by Glover, Nhys
‘I knew we were cutting it close. Hope you don’t mind our dropping in on you like this,’ Cara said with a smile, as they shared an embrace.
‘Of course not. It’s nice to have visitors. I’ve been a bit lonely out here on my own since Jane moved out. Funny how quickly you get used to having people around. I wasn’t sure how it would work when she first moved in. I’d been out here two years by that time. But it ended up being wonderful, and now I miss the company. Maybe I should get a cat!’ Maggie laughed as she led her guests back into the living room where the storm was now beating against the windows in all its fury.
‘Wow, I forgot how incredible this view is! Look at that ocean!’ Cara exclaimed, going over to the window, and watching in rapt wonder as a fork of lightning shot across the sky, followed immediately by a boom of thunder.
‘Reminds me of that storm on your D Day,’ Jac said to his mate, smiling a private smile just for her.
‘Feels like a million years ago.’ Cara smiled back at him and caressed his arm briefly.
‘Not quite. Just three hundred and eighty or so.’
This time they all laughed, as they shared the joke. Playing with the idiosyncrasies of time was a favourite game amongst Jumpers, those who time travelled to the past to do research or Retrieve new residents for their sterile world. Although Maggie wasn’t a Jumper, she still appreciated the humour.
She had been sixty two when she’d been Retrieved from 2008, so she could start a new life in 2329. Now, four years later, it felt like she’d always lived in New Atlantis, and had always looked like a twenty year old Grecian princess, who wore classical gowns of soft white fabric. The older woman she had been, seemed like another person entirely, and the life she had lived – simply a vague and distant memory.
‘What has brought you out in weather like this?’ She asked the couple as they all made themselves comfortable on the sofa chair. Maggie took her place on the matching single, and drew her legs up under her to await the news.
‘We have discovered an anomaly, one that has disturbed the government enough that they have ordered an immediate investigation.’ Jac’s deep voice was troubled, and he ran his long fingers through his white-blonde shock of hair that hung so delightfully over his broad forehead.
He was such a huge man that there was barely enough room on the two seater sofa for his Bonded to squeeze in. From jokes they’d shared, Maggie knew that trying to squeeze into spaces left over in beds and chairs was a common problem for Cara. But she took it all in her loving stride. Even when Jac had been in the smaller body of his Original, he’d been a sprawler. Now, in the giant Nordic body of his dead friend, dressed in a ubiquitous white tunic, Jac just sprawled a little more.
‘That sounds interesting. It’s not like the government to want anything done in a hurry.’ Maggie wasn’t being critical; she was simply stating a fact. In the Gaian Confederacy of the Twenty Fourth Century, there was no hurry about anything. All the time in the world was theirs, in more ways than one.
‘Precisely. So we hotfooted it out here immediately to talk to you,’ Cara leaned in to her mate’s big body without thinking, and his arm came around her just as unconsciously.
‘Me? What have I to do with this anomaly? I’m not a Jumper.’
Jac drew his Tablet out of his belt, and connected to it with his mind. Then he used it to connect to Maggie’s wall size entertainment screen. In a matter of seconds, an animated version of her living room appeared on the screen. She watched in fascination as an awkward, elfin avatar walked from the room they now sat in, down the hall to her studio. Then, as the perspective changed, an unfamiliar image appeared along the full length of the wall of the animated studio.
Maggie gasped in shock. It couldn’t be. Jumping hastily to her feet, she moved over to look more closely at the screen. Her heart was racing.
‘What is this? I haven’t even started that work yet. It’s still in sketch form,’ she demanded as she ran her finger along the graceful curve of a dancer in mid leap. It was going to be her most audacious work so far, and yet, pictured here, it looked flat and uninspiring, lacking her skill and the technological additives that would bring it to life.
‘That answers our first question then. The second is not so easy to answer.’ Jac leaned toward her, eyes intent.
‘Which is?’
‘How did a perfect replication of New Atlantis, right down to the interior of this villa and your artwork, end up on a virtual reality cyber world called Second Life in 2012?’
Maggie felt her mouth drop open. ‘That’s not possible!’
‘Exactly. So you can see why the government is a little hot under the collar about it.’ Jac sat back and began to pull at his hair again. Cara reached over and ran her own fingers through the longer than fashionable lengths, to sooth him. It seemed to work, because his tight expression eased for a moment, and he turned to look at her gratefully.
They were such a loving and demonstrative couple, a rarity in New Atlantis. Maggie had never been married, nor felt the need for a man in her life for any length of time. But in moments like this, watching these two care and support each other as a unit, she envied them, and wondered what it would be like to feel that level of loving connection.
Not for me. She dismissed the passing pang of yearning by refocusing on the mystery presented to her.
‘Do we have a rogue Jumper?’ Maggie asked. ‘Someone from this time who has planted this information in the past?’
‘That is what we believe must have happened. But who and why?’
Maggie frowned as she tried to consider the ramifications of such a breach. Time Travelling, or Jumping as they called it, was an extremely secretive practise, in-situ. No one was supposed to know it was happening. Of course, there were people who knew – like the people who were being targeted by the Retrieval teams. But those who were told about their possible chance at a new life in the future were watched closely to make sure they didn’t pass on their knowledge to anyone in their own times. Even if they did, they couldn’t have had the detailed information indicated by this simulation. That artwork didn’t even exist yet.
That was the clue! She beamed. ‘It hasn’t happened yet. If I haven’t done that piece yet, then whoever has gone Rogue hasn’t done it yet. It could be years in our future.’
Jac and Cara exchanged looks, and Maggie started to get a bad feeling about what was coming.
‘That appears to be the case, now that we are sure you haven’t finished that artwork. So we have time to investigate this Travis Mac Andrews, the creator, and find out who passed him these schematics. Or it might be more accurate from our perspective to say “who will pass him the schematics.” We can’t stop the site going up, because that is already an historical fact. But we can limit the impact it has, if we know in advance how it happened.’ Jac leaned toward Maggie again, his ice blue eyes trained on her intently.
‘That sounds like a good idea. But what has this to do with me?’
‘The only detailed scenes are for public buildings and a few private homes, all of which you have visited.’
‘I… I don’t understand.’
‘Neither do we, Maggie. But whatever is going on here is directly connected to you. So we want your help.’
‘My help?’ She knew her voice had gone up an octave in panic.
‘Yes. We want you to go back to Bradford England in 2012, and meet this world builder. We want you to find out where he got his information. And don’t worry, you won’t be going alone.’
‘Me? But I’m not a Jumper. I’ve never Jumped, except to get here. Why do you need me?’ She was feeling desperate now, as if a whirlpool had formed in the centre of her living room, and was slowly but inexorably pulling her in.
‘We need you because all of this is somehow connected to you, and only you can put the pieces together, in-situ. Details that would pass others by will be clear to you.
‘Luke Bedford and Alice Cornwall will go with you, and keep you safe,
so you don’t have to worry about that,’ Jac said.
‘And it will only be a month,’ Cara put in. ‘You’ll be gone and back before you know it.’
‘Luke? But you only use Luke on dangerous missions. Is this a dangerous mission?’ She couldn’t seem to stand still, and found she was now pacing the length of the storm battered window, backwards and forwards, over and over again, like a caged animal.
‘It might be. That’s why we want Luke with you. This Travis Mac Andrews had just been released from prison after serving fourteen years of his ‘Custody for Life’ for the murder of a youth in a brawl outside a Glasgow nightclub in 1997. And he’s black, with a history of racial conflict. That’s why Alice is going. She may be able to connect more effectively because of their shared racial heritage.’
‘He’s a murderer? You want me to get a murderer to tell me how he got the details of my home and my artwork I haven’t yet completed?’ Her voice was no more than a squeak.
Jac looked down at his Tablet. Seconds later, a face appeared on the home screen. It was a mug shot of a breath-takingly handsome man in his late teens, skin the colour of black coffee, his bald head beautifully shaped to match the perfect bone structure. Large almond shaped eyes stared angrily out at them; the delicately shaped, full lips were pulled tight in a grimace of loathing.
Oh God, I know him!
She closed her eyes to block out the face. But the image was already burned into her memory, along with the others it held of this man.
‘What is it?’ Cara asked, jumping up to come to her side. She reached out to wrap Maggie in her comforting arms, but Maggie wouldn’t have it.
These people wanted to send her back to that other world because of this man, and she might never come back. She had been so sure that she could look forward to hundreds of peaceful and fulfilling years ahead of her. But now, because of this man, they were sending her away.
‘I haven’t done anything wrong!’ She drew away from Cara, and looked into her eyes, searching for a reprieve. ‘I’m a productive member of the community. Whatever this is, I didn’t do it, or I won’t do it.’
‘Oh Maggie, we know you haven’t. We aren’t asking you to do this as a punishment. It’s just a month, I promise you. And we won’t force you to go if you don’t want to. It’s just … that we need you. No one else will be able to work this mystery out.’
‘Then I’m sorry but no, I won’t go. I’m no hero, or even an adventurer like you are. I’ve never wanted to time travel. I certainly have no desire to go back to that time again. It’s so noisy and smelly and frenetic. And Bradford? That’s a city. A really dangerous city. I lived in a little backwater, on a half deserted island, for the last ten years of my life. It took me all my time to go into Hobart for my exhibitions. I hate cities!’
‘I’m so sorry, Maggie. I didn’t realise it would be this difficult for you. Forget we asked. We’ll get this done another way.’ Cara put her hand on her friend’s arm, and squeezed it reassuringly.
Maggie let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. It felt like she’d just avoided a six car pileup. But the adrenalin was still pumping, and she found her legs didn’t want to hold her up anymore.
She sat down on the overstuffed chair again and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, to try to control the shaking.
I know him! Somehow this man is part of my fate. Even separating us by hundreds of years hasn’t made it possible for me to escape him. If I tell Cara, she’ll make me go. She’ll know it’s somehow my fault this is happening, and she’ll make me go.
‘God, Maggie, I’m so sorry. Forget it. Just forget all about it. It is nothing to do with you. It isn’t your problem…’ Cara said, as she dropped down in front of Maggie, and took her cold hands in hers.
‘I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go.’ Her voice was little more than a whimper.
‘Cara, we better go. We’ve taken up too much of Maggie’s time.’ Jac said as he turned to address Maggie. ‘We’re sorry for disturbing you.’
Jac stood, and leaned in take his mate’s hand to draw her up.
‘I can’t leave her like this…’ Cara whispered harshly, as an aside.
‘She isn’t going to calm down until we’re gone. Leave her. I’ll get one of the medicos to check on her in an hour.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like such a wuss. This isn’t like me at all,’ Maggie said, with a little more of her old spirit.
But the face was still in her mind and wouldn’t go away. And the face now had a name and a place. And all those weird dreamscapes made sense. Not dreams at all. Something else entirely.
She didn’t walk her visitors to the door. Instead, she looked out at the storm again. How could she be so rude as to let her friends go out in weather like this? She should have insisted they stay, at least until it eased up. But the truth was she was glad they were gone. Right now, she needed to be on her own. There was so much to think about, so much to come to terms with.
Travis Mac Andrews had finally caught up with her.
CHAPTER TWO
The next morning the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly down on the Atlantic island, as if reborn. Maggie dragged herself from bed, eyelids heavy after a sleepless night.
‘What am I going to do?’ She asked the sun. ‘I can’t let them down. New Atlantis has given me so much. I can’t say no when they ask for something in return.’
But the face of Travis Mac Andrews burst into her mind, blotting out the sun. He was her albatross for the sin of drug experimentation in the sixties. And he had hung around her neck for a lifetime.
It had seemed so harmless back then. Going to Woodstock, to be part of that experience, had seemed like a dream come true for her twenty three year old self. It was her one attempt at being the unconventional radical her art demanded of her.
It was during her first and only LSD trip that she had seen him. Not as he was in that mug shot. No, on her trip he was older and laughing, his elegant, bald head thrown back in delight as he let the deep, rumbling laughter out. Then, in the next moment, or in the next hour – time warped strangely on the trip – she saw him ‘conducting in colour’. It was how she had come to describe it to herself over the years. It was as if he was an orchestral conductor, swinging his arms around. But instead of music, he was conducting colours: beautiful, vibrant colours, swirling out wherever his arms directed. Explosions of colour that had lit up the dark room in which he stood, and they seemed to pulse with a life of their own.
People she told said it was pretty typical of LSD. But she’d known differently. This had been no ordinary psychedelic trip. This had been something else. And she’d run away from it, and him, back to Australia and a job as a commercial artist, until she felt brave enough to start connecting with her inner world once more. Only then could she start to painting again.
Over the years, particularly from the eighties onward, she would get regular nightmares that bore no relation to her life. She would wake in a cold sweat, having watched a woman being beaten, or angry children yelling and jeering at her. There had even been flashes of a black child looking out of a mirror at her.
As the years had passed, the images had changed – cold, wet inner city slums, back alleys painted in desolation; hollow, cavernous interiors of metal and concrete, cages filled with angry, sullen faces. Bone numbing loneliness and despair had dragged her down into bouts of depression that were not her own.
Now she connected the dots. This Travis Mac Andrews was her nightmare, and somehow she had pulled him into her dreams when she opened that psychic door, using LSD. Though her own life was peaceful and uneventful, her ‘other’ life was anything but. Those dreams had left her seething with an anger she couldn’t comprehend, and sadness she couldn’t assuage. It had poisoned her peaceful life.
Coming to New Atlantis had freed her. In the four years she had been here, she hadn’t dreamt one angry, tortured dream. It was as if she h
ad finally exorcized him, and left him behind in her other life, in that other world.
But he was not that easy to escape. Somehow, he’d reached across the years and found her again. And now he was starting to pull her back. And though Cara had given her a choice, she knew she didn’t truly have one. This anomaly was somehow her fault. Because of this connection to her albatross, she had put her new world at risk.
It was up to her to put it right, even at the cost of her new life. It was only fair. After all, in a way, she had already been granted an extension on her time on earth. Her life should have ended four years ago, lost in the Cradle Mountains National Park in the World Heritage Wilderness not far from her home. Instead of dying on her D Day, she’d been given a new life of peace and beauty, and the opportunity to expand her art to encompass the new technologies. What artist wouldn’t have traded her life for such an opportunity?
But her time was up. Her reprieve was over. It was time to pay the piper. Her ghost ship had reached the harbour.
With a heavy but resolute heart, she reached for her Tablet. Quickly calling up her messaging facility with her mind, she prepared to speak to Jac. Then she smiled into the screen and spoke aloud. ‘Hi Jac, I just wanted to let you know that I have reconsidered your request. I am willing to be part of this Jump, if you think I might be useful. Let me know what I need to do next.’
Then she mentally sent the message and closed down the Tablet. It was a relief having made the decision. Although she was still terrified of what was to come, she felt as if she was now being true to herself. She couldn’t run away all her life. Sooner or later she had to turn and make a stand. This was her stand.
The Start Point Cavern was as bright as midday as the Jumpers made their way to the dais on which the monumental, post and lintel gateway stood. Incised into the stone arch were ancient symbols from the Atlantean age. They were warnings and instructions for journeying into the spirit world. In the last seventy years, the gateway had been used for journeying of a different kind. It now acted as a Portal to other times and places. And the rows of computer terminals, which fanned out from the dais, were all working on sifting and analysing information from those past times, looking for Targets. These Targets were people who had mysteriously gone missing, and who would fit the parameters for Retrieval to the Twenty Fourth Century.