by Mark Speed
“Not particularly, but I have a feeling you’ll tell me anyway.”
“Tempus Rerum Imperator. Time is the ruler of all things.”
“That would have been appropriate for you and your cousins.”
“Well, quite. Dear Cousin When gave them the idea for the motto when they gained their Royal Charter in 1631. A bit naughty of him.”
“I don’t get why you didn’t grab some real estate like this, Doc. He’s sitting on millions.”
The Doctor laughed. “He never cashed out, and he never will. It’s where he lives. I made enough after buying a swathe of Balham and Streatham when the Romans moved in and then selling it on over the centuries, whilst making sure it was the right kind of development. As for myself, I have my reasons for living as and where I do. Do you really think When could live anywhere else in London, let alone this planet?” Doctor How banged on the door again three times with the huge knocker. “One thing he’s good at is focusing his attention. Part of his condition. Or, as you would call it, personality.”
A few seconds later, the door opened and When’s pale face appeared through a crack in the door. He blinked rapidly behind his glasses and nudged them up the bridge of his nose.
“C-c-cousin How. K-K-Kevin. What a pleasure to see you. I hope you’ve not been there too long. Lost in my work, you see.”
“May we come in?” The Doctor didn’t wait for an answer, but made a move for the gap in the door. He stopped as When hesitated for a second, then continued inside as the door swung open just enough for him and his assistant to squeeze in.
The door led straight into the shop, which was lit only by the light from the window. The floorboards were bare and the ceiling lower than Kevin had expected. There was a simple polished oak counter, and some oak and glass display cases. The door at the back behind the counter was ajar, and some artificial light shone from the room behind. When caught Kevin looking around and became jittery.
“I can vouch personally for Kevin,” said the Doctor.
“I… I… S-s-sorry, Kevin. I carried out what you might call a background check, and…”
“Yeah, that’s cool,” said Kevin, hamming up his South London accent. “I was driven by economic necessity, bruv. You get me? Now that I’ve got like a proper job and am apprenticed to your cousin I don’t need to half-inch stuff, does I?”
“Yes. I can understand that, Kevin. That seems to make sense. Thank you for the reassurance.”
“No problem.”
“I’ll cut to the chase, Walter. I’ve got a bit of a problem on my hand and I need to borrow a bit of programming power. Would you care to oblige by lending me your Spectrel’s interface?”
“Oh. I see. Well if you’re talking about solving those problems that have been cropping up then I’m only too happy. Please, do be my guest.” He locked the front door with an oversized key, lifted up a flap in the counter and motioned for them to follow him into the back room.
There was a wooden work bench, on which an ancient carriage clock lay in pieces. In addition to the leaded window at the back, light was provided by a bare lightbulb and a powerful desk lamp with a daylight bulb. In the far corner of the room the base of a steep set of wooden stairs led to the upper floors.
“Late seventeenth century,” said When, motioning towards the ornate silver and gold carriage clock that he was working on. “A rare and beautiful piece. I’m restoring it for one of the big local banks.”
Doctor How laughed. “You mean some international conglomerate with its greedy paws in every pie. By ‘local’ you mean it has a building a ten-minute walk from here.”
“The business of the client is the client’s business,” said When. “My business is to look after time-pieces that need professional attention. As it happens, I knew the gentleman and two apprentices who made this particular piece. It’s a trip down memory lane for me.”
“Well I trust you’re not misusing your Spectrel to bring back spare parts made by the gentleman in question,” said How, fixing When with a stern look. “I can’t help wondering whether it’s been a trip down memory lane in a very literal sense.”
When went red. “No, I haven’t brought back any pieces of metal manufactured in that era,” he said, unable to meet How’s eyes.
“No,” said How. “Technically, you haven’t. But I bet you’ve taken pieces of metal manufactured in this era and then had them machined by that gentleman’s apprentices so that they fit precisely with the mechanism. In fact, I bet you even went back to that era, bought some metal from the same batch and then stowed it in a safe place for hundreds of years so that you could take it back to be machined. Didn’t you?”
“The rules are a little vague in this area.”
“The rules you claim to have been studying the last few decades instead of helping me with our duties as Time Keepers. You studied those rules so that you could bend them to your needs, rather than observe their spirit.” How shook his head and gave an exasperated laugh.
“My Spectrel is downstairs,” said When, ducking out of the conversation and opening a hatch in the corner of the room opposite the stairs to the upper floor. “If you’d care to follow me.”
“What is it with you Time Keepers and cellars?” asked Kevin, as he followed Doctor How down the steep stone staircase into the cool cellar below.
“Same reason as anything’s built underground, you clot. Security. And less interference from your terribly imprecise electromagnetic contraptions.”
“You what?”
“All the electromagnetic noise you people generate. It’s most annoying.”
“You mean it interferes with the Spectrels?”
“No; as I said, it’s just annoying.”
Kevin decided to let that one go.
The cellar was dank, and lit by a dim, bare lightbulb. The grey stones had a mouldy look to them, and the flagstones underneath were made of sandstone. As Kevin had expected, When’s Spectrel stood in the middle of the room – a bright red Victorian Post Office box. When touched the lock and it opened outward. He stepped inside and disappeared into the blackness within. Doctor How was close behind, and then Kevin was in.
The interior was as Kevin remembered – dimly lit, with the feel and smell of a museum. There was the glint from the polished metal of time-keeping artefacts in the gloom.
The Doctor made his way over to the oak box which sat on a table. He examined the dials. “I do wish you wouldn’t insist on this non-standard retro look to things,” he said. “It’s like being in a steampunk movie.”
“A what?” said his cousin.
“Nothing, Walter.” How took out his Tsk Army Ultraknife.
“Oh d-d-dear,” said Walter, shuffling from one foot to the other in agitation. “I do get more than a little nervous when you wave your Ultraknife around, P-P-Peter.”
“It’s as precise an instrument as any of your time pieces, Walter. And maybe if you had the courage to use your own Ultraknife you might be more effective in the field.”
“Yes, but my time pieces don’t have quite the history of… well, violence and destruction that your Ultraknife has.”
“I spent a long time modifying my Ultraknife. It’s the most versatile of the lot, and you know it. This beauty does everything a hardworking Time Keeper needs to be able to do when the rest of his family have all abandoned their duties.” When winced under a hard stare from How. “Besides,” said the Doctor, “I wouldn’t like to be bashed over the head with one of those astrolabes. Would you?”
“You’re missing the point. Your Ultraknife has a reputation for destruction that could only be described as biblical.”
The Ultraknife made a high-pitched whine.
“Now what’s it doing?” said When.
“It’s taking a lock on your Spectrel. I can use my Ultraknife as an interface to your rather user-unfriendly control system. More accurately, I’ve bypassed this heap of brass and enamel dials and have direct access to your Spectrel’s circuits.” He pa
used for a second. “Ooh, feel the power. I have to say your Spectrel rather likes that. She’s been missing this sort of thing. You shouldn’t neglect her so much.”
When went red again. “Just do what you have to do and don’t go messing around with my Spectrel’s inner workings.”
“Alright, alright. My apologies.” The photographs of Trinity and Tim were projected into the area in front of the table, which was clear of museum items. “Now, just let me upload those images from the Ultraknife’s memory, like so…” He rubbed a finger on the Ultraknife and the air around the images was filled with masses of streaming binary code. “And we’ll just insert them into those sites whose URLs you recommended, like so. There we are: simultaneous appearances all over the web out of absolutely nowhere, along with a bit of text from our friends at the Met and Six. A job well done. Thank you, Walter.” The projection disappeared. “A cup of tea would be nice.”
“It can’t have been as simple as that, surely?” said Walter.
“Indeed it was.”
“But… If you give me back control, please. Thank you.” When took How’s place, and touched a few dials. A three-dimensional image appeared in the small area in front of the control panel that wasn’t filled with museum pieces. “I thought you’d come to offer a solution to this, Peter. I regard the problem of image placement and propaganda as somewhat trivial compared to this particular threat. Naturally, I don’t wish to question your professional and operational competence. However, if I’m wrong on the matter, I would be grateful if you could provide some clarification on the issue.”
“Oh, no,” said How, his eyes widening. “Oh, please no.”
“Wassup, Doc?” asked Kevin.
“Can’t you see? We’re under attack!”
Kevin looked at the image. All he saw was what he recognised as an image of London. There were hundreds of pulsating orange dots, with a heavy concentration south of the Thames.
“It don’t mean nothing to me without an explanation, Doc.”
“These are temporal disruptions,” said the Doctor, irritably. He waved his hand and the image zoomed in. “The bigger circles are made up of hundreds… thousands of them.”
“The problem appears to diminish substantially at night, if that’s any comfort,” said When. “In fact it almost completely disappears.”
“You’ve just been observing these things, day and night? Why in the name of quark didn’t you tell me?” roared the Doctor.
“I thought you knew, Peter,” mumbled When.
“And without my Spectrel, how was that supposed to happen?”
“You always seem so in control. I thought you’d… I don’t know what I thought, to be honest.”
“Oh, you numbskull.”
“Doc, lay off him, will ya? He didn’t know. He said so.”
“He’s supposed to be a Time Keeper, Kevin. Let me give you an analogy. If a man’s job is to watch for floods and he goes off to build a fancy fountain in his garden and then a flood happens behind his back and the village is washed away, what would you make of him?”
“Doc, all I’m saying is let it go and deal with the situation as it is.”
“I’m perfectly aware that’s the most logical course of action. I just wanted you to understand that you have to be responsible for your actions, or lack of actions. Let me find some data on the threats. I need to determine their proximity to us. Walter, I’m going to interface with your Spectrel again.” He switched his Ultraknife back on. “That’s better. Now, let’s see how close the threats are to us. Who’s their target.”
“Is he? But I thought he was safe,” said Walter.
“No,” said How. “Question: who is their target?”
“That’s what I was asking, Peter.”
“No! Not Who is their target, I mean ‘Their target is whom?’”
Kevin rolled his eyes but said nothing.
“Kevin! I don’t believe it. They’re locked in on you. They’re actually attacking your home. Look!”
The projection zoomed in so rapidly it made Kevin dizzy. “Hey – that’s my manor,” he said as it zoomed in on his estate in Tulse Hill. There was an orange circle beating out from the block he lived in with his mother.
The Doctor turned and took him by the shoulders. “Have you seen anything unusual recently?” he asked. “Accepted any gifts from strangers?”
“No. Kept myself to myself. And I ain’t taken anyone’s computers or mobile phones in for repairs or unlocking recently either.”
“Your mother!”
“Hey, you just watch what you’re saying, Doc.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like an insult, lad. I meant that the answer is probably with your mother. We have to go to your place. Is she in?”
“Uh, shift until six tonight. Should be back in at seven.”
“Fine, fine. Walter, we need to get to Kevin’s home. Now.”
“Well, alright. You can drive if you want, since you’re already at the controls.”
“Thanks. Here we go…” The Doctor’s confident look melted into a frown, and he put his Ultraknife back in his pocket. He reached out for the brass dials on the oak board in front of him and began adjusting them. “Interference,” he said. “Some kind of disruption. This is the closest I can get without pushing things. Come on.” He made for the exit, and Kevin followed.
“Do you want me to…?” said Walter.
“If you could just stay here, that would be most helpful. Thank you,” said How. “Come,” he said to Kevin, and opened the door. They squeezed out of the red post office pillar box onto the pavement of the road that led into the heart of the estate. The Doctor closed the door behind them and stretched out, brushing dust from his suit.
Kevin brushed at his clothes, but the dust didn’t come off as perfectly as it did from the Doctor’s suit, which he recalled was made of some kind of advanced material. “When are you getting your Spectrel back, Doc?”
Doctor How looked around at nothing in particular. “I think it will be soon. I must say I can’t wait. Lead the way.”
Kevin walked ahead of the Doctor, aware of all the pairs of eyes looking at them from behind curtains.
“You do generate a lot of buzz,” said the Doctor.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I wish you could hear what I can hear. The airwaves are thick with your name right now. Texts and a couple of calls. Of course, they’re interested in who I am too. There’s a dim memory of me from my first visit. Supposedly I’m with the ‘Feds’. It’s ridiculous, since this country is not a federation. I take it they mean the Met Police.”
“Yeah, whatever. You’re with the Man, that’s what they mean.”
The Doctor laughed. “The Man.” He shook his head.
Kevin swiped his electronic tag over the door to the communal staircase, tapped in a number and the magnetic lock opened.
The Doctor took out his Ultraknife as they approached Kevin’s apartment. “Whatever it is, it’s definitely inside your home,” he said. “I feel the distortion in time. Most unpleasant.” He shuddered.
Kevin unlocked the door and pushed it wide open. The Doctor went in first, keeping his Ultraknife out in front of him, sweeping it gently. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, it’s through that door there. That’s your kitchen, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you remember nothing unusual?”
“Nope.”
The Doctor was now holding his Ultraknife like a handgun. He took a couple of deliberate strides towards the kitchen door and indicated with a nod of his head for Kevin to open it for him.
“This is cool, man, it’s just like –”
“No it’s not like a cop movie. Just open the door, lad.”
Kevin shrugged, pushed down on the handle and threw open the door. The Doctor darted in, pointing the Ultraknife at the windowsill. The device let out a shrill alarm. “Off!” said the Doctor, cutting the noise.
“What the hell’s this?” he
asked, lowering the Ultraknife and nodding in the direction of the plastic flower in a pot, which was bobbing up and down in the sun.
“Oh, Mum got that the other day.”
“I thought you said nothing unusual had entered in the last few days?”
“It’s not unusual, Doc. She likes that kinda thing. Reminds me of them big dancing flowers you used to get. You know, the ones that would dance when you played music?”
The Doctor harrumphed and, keeping his Ultraknife trained on the bobbing flower, he moved in closer. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “Your mother’s been uncharacteristically late for work when she’s been on early shifts.”
“Uh, yeah. Like maybe the once that she mentioned.”
“And the clock on the motherboard of your computer has probably been out too. Am I right?
“Uh, yup. Come to think of it, there was this stuff on the news about people being late for work. And a bit of a scare about a computer virus causing motherboards to slow up.”
“So,” he sighed, giving Kevin a raised eyebrow. “Nothing unusual at all.”
“Aw, Doc.”
“I would say no harm done, but I’m not so sure. Still, it could have been worse – it could also have been a singing flower. That really would have been the end.” He pointed his Ultraknife at the flower and it stopped bobbing.
“Hey, what did you do?”
“Disabled it,” said the Doctor matter-of-factly. He pocketed his Ultraknife and looked pensive.
“But that’s my Mum’s. It’s the kinda thing she likes.”
“Well it’s not going to do her any good Kevin. And it’s not going to do any of us any good, frankly. It’s a small-scale time distorter. Not very powerful, but it’s way beyond your society’s technological capabilities. It’s very primitive by my standards, but no one else is supposed to have this kind of stuff. No one. I don’t like this one little bit.” He picked it up and looked underneath. “And I doubt very much that the Chinese have the technology – they’re only human too. Nor was it manufactured by accident. This is part of something much, much bigger. Where did she get it?”