by Peter Ward
Geoff took another gulp of tea and laughed.
“There’s no way I’m allowing that to happen,” he said, taking out his earphones. He didn’t feel particularly threatened at the moment. “All I need to do is put these earphones on and travel back to the future, and this is all over.”
“I’m afraid you’re too late,” Jennifer said.
“Oh?”
“Remember that older man you bumped into back at the Continuum offices? The fat guy with the awful skin? I don’t suppose you recognized him, what with the long hair and everything. But that was you, twenty years from now. You’re about to spend the rest of your life locked up inside the Continuum building, giving me all the blood I need. After a few years you start to go a bit crazy, but that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that your blood just keeps flowing.”
Geoff shuddered. Now that he thought about it, he could see a resemblance. He needed to get out of here right now, or at least immediately after he’d finished his tea. It would be a shame for it to go to waste.
“So how exactly do you plan on stopping me from getting away?” Geoff said, taking a final gulp of tea and putting the empty mug down on the desk. He took out his earphones and began placing them in his ears. “You’d need an army to stop me leaving right now.”
“That’s right,” Jennifer said. “Or I’d need to trick you into drinking some sort of highly potent drug that makes you extremely open to suggestion.”
“Exactly.”
“Speaking of which, how was your tea?”
Geoff swallowed.
“My tea?”
“Yes.”
“It was all right,” Geoff said.
“No it wasn’t,” Jennifer said, walking over to him. “It was the best tea you’ve ever had.”
“Now that you mention it, it was pretty delicious,” Geoff said. “Best tea I’ve ever had.”
Jennifer smiled.
“Drop the earphones,” she said.
Geoff did as he was told. For some reason he was finding Jennifer to be incredibly persuasive, like the voice in his head that told him it was okay to watch entire DVD box sets without moving from the sofa.
“Wait,” Geoff stammered, suddenly overwhelmed with a brief sense of panic. “What have you…done…to…”
He looked around desperately for something to defend himself with and grabbed the mug he had just put down. As far as weapons go, it wasn’t ideal, but he could still do some damage with it.
“Ah yes, the mug. Think you can hit me with it?”
Under the circumstances, Geoff didn’t fancy his chances much, but he got the feeling he was now in a considerable amount of danger and needed to do something, even if it was nothing more than hitting someone with a mug. So he swung it round toward Jennifer’s face as hard as he could.
“Oh no you don’t,” Jennifer said, not even flinching.
As she spoke, Geoff felt his arm lock tight just before the mug was about to make contact. He couldn’t move.
“Put the mug down, please,” she commanded.
Geoff looked at her in puzzlement as his arm did what it was told.
“That’s it,” she said. “You see Geoff, everything you’re about to do, I’ve already seen coming. Resistance is futile.”
But Geoff clenched his teeth and drew on every shred of willpower to resist what she was telling him to do, The feeling of not doing as he was told was unbearable, but his efforts did appear to be making a difference. Slowly but surely, he began to raise his arm again.
“PUT THE MUG DOWN!” Jennifer shouted.
“N-no,” Geoff said. “I…will…not!” And with that, his arm broke free of Jennifer’s control, and he walloped her round the face with the mug with so much force that it shattered on impact, leaving a long, vertical cut under her left eye. This act of resistance was extremely satisfying, but also totally exhausting, so much so that he didn’t think he’d have the mental capability to do something like that again. He dropped the mug to the floor and let out a sigh.
Jennifer clutched her cheek and scowled at him. It was funny—despite thoroughly deserving a smack in the face for everything she was about to do, Geoff still felt bad about hitting her. But given his life was in mortal danger and the future of all humanity was at stake, he was sure he would forgive himself.
It was at this moment that something happened in Geoff’s mind—his memory of Jennifer changed. Now when he thought back to what her future self looked like, he remembered her having a feint scar under her left eye, exactly where he’d hit her just now. At the same time however, he could also recall an alternate future when it hadn’t been there. It seemed that hitting Jennifer with the mug had demonstrated two things to him: firstly, it was still possible for him to change the future, and secondly, if that change did create a paradox, all that meant was that he could remember both scenarios.
There was just one problem: now that the drug had taken full effect, he was so open to Jennifer’s suggestion, that he was completely powerless to take advantage of this newly acquired knowledge.
Jennifer dabbed the wound on her face with a tissue, “It seems I shouldn’t have goaded you about the futility of your situation more than I did in the original simulation,” she said, taking a step back. “Looks like that gave you a bit of extra determination. Make no mistake though—from now on, I’m sticking to the script.”
Outside the office door, Geoff could hear a few people laughing and joking, like a bunch of students stumbling back after a pub crawl.
“Ah—that must be Eric returning from his awards ceremony,” Jennifer said, holding the tissue to her face and walking over to the door. “Time for us to leave. Follow me.”
“W-where are we going?” Geoff said, his feet shuffling toward her. He tried to his best to resist, but it was hopeless.
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with history,” Jennifer said, “but this is the point where I famously tell Eric that I resign.”
And with that, she marched out of her office, her head held high.
Geoff followed a few steps behind. He had absolutely no idea what to do.
At the other end of the corridor, a younger version of Eric had just entered through the door at the other end. He still looked pretty old, maybe in his sixties. One hand was holding a framed certificate that was presumably his Nobel Prize, and the other hand was wrapped around the waist of a young woman, who was presumably fond of old men who had just won Nobel Prizes. Eric was accompanied by a number of other people, all of whom looked like they weren’t going to have a particularly great time tomorrow morning once the hangovers set in.
“J-Jensifer?” Eric said, looking up as she strode toward him. He didn’t sound particularly sober, and his eyes were glazed over like he’d left his contact lenses in a glass of milk before putting them in. “W-what are you shtill doing here?”
He removed his hand from the waist of the young woman and stood up straight.
“You know, Eric,” Jennifer said, tossing her tissue to the floor and pushing her way through the drunken crowd of people. “I’ve been asking myself that very same question for quite a while. What am I still doing here? I mean, after the way you’ve all treated me, what THE HELL am I still doing here?”
“Now, Jennnnnsifer,” Eric slurred, “com’on, we’ve talked about thish…”
All around, everyone else was completely silent, apart from one guy who couldn’t stop hiccupping.
“No, Eric!” Jennifer said, tossing her hair back. “I’m sick of it! I’m sick of this place, I’m sick of this life, and I’m sick of putting in all the work, only for you to get the recognition!”
“What are you shaying?” Eric said, falling back against the wall of the corridor. “And who’sh shoes thish guy?” He looked up at Geoff, but he was so drunk there was no way he would remember his face in the morning.
“This is a good friend of mine,” Jennifer said, looking around at everyone as they stared back at her. “He’s another scientist fr
om Time Tours who’s leaving with me. And I promise you one thing—together, we’re going to create something amazing. One day you’ll be hearing from me again, and when you do, it will be because I’ll be putting Time Tours out of business for good!”
Upon hearing those words, Eric slid down the wall and lay across the floor like a drunk old man who’d just won a Nobel Prize and then had to deal with some crazy woman resigning.
“Come on, Geoff,” Jennifer said, calling him as though he were a small puppy that had run off to sniff a tree. She stepped over Eric’s legs and dodged her way past the drunken Time Tours employees, leading Geoff through the door at the other end of the corridor.
“W-where are we going?” Geoff managed to say.
“Up to the roof,” Jennifer said. “I’ve got a few friends waiting for us, and from there, we’ll be flying across London to my temporary offices on the other side of town.”
“I don’t want…to…”
Jennifer looked back and tugged him closer to make sure he didn’t fall behind.
“Don’t be like that,” she said. “Try and enjoy this little trip, okay? After all, it’s the last time you’ll be in the outside world for the rest of your life.”
Nineteen
The roof of the timeport demonstrated that over the course of a thousand years, the general design principles behind a car park hadn’t changed particularly. It was exactly as you might have expected, really: a large, flat expanse of black tarmac, with five or six rows of parking bays marked out in straight lines of white paint.
Jennifer was standing over by a convoy of five parked cars, her head turned to look across the horizon. The cars next to her were all black sedans, and had dark privacy glass for windows, which prevented you from seeing inside.
“Come over here and admire the view,” she said.
Geoff did as he told, walking over to where she was standing and looking at the London skyline.
“Doesn’t the city look pretty from up here?” she said. “Why don’t you take a moment to admire it for a second? This will be your last memory of the outside world, after all.”
Geoff stared vacantly into the night. The sky was clear, the air felt warm on his skin, and in the distance he could see the many twinkling lights of office blocks and skyscrapers. Up above them, flying traffic streaked against a backdrop of stars in a blur of red and white light, like millions of differently colored fireflies whizzing backward and forward in perpendicular lines.
“Okay, that’s enough,” she said, motioning him to follow her toward the cars. “Come over here.”
Again, Geoff did what he was told. His mind was a jumble. Part of him was screaming to resist Jennifer’s orders, but at the same time he couldn’t help obeying every instruction he heard. It felt as though his body were being controlled remotely, with his rational mind nothing more than a trapped passenger.
Jennifer tapped her hand on the roof of one of the parked cars. As she did, the doors of every car opened and a number of very large men stepped out. There must have been at least twenty of them, all wearing black suits and earpieces like secret agents charged with looking after a presidential motorcade. Each of them also had a handgun holstered at their side.
“Okay, you know why I’ve hired you,” Jennifer said, standing before them with her hands on her hips, “and you’ve all watched the simulation of what is about to happen. By now, a man from the future named Timothy Burnell has realized what we’re up to, and has worked out that this trip across London is our only moment of vulnerability. Be on your guard, and remember—if Geoff dies, Continuum dies with him. Whatever happens, I need Mr. Stamp to complete this journey alive.”
The men all nodded and slipped back inside their vehicles.
“Come with me,” Jennifer said, leading Geoff to the car in the middle of the convoy.
“Get in,” she said, opening the back door.
Geoff obeyed Jennifer’s instructions and climbed inside. The car had a luxurious white leather interior, with a bottle of chilled champagne resting in the middle of the seating well. As he sat down, he noticed someone sitting on the other side next to him, behind the driver’s seat.
It was William Boyle again, although this time he looked even older than the man who had shot Zoë when they’d traveled to the future. This William was easily in his early sixties. What little hair he had left was completely gray, his skin was pale and wrinkled, and he looked unhealthily thin, his face gaunt.
“W-William?” Geoff said, straining against the influence of the drug to look the man up and down.
“Hello, Geoff,” William said, trying to force a smile.
“H-how old are you?” Geoff stammered.
“I’m not sure anymore,” William said, looking down at his wrinkled hands. “I’ve spent so much time here, there, and everywhere, I’ve lost track.”
Jennifer leaned in and looked at William. “You remember what’s about to happen?” she said.
“Yes ma’am,” William replied, sitting upright as she spoke to him.
“Good. Be ready.” She turned her attention to Geoff. “And as for you—don’t go anywhere.”
She closed Geoff’s passenger door and walked around to the other side of the car.
Geoff couldn’t believe it. All he had to do was open this door and make a run for it, but no matter how hard he tried, his body just wouldn’t obey what he was telling it to do. He wanted to scream until his voice could take it no more, but in this state he could only manage an awkward groan through gritted teeth, a bit like the noise people make when they’re having trouble getting the lid off of a stiff jam jar.
He watched as Jennifer opened the driver’s door, sat down in the driver’s seat, and fastened her seatbelt. He was still making his weird noise, which now sounded like the moment the jam jar lid was about to come loose.
Jennifer looked around. “Buckle up,” she said.
Geoff stopped making his strange noise and fought the command with everything he had. And for a moment, he could feel his hand moving for the door handle instead of reaching for the seatbelt. He knew he had the power to change what was about to happen—hitting Jennifer around the face with that mug had proved it was possible—all he needed to do was think hard enough, and he could break free of whatever spell Jennifer’s drug had cast over him.
“I said, buckle up,” Jennifer repeated.
Geoff’s hand moved away from the door handle, reached behind him, and grabbed the seatbelt, stretching it across his body and fastening it to his side. William did the same, his hands shaking as he pulled the strap across his body.
“Right, I think we’re all set,” Jennifer said, pressing a button on the dashboard. As she did, Geoff felt the car begin to vibrate beneath him, and his ears filled with a high-pitched sound as the antigravity propulsion system revved up.
Jennifer pressed another few buttons in front of her and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
But then she paused for a moment.
William leaned forward. “Is everything all right, ma’am?” he asked. His voice sounded a little croaky, as if he were unwell.
“I think so,” Jennifer said, looking around at Geoff one last time. “It’s just…I don’t remember him resisting what I was telling him to do like this in the simulations. And I can’t help but feel that there’s something different about him.”
“Different?”
“Yes. But I can’t put my finger on what it is…”
“Should we move to plan B?”
“No,” Jennifer said, facing front again. “My plan is flawless. You just need to do your job, okay?”
“Yes ma’am,” William said, sitting back again.
“Right,” Jennifer said, releasing the handbrake to her side and pulling down on the steering wheel. “Here we go.”
Geoff looked out of the window as the car began to ascend into the sky. The other cars did the same, surrounding their vehicle in a protective formation.
Once they had cl
imbed a few hundred meters in the air, Jennifer pushed the steering wheel forward, and the car began to accelerate. She banked the vehicle to the right, and within a few seconds they had joined a stream of flying traffic heading north. Each car from the convoy took a position to the left, right, front, and back of them.
Geoff pressed his face to the glass and looked down at the streets below. They were very high up, and for a moment he felt as though he were looking down at an incredibly detailed model city, complete with lit-up buildings, moving traffic, and little people walking around.
“Here he comes!” Jennifer said, looking in her rearview mirror and gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
At that moment there was a loud crash, and the roof of the car buckled in slightly.
Geoff spun around in his seat and looked outside. He could see another vehicle peel away from on top of them—a red sports car—and as he leaned forward to get a closer look, he could see that it was Tim behind the wheel.
“You all right?” Jennifer said, looking around.
“Yes, ma’am,” William said.
“Not you!” Jennifer said. “Geoff—how you doing? Answer me!”
Geoff looked down at his body. He was shaking, but it wasn’t because of nerves. He could feel himself starting to regain control. The more he focused on the idea that he still had the power to change history, the more he found himself able to fight the drug. But he didn’t want Jennifer to know that.
“I’m fine,” he said, putting on a docile voice.
“Good,” Jennifer said, pushing down on the steering wheel. The car reacted by ducking down into another stream of traffic flying beneath them.
Geoff continued to sit still in the back seat as Jennifer sent the car through all sorts of crazy aerial maneuvers, weaving past flying lorries, buses, and cars at an incredible speed. All around, he could hear the blare of angry car horns, and there was the odd moment when he caught a glimpse of people in the surrounding traffic. Inside these vehicles, he could see drivers looking back at them angrily, and as his mental faculties began to return, he began to appreciate just how dangerously they were flying.