by Peter Ward
Geoff didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, taking large sips of his coffee, his eyes wide open.
“Well?” William said. “What did you think of that?”
Geoff couldn’t speak. He took a few deep breaths and blinked about twenty times. Then he did some more blinking. He wanted to stand up and punch William in the face, but that would only have served to draw attention to them again, and potentially start changing the space-time continuum.
And he’d had just about enough of that for one day.
“I just undid everything I did since I came here!” William said. “Isn’t that incredible?”
“How did you do that?”
“Like I said, when you work for Continuum, they give you one of these things.” William held up the tablet computer as if it were some sort of trophy. “With this, you have the power to change time however you like, and the best part is, if you don’t like what you change, you can just undo what you did and try something else! This is what allows a tourist traveling with Continuum to go back and change things. With this, you have the freedom to go wherever you want! Change whatever you please! It’s no wonder nobody’s using Time Tours anymore.”
“Wait a minute,” Geoff said. “If you just undid everything, how come we remember what happened?”
“Ah—that’s all thanks to that serum I gave you,” William replied.
“You mean the one you forcibly injected into me,” Geoff said, rubbing his sore wrist.
“Whatever,” William said. “Anyway, from what I understand, that stuff is immune to the effects of time manipulation. No matter how this device is used to alter the flow of history, the serum stays inside you, shielding your mind and body from any changes to the flow of time. That’s why the liquid didn’t come back out of your arm and into the syringe when I made time flow in reverse. It’s amazing stuff—whether time is being accelerated, slowed down, reversed, or paused, it keeps your body and mind separate from what is happening, allowing you to perceive the effects of time manipulation from a normal perspective. Admittedly, if time moves backward, your body is still forced to undo everything it did, but thanks to the serum, you still remember everything.”
“But what about everyone else?” Geoff said, pointing at the people around him. “What happens to them?”
William laughed. “As far as everyone else is concerned, nothing we just experienced ever took place. There was no flying car. I never destroyed those buildings. And no one got hurt.”
Geoff sighed. Despite none of it ever having technically happened, it still didn’t feel right. And why hadn’t William just told him all this from the start?
“Are you okay?” William said.
Geoff looked at William and shook his head. “What happened to you, William?”
William frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The William I knew would never have done anything like that—killing all those people—regardless of whether it could be undone or not. What the hell has gotten into you?”
“But I didn’t kill anybody! Don’t you see? None of that happened!”
“I understand,” Geoff said. “I guess I just don’t see how undoing your actions makes them okay in your conscience. Have you considered that having this power to undo time and change things however you please might have warped your sense of right and wrong?”
“Geoff, since joining Continuum I’ve traveled backward and forward millions of years. I’ve seen civilizations rise and fall. I’ve seen wars, I’ve seen famine, and I’ve seen death and destruction. The one thing I’ve learned is that no matter what the catastrophe, things move on. Most setbacks in human history are only ever temporary, and life bounces back. Believe me—what I did today is nothing compared to some of the things I’ve seen.” He leaned forward. “Nothing.”
Geoff didn’t know what to say to that, so he chose to pull his trusty stalwart expression of inflating his cheeks with air, which he often used whenever he was at a loss for what to say.
“So, you gonna check out Continuum?” William asked. “See if they’ll give you a job?”
Geoff let the air out of his mouth very slowly, like a balloon with a very small leak.
“We’ll see,” he said. As much as he was intrigued, he still wasn’t that keen on the fact that all this led toward someone trying to kill him.
But he had the feeling it was already too late to stop that.
William turned to leave. “Well, I think my work here is done. Next stop, the Middle Ages—there’s a Time Rep back there who’s gonna absolutely love this when I show her!”
“William,” Geoff said. “Why are you doing this?”
William lowered his head. “I want to set us free, Geoff. Once a Time Rep witnesses firsthand how much better it is working for Continuum, once they see the kind of stuff they let you do, they’ll be leaving Time Tours in droves. And they’ll be free to explore time however they want, just like I am. Isn’t that great?”
“So how many Time Reps are you trying to visit?”
William smiled.
“All of them,” he replied.
Five
“All of them?” Tim said, slumping across his desk and folding his hands over the back of his head. “That’s what he said?”
Geoff really liked Tim’s office. It was incredibly spacious, with a high ceiling, dark, wood-paneled walls, and a soft green carpet that looked like the kind of show lawn you would expect to find at a garden exhibition. The room was decorated with an assortment of beautiful Victorian furniture—it had a big wooden desk, two high-back wing chairs, and a little coffee table that looked like it belonged in a doll’s house. Each of the offices in the Time Tours building was specially designed to represent a different era, and Tim’s was made to look like the late nineteenth century. Leatherbound books were stacked high on dark mahogany shelves, oil paintings hung from every wall, and two tall sash windows looked out onto the London skyline. It was strange having a view of such a modern city outside, with futuristic buildings and flying traffic whizzing in every direction. In here, Geoff felt like he was trapped in a little bubble from the past, watching the world move on without him.
Then again, that’s how he felt all the time, whether he was in this room or not.
Trapped in a little bubble from the past.
“Hello?” Tim said, sitting upright in his chair again. “Will you stop gawping at this room like you always do and answer me?”
“Sorry,” Geoff said. “Yes, that’s what he said. That he was trying to see every Time Rep he could.”
“And after he left, you came straight here? You didn’t mention this to anyone?”
“That’s right.”
“So talk me through this again. He just showed up, destroyed half of London for your benefit, and then just undid it all?”
“It was horrible, Tim. He destroyed everything.”
“You said. But then he just made it all go back to normal?”
“That’s right. Like I was saying—he seemed to be able to control the flow of time with this tablet thingy.”
“And then there’s this serum.”
“That’s right.”
“Can I see where he injected you?”
“Sure.” Geoff held out his arm and rolled up his sleeve. The circle of dots from the injection had started to heal, but they were still easily visible on his skin.
“Son of a bitch,” Tim said, pressing his thumb against the marks. “It’s coming true.”
“What is?”
Tim sighed. “Your future self has these marks in this exact same place. Eric’s been trying to work out what they are, but I guess now we know.”
“I tell you, Tim—that was some weird stuff he put in me.”
“Oh, we know all about that serum,” Tim said. “Our scientists have been analyzing samples of it for months, trying to work out how it protects itself from the manipulation of time. So far we’ve got absolutely nothing. What we do know is that it’s the key to how Continuum
can safely allow people to go back in time and change whatever they like. At the end of the holiday, they can just reverse everyone back out of the timeline again and return everything back to normal. And what’s even more remarkable is that people can retain memories of what they experienced. It really is incredible stuff. ”
“But if you knew about the serum, why didn’t Eric make that connection when you saw the marks on my wrist?”
“It’s not normally injected,” Tim said, standing up from his desk. “From what I hear, you’re supposed to just drink it. In your case, I guess William assumed you’d resist, so he had no choice but to inject it into your bloodstream.”
“There were a lot of syringes on the back seat of that car. He must have already seen quite a few people.”
“Yes, you said. Which means someone is giving him a steady supply of that serum. Someone is encouraging him to do this.”
“Do you think it’s that Jennifer Adams lady? The boss of Continuum?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. But there’s one thing that doesn’t make sense…”
“What’s that?”
Before Tim had a chance to answer, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Tim called out.
The door opened with a creak, and a young woman walked in. Geoff recognized her immediately—it was Isabel, a Time Rep from the fourteenth century. Geoff had met her a few times at the odd work party. She was about twenty years old, and when she wasn’t showing tourists around the medieval countryside, she worked on a farm. Normally she wore clothes sewn together from bits of rags and old sacks, but when she came to the future she liked to wear bright colors, knee-high boots, and jeans. She strode into Tim’s office smiling, with her head held high.
“Hey Geoff,” she said, giving him a nod. She was holding a letter in her hand.
“Isabel,” Geoff said.
“You leaving too?” she asked.
“What do you mean, leaving too?” Tim said, staggering forward and resting his weight on the back of one of the chairs. “Isabel, do you mean to tell me that…?”
“That’s right—I’m here to hand in my resignation,” Isabel said, offering the letter to Tim.
Tim looked at Geoff for a split second before looking back at Isabel again. “Isabel, come on,” he said, not taking the letter. “Think about this…”
“Oh I’ve thought about it,” she said. “I’ve thought about it a lot, while I’ve been trudging around in the mud, or sitting out in the rain gathering hay, or scooping up horse shit. I’ve thought about why I’m not living here instead, earning money. Eating out. Going to the theater. Traveling the world. But no, I’m not allowed to do any of those things because it might change history. Well, guess what? Continuum just offered me a job, so now I can do whatever I like.”
“At least take a week or so to think about it, okay? Geoff and I are really worried something might not be right with Continuum. We’re worried you all might be in some sort of danger.”
“The only person in danger here is you,” Isabel said, holding the letter out farther. “In danger from me, that is, if you don’t accept this.”
“Fine.”
Tim took the letter but didn’t open it. He could already guess what it said, since he’d read at least twenty others just like it that week.
“Good,” Isabel said. “Look, I’m sorry to do this to you, Tim, really I am. But when Continuum is here offering me everything I ever wanted, it’s kind of hard to refuse them, you know?”
“I understand,” Tim said. “Just be careful. And for what it’s worth, it was a pleasure working with you.”
“Likewise.” Isabel paused for a moment as if reconsidering her decision, but soon brushed her long hair back and turned to leave.
Geoff touched her arm as she began to walk out. “Was it William who came to see you?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Isabel smiled. “Why, has he been to see you too?”
“Yeah,” Geoff said. “And to be honest, I’m still recovering from it.”
“I know!” Isabel said. “I couldn’t believe it either. He looked so cool! And when that flashy car of his appeared, I didn’t know what was going to happen. He totally scared the hell out of me at first, but once I saw what he could do thanks to his job at Continuum, I was sold.”
“If you ask me, I thought what he did was totally insane.”
“Yeah, it was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?”
“No, Isabel—I’m not using the word ‘insane’ in a complimentary sense. I mean that what he did was literally insane. I don’t know what William did when he came to see you, but when he came see me in the twenty-first century, he quite happily killed thousands of innocent people and destroyed an entire city without even a twinge of guilt. And I don’t care if he was able to undo everything afterward—the fact that he even did it in the first place makes me worried for the guy. It’s like this technology to undo time has completely warped his sense of right and wrong. When someone never has to worry about the consequences of their actions, when they have the power to undo every mistake or wrongdoing, then surely that must change them?”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. Just don’t let this new power corrupt you like it’s corrupted William. And be safe.”
“You too, Geoff,” she said, and left, closing the door behind her with a click.
“Well, that’s just great,” Tim said, tossing the letter on the floor. “Another one gone.”
“What were you about to say before she came in?” Geoff asked.
“What’s that?”
“Before Isabel came in, you were saying there was something that didn’t make sense. What was it?”
Tim walked around in front of the chair he had been leaning on and sat down. “Have a seat,” he said, pointing at the chair opposite.
Geoff sat down.
“Here’s the thing,” Tim said, leaning forward. “If the whole point of Continuum is for tourists to go back and change history, why do they need Time Reps?”
Geoff thought about this for a second.
“Do you see what I mean?” Tim continued. “The whole point of having Time Reps throughout history is for them to show tourists around their native time periods. Tell them things they don’t know. Show them the sights. But with Continuum, Time Reps aren’t required. People aren’t going back to learn about history—they are going back to change it. From what you’re telling me, all the information they need is provided by that tablet device they are given, so a Time Rep would have no use to them whatsoever.”
“You’re right,” Geoff said. “But if that’s the case, why is Continuum offering us all jobs? Why are they making it their mission to tempt every Time Rep to work for them instead?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Tim said. “In fact, maybe that’s what your future self discovered. Maybe that’s why someone tried to kill you.”
“You mean why someone is going to try and kill me, remember? It hasn’t happened yet, right?”
“Right.”
Geoff looked at his watch. It was now eleven forty-five in the morning.
If events were continuing to transpire as they had done originally, there was just less than four hours to go before his rendezvous with a bullet.
And the person that fired it at him.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” Geoff said, rubbing his hands together, “but I’m quite happy not knowing the answer to that little mystery. Shall we just put it down as one of those things we’ll never solve and move on?” He stood up and rubbed his hands. “So I guess I’ll be going home now, okay? See you tomorrow!”
“Geoff, wait. We need to get to the bottom of this.”
“No,” Geoff said. “I need to get to the bottom of a nuclear bunker, and stay there for the next few hours.”
“Come on, Geoff—you know there’s something very fishy going on here, and we need to work out what it is.”
Geoff sighed. “Look, Tim�
��you know I’m always happy to help, but in this instance, I’ve got to be honest—I have a very strong urge to book a flight to Hawaii and lie on a beach until this blows over.”
“You can’t go to Hawaii.”
“A very strong urge.”
“Geoff,” Tim said, standing up from his chair. “Don’t you get it? There is a plot at work here. Continuum is up to something, and we are the only ones who can find out what it is.”
“So what do you suggest we do?” Geoff said. “We can’t exactly turn up and say, ‘Excuse me, but we suspect you guys are up to no good—can you tell us what it is, please?’”
“Perhaps you could go and pretend you’re there for a job interview,” Tim said. “Since they’ve invited you in anyway, it wouldn’t raise any suspicions…”
“Not a chance,” Geoff said. “That plan has ‘dead Geoff’ written all over it.”
“More like ‘severely injured Geoff.’ You weren’t killed, remember?”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Oh, come on,” Tim said. “All you’ve got to do is—”
But before Tim could continue his sentence any further, the phone on his desk rang. Like the rest of the room, the phone was quite old-fashioned, with a separate earpiece and receiver. Geoff was astounded that they still used regular telephones in the thirty-first century, but then again, they still used tin openers, too. After all, no matter what century you were from, a tin opener was the best thing to use if you wanted to open a tin, so a phone must have been the best thing to use if you wanted to make a phone call. Wait—did that make sense?
Tim picked up the receiver and lifted the earpiece to his ear.
“Good afternoon, Tim Burnell speaking,” he said.
Suddenly his face went pale, his eyes widened, and he snapped his gaze toward Geoff.
“Oh no,” Geoff said, getting to his feet. “It’s not one of those annoying recorded messages about claiming mis-sold PPI insurance, is it? Do you still get those in the thirty-first century too?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Tim said. “It’s you.”