The Space Between Time

by Bruce Macfarlane

  “I thought it burnt down,” said James.

  “Yes, it did. But that was not caused by you. It was accidently started by workman on a lower floor. All my work was destroyed!”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” I said feeling relieved that it was not caused by us but I felt that this deviation had progressed far enough and I wished to get to the nub of his visit. I said, “So, why did you wish to speak to my husband?”

  He took a last gulp of his tea and putting the cup down hunched forward.

  “I have reason to believe that I have contacted Mars or more specifically the inhabitants of that planet.”

  His voice was quiet and as he spoke his eyes reverently moved as though he was fearful of being overheard. We found ourselves involuntarily hunching forward as well. Though not before both James and I had furtively looked around the veranda for the presence of small white rabbit-like creatures.

  -----------------------------------

  J.

  Expecting to be beaten up or worse for destroying his machine I was a bit taken aback by what Tesla wanted to talk about. I vaguely remembered some articles on the fringe of the Net about him trying to set up some form of powerful radio wave transmitter to send a signal to Mars.

  “What makes you think that you’ve contacted Mars?” I said, pretending I knew nothing about it.

  “I have been constructing a magnifying transmitter.”

  “A what?” I said.

  “It is a more advanced version of my coil transmitter. It is a high-power harmonic oscillator that I intended to use for the wireless transmission of electrical energy.”

  “Are you trying to conduct electrical power by radio waves instead of cables?”

  “Yes. I thought this would have required an incredible power source but...”

  He hesitated for a moment, again looking around to see if he was being overheard, “I have discovered terrestrial stationary electro-magnetic waves that extend across the earth.”

  I tried to look as though this was the most important discovery in history and at the same time trying to not give the impression I had no idea what he was talking about.

  Then my sister, who I thought had returned to her slumber put me on the spot. “Do they exist, Jim?”

  “Not that I know of. The earth behaves like a magnet with its iron core but I’ve not come across it producing magnetic or electro-magnetic waves.”

  “But it does, Mr Urquhart! The Earth behaved as a conductor of very low resistance, and I found it responded to certain frequencies of electrical vibrations.”

  I’d forgotten what it must have been like in science at the turn of the twentieth century. After two hundred years, the world had broken away from the magical arts and just about consigned them to the realm of charlatans. Even Newton’s experiments in astrology and alchemy had been carefully forgotten. Then Rutherford discovered that Thorium could be transmutated into Radon! This was like saying he’d discovered how to turn mercury into gold. His partner Soddy, on discovering what they’d done, apparently exclaimed, “They’ll have our heads off as alchemists!”

  This was the world that Tesla lived in. Many of his theories were met with great scepticism if not derision and his attempts to communicate with other planets cost his reputation dear. But he was not a charlatan. He had immense knowledge of electricity and had a vision for its use.

  I said, “You mean… Ah! I see. You think your machine, if it could produce a powerful electrical signal at one of these frequencies, then the earth would resonate with it and provide you with a vehicle to transmit your electricity all over the world.”

  “Precisely. I could transmit energy wirelessly over long distances by generating standing waves of electrical energy within the Earth.”

  “And you intend to use this, er, magnifying transmitter to communicate with Mars?”

  “Intend? I have done it, Mr Urquhart.”

  “And what made you think there are Martians there?”

  “Why? We know there are Martians there.” Looking at me as though I was a simpleton.

  This was getting into dodgy ground. I didn’t want to admit what we knew about the Red Planet yet otherwise he might clam up. I said, “What evidence have you got?”

  “Mr Schiaparelli’s observations. Have you not seen them?” he said looking at us rather surprised.

  Elizabeth’s father helped me out, though I don’t think intentionally. “Yes, we have and I am lucky enough to have a Martian globe. Remember, James? It was bequeathed to me a few years ago, by my dear old friend Mr William Dawes. Sadly, he is now dead. He did some drawings of Mars for Mr Proctor of the Royal Astronomical Society.”

  I remembered it well and the adventure that went with it.

  “Oh! Of course, yes!” I said, going along with him, “It showed all the canals.”

  “That is it, Mr Urquhart! That is the proof there are inhabitants on Mars,” said Tesla. “And it is also supported by Mr Lowell from Arizona who has made similar and independent observations and is convinced that the great canals were built by the inhabitants of Mars and are irrigated by the polar ice caps each season. He has written and published a paper on it.”

  Elizabeth put her hand on my knee, indicating that she wished to join in and also to signal that she thought she knew what I was doing. “You say that you have communicated with Mars, Mr Tesla. Have you received a reply?”

  Tesla withdrew into his secretive self again and whispered. “I have received a series of pulses which by their repetitive nature suggests that it was made by intelligent beings.”

  At this point, Wells who had been sitting back feigning no interest whatsoever in this conversation said, “And do you have a transcription of this message?”

  Expecting Tesla to make some excuse about having no concrete evidence I was surprised to see him put his hand inside his waistcoat and retrieve a small roll of metal foil. He then laid it on the table and proceeded to carefully unroll it. We all moved forward to see what it was.

  It reminded me of one of those old pen recorder chart rolls. There was a long black line punctuated by vertical spikes of different sizes. I quickly saw that although the spikes looked random, groups of them repeated themselves at regular intervals.

  “I said, “Do you know what it means?”

  “No,” said Tesla.

  “I believe I do.” We all turned to Wells who produced a piece of paper from one of his many pockets and unfolded it on the table to show an almost exact likeness of Tesla’s graph!

  ----------------------------------

  Chapter Twenty

  E.

  Although I know we do not have control of our own destinies, I like to think that we have some influence. Mr Wells seems to take great delight in ensuring that James and I do not.

  The two drawings, which I could see were similar, were to me incomprehensible and I noticed from James’ expression he was of the same opinion. Mr Wells, sensing this, proceeded to enlighten us.

  “Mr Tesla is right. The Earth does produce its own magnetic frequency of which the Martians are aware. And they use it to communicate with Earth.”

  “But with whom do they communicate, Herbert?” said Mrs Wells, not asking what I thought was the obvious question: where did her husband obtain his copy?

  He turned to James and me. “You remember the Martians had installed their advanced guard on earth by burying it underground, put there thousands of years ago.”

  “Yes,” I said. “How could I forget?”

  “I believe this is a signal to wake them up and commence the invasion of Earth.”

  “How can you tell that from this?”

  “Have you noticed a certain number of the ratios of the synodic periods of Mars and Venus are almost an exact number of years?”

  I was about to ask James what this gibberish had to do with meetings of bishops when to my surprise my father answered.

  “Ah! You mean every fourth year Mars returns to the same position in the Earth’s sky
almost to the day.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Venus every five years?”

  “Precisely, Mr Bicester. Now look at these lines.”

  We looked but still without comprehension.

  “It is like a calendar. These lines show the conjunctions of Mars and Earth. The longer the line the nearer Earth is to Mars. These lines repeat every four years, the time when Mars appears in the same place in the firmament.”

  “And this last line is the longest.”

  “Yes. When Mars is closest to Earth.”

  “And when’s that?”

  Mr Wells looked up at the sky. We immediately followed his gaze and saw rising above the trees the red planet shining quite brightly.

  “Are you telling us the Martians are about to invade again!” exclaimed James, “We’ve already been through that hell twice. I thought their underground fleets were destroyed! Elizabeth and I saw one inside the white cliffs.”

  “But that was in the future. Here it is 1895.”

  “God!” said James. “When we fought them we had weapons that matched theirs. Here you’ve only got muskets and cannonballs. You’d be wiped out! How long have we got?”

  He looked up at the sky. Mars had risen higher and the sky was now black.

  “I believe about four days plus or minus two.”

  He un-nerved me not a little with his calmness and I ventured to try and find out why.

  “Have you informed the government of this? For they will need preparation.”

  “Mr Tesla will provide all the preparation we need.”

  Mr Tesla looked as perplexed as us.

  “In the time cavern, there is a replica of Mr Tesla’s resonance oscillator. A much improved one, I believe. We will use it to interfere with the signal.”

  “You mean block the frequency?” said James.

  “Precisely. It should not be difficult. The signal from Mars is rather weak and should easily be countered by Mr Tesla’s apparatus.”

  “Ok. Should be possible in theory. There are just two things that bother me.”

  Mr Wells waited.

  “First: where did you get your drawing from?”

  “Oh, that was easy. You remember when you all left the cavern?”

  “Yes. We thought it was a good idea at the time.”

  “I stayed behind.”

  “Ah! Is that where you were.”

  “Yes. I wondered why the oscillator continued to generate sparks.”

  “Sparks! They were blooming great bolts of lightning!” said James.

  “As you wish. But while I was observing them, I noticed a pattern of smaller discharges and proceeded with the aid of my pocket watch to record their frequency. It was not the frequency expected of the oscillator. I did not understand them at first and wanted to find out more but a particularly large bolt of lightning convinced me that I should leave. I then went back to my lodgings.”

  “Did you end up in my period?”

  “No. I returned via the coaching inn and found myself in this time. I spent the night trying to decipher the signal but to no avail. It was only when Mr Tesla mentioned his communications with Mars and produced his foil that I realised what it might mean.”

  “I do not quite see why you would conclude that it was a signal for the Martians here on Earth,” said my father.

  “I admit it is a little tenuous. But I believe that when the Martians detected Mr Tesla’s signal they may have thought they were discovered and sent a message to Earth indicating that the next close conjunction would be the best time to commence their invasion.”

  If he was to be believed, he had reason.

  There was a silence for a moment then James spoke.

  “Second question: who’s going to block the signal?”

  -----------------

  J.

  I realised rather quickly that I wasn’t going to be able to take the car to Midhurst for although spatially it was only the other side of the garden wall it was over a hundred years in the future time-wise; by which time, I imagined we would all be speaking Martian or dead. This left us with the pleasures of late nineteenth-century transport and roads.

  Luckily, I could depend on my nearest and dearest for she takes to driving a carriage or dog cart like a duck to water.

  I eventually convinced Jill that she should take my car back home in the morning rather than come with us and then we retired to bed. Lilly had somehow, in between supplying us with tea and cake, prepared an extra guest room and ensured that the en-suite facilities had been carefully placed on the sideboard and under the bed. I sometimes suspected that there were at least a score of hidden servants serving Elizabeth’s home but she assures me that there were only five, if you didn’t count gardeners, stable lads and kitchen staff.

  I slept fitfully dreaming of trying to operate Tesla’s machine and being struck by lightning bolts every time I tried to touch it. I later learnt that at least two of the bolts were Elizabeth slapping me for taking all the bed clothes.

  We woke quite early and after a full breakfast shared just between the two of us we went to the stables where Smethers had prepared a dog cart and Wells, Tesla and Elizabeth’s father were waiting for us.

  I had learnt that travelling in an open carriage in this period it was essential to wear a full winter coat, hat and gloves, no matter what the weather and dressed accordingly thanks to the generosity of Elizabeth’s father.

  However, I was rather annoyed that Wells wasn’t coming with us nor shared in his confidence that if we followed Tesla’s instructions everything would be alright.

  -------------

  E.

  Despite my protestations, Mr Tesla insisted that in the presence of a lady it was a gentleman’s duty to drive and handed the reins to James, who looked at me then Mr Tesla and mumbled something about a sprained wrist making it impossible for him to take the seat. I guessed this was a fabrication to avoid this duty and I did not encourage him to be a man on this occasion, as I knew, how can I put this politely, that he had limitations in this area. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived at Cocking I was begging James to take the lead for I had quickly discovered, on enquiry of Mr Tesla, after he had flattened a finger post and caused a young couple to jump into a ditch that his only knowledge of driving was by way of observation from the top of an omnibus!

  Thankfully James eventually acquiesced to my pleading and, under my guidance assisted by a rather strong nudge here and there and accompanied by many mutterings concerning the never-ending demands of someone’s wife, we arrived safely at Midhurst.

  At the coaching inn, we handed the horse and cart to a stable boy once I had pressed upon him the need to look after the poor creature properly. I’m sure as it departed it gave me a look that suggested it was wondering why it had deserved to be treated so roughly on the journey. We then took luncheon at the inn during which there was some considerable argument over my tattered reputation and which route we should take to the cavern. It was eventually agreed that to mollify me, as James put it, we would proceed to the cavern via the church so that I would not be seen again taking two men up to the bed chamber!

  I do wonder how I find myself in so many situations where my respectability is compromised.

  The cavern was as we had left it, complete with the modified apparatus. We then both looked askance at Mr Tesla, who we had been assured by Mr Wells would provide us with guidance, but to my consternation he seemed to be regarding us in the same manner.

  ------------

  J.

  When I realised Tesla was expecting us to tell him what to do, I was more than a little disappointed. I decided to have a walk around the room until I’d cooled off a bit. It was quiet and the apparatus was sitting there minding its own business without a hint of a spark.

  After I had wandered about the cavern for a few minutes trying to look as though I had some plan, Elizabeth said, “Do you think we should switch it on?”

  “Yes. I think we should.” said
Tesla and they both looked at me. For some reason, I felt this was a little unfair. Seeing by their expressions that they were wondering why I was not immediately proceeding with this simple task I said, through gritted teeth. “OK. I’ll be the guinea pig again!”

  And I went over to the console. I was glad I still had my coat on but for extra protection I put on Elizabeth’s father’s leather gloves as well.

  “James! Be careful!”

  “Bit late now.” I said. Then confirming the cables were in place I pressed the ‘red button’, which in this case was actually a small lever. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I heard a low-frequency hum. I withdrew to the edge of the room, by the door which I was glad to see was still ajar.

  As the machine continued to charge up and a few sparks appeared around the primary coil I suddenly thought, and then said rather loudly, “Any idea why I’ve switched it on?”

  I got no answer so I turned it off. Elizabeth later told me when I’d calmed down that the look I gave her and Tesla would have frozen a troll.

  Returning from the console once the machine had become quiet again I said, “OK. Let’s have a think about this. Any ideas, Tesla?”

  Tesla said, “I think I may have been a little hasty in my reply to you. We must first modulate the frequency of the electromagnetic pulses to synchronise with the Martian signal.”

  “Really! I would never have guessed.” I said as sarcastically as possible. “And pray tell me how we’re going to do that? Because, as far as I can remember, the frequency is dictated by the input frequency, coil size and spark gap width. None of which can be changed while it’s working without ending up rather crispy!”

  “Then we need to change the frequency of the power supply.” said Tesla.

  “Easier said than done. You’d need a motor generator connected to it. I don’t think you’re going to find one in Midhurst even if they’ve been invented. And if we did, we have no idea what the voltage is of the power supply. It could blow it in seconds.”