Out of Time

by Bruce Macfarlane

  By chance both Mr Maxwell and I had a little money. I gave mine to James, who protested at first but agreed once I reminded him that in my time a lady seen paying for a gentleman in an inn would have provoked considerable comment against her reputation and dare I say much speculation regarding her occupation.

  We booked two rooms with James and I taking one and Mr Maxwell the other. The landlord seemed a little perplexed by our dress but happy with the colour of our money. He also, I think, believed I was James’ wife. Then to my horror I noticed one of Henry’s friends sitting in a corner playing cards! He noticed me but I think he did not recognise me as my hair was different and my clothes were not of fashion. Nevertheless, I resolved to draw no attention, put my arm in James’ and went up to our chamber, hoping not to meet any other acquaintances coming down.

  James examined closely the bed and covers. “Well, at least it’s clean and it looks like they’ve washed the sheets since the last occupants.”

  He then looked for what he described as an ensuite bathroom and was rather disappointed to find only a linen cupboard. A discussion on the methods of ablution and toiletries I am afraid led to further disappointment and a rather uncalled for comment about our needing a good ‘scrubbing’ when we got back to his time.

  As I regarded the chamber I felt a yearning to be back in the nice clean and neat chamber of James’ time. After readjusting ourselves in front of a worn mirror and helping James with his tie, we went back down and dined with Mr Maxwell. I was pleased to see Henry’s friend had left.

  We had just finished, and James was trying to persuade me that he should have another jug of what he described as their excellent beer when Mr Wells came through the door. He recognised us immediately.

  James apologised to him for not offering to buy him dinner as he was, as he put it, ‘a bit short’, carefully omitting, I noticed, that he was ‘a bit short’ of my money. To our surprise Mr Wells produced a five-pound note and gave it to James, saying that he had been paid handsomely for his novel and was sure that our ‘adventure’ would provide another novel for which he expected a similar recompense. James immediately found use for it by buying another round of the landlord’s ‘excellent’ beer.

  On finishing his meal Mr Wells recounted his story.

  “I met Mr Batalia. He was very upset being trapped here with no communication. He had been to the cavern and found the brass handles had been removed. He, like I, tried to use a penknife to operate the machine but, to my surprise and his, it would not work.”

  “That’s because,” said James, looking much relieved, “we found a better way to immobilise the time machine.”

  “Well, Mr Urquhart, I don’t know how you did it but he is definitely trapped here.”

  “So where is he now?”

  “I do not know at present, but I do know he will be at the cricket club in the morning, for there is a game against the Fotheringale Eleven. Have you heard of them?”

  I felt the ground falling away and steadied myself against James.

  “It is my cousin’s team. Most of them will know me! I dare not think what would become of me if I am seen!”

  “Well, I’m afraid we have to meet him there. If we leave it any longer he may find a way to operate the time machine,” said James.

  ---~---

  J.

  The next morning we walked up to the cricket club. We spotted Marco straight away. He was in his cricket gear and polishing his bat. I quietly walked up behind him, watching the bat closely and said, “Hi Marco. Want to go home? “

  He nearly jumped out of his skin. “You! What have you done to the time capsule?”

  “I’ve disabled it. Why, is that a problem?”

  He stood up holding his bat in the same fashion as when I had first met Elizabeth’s cousin. For some reason I continued.

  “You must be running out of money. I expect you’ve noticed the old social welfare net isn’t too good here.”

  He came towards me but then he saw Elizabeth, Wells and Maxwell, and thankfully relaxed his grip on the bat a little.

  “What are you all doing here?”

  “You left a letter, Marco. A letter to a Professor Rolleston indicating that Elizabeth and I were causing a problem. Do you remember?”

  “So that’s where it went. Still, I cannot see how it is any use to you.”

  “Except Marco, you mentioned ComsMesh, which then led us to Adcom. I subscribed and they took all my emails and media stuff. We know what you and the Weber Institute are doing.”

  I could see that our discovery of the letter and the function of ComsMesh was a complete shock to him.

  “So now you know, but what can you do about it? You can’t change the future.”

  “Are you sure? How many futures are there? Perhaps we can’t change this future but perhaps we can change to another future. One without time travel.”

  “What makes you think you can do that?”

  “Because Mr Wells believes the novels he has written are a record of the future. But it is not mine, Marco. That tells me different timelines can exist.”

  He could see what I meant. “What are you going to do?”

  “It’s simple, Marco. If you destroy your servers, wipe everyone’s personal data and close down ComsMesh you can go home.”

  “You destroy the servers and no one goes home.”

  “Ah so the servers are an integral part of the time travel mechanism. That could explain a lot. So how about we do it in my time, Marco, rather than now?”

  I looked at Elizabeth, who nodded vigorously in agreement and at the same time was looking anxiously around the club for any sign of her cousin’s cricket team.

  “Do you know what will happen if the servers are destroyed, Mr Urquhart?”

  “Yes Marco, you will lose all your subscribers and their personal data. There will be some disruption but everyone will think it’s the result of some massive cyber-attack.”

  He looked at me, carefully weighing up what I had said and then to my surprise he said, “You will first have to catch me.”

  And he ran over to a horse tethered by the fence, leapt on and as he rode off shouted back, “And I will be back to the time machine before you, and you will be trapped here forever!”

  I really hoped the fuses in my pocket would stop him.

  I turned to the others.

  “We must follow him”

  But Elizabeth had a look of shock on her face. I turned in the direction of its cause and saw her Cousin Henry coming towards us.

  ---~---

  E.

  To my horror Henry had recognised me. He was walking towards me. I could think of no defence and I was sure even James would be tested beyond his powers of persuasion. Then I noticed he was smiling!

  ‘Hello, Elizabeth, I am glad to see you again and looking so well.”

  He turned to James. “And if I remember correctly this is the gentleman you ran off with. Are you looking after my cousin, sir?”

  I was not quite sure what he meant by that phrase but James immediately adopted the tone of the conversation with equal politeness, though I am sure he must have wished to be any when but there.

  “Thank you for your enquiry, sir. I am sure if you are acquainted with your cousin Elizabeth as well as I am you will know that she is very capable of looking after herself, to which I might add I regard her with great respect.”

  “I am pleased to hear it, sir. Her mother always regarded her as a bit of a handful and if she has respect for you, sir, then that says much about your character.”

  This conversation about my character in my presence was a little trying to say the least and it was compounded by the fact that I realised that any interjection by myself would only reinforce their assessment of me. More so, I do believe they were aware of this and continued in this vein for over a minute at my expense! I can only say that none of it was too derogatory.

  Henry turned to me.

  “, Elizabeth, I have never heard you s
o quiet. Have you lost your tongue?”

  I found that I had. Then he took both my hands and said, “Are you happy?”

  “Oh Henry, you have me cornered. I am very happy and to reply to your first question,” I looked at James, “I am ‘looked after’ very well but I must tell you we are in a great adventure which may alter time itself and are very pressed.”

  “And Mr Urquhart, is he from a different time?”

  At first I thought I had misheard him but his expression indicated he had some understanding.

  “Yes, Henry.”

  “And do you know, Mr Urquhart, what will become of me?”

  “No, sir. In fact I do not know what will become of us but I assure you whatever happens we will be together.”

  Henry nodded and turned back to me. “I just want you to know that we will look after your house for you if you ever come back.” And with that he kissed me lightly on the cheek, shook hands with James and returned to the club house.

  We were now much behind. We walked and ran as fast as we could back to the church and the passage.

  ---~---

  J.

  When we arrived back at the cavern I was much relieved to find Mr Batalia was still there. He had the console lids off. I showed him the fuses. “Are you looking for these, Marco?”

  He made a rush for me and was stopped in his tracks by Wells, who had produced a pistol! I looked at Wells and then the gun.

  “I am in a real adventure, Mr Urquhart, with things I do not understand, dangerous things. I felt a pistol may be needed.”

  I hoped the gun stayed pointed at Marco. I continued. “Marco, I want you to get in the time machine. I’m going to let you go to the time of your choice.”

  He looked at me, Wells and the gun. “Now in you go, Marco. What year would you like?”

  He was confused, then his confidence returned and he said, “Well, as I have little choice I would like to go to 2015.”

  I could see what he was trying to do. “OK Marco, 2015 it is then. In you get.”

  He got into the machine and closed the door.

  I put the fuses back quickly. I heard a reassuring hum and then reinserted the brass knobs.

  “What year shall we choose for Marco, Elizabeth?”

  “How about the year after, 2016, then he can’t interfere.”

  “Good choice.”

  I turned the dials and with a shimmer the time machine disappeared. “So Mr Maxwell, what years would you like?”

  “To where I began, Mr Urquhart. If I understand your plan there will be no need for me to destroy my papers.”

  I set the cavern to the time of his choice and he left via the passage. Then I turned to Wells.

  “Mr Urquhart, this has been a great adventure. As you know I have seen some of the future with Mr Batalia and as a consequence I have recorded what I have heard and seen. I have here my notes on two novels I will write. There is already interest in the publishers of the Pall Mall Magazine.”

  He reached into his coat pocket and produced a thick wad of paper. There were two titles, ‘The War in the Air’ and ‘The Shape of Things to Come’.

  “I am not convinced it is a good idea to know the future, but they may help you, Mr Urquhart, when you return to your own time.”

  I took them gratefully imagining how much Wells’ original notes for those books would fetch, then suddenly I realised what he meant.

  “Mr Wells, have you heard anything about an invasion from Mars?”

  Elizabeth looked at me incredulously. “An invasion, James? From another world?”

  “Yes, it’s one of Mr Wells’ most famous books.” I turned to Wells.

  “Yes, Mr Urquhart, Mr Batalia told me it occurs in your time and takes place in the south of England. You will see that although I do not mention the narrator’s name, both he and his wife survive.”

  His look gave no doubt as to who the two persons were.

  “Now Mr Urquhart, can you send me back to 1895? I have work to do but before I leave I wonder if I could borrow your diaries. As we now know, Professor Rolleston found them in a box in the attic at Hamgreen which at the moment is impossible as you still have them.”

  Elizabeth and I looked at each other rather sheepishly. He continued. “I understand your reticence but if they are not put there this convoluted timeline we are following will not exist, or at least part of it may not.”

  “So, to ensure everything that has happened so far, we have to give you our diaries so that Rolleston can find them.”

  “That is correct, Mr Urquhart, so I will put them in a box in the attic in your home at Hamgreen Lodge where I think they will be safe until he can retrieve them.”

  “And if we don’t agree?”

  “Then it is highly probable that you two never meet.”

  “And how do we trust you to do this? For all we know you may have your own agenda or you’re in league with ComsMesh.”

  “All I can say, Mr Urquhart, is that if I don’t do this then none of my novels will exist. I will not become famous nor, more importantly, rich. And quite possibly I will spend my life in a chemist’s shop. To answer your question, I do have an agenda.”

  “It seems, James, that once again what we decide greatly affects the future.”

  “Well Elizabeth, I’ve decided.”

  “And so have I, James.”

  I pulled out my notebook and gave it to him. Then Elizabeth removed from her bag an exquisite leather book held shut with a small clasp and gave it to Wells. He looked at them and then retrieved a small bound tablet from another inside pocket. He seemed to have a lot of pockets.

  “Thank you. I understand this is very hard for you so I am giving you in their place the narrative written by Professor Rolleston which combines both your diaries.”

  I took the tablet and opened it. A white screen appeared on which I saw a recording of our first meeting at Hamgreen. Elizabeth looked over my shoulder.

  “Gosh, James, so that’s what you wrote on our first encounter. I see you noticed me straight away and oh, you thought Flory and I looked like models from a Tissot painting!”

  “Yes Elizabeth, and here is your description of me!”

  We skimmed through the pages. Whoever had collated our diaries seemed, I must admit, to have captured our characters and humour rather well. I turned to the last page in the narrative. It was yesterday! I looked at Wells. He knew what I was thinking.

  “I understand that your diaries are connected somehow to this device. As you make records in your own diaries it also records them as a narrative based on your characters it has gleaned from your writings. I believe from what Mr Batalia told me, if you continue to write up your private diaries the contents will be transposed to this device. It is beyond my comprehension. My only conclusion is it can read your thoughts!”

  “And who else can read our thoughts, Mr Wells?”

  “As far as I know sir, it is only between you and this contraption.”

  I wondered how many of these contraptions there were listening in to us. The sooner the time machines were destroyed the better.

  I gave the tablet to Elizabeth. “I think it's best if you have this, Elizabeth. I wouldn’t be able to resist looking at your private life.”

  “Thank you, Jame but you do know I will not be able to resist reading yours.”

  “All I can say is if we continue to write our own secret diaries we'll know each other very well.”

  “Yes, and dare I say too well. We are not a species that has advanced sufficiently to cope with unrestricted telepathy. If we regard a diary as a receptacle for our innermost feelings, this device will betray us!”

  I agreed. I wondered whether we should keep it, then decided it might be safer in our hands rather than others. I turned to Wells, who understood.

  “I fear it may be like a Pandora’s Box, Mr Urquhart, to be kept closed and opened at one’s peril. You must do with it what you will but personally I would destroy it as soon as possible.”
>
  “The problem is it might be tied up with our time path. We need to think about this and make sure we understand what the consequences of interfering with it are.”

  “Well, I have had enough of adventures and I would like to go home. I have a lot of writing to do.”

  We thanked him for all his help and set the machine to his date. With a farewell he left. Then I set the cavern to 2015 and turned my attention to the servers.

  “I’m going to try and stop the servers, but it will mean we will be stuck in my time. Are you sure you are ready?”

  “James, I made that decision when I came to your house in Chichester.”

  There were four monitors displaying data load and capacity bars. The red portion of the bars indicated they were still only about 30% full. Marco had plenty of space on his servers.

  I pressed one of the green red bars and a warning line appeared at 50% and action limit line at 80% appeared at the end of the bar. They were touch screens! I had an idea. I pushed the action limit line slowly down the bar until it went into the red part. As I expected, a red warning sign started flashing on the screen. But then the red bar slowly moved back until it reached the limit line and then the other server red bars started to increase. The red warning symbol vanished.

  “Look, I’ve reduced the capacity of one server and the system transferred it to another. I wonder what happens if I moved the limit to zero?”

  “I’m afraid, James. I am really outside my sphere of knowledge. You must follow your instinct.”

  I moved it. The red line moved back to zero then the other red bars increased from 30% to 50%. They were taking up the load capacity!

  “What does this mean, James?”

  “It means, I hope, that these lines determine how much information can be stored on each server and also the transfer rate.”

  “So, if you move these lines along to the beginning of the bars they will not be able to hold any information.”

  I looked at her, amazed at her instant comprehension.

  “Elizabeth, as well as being fluent in Latin and devouring Maxwell’s equations, are you sure you don’t have a degree in computer science as well?”