Out of Time
From
The Time Travel Diaries
of
James Urquhart and Elizabeth Bicester
by
Bruce Macfarlane
2nd Edition
Copyright © 2018 Bruce Macfarlane
Aldwick Publishing
www.aldwickpublishing.com
All rights reserved.
Introduction
Trying to socially engineer the world’s population is not easy, especially when you discover that a pair of reluctant time travellers keep on getting in the way of your plan.
The problems started when James Urquhart, living in 2015, was enjoying a walk in the countryside when he stumbled upon Elizabeth Bicester at a cricket match at Hamgreen in 1873.
Somehow, despite their banter regarding each other’s manners and background they manage through incredible feats of illogical deduction and with not a little help from James Maxwell, H. G. Wells, the Martians and some strange time devices, to save the world.
If only Time would stay where it is, it would be a lot easier for everyone.
Contents
Introduction
Contents
Prologue
Report on The Urquhart and Bicester Diaries
Part I A Game of Cricket
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Part II Down the Rabbit Hole
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
A Letter from Mr Wells
Part III The Martians
Prologue
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Other Books by Bruce Macfarlane
About the Author
Prologue
ComsMesh
The First Phase
In 2021CE the Weber Institute activated its darknet site ComsMesh to access and hack into the world’s government, social and financial services’ personal data banks. At the same time it bought out two major social media sites and, under the umbrella of its media vehicle Adcom, channelled their subscribers’ personal data through a darknet conduit to ComsMesh. The Weber Institute then meshed subscribers’ social media data with their personal data banks and uploaded it to Adcom, which used the data to accurately match products with subscribers’ needs.
Within a year most suppliers and vendors had no alternative but to sign up to Adcom’s product placement services due to Adcom’s phenomenal ability to target and match product to subscribers.
As most Adcom subscribers were hooked on their social media sites for communication, to further encourage product purchase a time lapse between purchases was introduced which if exceeded would remove the subscriber from Adcom. This was initially one month but within three years this had been reduced to eight hours. To help subscribers keep signed on, apps were created by the Weber Institute which could be downloaded and would regularly poll Adcom and purchase small, cheap or free items such as travel coupons, book chapters or games based on the person’s profile extracted from ComsMesh data banks. So that subscribers felt they were in control, the apps allowed users to set monetary limits on individual purchases. However, by the manipulative use of ‘tasters’ and posting of ‘satisfied’ customers who had increased their limits to receive more interesting purchases, subscribers also began to increase their limits.
These apps were extremely popular as they supplied the users with what they hadn’t realised they wanted but unfortunately at the same time whittled away at their finances. To keep people buying the Weber Institute initially created a range of loan companies such as CashCom to help finance users’ purchases. However, even ComsMesh realised that there was only a limited amount of real and imaginary money to go around.
The Second Phase
The breakthrough came when Dr Anderson of the Weber Institute realised that there was actually no need for money and devised a social structure program that if kept in equilibrium would lock suppliers and subscribers into a permanent hold.
Anderson had realised that by this time most subscribers were so happy with the items Adcom purchased for them that very few people were now actually consciously buying products on their own. It was therefore a relatively simple matter to remove subscribers’ rights to decide what to purchase and allow Adcom to supply what they needed without purchase. This was implemented under ComsMesh Directive No. 1. The Weber Institute and ComsMesh now had total influence and control over an individual’s decision making.
Product placement now matched the subscribers’ unconscious wants and desires with availability; however, for complete control ComsMesh needed expertise in product placement that could be used to manipulate or change the subscriber’s profile and direct them to other products which then could be used to further influence and manipulate subscribers. To facilitate this the Weber Institute’s Department Of Structural Social Engineering devised algorithms to test manipulation on sample subscribers. These tests were found to be a complete success and under ComsMesh Directive No. 2 the algorithms were applied to all Adcom subscribers.
The Third Phase
Now with complete control of AdCom subscribers, the Weber Institute approached the United Nations Security Council and offered to provide a socially engineered methodology whereby governments, using the expertise and facilities of the Weber Institute, could create ordered societies that matched their needs.
In a world with over ten billion people and rapidly diminishing resources this offer was taken up with enthusiasm.
Report on The Urquhart and Bicester Diaries
Originator:
Professor Rolleston.
Weber Institute,
Mons Olympus, Mars.
Date 29:13: 2025
Restrictions: Mars. Weber Institute only.
This report presents in a single narrative my interpretation of the diaries of James Urquhart and Elizabeth Bicester.
As is well known to those of you who subscribe to my ComsMesh media feed, the diaries were found clasped and bound together in a copper chest in the attic of a Lodge at Hamgreen in Sussex. They purport to be the diaries of a James Urquhart and an Elizabeth Bicester written in the year 2015 CE. The one of James Urquhart is written in an undisciplined style using a ball stylus in a thick ruled black notebook, and the other by nib and ink and also ball stylus in an ornate leather-bound tooled diary and written in copperplate.
Both diaries describe the same extraordinary events and seem to be written in unison. Until recently they were thought to be a collaborative fictional adventure or part of an elaborate hoax whose purpose is still unknown. However, chemical and ocular analysis by John Frobisher at Manchester University has now shown that the paper and inks of the two diaries are technologically separated by over a hundred years and therefore could not have been written at the same time.
If only one or the other existed then the story could be dismissed as a fabrication but the existence of both with what I now believe to be almost seamless correlation between them, as I hope to show in my narrative, has led me to the almost impossible conclusion that both persons were able to perform time dimensional travel.
The implications of this are profound. The possible existence of movement through time would provide a degree of freedom that cannot be controlled by the Institute’s algorithms and would allow Adcom subscribers to know in advance products assigned to them and to others.
Such future knowledge could raise the level of consci
ousness of subscribers above the Reilly Criteria leading again to uncontrolled freedom of thought and individual decision making. It is therefore imperative that my conclusion that time movement exists is tested and I propose that initially subscribers’ historical purchasing databases are examined to determine whether any purchases have deviated from the constraints of the algorithms. Such deviations would indicate that time travel exists and more importantly identify the individuals involved.
My transcription of the two diaries into one narrative is designed to test the story’s consistency and to determine whether they were a joint enterprise or both taken independently possibly from another as yet unknown diary. For the sake of brevity and to try to improve the narrative flow I have where possible removed duplication of events, and where meetings between the two persons overlap I have created dialogues based on the texts and attempted to use their own vernacular.
I have also taken the liberty of giving this narrative a title of ‘Out of Time’ and used the letter J for Urquhart and E for Bicester to distinguish from which diary the narrative is derived. Those of you who wish to compare my interpretation with the original texts are referred to J. Stonewell’s well-known thesis ‘The Urquhart-Bicester Diaries’.
Part I A Game of Cricket
Chapter One
J.
It had been a nice morning. We had walked about four and a half miles and it was approaching lunchtime. White cotton wool clouds were beginning to rise and roll over the Downs and the beech trees were starting to show their iridescent green leaves against their darkened boughs.
Just as we were emerging from a copse I spotted in the undergrowth an orange tip land near some honey fungus growing on the remains of an old rotting silver birch. I left the path and followed it, trying to get a good photograph with my phone, but each time I drew near it felt my shadow and danced away. Another caught my eye but when I turned I noticed my friends Mike and Peter were no longer there. I got up and quickly followed the path I thought they had taken, carefully avoiding the trailing brambles.
Suddenly I heard a loud thwack followed by a ripple of applause and turned just in time to see a cricketer swipe an excellent ball across a green into someone’s garden. I still couldn’t see my friends, so I decided to leave the copse and walk over to the green to get my bearings. As I emerged from the trees I felt a soft breeze blow across me and chatter though the leaves above.
By the edge of the green there was a cart decorated like one of those gypsy caravans you see in open-air museums on which sat two rather scruffy old farm hands smoking pipes and watching the game. They were enjoying quaffing a couple of tankards of beer which suddenly made me feel quite thirsty. I walked slowly over to them brushing the undergrowth off me.
“Good morning. Could you tell me what village this is, please?”
The older one looked down at me rather sharply and said in a strong Sussex accent,
“’Tis afternoon, sir, and it be Hamgreen.”
And turned back to the game.
---~---
E.
My cousin Henry had just made a mighty swipe at the ball and sent it flying into Mrs Winshall’s garden again when I noticed a man talking to old Ted and Albert on the haywain. He was wearing close-fitting grey and olive-green clothes with what seemed to be a knapsack on his back. He was tall and vaguely thin but seemed to carry himself well. I noticed Ted pointed him in our direction and he started rather hesitantly to walk towards us. I turned to my sister.
“Flory, look at that man there.”
“Where?”
“By the haywain.”
“What outlandish clothing! He seems to be wearing some kind of poacher’s outfit, Elizabeth.”
“He may be looking for the shoot. Look Flory, I think he is coming towards us.”
He had now composed himself but still looked a little uncertain. As he came closer I noticed that he was wearing neither hat nor shirt, just what seemed to be a soft grey-green jacket over a blue vest.
---~---
J.
I thought the best course of action was to head straight for the Cricket Club to get directions to the local pub where I hoped to meet my friends.
As I got closer it became obvious that some kind of local charity match was on as the women had donned period fancy dress and the men were wearing those schoolboy coloured caps and striped blazers which you see in those society mags of the Henley Regatta.
As I approached, two of the women sitting by a table shading themselves with parasols noticed me and started pointing and, rather disconcertingly, seemed to be quietly giggling. They obviously thought I was part of the party and had forgotten to bring my costume. I decided to ask them for directions and see where it led me. They were both dressed in what looked like fine, white, heavily embroidered, linen dresses which flowed in overlapping waves down to their ankles. Their hair was piled high in complicated ringlets on which perched small brimmed hats with what looked like fresh wild flowers in the hat bands. They had obviously gone to some effort for they reminded me of one of Tissot’s paintings of idyllic young ladies.
When I reached the table I said, “Excuse me. I seem to have lost my friends.”
“What do they look like?” replied one of them. Her eyes had that confidence that you sometimes see in persons used to command. But they were soft and looked as if within there might be a door through which one could enter if you had the right key.
“Well,” I said, trying to keep my eyes off her eyes and her rather tight bodice, “They will look a bit like me, rather scruffy and dressed for a ramble in this wonderful countryside.”
“No, we have not seen anyone dressed like you. We would have been sure to remember, wouldn’t we Flory?” and with a slight giggle her eyes darted to her friend.
“Would you like some lemonade, sir?” Offered her friend.
After a morning’s walking it was very easy to take up their offer and their company. My friends could wait.
---~---
E.
He seemed very at ease in our presence though I was a little surprised that he had not introduced himself. I also felt my person was receiving a little too much unwarranted attention from someone to whom I not been introduced.
“And pray tell me, what is your name, sir?”
“I’m James.”
“So, Mr James, do you live locally?”
“What, oh, no my name is James Urquhart, and I do live locally. Gosh you are really staying in character, aren’t you?”
I could see this was going to be a difficult; he did not seem to want to introduce himself properly to us at all. But before I could enquire further he changed the subject.
“They could be at the pub. Do you know where the local pub is?”
He talked very casually as though he was with close friends. He was quite impertinent.
“I have no idea, sir. Perhaps you can ask one of the farm hands over there.”
“Great. By the way, who’s winning?”
“Lord Fotheringale and his club, sir. I fear the locals will not be able to hold them off.”
He smirked and slowly shook his head slowly and said, “I think I might be a little out of my class here.”
“That is for you to decide, sir,” I replied with a slight frown for I could not fully ascertain his background.
He looked a little perplexed at that, which drew my attention to his clothes. There were no buttons on his jacket and there was a strange embroidery on his vest like an old carriage. His hands were very white and clean so he was clearly not a working man but his boots were very heavy and covered in mud. He seemed to have walked a long way and I began to feel a little sorry for him. Perhaps he was down on his uppers. Perhaps he was hungry. I took a chance.
“May I offer you a sandwich?”
“Are you sure? Do you have enough to go around?”
“Sir, there are plenty for everyone. We have been preparing them all morning. In fact Flory and I have seen more than enough cucu
mbers for one week.”
This provoked a strange expression of mock shock on his face, which when he saw me notice he quickly turned and rather studiously watched the cricket. I was intrigued by his manner and decided I wished to know more about him, despite convention.
“Please, sit down, Mr Urquhart. You look like you would enjoy a short rest from your travels.”
---~---
J.
I sat down at the table and admired the sandwiches and cakes. All the crusts had been removed. I quickly scoffed a very delicate cucumber sandwich.
“Sir, please take a napkin or you will ruin your clothes.”
I took one placed it on my lap with what I hoped was an elegant flourish, then I sat back and stretched my legs which allowed me to take a closer look at them. What I assumed to be the elder of the two was looking at me with an air of curiosity, and she held my gaze a little longer than expected.
“Well, sir …” she said.
“Please, call me James.”
She looked a little alarmed then recovered and said rather seriously, “How very informal! We have not been properly introduced. Perhaps I had better tell you a little about our family and then perhaps you will be more forthcoming about your background.”
Before I could recover from that she said.
“We are Elizabeth and Flory Bicester from High Lodge where our Father is Squire to Lord Fotheringale.”
Were they trying to put me in my place? They could be some of the old ‘Smart Set’ escaped from Surrey and out to impress the natives … Well, two can play at that game.
“And I’m James Urquhart, son of Archibald Urquhart, Lord of the Isle of Bute and ’er all that Ilk.”
This provided an unintended reaction.
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