by Barney Broom
“Yuh, yuh. Well thanks to your help, I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“With all you seem to be feeling, I don’t think we should look on this as a joke, Archie!”
“You’re right, Podric, it’s deadly serious.”
Then, as if coming out of some intense reverie, Archie turned away and began studying deployment details.
“Couple of hours before we go, I’ve got things to do.”
Leaving the tent, Podric wondered whether the preoccupation with stopping Napoleon from ever becoming who he was in history hadn’t in some way unhinged his partner. Was Archie really serious about killing Napoleon and what would it mean if he did so inside a game? Perhaps he’d just win? But this was more than playing anything, this was living it.
UAR had started out as an adventure – a means of escaping life’s humdrum – but it wasn’t evolving like Podric had imagined.
Staring out at the bleak landscape he suddenly didn’t want any more of where he was.
“Looking lost.”
Don Tweeney glanced at him.
“If you’ve got a minute, come with me, sir.”
Podric followed Sergeant Don across a track to a stone redoubt. It gave a little shelter from the falling snow.
“Got a feeling about this attack – a strange feeling.”
Taking a swig of brandy, Don passed the flagon to Podric who tipped it up and happily swallowed some of the fiery liquid.
“Unreal?”
Sergeant Don shrugged.
“Strange for sure. You’re a rum lad.”
Podric didn’t comment.
“You fought with the Captain before?”
“Ever since I’ve met him.”
“Coves, the pair of you.”
He wiped his mouth.
“Can’t work out what’s drivin’ him.”
Checking the muzzle of his firearm, Don Tweeney removed the percussion cap and began cleaning the hammer.
“He thinks he can change history.”
Taking another swig, Podric lowered the flask.
“Change what happens in history.”
“What rubbish you talk. How’s he going to do that?”
“By altering events.”
“But what happens tonight hasn’t happened yet.”
“You said it was strange.”
Refitting the components of his weapon, Don held the musket up to what light there was, and studied his handiwork.
“Crazy. Still, at least he’s fighting. More than some of them other Rodneys.”
***
Almost from the start, the attack was a disaster. Mounted, Archie led his troops headlong at the ‘Convention’ battery like a man possessed. Podric rode one of the caisson horses with Don Tweeney astride the other, pulling the limber behind them.
Getting the field gun into position just eighty yards from the enemy, Podric began preparing shot. Readying his gun, Tweeney sighted it and ignited the fuse. The barrel recoiled. Their shot made a breach in the timber wall. The next thing Podric saw was Archie charging through the gap followed by redcoats. The fighting became dense. Attempting to cut his way through smoke and men, Ensign Moon momentarily fell among the mass of convulsed soldiers – hacked and hewn legs and torsos flayed at his side.
“That’s him! That’s him!!!”
Hearing Archie’s shout, Podric somehow managed to get up. Moving forward, he pushed bodies away and propelled himself to the forefront of the fighting.
Archie stood alone before an enemy artillery battery that was being directed by a slightly built figure wearing an overlarge cocked hat. Long hair hung loosely around his gaunt face. Although the British were now close to the guns, the figure moved steadily between his cannon, quickly sighting each one and managing things with a cool efficiency. Raising a pistol, Archie lined up on his target. A barrage of firing simultaneously wiped out Podric’s view and when the smoke cleared his partner was nowhere to be seen. However, the little French artillery officer was still at his position tending his guns.
Swinging a sabre, Podric ran forwards, getting below the enemy’s redoubt. He could see Napoleon quite clearly but whilst trying to clamber up between two field pieces, French infantry attacked the boy. Fighting desperately to survive, out of the corner of his eye Podric saw Sergeant Don challenge Napoleon, thrusting his bayonet at him. He thought he saw the artilleryman buckle, but Tweeney was overwhelmed and went down. An enemy sharpshooter raising his rifle, Podric lashed out with his sword, slashing the man’s arm. The attacker screamed away in pain but blue coats were swarming all over…
From where he lay Podric Moon heard an order being issued. The battery ceased firing and looking up, the young games champion saw the artillery major gaze down at the carnage he’d rent. Turning his body into the earth, Podric took his left wrist in his right hand. He couldn’t do anything else now. He hoped Archie would get out okay but with his hearing deafened, UAR images began swimming across his half-blind eyes. Escaping this bloody ordeal seemed like the only possible thing to do.
8
Back Home
It was night time in the lab. Dog lay asleep on the floor and Podric and Archie were sitting at the bench where they had been when entering UAR. Returning to reality consciousness, Podric glanced about, initially unable to absorb his surroundings. Dog stirred; the giant wolfhound also seemed dazed (Podric didn’t want to think how UAR would affect an animal’s mind). The huge hound got up, walked around in circles before barking loudly to be let out. Going downstairs, Podric opened the side door into the back garden and Dog trotted off.
Taking the lift back up to the den, Podric re-entered Archie’s laboratory. Approaching the games creator, it was interesting to note that Archie’s eyes were closed and he was sitting perfectly still. Wondering if he hadn’t managed to activate UAR and leave the battle, Podric studied his partner intently. Archie muttered several times and his eyes fluttered; once, he even cried out. Concerned about his ability to remove himself from Ultimate Alternative Reality, Podric decided to leave Archie for a while and see what happened. If he didn’t return to normal reality reasonably soon, Podric would go back and retrieve his friend. That’s what Archie was, Podric decided – his friend. People could say what they liked about the man being a surrogate father figure but the moody, irresponsible Archie made that a mockery. Why, there were times in their recent adventures when it was Podric who felt like the parent!
His phone vibrated on the counter. Podric picked it up. He had several messages – a text and voice message from his mum and two texts followed by three voice messages from Catherine. His mother’s asked what time he was likely to be home; Catherine’s were requests that he call her.
Going through to the den, Podric sat down on the sofa. His mind was in a whirl. He and Archie had gone into UAR and what adventures they had had! Ultimate Alternative Reality already exceeded his wildest dreams.
“Oah…!”
Archie staggered into the room clutching his head.
“Where am I? Nurofen, oh Nurofen!”
“Funny, that was the first thing you said on Gibraltar.”
“Wha…?”
Looking around, Archie spied Podric sitting on the sofa.
“Where? Wha—?”
“You’re home Archie – in your den and it’s 11.30 on Saturday night!”
Archie looked at Podric stupidly, then slumped down in an easy chair opposite him.
“And you’ve still got a hangover.”
“My God… But…”
The sound of the Lighthouse door opening and the lift descending seemed artificially loud to the two UAR adventurers. Moments later it returned and Alannah Brodie stepped out along with Dog. The wolfhound seemed to have recovered his boisterous spirit – charging over to his master who hugged him! This display of affection surprised the housekeeper
who was more accustomed to her employer’s irritated dismissal of his pet.
“My word – you alright doctor?”
“No, I’ve got a damned headache!”
Alannah looked at her boss archly but made no comment.
“You must have both been busy. I’ve been calling on the house phone this last half hour. Your mum said she tried you several times, Podric. She just wants to know if you’re staying over.”
“I’ll text her now.”
Recovering more quickly than Archie, Podric sent his mother a message.
“You’ll be staying then?”
“He will.”
It was Archie who replied.
“Sorry to have disturbed you, I’m sure.”
Sensing she’d interrupted them, Alannah was tart and turned to go.
“Oh, Mr Zaentz is in London and wants you to call him. He says you have his number. Something about a meeting…”
In spite of his head, Archie chuckled.
“Cy Zaentz, huh? Ha-ha…”
“Want me to take your new found canine compadre?”
“He can stay.”
Alannah widened her eyes and shrugged.
“Make sure you get some sleep. I tell you, when you two are working, it’s like you’re lost to the world.”
For a little while after the housekeeper had departed neither Archie nor Podric spoke. When their reverie did break, the intrusion was caused by Podric’s phone vibrating, Barbara replying to her son’s text. Archie sighed.
“I’ve got to go back.”
His voice sounded tired but fatalistic.
“No, you don’t.”
Podric got up, went to the fridge and took a beer.
“Want one?”
“Yeah.”
Removing another, Podric handed it to his partner.
“What happened when you got out?”
“I nearly got him, Podric, I nearly got him!”
“You didn’t, Archie.”
“Who says?”
“I do.”
“I damned well did – I know I did!”
Archie stood up and began pacing around the room.
“We were storming that ‘Convention’ redoubt – fighting hand to hand. I was in front of him. I thought I’d shot him but some clod got in the way. I fell and got trampled. When I came to at the bottom of the defile, the French were bayonetting bodies. I didn’t fancy getting stabbed so I activated UAR… but I’ve got to go back.”
Pulling the tab on his beer can, Podric had a swig.
“Archie, I’m running out of ways to tell you about UAR. When you’re in it, you’re in a game’s world.”
He took another gulp of his beer.
“Although it feels real when we’re inside – for the umpteenth time, it’s only a computer game.”
“I don’t care. I want more of it – it’s where I want to be.”
Archie was passionate.
“But it isn’t reality.”
“That’s rich coming from you. You created the damn thing! Anyway, it is to me. It’s as real as I’m standing in front of you now.”
Archie allowed himself a chuckle.
“You’ve done too good a job, Podric. You’ve created an alternative reality and it really is the ultimate.”
Standing by the window, Podric enjoyed his drink.
“Archie, I invented UAR as an alternative reality to escape into for adventure, but I didn’t want it at a cost of my real life.”
“Really? I don’t think you’re right, Podric. I think you wanted to create a dimension which, in some way, might connect you with your dad.”
Speaking more intimately, Archie leaned forward.
“You told me he was keen on computer games and apart from father – son, your being the player you are – it was something that bound you both.”
Opening his own beer can, Archie took a swig.
“I’ve also wondered about our meeting… If it was random, it was an amazing coincidence. I think it was meant.”
“Why should it have been? We just met, that’s all.”
“Ha. You can say what you like and fine, it doesn’t matter what your intention was – even subconsciously. But I’m going back because I want to escape where I am right now.”
Gulping down his beer, Archie tossed his empty can in a trash bin. He was heading for the door when Podric spoke.
“Two things. Don’t try and go in right now and if you do I’ll disable it!”
Podric was strident.
“Nothing will change until you return inside, Archie, because UAR only activates when you enter it.”
“Why should I wait?”
“Because having been in, there are some things I want to finesse – or at least understand more before either of us go again.”
“Like?”
“Greater knowledge of how it works. We were actually playing Napoleonic Wars for two hours, yet our adventures seemed weeks. Obviously, there’s game time and real time, which I suppose stands to reason.”
“So what?”
Podric gave Archie an irritated look.
“It reinforces my point about UAR only being a game. What you think and feel you’re experiencing is only because you’re in that state.”
He finished his beer.
“You can’t re-write history, Archie. That’s not what UAR is all about – but you can go have adventures. What you say about my dad may be true. A different way to experience another dimension is why I wanted alternate reality, and that’s an okay reason to have it.”
“What about anything that’s done to us physically? If we get stabbed, wounded or even killed – what would happen?”
“I think one would be stabbed, wounded or killed in a game context just like one kills or destroys an opponent in any game.”
“Hmm… I see. But if we were wiped out in that sense, it would presumably give us a problem activating UAR.”
“That’s one of the things I need to take a look at – try and figure out.”
Removing the tiny audile membrane from his ear, Podric studied it.
“I also want to work on the aural device, syncing it better with the visual chip.”
“How long will that take?”
“I don’t know. I’ll work on it the next few days.”
Podric and Archie were close to each other.
“Make sure you do.”
“And you make sure you don’t go back in without checking with me. Promise?”
Archie was sweating and the look on his face was intense. Podric stuck out his hand. After hesitating, his partner finally accepted it.
“Promise.”
***
The preoccupation Archie had about re-entering UAR bothered Podric. Contacting his mother, he decided he would stay over at the Lighthouse and work on the alternative reality programme after a night’s sleep. He also sent a text to Catherine replying to her tentatively romantic messages. Communicating with her energised him and his mind began to race with alternative reality questions and possible solutions.
Finding sleep impossible and unencumbered by Archie’s presence, the small hours of Sunday morning found Podric working feverishly writing new codex – data becoming metadata at a rapid rate. A lot of the work questioned his own formulas. This drove Podric to attempt new solutions which were necessary where inaccuracies had thrown out his figures.
By seven o’clock on Sunday night, Podric’s configuration appeared to be confirmed and he sat back from the bench exhausted. His phone vibrated; it was Amy.
“May we see you, traveller?”
Podric smiled to himself. His sister and her particular ways.
“Five.”
“Minutes, hours, years or game time?”
�
��You work it out.”
It was actually seven minutes later when he arrived home.
“Darling – you’re here. Would you like some supper?”
His mother appeared around the conservatory door removing her gardening gloves.
“Love some Mum.”
“Spag Bog – your favourite.”
Entering the house, she kicked off her multi-coloured wellies.
“How’s the suction business?”
“Right now, going down the proverbial plug hole. Don had a dust up with Ralph a couple of days ago. Very odd.”
Podric took a sip from a glass of red wine standing by the hob.
“I like Don.”
Barbara smiled.
“Big pal of yours, is he?”
“Sort of. He’s a good guy.”
“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know you think so.”
“He already does.”
After supper, Podric went up to his room and wedged his bedroom door shut. Dropping on to his bed, he spooled through Catherine’s increasingly suggestive texts. He was about to write a reply but stopped. Instead he put down his mobile, took his left wrist in his right hand and activated UAR.
Becoming more comfortable with the strange optics – Napoleonic Wars on standby appeared in the forefront of his vision; his backdrop was a photograph of his father in flying kit stapled to a wardrobe door. Using his right fingers over the chip, Podric spooled through ‘Options’ selecting the same detail he had when going to London from Agamemnon. Highlighting the year – 1793, instead of ‘Politics’, he chose ‘Social Background’. There was only one person he was interested in seeing again. The good and great could wait.
9
Love Across Time
For several days, carts had been transporting equipment to the beautiful park on the far side of London’s Mayfair. Unpacking crates, an enormous gantry was constructed. A vast silk sack suspended from it was vertically held in place by leather straps that hung to the ground. Underneath the giant envelope, a bonfire was built. A wicker basket, yet to be connected, was placed nearby.
This activity aroused considerable interest. By the third day, construction had ceased and the bonfire was lit. Although the weather was bright and cold and the winter air crisp, carriages bringing society from all walks of life converged on the scene. Nobility, politicians, judges and bishops jostled with grocers, hawkers and, no doubt, villains, for a seat to view the spectacle.