by Barney Broom
“He doesn’t want my help.”
“Rubbish. You being with him when you’re sober is much more important than working on computers. In spite of how he is sometimes, the boy needs a father figure.”
“Think I can make a better job of it than with my own flesh and blood?”
“I’m not even going to bother to answer that. Good night, doctor. Your milk and brandy are in their usual place.”
Alannah departed. Passing the lab door, she looked in on Podric who was busy working.
“Little harsh, Podric.”
Podric looked up.
“So, what do you think made him madder?”
Alannah smiled.
“Okay. He’ll have her back in due course. If you stay over, there’s a bed made up. Good night.”
An hour went by, but to Podric it could have been a minute. Working intensely, two completed sets of ear components lay on the bench along with a PlayStation.
“You staying the night?”
Archie stood in the doorway. Drink in hand, he dropped into a leather chair. Dog bustled in and sniffed around Podric’s legs.
“Good details they have in some of these historic games.”
Looking at a monitor, Archie saw that Podric was viewing Napoleonic Wars. Its details were impressive – campaigns, battle plans, even options for alliances, along with weather, ordnance and supply elements.
“Took me months to write. Why’s it up?”
“No particular reason. Thought it might be fun to profile people I know into something out of a different time, that’s all.”
Archie snorted.
“How about Brodie and Dog then? He’d be good to have along at Austerlitz, wouldn’t you, old pal?”
Archie ruffled the giant wolfhound’s head. Working on another screen filled with data, Podric tapped in some details.
“How far are you away from making it work?”
“Done a lot…”
“Not what I asked.”
Archie looked smugly sarcastic.
“Why don’t we give it a try? Never know, might make for a bright end to my god-awful twenty-four hours. Anyway, I could do with a laugh.”
Catching the mocking tone in Archie’s voice, Podric picked up one of the little earpieces. Gently guiding it into his auditory canal, it fitted deep inside, rendering the tiny unit invisible. Podric handed the other ear piece to the games creator.
“Well, if you want to try going in…”
Deprecatingly, Archie began fitting the earpiece, clumsily fiddling with the delicate device. Podric was sharp.
“If you don’t insert it properly, it won’t work.”
Archie stuffing the earpiece into his ear, Podric walked over to a cabinet.
“Want to be with us, come along for the ride?”
Dog’s big face looked at Podric then adoringly at his master.
Taking a microchip from a drawer, Podric placed it under the microscope then adjusted further data. Similar to the ones they’d inserted in their wrists, Podric undid a little identity screw tag suspended from Dog’s collar and placed the microchip inside.
“How’s he going to sync with that? Got it programmed for hounds?”
“I’ve adjusted some spare chips but animals have a separate folder.”
Not quite sure how serious Podric might be, Archie had another gulp of scotch.
“You might as well put the village idiot woman’s macaw in while you’re about it.”
“They can be profiled in the next batch. I’ve done enough for now.”
Archie burst out laughing. Podric tapped keys and adjusted calculus.
“You don’t really understand the first thing about this, do you?”
“Damned right I don’t. I’ve failed myself ever letting you even talk to me about such a cockamamie idea.”
“The only reason I’ve chipped Dog is that we’re actually trying to go into UAR with him. People – selected friends, relatives, birds and dogs for that matter, I know I’ve profiled – if it works, they would appear to us in the game and seem to be part of the action, but not actually be in it like we are.”
“Who’s to say Dog won’t end up at Alma and us in Borodino?”
“Unlikely if we all go in together. Anyway, we might be at sea. As you know, Maritime’s part of Napoleonic Wars.”
“Hmm… The Nile, Trafalgar –’bout the only victories we had for a while. What campaign are you challenging?”
“You started the game in 1793.”
“Obviously. That’s when Napoleon first came to prominence.”
“Yeah?”
“Given we’re conducting this farce, under ‘Battles’ it should have Toulon.”
Podric clicked through the game options. Selecting ‘Battles’, the Blockade of Toulon appeared, which he highlighted. Archie stared at the screen.
“Want any dates, times? They’re listed.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know – you, Mr. UAR!”
Archie finished his scotch and looked stupidly at Podric.
“Ooh, exciting.”
For anything to work they would have to activate the microchip in their left wrists and, not trusting Archie to touch his own properly, Podric placed the games creator’s other hand over it.
“Now press!”
Doing the same to himself, Podric remembered he saw Archie obey.
Whether either of them thought anything would happen, for a second or two nothing did. But Dog suddenly got excited and Archie starting to remonstrate, seemed to become opaque along with his wolfhound. The sensation experienced was one of falling through space, time and everything else. In fact, they were on their way to entering the brave new world of Ultimate Alternative Reality!
Part 2:
Life Inside the Game
Combating Napoleon
1
Napoleonic Wars
Raucous screams could be heard coming from the tavern next door as Podric Moon stirred. Not that he knew it was a tavern or exactly where he was, but his eyes gradually adjusting, it felt surreal. Peering around, Podric glimpsed from a light in the neighbouring building that he was wearing strange clothes and in some kind of outhouse. Hearing rather than seeing his business partner, Podric suddenly had his face nudged by a dog. Dog! He’d come into UAR’s world with them!
Getting up, Podric moved to the edge of the building and looked out. It was difficult to see much, but what he could identify didn’t seem to resemble the twenty-first century. Podric looked down at himself. He was dressed in some kind of a uniform – gold braid and blue cloth – and wearing stockings and buckled shoes. A cocked hat was on his head. Taking it off, he stared at it in bafflement. What had he done? Where were they?
Podric anxiously moved his right index finger across his left wrist and activated his code. Data appeared along the top of his vision. The game booted up and he heard a series of electronic sounds in his ear (that would be the aural element activating). This was followed by the appearance of other retinal images. He was seeing the PlayStation Virtual Reality game of Napoleonic Wars with himself inside it. Incredible! So Outside-in Reality had been a precursor to Ultimate Alternative Reality!
Comforted by this knowledge and not wishing to immediately remove himself from the new world he’d just entered, Podric pressed his wrist again and deactivated the game. The data disappeared; he now had clear vision inside UAR!
The Napoleonic Wars… Podric wished he’d paid more attention to history, but recently he’d been so busy creating Alternative Reality, the subject had rather passed him by. He sort of knew who Napoleon was but… A loud crash outside was followed by the appearance of two men. Peering through slats in the outhouse door, Podric watched as they undid belts and began to pee against the far wall.
“Tro
uble there’ll be if that arse Sturridge dun’t shut his gob.”
“Reckon ’e’s got it comin’, the silly bastard. He’s a mutinous bugger.”
“What say we take off and go ter Sal’s place?”
The other laughed and, hitching up their trousers, the men disappeared into the night.
“Oh God, my head. Get me a paracetamol.”
Podric looked around. Lying nearby, the computer games creator stirred.
“Oh, bl… Dog, get off me!”
A disgruntled and hungover Archie Light sat up. He stared around him stupidly.
“What the…? Where the hell am I?”
“‘Don’t know exactly but we’re in your Napoleonic Wars game.”
“Wha…?”
“I checked it. We’re back several hundred years in the world of Napoleon.”
Archie jumped up.
“What the hell? What have you done, Podric? What am I wearing?”
“Some kind of uniform.”
“Good Lord! My Chr…! You mean we’re actually ‘in’?”
“Uhuh.”
“Well, how are we going to get out?”
“Programme ourselves, I guess.”
“Well, let’s do it!”
“You can, but I’m not. Only just got here.”
“God damn stupid idea!”
Stumbling about in the straw, Archie staggered up. Dog nuzzled into him.
“You even got the bloody hound in. Get off!”
“Yup. It all seems to have worked.”
“You say you checked it.”
Podric nodded.
“Let’s get out then.”
“I also said I’m not. You go if you want to.”
“Okay, I will.”
Archie started trying to activate UAR but didn’t seem to get very far.
“Oh God, you do it!”
“No way. We’re in now and let’s take a look around.”
“But I don’t want to. I want to get back to the Lighthouse, have a couple of Anadin and lie down!”
“You don’t.”
“Don’t tell me what I want to do. You know I’m older than you; indeed, old enough to be your father!”
Even within Archie’s thick-skinned subconsciousness, he realised he’d said the wrong thing.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
Podric looked at Archie in the half light.
“Think, Archie. Think what you left behind and when you do, you might consider the potential adventures that are going to come our way in this different world we’ve just entered. Could make a welcome temporary alternative… I mean, just being here.”
“Okay, as long as it is temporary!”
Inspecting himself in the half light, Archie had a look at Podric.
“But are we actually playing? I mean, this seems real to me.”
“I think what’s happened is we’re in the world of the game. Now if you remember you wrote a whole lot of criteria for Napoleonic Wars – setting up battles and campaigns along with other stuff like weather, supply and ordnance – loads of things. But Archie, I don’t know the whole nine yards of this because I can’t imagine anyone’s ever done what we’re doing before.”
Listening to Podric, Archie walked about. Preening himself in his uniform, he suddenly began to laugh hysterically, then felt his head again.
“God, I don’t know what they used for headaches on board an eighteenth-century warship?”
“What do you mean?”
“These are Royal Navy uniforms. You’re a midshipman and I’m a lieutenant, or don’t they teach you any history at that school of yours?”
“Hmm… Haven’t been paying too much attention.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t. Too busy playing bloody computer games!”
“Or writing them.”
Archie smiled.
“Touché. So, you think we should go and experience some of this then?”
“Could be interesting.”
“Guess it could at that. You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”
Archie inspected himself.
“Me, a lieutenant in the eighteenth-century Royal Navy. Couldn’t organise a bit of promotion next time, could you?”
“Archie, I’m still finessing the damned thing. I don’t know anything about the navy, eighteenth century or otherwise.”
Suddenly, all hell broke loose. Podric and Archie watched as the brawl anticipated by the two urinators got underway. Men and women bundled out of the tavern into the courtyard in front of them. Fists flew and cutlasses flashed as the combatants grappled with each other – the women fighting with equal ferocity, clawing at their foes. One lad bigger than the rest fought like a bull. His fists flew in all directions. Matters got further out of hand when a fire started, flames licking the building’s timber frame. Grabbing Podric, Archie hustled him out of the byre. With Dog at their heels, they passed the mêlée but someone struck out at Archie, who took a swipe back. Podric also kicked a passing body then, amazingly, he was right in front of the big lad. It was Barney Sturridge! The person who Podric knew as the school bully and his potential murderer looked at him for a second too long. That split second allowed an attacker to hit Barney over the head. Unable to assist or attack – and unsure which he’d opt for anyway, Podric was swept away by the throng. Glancing over his shoulder, the last he saw of the startling apparition was Barney falling to the ground.
“Over here!”
The sound of whistles cut through cries and screams. Archie pushed Podric into the shadows of a doorway. Scarlet-clad marines carrying muskets ran by. The moment they’d passed, the games creator and his young colleague dived down an alley into the night. Of Dog there was no sign.
“You know it’s an offence not to salute a superior officer.”
“Sir.”
Archie stammered, and came shambolically to attention.
“Who are you?”
The voice was pleasant. Even in the darkness, Archie could make out the slight figure of a captain.
“Er, Light… sir. Lieutenant Light.”
“And you?”
Unsure how much eighteenth-century naval knowledge Podric possessed, Archie interjected.
“Er… Midshipman Moon, sir.”
“He can speak for himself, can’t he? What ship?”
Archie thought fast. What ships were stationed off Gibraltar at that time? – because that’s where they must be. If they had entered Napoleonic Wars in 1793, he’d make a stab at a choice of vessel.
“Er… Zealous, sir?” The way he spoke it could have been half a question.
“Really? But she’s back with the in-shore squadron.”
The voice was sharper now.
“We, er… we were sent ashore with the court martial party, sir.”
It was a gamble, but the twenty-first-century computer man felt he had no choice. If it didn’t work, they’d be hanged for desertion just minutes after entering their first (only?) Ultimate Alternative Reality adventure. Archie wasn’t quite sure how such a demise would sit within UAR!
“Hmm – and you’ve executed the duties Captain Foley entrusted you with?”
“Sir.”
“What were his instructions regarding your return?”
“They were… He wasn’t very clear, sir. Said we were to await further orders.”
Archie was getting the hang of things – the right amount of deferential vagueness.
“You can berth aboard my ship. We sail for Toulon at dawn.”
The young captain began to move away.
“Your dunnage is at The Star?”
“We have but little, sir.”
“Very well. Be aboard at four bells.”
“Begging your pardon, sir
– what ship?”
“Why, Agamemnon, of course.”
Then, as if he felt it necessary to explain his ship’s location, he added, “She’s berthed at the mole.”
Agamemnon. Agamemnon. My God, he was… he was talking to Nelson! A Nelson who had not yet lost an arm at Calvi or an eye at the Nile, those actions not having yet been fought!
Manhandling Podric along the wharf, Archie spied another bar into which he propelled his young friend.
“I need a drink!”
Entering the rough tavern, Archie pushed his way through the crowd to the bar. A girl turned to them.
“A brandy. Two. Large!”
“My, my – don’t get many officers coming in ’ere.”
She began pouring two large brandies into tankards.
“That’ll be three pennies, gen’lmen.”
The girl caught sight of Podric and gave a start. So did he. More hesitatingly, she said, “Three pennies, sirs.”
Suddenly realising he had no method of payment, Archie picked up his tankard and began quaffing the liquor.
“We’ll be having another.”
Normally insistent on immediate payment, the girl only paused because she’d seen Podric. She stared at him. Nudging his youthful partner, Archie moved away. Finding a bench, the two sat down.
“Know her, do you? She looks as though she’s seen a ghost.”
Podric tried some brandy and coughed.
“She’s Jane Cartwright at Wendbury High. Plays in the school hockey team.”
For once, Archie didn’t expostulate. He drank some more brandy and was thoughtful.
“Podric – I don’t know exactly what’s happening here, but I owe you an apology.”
Podric didn’t seem particularly affected by Archie’s comment.
“When you used to bang on about this – about UAR, I thought you were a daft nerd.”
Podric stayed silent. He looked at his tankard but didn’t lift it.
“But… what’s happened – what we’re into now – it’s not only more than a game, it’s another life! Amazing. I think we may have the chance, the possibility, to change what happened in the past!”