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The following is the last entry from a small journal found in a field in West Texas.  Scattered around the journal was the remains of a microwave, refrigerator, drying machine, and the lonely empty husk of an old satellite dish.

It all began on that fateful day that the High Tinker decided to listen to that madman instead of us.  By us, I mean the elite sqaudron that was specializing in Multiverse-Adaptable Matter Assignment, or MAMA for short.  Our project was about finding the layers of the multiverse that lay beneath our own, find ways to penetrate them and move back and forth between them.  The ship I built, the Data Analyzing Drone, or DAD, was quite a thing of beauty.  And with 2 more weeks, we could’ve transferred all the troggs, all the evil, all the things that were destroying our once great city, but no one listened.  We were forced to test it early, as they were venting all the radioactive waste within hours, we knew we owed it to ourselves and to all of gnomekind to try and save Gnomeragan.

I fired the unit up whilst Snapper Fitzwhitz and Junebug manned the navigation ports of the unit.  Then, I saw green gas filling the corridor ahead of us, I saw troggs running for us.  I knew that Thermaplugg had started the process early.  How many lives would he destroyed in the process?  The silver light of Matter Transfer engulfed our ship and we were thrown into the first Wormhole I have ever seen.  It was terrifying and exhilarating.  I was seeing the multiverse for the first time.  The first time any gnome has seen it.  The humans and dwarves may mock us behind our backs, but I was at the helm of DAD, seeing that the fragility of our own universe is thin as pulling the switch on specially built machine that I had spent a decade designing and a decade building.  I had no clue how fragile and small it all was.  All it takes to rip through the fabric of time and space is 20 years and all the resources of a small country at your beck and call.

Blinding blue light filled the cabin a second later as I realized that we were airborne.  I had thought to wear a chute, after an accident teleporting to Gadgetzan where I was closely working with Goblins to create the Engineer’s Accord.  I knew that travel outside of gryphon was slightly dangerous at best.  The blinding light was replaced by earth.  Lots of it filling the screen and fast.  I hit the ejector seat switches.  I realized my mistake as I heard the terrified screams of Snapper and Junebug.  Maybe they hadn’t worn chutes.

I watched as my silver and gold DAD crashed into the ground below me.  Lightning streaked all around as the rain and thunder beat down around me.  My chute held up until I landed safe on the ground next to a large cow.  I hid under it was many hours as I waited for the rain to die down.

Once clear, I ran into the dawn.  I found a paved road and watched in wonder as I saw a large vehicle moving at rapid speeds across this road.  I continued moving until I came to a small place called a “Diner” and I wandered in to have a meal.  The woman fed me quietly and with lots of stares, but I was starved.  I saw her put something to her ear and point a lot back at me.  I threw 2 gold coins on the table and hurried back out.  I ran as fast I could and was able to hide behind a sign, indicating that I was now someplace called Roswell, New Mexico.  I figured that it would be best to hide out until I could get back to the wreckage and figure out how to get back home.

We know how well that all turned out, right?  MAMA had worked, DAD was recovered July2nd, 1947, and gnomes are the aliens that all these freaks at Sci-Fi conventions talk about.  I feel that I have done an excellent job of blending in, however.  The disguise took me many years to build, but once America had finished WW2, you found these guys in every garden between here and Astoria.  My travels have taken me all over the face of this America over the last 60+ years

As it stands, gnomes live much longer than humans.  Come to think of it, so do dwarves and elves.  Why are humans the ones that run the Alliance?  Anyways.  I found myself living in the garden of a young couple in West Texas in 2007 when I discovered while they were out something called the Internet.  And through the primitive interface, discovered that obvious mind control techniques were being used by your government that were derived from the original MAMA and DAD experiments that I had conducted back on Azeroth.  You call this World of Warcraft.  I call it disgusting genocide.  You are playing with my home.  Controlling people, worse than that blue guy in the Avatar movie.  Humans manipulating all the races of a grand world.  For entertainment!  Appalling.  I held out no hope finding my way back until 2010, when I saw that something was happening.  The High Tinker was retaking Gnomeragan.

No self-respecting Gnome could miss this.  I started by stealing the coils and the shielding from the Microstove, the freon from the Cold-Box, and the interior of the Heating Cylinder.  I also padded the Heating Cylinder with the clothes I found in it.  I dragged it all out into a field about a half mile from the house, gathering it all into order under the giant metal Star-Reader.  It was already pointed towards the heavens and looked to be available for my use.  Luckily for me, the couple was gone for something called “Easter” so I was ready to get started.  It took me seven hours to build a new DAD II.

I’m ready to hit the Permanent Press cycle and start the Wormhole Process.  DAD II was so much better than my old DAD.  I was cozy, my newly crafted chute on my back.  I’ll be back in time for the attack on Gnomeragan.  Maybe I’ll be a hero, maybe I’ll die trying.

I find I am so excited that I can hardly wait to push the Cook button I took from the Micro-Stove. I think it’s the excitement that only a true Gnome can feel from liberating his homeland.  I hope that the Permanent Press Cycle is the right mode.  I hope that The High Tinker will get it right this time.  I hope We retake Gnomeragan.  I hope.