CHRONOSCAPE: The future is flexible we can change it

by Roger Ley

  “If there’s no terrorism at all, then why have an expensive security service? Better to have a limited amount of terrorist activity to keep the public worried, everybody in their jobs and the budgets healthy.”

  “Is our Government really that cynical?” she asked.

  Riley turned to look at her for a moment.

  “Nothing would surprise me,” he said.

  Next morning, before he stepped into the shower, he glimpsed himself as he walked past the long bathroom mirror. His stomach stuck out, he was developing a middle-aged spread. He quickly pulled it in and decided to start attending the gym. Perhaps he should buy a rowing machine or something, and put it in his home office, it was big enough. He went closer to the mirror and held his hair away from his forehead, his hairline was receding, and the greying of his temples was more pronounced. He reflected on his life as he brushed his teeth. The boys were wonderful, the job was interesting, he and Estella were solvent, but things were rocky between them. She’d started doing aerobics on Tuesday evenings and Spanish on Thursday evenings, they never seemed to spend time together. She’d rebuffed his advances in bed, several times, he found the experience humiliating, and left it to her to restart their love life, but she didn’t seem to be in any hurry.

  Barbara was a young woman he worked with. He remembered how they had kissed in a quiet corner of the laboratory, at the office party last Christmas. The kiss had lasted much longer than he expected and he was surprised by the feel of her tongue moving just inside his mouth, she was being more than polite. Who’d been holding the mistletoe? Surely not himself, he’d been a little drunk but he couldn’t remember having mistletoe. Barbara was slimmer than Estella, and although she was no beauty, her strong features, direct manner, and good dress sense had caught his attention. She was about thirty, there was a twelve-year age difference between them, but he decided to ask her out for a drink, and see how things progressed. He noticed stirrings in regions he been trying to ignore, as he stepped into the shower.

  At work, next day, he followed Barbara as she left the office to take her morning break in the staff restaurant. She sat by herself at a corner table.

  He walked over, holding his coffee. “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  “Of course, not Martin.” She had a nicely modulated voice with just a hint of a Lancashire accent.

  “How are things going?” he asked as he sat down.

  “Things are going fine Martin, thank you.” She looked at him as if waiting to see what he’d say next. After a pause she asked, “How are things going with you?” She was half smiling.

  “Er, Barbara, I wonder if you could help me with some calibration results?” She was one of Estella’s mathematics team.

  “Certainly Martin, when would be a good time?”

  “Actually, I’m rather busy all day, would you mind staying on for half an hour after close of play?”

  “I’ll see you at about five then.” She finished her coffee and left.

  Five o’clock came, and the laboratory and side offices emptied. He’d told Estella that he’d be an hour late coming home, she hadn’t seemed bothered, they used separate cars.

  “It’s my aerobics evening, I need you back before seven, to put the boys to bed,” she’d said.

  Barbara arrived at his office a little after five.

  “Ah, yes, Barbara, nice of you to stay on. I was wondering if ...”

  She put her finger to her lips, took his arm, and led him to the cleaner’s store. She shut the door behind them and leaned against it.

  “I just wanted to ask you if …” he began.

  She pulled him to her, and kissed him firmly on his lips, then whispered in his ear, “You took your time, the office party was months ago. There are no cameras in here Martin.”

  They kissed passionately, he’d forgotten how suddenly these things could happen. He lifted her onto the worktop and they made love, fully clothed, hurriedly, hungrily, violently. It was over very quickly.

  “Jesus Barbara, that was a surprise,” he panted, as they adjusted their clothing afterwards. “That wasn’t the most elegant thing I’ve ever done.”

  “It was probably something we both needed Martin.”

  “Can we go for a drink somewhere quiet? We need to talk about this.”

  They left the store and walked towards the laboratory exit.

  “Night Doc, night Barbara,” called Doug, hidden by the PC on his desk.

  “Night Doug,” they both called back, as they pushed through the double doors onto the main staircase.

  “Fuck. I thought the place was empty,” said Riley.

  “So did I. You know, that Doug gives me the creeps, there’s something about him. Where I come from we’d say ‘he’s all about,’ ” said Barbara.

  They went to a hotel bar and sat in a booth near the back.

  “I wasn’t expecting things to happen this fast,” he said.

  “It was a surprise for me as well. I didn’t realize how much I fancied you until we kissed, again. It must be your pheromones.” She stared into her drink, the ice rattled as she swirled it around her glass. “I know how this conversation’s going to go Martin, I’ve been here before, I had an affair with my tutor at Warwick and later, my prof at Cambridge. They were both married, I know the score, you needn’t worry. I love my job, I love my apartment, I love my independence. I don’t want a husband, kids, all that conventional stuff. I’ve seen how it holds women back, stunts their careers, limits their choices. I don’t want to break up your marriage, ask you to leave your kids, endure the scandal at work, have to find another job. This is your lucky day Martin, I’m offering sex without responsibility, every man’s dream.”

  He remembered the adage, “If a deal looks too good to be true then it probably is.” Did she habitually have affairs with men in a position to help her career or did she find powerful men sexy? Probably the former, which seemed quite reasonable, but he’d better be ready for the quid pro quo.

  Riley arrived home. “Is that a new aftershave?” asked Estella.

  “No, the same as usual,” he said as he went upstairs, showered and changed. He’d have to be more careful about Barbara’s perfume clinging to him.

  “I’m want to start going to the gym on Wednesday evenings, if that’s okay with you,” he said.

  “Fine,” she called from the kitchen. “You can try to lose your love handles.”

  He wondered if Estella was playing the same game as himself. Her Spanish books were gathering dust in the lounge untouched, and aerobics was practically a euphemism. But he felt better than he had in months.

  “I was thinking of changing my car,” he said.

  “What to,” she called.

  “Well, a Porsche Carrera actually, I’ve always wanted one.” There was silence from the kitchen. Estella came through, drying her hands on a tea towel. She looked at him quizzically.

  “You’re not having an affair are you Martin?” she asked.

  Riley realized that he would have to be much more careful if he was going to deceive Estella. That night, in bed, she moved across to him in the darkness, and they made love. She turned her back to him, almost as if she wanted to keep the act anonymous, either that or she didn’t want to see him enjoying himself. Still, it was better than nothing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  USA the 2000s

  Riley had always wanted a boat. The Chesapeake Bay was only an hour away from Langley so, on a whim, he bought a converted Skipjack fishing boat, without discussing it with Estella. He renamed her the “Punter’s Revenge” which seemed appropriate as that one last big bet had been the source of the wherewithal. The previous owner had equipped her for fair weather sailors, by fitting a toilet, shower, and galley kitchen; it had all the modern conveniences that Estella would like. He visualized the family sailing the sounds and inlets of the offshore barrier islands, fishing and swimming in the warm, blue waters.

  Cliff and Hank, now six and eight years old, were delir
ious with excitement when he took them all to see the Punter. Estella seemed less enthusiastic as she stood on the shore and watched the boys explore above and below decks. Their shrieks and shouts as they discovered the bridge and best of all their sleeping quarters made her smile.

  “Can we sleep in the bunks Dad?” Hank called from below.

  “Of course,” he called back, “that’s what they’re for.” They were just the right age for this sort of adventure, and began arguing about who would have the top one.

  “Take it in turns,” he shouted.

  “You should have discussed this with me before you went ahead Martin,” Estella said, as she stood, arms folded, staring at the boat. “You know I get motion sickness. I’m afraid that you and the boys will have to do this by yourselves.”

  “How convenient, you can stay home alone at weekends with the three of us out of the way. You can spend more time with your fancy man.” He was angry at her obstructive behavior and couldn’t help saying more than he had intended.

  Estella turned and stalked back to the car. She got into the passenger seat, slammed the door, and took out her cell phone. Riley ignored her.

  “Who’s ready for a trip around the Bay?”

  Cliff and Hank couldn’t have been readier. I’ll soon have them crewing he thought, as the boys climbed aboard. He loosed the moorings, jumped aboard himself, took the wheel, and keyed the engine into life.

  Riley wished he hadn’t alerted Estella to his suspicions. All marriages go through low spots; if she was having an affair, it would be best to ignore it and hope it burned itself out. He just couldn’t bear the idea of losing his family, his boys. He was furious at the thought of another man screwing his wife, but the possibility of the same miserable bastard bringing up his children made Riley murderously angry. He wanted to sink an axe into his head, whoever he was. His knuckles were white on the wheel as he steered the boat away from the shore, the boys standing on either side of him holding on to the grab rails.

  Riley imagined Estella and this stranger coupling in their marital bed, he wanted to throw up. Surely, she wouldn’t stoop that low. Surely, she’d insist they use hotel rooms. The thought of him on top of Estella, thrusting into her as she cried out with pleasure, or worse, having her…. He pushed away the shockingly detailed pictures that were forming, uncalled for, in his mind. He tried to concentrate his thoughts on the boat, the boys, and the Chesapeake Bay, but he was shaking with anger. He looked over at his wife, still sitting in the car. The boys waved and shouted as they motored past but she stared straight ahead and wouldn’t look at them. He took off across the Bay for half an hour, then returned to their mooring. As they drove home, he and the boys chatted excitedly about the boat, and the trips they would make in her. Estella stared silently out of the side window.

  The Punter was a big success; the three of them spent happy times together that summer. Riley was sorry that Estella never joined them, though the boys, especially Cliff, the younger one, pleaded with her. She cited motion sickness, even when the forecast promised a flat calm. In the meantime, the marriage continued to tread water and Riley made a point of not asking questions. He hoped that she would come back to him, eventually.

  He risked discussing his feelings with Barbara on the next Wednesday evening at her apartment. They lay side by side, their empty wine glasses on the floor beside her bed.

  “That’s the trouble with you men, you always apply the double standard. If you can have an affair which isn’t rocking your marital boat, why can’t she? The French do it all the time, it’s just part of life to them. The aristocracy have been the same over the generations.”

  “Because it feels different, that’s why. If I have an affair, I won’t get pregnant. If Estella has an affair, I could end up bringing up another man’s kids.”

  “But we have birth control now Martin, this is the twenty-first century.”

  “It’s all right for you,” he said. “You don’t have a long emotional involvement, kids, a whole history together.” He had got out of bed and dressed as he talked. He was shaking as he sat on the bed and tried to knot his shoe laces.

  “It’s probably best if we take a little break Martin,” she said, leaning across to pick a cigarette out of an antique silver cigarette box, she liked to smoke after sex. “I really don’t want this to get messy, remember that Estella is my boss. Let’s leave it for a few weeks, see how you feel about things. Go to the gym next Wednesday, it’s good cover, anyway.”

  “I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” he said as he left.

  Chapter Fifteen

  USA the 2000s

  Riley was sitting in his office, staring absently out into the laboratory area. It was nearing the end of the day, and he was grappling with the staff holiday roster, a job he hated. It was an almost insoluble problem, even for a man with a doctorate in particle physics. Everybody with kids requested the school holidays off, and it left him with little or no cover. He’d always wanted to be a leader, but never a manager. Surely this admin was the Colonel’s job, but he insisted that Riley was responsible for his “Limeys,” and that was that.

  He noticed Barbara stand up and go over to the main printer, she picked up a sheet of paper from the output tray. Workplace romances were dangerous, and this one wasn’t going smoothly. He sighed, he should get on with the holiday roster, but instead he watched as Barbara folded the paper. She logged out of her workstation, picked up her handbag and jacket, and walked over to his office. His door was open, and she knocked on it once as she walked in and took a seat. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Riley could sense something unusual in her manner.

  “Hello Barbara,” he said, “how can I help?”

  She paused, as if making a difficult decision.

  “Well Martin, it’s a Policy Four matter.” She sat clutching the paper in her lap and staring intently at him.

  Policy Four was one of the Colonel’s bureaucratic novelties. It stipulated that, if any of the team found a news item of direct concern to another team member, a road accident for instance, they were to report it to a superior. They were not to discuss it with the interested party.

  “I see. You wish to report something which will affect another member of the team?”

  She nodded.

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “The problem Martin, is that it’s a news item that affects you, so I should report it to the Colonel, but judging by the date on it he’s already aware.”

  He smiled and tried to appear relaxed, but a cold feeling had come over him. He paused, “I assume it’s important or you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

  “You’re right Martin, it’s very important.” Barbara sighed as she appeared to come to a decision. Placing the folded sheet of paper on his desk, she stood up and walked out of his office. He watched as she continued to the main exit and left the lab. Riley would never see her again.

  He went to the rest room and unfolded the paper in the privacy of a locked cubicle. It was a copy of a newspaper story. He read of the death of his older son Hank, in five days’ time.

  Chesapeake Examiner July 14 2008

  Tragic death as boy drowns in boating accident.

  The body of ten-year-old Hank Riley was found this morning, floating by the side of the family’s converted Skipjack, “The Punter’s Revenge.” The boy’s father, Dr Martin Riley (48,) discovered the body but was not available for interview. A spokeswoman for the family said they were understandably distraught, and hoped that they will be allowed to grieve privately. The cause of death has not been announced, but local police do not suspect foul play. Hank’s mother, Mrs Estella Riley (44,) was away visiting a friend for the weekend, while Dr Riley, who is a Government employee, and his sons, Hank and Cliff, were fishing and sailing in the Bay. On Saturday night they moored up and enjoyed a barbeque before retiring. It appears that Mr Riley’s son, Hank, fell from the boat during the small hours and drowned. He was not wearing a life jacket.

  T
his publication has every sympathy with the feelings of the Riley family, but it is our editorial duty to once again remind readers that preventable accidents, such as this, occur every year. We cannot emphasize too strongly the responsibility of parents to make sure that their children wear proper safety equipment, when they are on or near the water.

  The Medical Examiner’s office has stated that there will be an investigation to establish the cause of death. The date of the inquest has not yet been announced.

  He tore the paper to shreds and flushed it away. Leaning his head against the door of the cubicle he stood trembling, thinking of his poor boy, his life barely begun, lost to him and Estella. He cried quietly for several minutes. By force of will he regained his composure. This didn’t have to happen; he would not let it happen. What was the point of having the power and not using it? If the Government could save the Twin Towers, then he could save Hank. He realized that he would expose Barbara if he approached the Colonel, she had broken the rules. He had to think what to do.

  Riley left the cubicle, washed his face, and returned to his desk. He was trembling and couldn’t concentrate on administrative trivia. He told his secretary that he had a headache, he drove home and sat in the empty house. Information arrived two weeks in advance, yet according to the date in the newspaper, Hank’s accident was only five days away. The Colonel must have seen the report more than a week ago and he hadn’t mentioned it. Riley was furious to think the Committee must have discussed it and decided not to warn him. He poured himself a whiskey, gulped it and sat staring at the fireplace. His emotions were fluctuating between anger and distress. Those fucking bastards, what sort of people was he working for? Where was their loyalty? They expected his, but where was theirs? Riley threw his empty glass at the wood burner, it smashed to pieces. He sat back on the sofa, head in his hands and thought about his life, his wife, his job, his boys. Those faceless fuckers on the Oversight Committee, he would never trust them again, nor that jumped up wanker Wilson. The whiskey warmed his stomach and, as the alcohol entered his blood stream, he calmed down. His breathing steadied, and he felt better, he cleared up the broken glass. He hoped that Estella wouldn’t notice the missing tumbler, it was one of the expensive ones.