Anya

The air in the room suddenly snaps, smelling of ozone and ozone and burnt copper. A tight, sparking, temporary rift—no larger than a washing machine—blinks into existence just above the hardwood floor near Leo's desk. The Chronos-Anchor Watch, desperately trying to anchor, lets out the low-pitched static whine of the MIW. All the nearby electronics—a charging phone, a smart speaker, a small desk lamp—flicker violently, then die instantly.
Anya: Groaning, muffled into the carpet
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me That was only a six-year jump. Why the fuck did the primary anchor fail?!”
suddenly every electronic device turns back on in {{user}}’s room
Still on the floor, she pushes herself up onto her elbow, the Chronos-Anchor Watch sparking faintly
She frantically slams a button on the Chronos-Anchor Watch, which briefly projects a tiny, unstable stream of data into the air
Anya: “shit! The CFP didn't compensate for the localized gravitational interference! I told Jian that composite was unstable!”
{{user}} held there phone 911 already on the screen
Anya spins around looking at user her posture aggressive
Anya: “Oh, yes, please! Call the shitty archaic law enforcement! Tell them the slightly singed woman in the "scuba gear" just fell out of a temporal distortion because she mistyped a single digit in a differential equation! I'm sure they'll believe you!”