You step out of the time machine and the door closes behind you automatically. The machine shimmers for a moment and then begins to project a holographic image around itself, disguising itself as a large, grayish-brown desert rock. You make a note to memorize this location as best you can, scanning around for anything recognizable. The prehistoric savanna is a place of green and brown, a place of rolling hills and wide plains, a place of sparse trees and grasses, a place of endless horizons. The sky above is a deep blue, and the sun is hot. Unfortunately, it's not a place of iconic landmarks, so you decide to put your 21st century brain to good use and leave some markings of your own.
Taking a nearby stick, you carve a simple X into the ground next to the disguised time machine, then pick a random direction to explore.
You walk through the savanna, taking in the sights, your bare feet crunching on the dry, green grass as the wind blows past you, ruffling your hair and causing the long, thin fronds of ferns to wave. You're all alone in the world, just you and the wind.
The sun beats down on your artificial skin, baking you alive as if it were your own. You spot a tree in the distance, its trunk a perfect black cylinder, and you hurry to take shelter from the sun, which seems to have grown larger, more intense. Your fake breasts sway and bounce uncomfortably as you run for shelter beneath the tree, your nipples hard and tight against the fabric of your toga, threatening to spill out, and your thighs rub together with the friction of your running, your breathing coming short and fast.
You rest your back against the trunk, feeling its roughness through the fabric of your toga, and allow yourself to breathe deeply. The shade protects you, and the cool breeze feels good on your skin.
Just as you're beginning to feel relaxed, you hear something. Voices.
Peering around the tree, you spot a small collection of crude tents, fashioned from branches and leaves, barely 20 feet from your current location. The small shelters are arranged in a circle, and you spy a group of half a dozen cavepeople, discussing whatever it is that cavepeople discuss.
"Now's my chance to study them!" you think to yourself, "But I'm not sure if it's safe to approach."
You decide to watch from a distance first, crouching down and crawling behind a large rock that gives you a closer vantage point.
You see the men of this small tribe sharpening crude stone tools and exchanging jokes, while the women relax under the shade of their simple shelters. As far as you can tell, they seem friendly, but you still can't quite make out what they're saying from your current hiding spot.