within your grasp. Today you'll achieve the premier technological feat of the century!
You take a couple of steps back to admire the glowing green lights on your softly humming time machine. You did it! The long hours holed up in your parents' chilly garage with the winter winds trilling outside while you retrofitted Dad's high-mileage Land Rover have paid off. You look at Brett, who is grinning like mad. Simultaneously, you both whoop with joy, high-five each other, and do an impromptu happy dance around the mustard-colored vehicle.
Brett digs out something from her backpack. "I have a surprise for you." She pops the cork on a bottle of champagne. You both take a celebratory swig or two straight from the bottle, then splash a bit on the Land Rover/time machine to christen it. As you do so, Brett says, "This time machine needs a name."
What's your response?