Tempus Fugitive

by Nicola Rhodes

* * *

  ‘Knock, Knock.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Knock, Knock,’ repeated Denny. ‘Just humour me.’

  Tamar sighed. ‘Okay, who’s there?’

  ‘Sahara.’

  ‘Sahara wh… do we really have time for this?’

  ‘Sahara who.’

  ‘Sahara who?’

  ‘Sahara the hell did we end up here – no that didn’t really work did it? Sorry.’

  ‘I don’t think we’re in the Sahara,’ said Tamar pragmatically. ‘I’m pretty sure we’re in Egypt.’

  ‘Ah, close but no cigar. What makes you think we’re in Egypt?’

  ‘Well, those Egyptians over there were my first clue.’

  ‘How do you know they’re Egyptians? They could be… er … they could be … I got nothing.’

  ‘They’re building a pyramid.’

  ‘How can you tell it’s going to be a pyramid? So far, it could be anything.’

  ‘I can just tell.’

  ‘Well, whatever. No one’s seen us, for a change, so we might as well get out of here.’

  Tamar grabbed his arm. ‘No,’ she said, ‘there’s something here, something … I think we might have found him.’

  Denny was excited. ‘Really?’ then he frowned. ‘What makes you think so? And what the hell would he be doing here of all places? I’m bloody certain I haven’t got any ancestors in ancient Egypt.’

  ‘Which question would you like me to answer first?’ Firstly, I can sense him, or something very like him, which is worth investigating, don’t you think? And no, I don’t know why I can. Secondly, how the hell should I know why he would come here? But you know as well as I do, that nothing is ever simple with him. Maybe he’s got some other plan up his sleeve.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Or, maybe, you do have ancestors here, how the hell would you really know? You didn’t know that you had ancestors in Troy, did you?’

  Denny gave in. ‘Okay, so what do you want to do?’

  Tamar hesitated. Well …’

  ‘I guess the first thing to do is to blend in,’ suggested Denny. ‘What is the well-dressed ancient Egyptian wearing about town these – those days?’

  ‘Something like this,’ she said, snapping her fingers. Denny gasped. He was accustomed to Tamar’s beauty, but this was something else. She was stunning in gold and white, which left little to the imagination. Her customarily pale skin was golden and seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. The black wig, square cut over her brows, emphasised her eyes, which were heavily rimmed with charcoal or something, making them look huge. The whole effect was hypnotic. He was sure that he did not look nearly so impressive. For one thing, he appeared to be wearing a nappy. He was just glad he could not see himself.

  ‘So, what now?’ he asked, biting back the impulse to drag her behind the nearest sand dune and ravish her.

  ‘Well, not that,’ she told him, picking up on his thought. She smiled. ‘Maybe later.’

  ‘Let’s just look around,’ she said, sounding a lot more certain than she felt.

  As they drew nearer to the crowd of men working on the nascent pyramid, Denny was staggered at how like modern construction workers they seemed. They lounged about drinking, laughing and chattering. He heard loud music coming from somewhere and, as they approached, he would not have been at all surprised to hear one of them wolf whistle at Tamar, at whom they were staring with unconcealed interest.

  There were no slave driving gang bosses with whips, nor did they see the ropes and pullies that have been hypothesised by archaeologists. How was the work being done? Actually, these men seemed to be in no hurry to be getting on with the work at all (rather like council workers.) Denny was even sure that he saw one man reading a paper. ‘Tea break?’ he wondered aloud.

  In the distance, they saw a cloud of dust approaching at some speed. It reminded Denny irresistibly of a truck rattling along one of those dusty roads in American road movies.

  A man who was, in any guise, quite unmistakably some sort of foreman, starting shouting through some sort of megaphone and waving his arms about, all that was missing was his hard hat. His voice had the distinctive distortion that one expects through one of those thing, and he could have been saying anything, but the gestures were remarkably explicit. “Get off your lazy arses,” was one, and “get out of the way,” was another. The men all rose slowly and carelessly and looked expectantly towards a point beyond where Denny and Tamar were standing. Like people who join a crowd all looking up at the top of a building, Denny and Tamar followed their gaze.

  As they watched, over the horizon, they saw what appeared to Denny, to be a large JCB, hove into view. His mouth dropped open. Tamar did not look at all surprised, and only Denny could know what that was costing her.

  Denny had no such scruples. ‘What the hell is that doing here?’ he hissed. Then he slapped his forehead. ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’

  I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t see why, though. I mean, what’s the point?’

  ‘What does it matter? He’s obviously here. This proves it.’

  Tamar shook her head. ‘I’m not so sure,’ she said.

  Denny shook his head impatiently. ‘You said you sensed him here, and now this! What more evidence do you need? What else could it be?’

  She shook her head again. ‘I don’t know, but I just think that we shouldn’t be too hasty. There could be a dozen explanations for this’

  A dozen?’ Denny rubbed his chin wearily. ‘Okay, name one.’

  Tamar opened her mouth and then shut it again, and then, ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she said.

  * * *

  In the end, they got quite a lot of information out of the workmen, who, after the fashion of workmen everywhere (and everywhen), liked nothing better than to loaf about expounding their views and generally informing the ignorant, rather than get on with some work.

  The men told them, in slightly condescending tones, as if they were simpletons, that the equipment (by this time, there was a vast array of fork lift trucks and earth diggers – the trucks that had arrived contained scaffolding) came from the “sky men”. These were gifts from these great beings to honour their Pharaoh. Yes, they had seen them with their own eyes, everyone had. They were also teachers. Their fathers remembered them also. No, they were not the gods, they were told, when Denny asked. They were just men who came from the sky – giant men perhaps ten or twelve feet high; some were bigger. They came from the sky.

  Even with all they had seen, Tamar and Denny were inclined to take this last piece of information with a pinch of salt. As Denny pointed out, all this talk of giant sky men did not prove a damn thing. Askphrit could still be behind it. Particularly as, when pressed the men admitted that the gifts came from the sky men, but ultimately through the grace of the gods, from whom Pharaoh was descended and with whom he talked on a regular basis.

  Tamar said that this was an early example of a religious method, which still existed into the present day, among natives in Africa and Papaya New Guinea and Paui etc, known among the practitioners as “Cargo Cult”, whereby the natives of the land would pray to their god to deliver to them the trappings of western civilisation, such as wristwatches and telephones and even trucks and aeroplanes, believing that all such things came from heaven and belonged to everyone. The fact that it seldom worked, she said, did not put them off, they had obviously just not worded the prayer correctly. The white men, who had plenty of “Cargo” obviously knew something they did not. Pidgin, the language used by many of these people gave an interesting insight into their beliefs at times, she said. A helicopter, for example, they called a “mixmaster belong Jesus Christ”.

  Denny yawned. He was more interested in where the giant men came from. Were they Aliens (as seemed most likely) or were they a product of Askphrit’s overheated imagination? If so, they needed to find out, in Denny’s opinion, since this would represent a huge problem. And a possible opportunity.

  Tamar thought it unlikely that th
e giant men had anything to do with Askphrit, but she was even more sceptical about the possibility of their being Aliens. She was quite scathing on the subject, and Denny was crestfallen, until he realised that she was upset with him about the yawning.

  ‘So, what are they then?’ he demanded.

  ‘If you really want to know,’ she said, with an elaborate yawn. ‘Why don’t you ask them?’

  Even though he knew that she was not being serious, Denny thought that this was a good idea.

  ‘I do really want to know,’ he said. ‘And, after all, what harm can it do really? They seem to be benevolent. And we can always get out of here at any time, if we need to anyway.’

  ‘If they are Aliens or some – “thing” that bastard thought up to cause trouble,’ said Tamar. ‘What makes you think they’ll admit it?’

  Denny grinned. ‘Oh ye of little faith.’ he said.

  * * *

  It was against Tamar’s better judgement that they went to find the Giant Sky Men.

  Further questioning had revealed that the sky men lived among them and even took wives sometimes from among the populace. Their tall houses were pointed out to Denny and Tamar, who saw them standing stark and austere against the skyline. They were elite. A sort of nobility, but the men assured them that they would be made welcome if they went seeking knowledge. The sky men were a benevolent race.

  Tamar was interested in the fact that these men apparently wished to mingle their DNA with that of the people. ‘The Vikings have a myth of Giant men also,’ she said. ‘And they believe that they are the descendants of these men. Suppose it’s true.’

  This time Denny did not yawn. ‘We need to find out who they are,’ he said

  ‘I think I might know,’ she told him.

  * * *

  They were welcomed into the house by a man who was tall, but by no means a giant, and asked to wait in a small chamber. ‘My lord Tempe would be with them shortly.’ The man disappeared.

  Tamar and Denny looked at each other and without saying a word they both rose and left the room to follow the man. To be received when their hosts had had time to make ready for them, was to lose their advantage, they both felt.

  The man passed by several doors and stopped at a hole in the wall, which Tamar realised after a few moments thought was an intercom of some kind. ‘Indoor plumbing too, I bet,’ she muttered inconsequentially.

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Denny agreed.

  ‘There’s archaeological evidence to suggest that certain ancient peoples did have it,’ she told him. ‘They had to on account of them living in high rise apartment buildings.’

  Denny yawned. ‘Is that important?’ he asked. ‘We already know that historians have consistently underestimated the people who lived before them. God, you’ve got me at it now.’

  ‘It might be important,’ said Tamar. ‘Then again, it might not. We just have to …’

  She broke off, listening. ‘What’s that?’ she hissed

  Behind one of the heavy doors they could just make out a heavy thumping beat. Denny cocked his head to listen. ‘Motown,’ he said eventually.

  Tamar nodded.

  She went to push the door open, Denny held her back. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘We might be you know…’ he went through a series of facial tics and knowing looks, ‘interrupting something.’ He winked. ‘You know. I mean it’s Motown,’

  Tamar looked blank, but Denny knew she understood him, she did not often play dumb, but when she did … Denny shrugged, he knew when he was beaten. He stood aside, and Tamar raised her arms and the doors flew open. Denny thought that this was unnecessarily dramatic. But Tamar knew what she was doing.

  The words of the song floated over the stunned silence. “Look out baby ’cause here I come. And I’m givin’ you a love that’s true, so get ready, ’cause here I come …”

  The Giant men – and they really were (there were giant women too, they now saw) and many people of ordinary size stared at the intruders. Denny broke the ice. ‘The Temptations,’ he opined ‘“Get Ready” William “Smokey” Robinson, 1966’

  ‘– AD,’ he added inconsequentially. Denny knew this kind of thing. Who would have thought it would ever come in handy?

  The tension broke, and a giant man with wavy brown hair and blue eyes who looked vaguely Irish laughed suddenly. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed all but the other giants. ‘Well, Well, Well,’ he said, in English. ‘You appear to have caught us.’

  * * *

  They were from the future, they said. What would be, on our calendar, the late 35th Century. They were humans, philanthropists who had discovered the secret to time travel and had come back in order to secure their own future. They did this in various stages of ancient history and all over the world. Yes, they had been among the Norse men and many others. Some cultures remembered them, and some did not, it did not matter. When Denny objected that it was dangerous to tamper with history they laughed at him.

  ‘But we had already done it.’ They said. ‘Who do you think brought fire to the cave man, Prometheus?’

  Evolution, they said was a circular phenomenon. ‘Without us, civilisation would not exist as we know it, and if it did not, we would not exist as we are. We are the creators of our own future. We know this. If we had not come we would have broken the cycle. We are our own ancestors, our own ancients and the teachers of our past generations. This is how it has always been, did you not know?’

  They knew nothing of magic; this was technology, they said. And they had heard of the various gods but had seen nothing of them. They were not gods to the people they taught – neither had they ever pretended to be.

  Their people no longer lived on Earth, this accounted for their greater height, they said. They had removed to a planet with a lighter gravity – they would not say its name – many thousands of years before they came back to Earth. They would not say why they had abandoned the Earth.

  ‘How did you discover all this?’ asked Denny.

  It was not remembered now, but the truth of it had been proved again and again. The circular nature of evolution mirrored that of time itself and was a part of it. It was possible to look back over the history of the world and see that everything that had happened had also happened before and everything that was going to happen would happen again.

  ‘We read of the ancients and knew that it was of ourselves that we read. Round and round we go and each time, our pupils learn a little faster and a little better. And each time, we ourselves are a little further ahead because of it. This is not an interference in history. It is the nature of things. We hope that eventually we will eliminate many evils from the world such as poverty and war and malaise and also reality TV.’

  ‘How did you discover the secret to time travel?’ asked Denny. ‘I mean without that, you couldn’t have done all this.’

  ‘Well, in one sense you might say that we already had the secret, we only had to look into the past, it had all been done before. But, in a sense, you are right, in each cycle the discovery had to be made and who knows now how many times this has happened. But I will tell you. The secret was discovered in some old writings that were unearthed in the middle of the 29th Century. Long before we knew what use we would be putting it to. The secret was kept to prevent abuse of this power until our destiny was revealed to us.’

  ‘And what was the secret?’

  The giant spokesman looked at him curiously. ‘And do you not know it yourselves? You are not of this time – that is clear’

  ‘Well,’ Denny began. Tamar dug him in the ribs. ‘No,’ he said, turning to her. ‘It’s a fair enough question.’ He addressed the Giant. ‘It was a sort of accident,’ he said, ‘us ending up here. We don’t know how we did it. But really I just wanted to know, what the writing was, you know, who wrote it in the first place.’

  ‘It was written by one who had discovered the secret, many centuries before. And the writing contained many vehement exhortations never to abuse the knowledge t
hat she had found.’

  ‘She?’ they both said together.

  ‘Yes, she. And although you may find it strange, she had addressed the writing to the very man who eventually discovered it. Called him by his very name. But after all, it is only to be expected, if you think about it.’

  ‘What was his name?’ asked Tamar to avoid asking the other burning question that was in her mind. And absolutely not because she thought she might ever need to know it.

  Denny asked it. ‘What was her name?’

  The Giant took the questions in their due order. ‘He was called Roderigo Alvarez II. And her name was Tamar Black – but the maiden has fainted.’

  ‘Close file.’

  * * *

  Tamar did not want to talk about it. ‘We don’t have time to ponder the nature of the universe right now,’ she said testily. ‘We have more important things to do.

  ‘And why did you have to close the file before we found out how they pinpoint their destination? That could have been useful.’

  ‘We could always go back and ask them.’

  Tamar shuddered. ‘No, they’ll know now that we lied to them about how we got there, besides …’ she shrugged expressively. Denny nodded, he too had found them creepy – unnatural was a better word. Perhaps he was more xenophobic than he had thought. It was just that they had been so – so …

  ‘Patronising,’ supplied Tamar, breaking in on his thought, ‘superior – condescending?’

  Denny shook his head. ‘No. More, sort of, too perfect, too polite and too goody goody – inhuman, no vices or weaknesses. I just …’

  ‘Whatever, we’re not going back, besides we’ll find him, I know we will, and if what they said was right, I’ll find the way to locate the files myself. I’m the one who discovers it, they said so.’

  This was an encouraging thought, so Denny just nodded ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You’re the genius. Pick a number, any number, go on, I dare you.’

  ‘I never said I was a genius, anyway, it’s your turn, we agreed to take turns, I’m not taking all the blame. Egypt was my fault. The next disaster can be down to you.’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly a disaster, but okay. Um, this one.’ He pushed open a trapdoor. ‘Have you noticed,’ he said as he entered the file. ‘Whoever chooses the file has the most to do with what happens when we get there? I mean I chose the Viking file and the one in the nightclub, didn’t I?’