by Iain Pears
Very well; I admit that was a reason. But only one. There were other issues at stake, and my desire that the whole of humanity should not be wiped out played a small part in my decision also.
It began with my unofficial experiments, which demonstrated that the fundamental assumptions underlying the entire project were wrong. Not to put too fine a point on it, I stuffed one of the cleaning staff into the machine to see what happened. He was a somewhat nervous fellow called Gunter, who needed a lot of tranquillisers to make him cooperate. Admittedly, I should not have done this, especially as I did not ask official permission first, but – there we are. I couldn’t use an animal, or an inanimate object, as the chances of finding it again were non-existent. Only a human being could possibly be tracked.
He was. Alex Chang, one of the most junior people in the department and thus too insecure to snitch on me, was given the job and spotted the unfortunate cleaner in 1895. Three hundred and twenty-seven years back. It was a good piece of work on Chang’s part, as he had to learn a lot of new techniques to analyse the evidence. Gunter had gone mad when he arrived and, not surprisingly, had eventually entered the priesthood. Without going into the details – what I had done was not really ethical and I knew it would be used against me – I tried to tell Hanslip that we had a problem, but he couldn’t see what I was on about.
‘Don’t you understand?’ I told him one evening. ‘This whole project is based on the assumption that what we are doing is not time travel. Laws of physics. Accepted and proven for two centuries or more. All we can possibly do is transit to a parallel universe. Right?’
He nodded, looking around him to see if there was anyone he could summon for protection in case I got too vehement.
‘Wrong,’ I went on. ‘Wrong, wrong. It’s all wrong. I know it is. Think. In theory, we should be able to access any number of universes. So why can we only seem to access one, eh? No one has thought about the implications of that. I think the whole alternative universe theory is complete nonsense. We would be moving in this universe. The only one there is. Time travel, to put it bluntly. If that is the case, we have to stop now. We need to start again. From the beginning. Immediately.’
‘We can’t possibly start again,’ he protested. ‘Think of the cost. Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I’m right. I feel it.’
At this point, you see, I could not explain properly. Still, I didn’t understand why he was so keen on dismissing my concerns. He knew how I worked, and knew that my instincts were fundamental. Besides, I thought he would be happy about overturning two centuries’ worth of physics. What better way of making a name for yourself?
Instead, he took refuge in pomposity, muttering about budget projections. It didn’t make sense until I realised that he was negotiating to sell everything to Oldmanter. A functioning, usable device that gave the possibility of infinite space and resources at no risk was his central selling point. Quite a good one, if only what he was telling them had any truth to it.
Something too dangerous to use except for small experiments would have opened no wallets. Besides, he was terribly conservative in approach. Faced with a choice between my hunch and generations of scientific labour, his only response was to demand proof. It was part of his character I never understood or appreciated. Why wouldn’t he just take my word for it?
*
The summons to the emergency meeting arrived at four o’clock in the morning, an event rare enough to cause all concerned to wake, dress and move with remarkable speed. Even rarer was the way it was done; no dream to jerk the sleeper awake with images of what was needed; not even a message coming through the communications system. No; a person, an individual, actually hammered on the door, and kept hammering until the occupant on the other side was sleepily, confusedly awake.
There was no explanation for such bizarre behaviour, so the six people who arrived at the anonymous underground office were suitably worried in advance. What could possibly have happened? Some speculated about a reactor melting down; the more bureaucratically minded gloomily decided it was a test of emergency procedures launched by some over-enthusiastic zealot.
Jack More thought none of these things. He didn’t think at all, and not simply because he was tired; he was the only person who had no obvious reason to be there. He was merely a security officer. He was curious, certainly, but he did not jump to conclusions. If there was any need to panic he was quite happy to let others worry themselves silly. Whatever had gone wrong couldn’t possibly be his fault. It was one of the virtues of insignificance.
His presence was enough to make the others worry all the more. They looked at him, half wanting to ask why he was there. A meeting, in person, in the middle of the night, was a good reason to think there might be something to worry about.
‘Sit down, please.’ Robert Hanslip had walked in. The boss who controlled the money, the individual on whose approval depended the lives and careers of every person in the room, everyone on the island. No one liked him, although whether they did or not was irrelevant. All admitted that he was very efficient. Some believed he was highly intelligent, although few would say so, lest they get a lengthy – and, recently, obsessive – diatribe from Angela Meerson on the precise size of the large hole where his intelligence should have been located. No one in the room really knew him anyway. He never mixed with people of a lower grade, and they had noted already that no senior figures were at this strange meeting.
Hanslip’s weakness was a somewhat ostentatious self-presentation. He affected an old-fashioned style, and had had his metabolism tweaked so that he stabilised at about ten per cent overweight: enough to give him a more solid look without requiring frequent adjustments to the heart. Not for him either the dandyish ways of the modern or the austerity of scientific garb; he preferred the carefully crumpled look, harking back six decades to his youth when such things were briefly fashionable.
He never talked loudly, but suffered no opposition. Anyone who annoyed him would soon enough find their assistants taken away, their budget cut. All done with a smile designed to make his victim feel somehow grateful the punishment hadn’t been worse.
Part of his authority lay in ensuring that everything ran smoothly, so any sort of crisis damaged him; certainly, his appearance now caused a shiver of alarm to pass through the little meeting. He looked shaken; whatever had happened, they knew the moment he walked in that it was going to be bad.
‘Forgive me for disturbing your beauty sleep,’ he said. ‘Three hours ago a serious power surge caused electricity supplies in northern Germany, Finland, Sweden, Denmark and Scotland to fail for 0.6 of a second.’
Jack looked around him, wondering what it meant. Everyone else went suddenly still.
‘How much of a surge?’ one asked.
‘We’re still trying to get the precise figures.’
‘You are going to tell us it originated with us.’
Hanslip nodded. ‘I am going to tell you exactly that. The official analysis is not yet in, but I am sure it came from here. Needless to say, I have already sent out a report denying it was anything to do with us, and demanding an apology from whoever was responsible.’
‘That’s one hell of a lot of power,’ a young man remarked, after he had goggled at the figures on the paper Hanslip handed round. He must have been fairly new, or he would have known Hanslip did not approve of any sort of swearing. ‘Are you sure it was us? How could it have happened?’
‘I am sure it was us. Otherwise I would not have disturbed your rest. As for what caused it, that will be your job. There is no need to find out who caused it. That, I fear, is obvious already.’
Hanslip’s concern communicated itself to the rest of the meeting. ‘Time,’ he said. ‘We don’t have much time.’ But bureaucracies move in their own stately way, however urgent the situation. The main result of the meeting was to form a committee. Several committees, in fact; one to analyse the data to find out what the power was used for, another to investigate how someone
had managed to bypass some of the most sophisticated security systems on the planet. A third took charge of destroying all evidence implicating their institute. The checks necessary to establish that their troublesome star mathematician had indeed vanished were quickly enough performed.
‘A moment, Mr More,’ Hanslip said as the meeting broke up. Jack had not said a word throughout the discussion, nor had anyone else even looked at him. ‘I imagine you are wondering what you are doing here?’
‘Yes, but I decided that you would tell me soon enough, and would ignore anything I asked until you were ready.’
‘Well judged. I may need your assistance. The closure of this facility and all of us landing in jail is one of the better options open to us at the moment. A rapid and unorthodox response may be called for. That is your department.’
‘What exactly is so bad about a power surge?’
Hanslip peered at him scornfully. ‘It blacked out a billion people, many of whom will have had panic attacks. There will undoubtedly have been many suicides and murders as a result of the chaos. We know of two airliners which crashed because all controls and backups shut down simultaneously. The death toll already is more than two thousand and rising. More to the point, our authority rests on the efficient management of society. It is a very serious disaster, and someone is going to be blamed for it.’
‘Ah.’
‘There will be a search for those responsible. A public punishment for the people who have disgraced the reputation of Scientific Government. To show we care; that sort of nonsense. Now do you see?’
‘I do.’
‘Good. We need the culprit, together with a report saying that she suffered a mental breakdown that pushed her into an act of destructive terrorism. Something along those lines. I’m sure you know the sort of thing. Come for a walk. You will need to know a little more if you are going to help us.’
4
When the strange girl returned and left the bright, shiny coin by the food she had put on the grass beside him, Alex Chang rolled over and watched in fascination as she disappeared. Fortunately, the terrifying animal he had thought was about to savage him went as well. Had he heard of such things? Tame animals? Yes, dimly. He had hardly thought the tales could actually be true, though. Did that mean it had worked?
He was confused and dizzy. He couldn’t remember who he was, let alone where. There’d been a hum; that was the first thing that came back to him. He remembered a blurring in his eyes. Then nothing. All the chatter in his head suddenly stopped, leaving him in a terrifying silence. He kept his eyes closed, trying to calm himself, then carefully started to breathe. That was all right. The air was warm, but full of strange smells, things he had never smelt before. Not unpleasant, certainly.
Then he began to sneeze; he searched around in his head for an explanation but there was nothing. Panic swept over him; it took some time to discipline himself and analyse the situation. Pollen, dust, particles of organic matter, came the answer eventually. The unfiltered air was thick with it. Some part of his mind took over, and gradually the spasms were isolated and confined, then controlled, leaving only one thought hammering away at his consciousness.
Eat. You have to eat. An odd idea, as he didn’t feel hungry. Far from it. One part of his mind was urging him to eat, another part rebelled at the very notion and knew it would make him sick. Reluctantly and carefully, he reached over and picked up the thing the girl had given him. It looked disgusting. Oval, a light brown colour, squashy with a slight feel of grease oozing out as he squeezed it. He sniffed it cautiously, then recoiled, revolted. It came from an animal.
But the urging returned. Eat. Eat. Very carefully, he put it to his lips, tried not to smell it, and bit. Then again, and again, stuffing the little cake into his mouth, almost choking, and swallowing.
Immediately thoughts, memories, sensations flooded back into his mind, jumbled, confused, meaningless, but a whole range of images and recollections, so many he could not absorb or listen, or interpret anything. He concentrated, trying to pick out one as a start. History. It meant nothing. A renegade. Finally, an image of two men formed, one standing. A tall man, curly hair, powerfully built. He felt slightly afraid of this man, but also pleased. Why? More. That was the name. His name was Jack More. What about the other? A slight, cowed, timid-looking fellow. Sitting down, an air of cautious resentment. He realised he must be looking at himself. He lay back on the grass, closed his eyes and tried to relax. The scene pieced itself together, and he remembered the conversation with Jack More. Two days ago? A countless age? Or a mirage? He had no idea.
*
‘You were one of Angela Meerson’s team, I believe,’ More said. ‘I have been asked to interview everyone to see if they have any useful information.’
It was a few hours after Angela had vanished, and the entire place was in a state of panic. Chang knew that More had questioned many of those who had worked with her, and would be questioning many more in due course. He didn’t mind; everybody had their job to do and he was perfectly polite, almost diffident in the way he put his questions. Many would have put on a show of authority to demonstrate how powerful they were.
‘That’s right. I am a physicist by training, although my job here is to analyse data, mainly. It doesn’t really matter what it is. Often enough, I don’t know myself.’
‘You are low-grade, low-level.’
‘Yes,’ he said with the slightest hesitation.
‘I see you have had an unusual career.’
Chang sighed. ‘That again. I once expressed doubts about whether the organisation of society was either permanent or necessarily beneficial.’
‘I’d be careful how you speak.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. Angela disabled all the listening devices in here. She hated eavesdropping. As I say, I expressed doubts in a vague way. It was picked up and I was offered reconditioning to sort out any latent antisocial tendencies. I refused, one thing led to another and I briefly ended up in a Retreat. That was more than thirty years ago. It is still on my file. I suppose it will be for ever.’
‘Angela recruited you?’
‘Two years ago. I was cheap. It was hard to get a job.’
They were sitting in Chang’s cubicle in the far distant, most insalubrious part of the operation, a mile or so from the centre through ever more depressing and neglected corridors, then buried three floors underground. There was a smell of stale air, and oil from the heating system, which Jack found almost insupportable.
‘Can you shed any light on this mess? Where she’s gone? You understand, I’m sure, that it would be a good idea to have some conspicuous display of loyalty from you at the moment.’
Chang shook his head. ‘I realise that, and I am trying to come up with something. If you mean did she say or do anything that should have aroused suspicion, then the answer is no. On the contrary, she had been working hard and was looking forward to completing the next stage of the project.’
‘Tell me about her. The file on her just has information. I want to know what she was like.’
‘I can tell you a bit,’ Chang said, ‘but she was never very forthcoming about herself. Apart from working and popping stimulants, I don’t think she did much. She was very obsessed.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Actual age is seventy-eight; biological is early twenties. She got a top-up three days ago, and there’s some gone missing. I checked. If she took some with her, she might well live for another century or more.’
‘Character? Is she capable of sabotage, terrorism, illegality, subversion?’
‘Oh, easily; she’d love it.’
‘Did you like her?’
‘What a question! I never really thought about it. She was certainly the most stimulating person I ever worked for. Once you learned how to handle her moods she could be very kind as well, although she was completely ruthless in the way she worked. So – yes. I suppose I liked her. I liked working for her, certainly.’
M
ore grunted, then stood up to leave.
‘Good luck in your hunt,’ Chang said as he watched the man open the door. ‘You may be wasting your time, though. You won’t find her if she doesn’t want you to.’
‘Where do you think she’d go?’
Chang thought. ‘If it was me, I’d hide out amongst the renegades. But then, it isn’t me. So,’ he said with a smile, ‘that’s not much help.’
‘Then if you can think of anything …’
‘I will certainly tell you. In fact, I do have an idea, but it is a silly one. If it comes to anything I’ll let you know.’
That was it. The scene faded, a bit like a screen going dark, and he became aware of his surroundings once more. He was now sitting down, in an open space, in the open air. There was a cool breeze, which gave him pleasure.
After half an hour he tried to stand, and found he could do so easily, although he was a little unsteady at first. Then he began to walk – this was harder and more tiring, but he went slowly, stopping for a rest when his legs began to ache. He walked east; there were buildings he could see above the trees, and they might jog his memory some more. In the other direction there was nothing except wildness.
After a while he came to a street. Houses with little gardens and trees, extraordinary flowers growing everywhere. More birds. Black ones, ones with red patches on their breasts, big fat grey ones. Once he jumped in fright. There was another wild animal on a wall, furry and looking decidedly dangerous. It examined him with pale green eyes and he stopped uncertainly until he noticed that everyone else ignored it as though it was the most normal thing in the world. The beast stared with what appeared surprisingly like disdain, then looked away and began licking itself. It, at least, saw nothing unusual in him.
And the noise! People talking, different sorts of vehicle in chaotic movement. The wind in the trees, the birds singing. The smells too, floating everywhere, some sweet, most foul, alarming. There was no control to anything, no order, just random movements.