Time Rep

by Peter Ward

  “What was the difference?”

  “A seagull in Brighton was facing right instead of left.”

  Geoff frowned. “That was it?”

  “Yes.”

  “No other differences?”

  “No.”

  “A seagull?”

  “A seagull.”

  “What was it looking at?”

  “Nothing, as far as we could tell,” Tim said. “Everything else on the entire planet was exactly the same. It just chose to look in the opposite direction.”

  “But … why did it do that?”

  “We’ve got absolutely no idea. It just did.”

  “You mean everyone else was standing in exactly the same place? Doing exactly the same thing?”

  “Not exactly,” Eric said.

  “Not exactly?”

  “It’s complicated. One hundred thousand years from now, Earth will be a very different place. According to our simulations, mankind will have left the planet to explore other galaxies, and Earth would have been given back to Mother Nature. Towns and cities will have decayed into dust, air pollution will be nonexistent, and the ice caps will have re-formed. Eventually, the entire planet becomes like a massive nature reserve. Quite beautiful, really.”

  Before Geoff could really think about what possible influence he could have over a seagull, he noticed the corridor around him beginning to change. The unremarkable gray walls were giving way to a much more glamorous, shiny metallic black material. The gravitational pull on his body started to weaken.

  “This is all neutronium around you now,” Eric said. “We’re passing into the computer’s core.”

  “The gravitational pull will normalize as we reach the paradox-scanning facility in the center,” Tim said.

  Geoff could see an opening up ahead. Sure enough, everyone appeared to be slowing back down to a normal walking speed.

  “How big did you say this computer was?” Geoff said, reaching out to touch one of the walls. It was warm. Come to think of it, the farther they walked down the corridor, the hotter it was becoming.

  “It’s basically a huge sphere,” Eric said, shrugging off his white coat and folding it over his arm. “I guess if you were to look down on the computer from above, it would be about the size of a Hoverball pitch. Except we’re underground.”

  The corridor finally opened out to reveal a large, dome-shaped chamber. The walls and ceiling looked like they were made from the same shiny metallic material he had seen in the corridor—neutronium, was it? The rest of the room was empty. If it wasn’t for a large, vertical shaft of light beaming down on a pedestal in the middle of the room, it would have been pitch black in here. Geoff tugged at the neck of his t-shirt—he was boiling.

  An overweight official met the tourists at the mouth of the corridor and motioned them to gather round. He had a receding hairline, red cheeks, and a nose slightly too big for his face. His clothes were tight around his frame, his trousers struggling to contain the large belly that bulged over the top of them. Two patches of sweat were beginning to form under his arms.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the man bellowed, his voice echoing around the chamber. “For those of you who have not been here before, this is the paradox-scanning facility. In a moment, I will call out each of your names, one by one, in alphabetical order. When you hear your name, please walk over to the beam of light behind me, step into the beam and wait for the computer to scan you.” The man paused for a second to wipe his brow on his sleeve.

  “The scan should take no longer than 10-15 seconds,” he continued. “If the beam turns green, congratulations—you have been cleared for travel. Step out of the beam and proceed to the departure chamber.” He pointed towards a brightly lit corridor on the opposite side of the room. “However, if you fail the scan, the beam of light will turn red. If this happens, please step out of the beam and come back to this part of the chamber. As a precaution against time terrorists, the corridor to the departure chamber will instantly seal itself. Any questions?”

  “What happens if we fail the scan?” one person called out. “Will we find out why?”

  “And will we get our money back?” another person shouted.

  “One at a time,” the man said, holding his hands up. His voice sounded a little exhausted in the heat. “The computer will transmit a report of every failed scan to my handheld terminal should you wish to know why you were not cleared for travel. And yes, you will receive a full refund from your tour operator.” He looked from one end of the crowd to the other. “Any other questions?”

  Everyone seemed reasonably comfortable with the process.

  Geoff was still thinking about his seagull.

  “Right,” the man said, looking down at his handheld terminal. “David Atkin—you’re up first. Step into the beam when you’re ready.”

  A tall, thin man squeezed his way out of the crowd and walked over to the center of the chamber. He paused for a second, as if this was a big moment for him, and stepped up onto the pedestal, his body enveloped in the thick beam of light. Everyone else in the room stared at the man in silence, waiting in anticipation for the first result.

  10 seconds passed.

  David Atkin was shivering. Was he nervous?

  15 seconds.

  20 seconds.

  This was taking a long time. The man looked back at everyone and shrugged his shoulders. He began to blush, obviously a little embarrassed at the delay. All of a sudden, the beam turned green.

  “Yes!” he said, punching the air. A few people in the crowd cheered. He stepped off the pedestal and disappeared down the opposite corridor with a distinct spring in his step.

  “Andrew Baker,” the official called out.

  It was the man who’d had the argument earlier about his hologram. He strolled aggressively up to the pedestal and stepped into the light, his arms folded tight across his chest. He didn’t look happy. It was almost as if he expected to fail.

  The beam quickly turned green. Again, a few cheers and claps came from the crowd, who seemed happy to rally behind whoever’s turn it was to go up. A look of surprise swept across the man’s face. He stepped out of the light and swiftly made his way to the departure chamber as if he was afraid the computer was going to change its mind.

  “Christine Bennett,” the official said.

  A girl near the front of the crowd whooped in excitement and walked towards the beam of light. Geoff’s eyes widened—this girl was gorgeous. Despite the unflattering peasant’s costume, the mud on her face, and the twigs in her hair, there was undoubtedly something mesmerizing about this woman—confident eyes, a glistening smile, huge breasts, a sexy swing to her hips; Geoff could almost feel himself drooling as he watched her step up onto the pedestal. Or was that sweat? He sniffed under his arms.

  “Am I beginning to smell?” he whispered to Tim.

  “Beginning?” Tim replied.

  The girl shut her eyes and arched her neck back in the light, waiting for her result. Her fingers were crossed.

  All of a sudden, the light turned red. The crowd responded with a collective sigh of disappointment. As the official had mentioned, a large metal door immediately slammed down to seal off the corridor to the departure chamber.

  “What?” the girl said in confusion, her voice trembling slightly. “W-what did I do wrong?” She stepped off the pedestal in shock and staggered over to the official in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” the official said, looking down at his handheld terminal. “Says here we’d have lost five family trees if you’d gone back in time today.”

  “But … that can’t be possible,” the girl said. “I’ve spent weeks studying all the customs—I know exactly how to blend in, I …”

  The official interrupted, reading aloud from his terminal. “Five separate gentleman would have fallen in love with you from afar and not pursued their destined partners as a result,” he said, offering the girl his handheld te
rminal to read it for herself. “In layman’s terms, the computer reckons that you’re too attractive to ‘blend in’ in the seventeenth century.”

  The girl took the terminal in her hand and read a few of the details out loud. “An earl, three market traders and a blacksmith all die single as opposed to married with kids because they become infatuated with me and don’t pursue other relationships? I don’t believe it.”

  “Computer!” the official said into thin air. “Could you please bring up a video simulation of this prediction for the benefit of Miss Bennett?”

  “A video simulation?” the girl said.

  Within moments, a large hologramatic screen materialized in thin air in front of them, and everyone watched as it showed a life-like simulation of everything the official had just described. Sure enough, whilst the girl was minding her own business, walking around various seventeenth century London landmarks, a few gentlemen in the background were staring lustfully in her direction. Geoff couldn’t believe this was really just a simulation—the graphics were good enough to be a film. He also felt weirdly in tune with what he was watching, as if he could hear the inner monologues of the people on screen—indeed, some of the blacksmith’s thoughts towards Miss Bennett were really quite disgusting. Was this simulation somehow managing to transmit something to them on a more subliminal level?

  “I’ve seen enough,” the girl said. “Make it stop.”

  The screen flickered off and disappeared in a brief flash of vapor.

  “Sorry,” the official said, taking his terminal back. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave the way you came in. Why don’t you pick up one of our leaflets on temporary plastic surgery on your way out?”

  The girl walked off in silence, removing the twigs from her hair and snapping them in half as she left.

  “Cheer up, everyone!” the official said, sensing a slump in the crowd’s mood. “Matt Davies—you’re up next.” The corridor to the arrivals chamber opened up again.

  Geoff watched as the rest of the tourists were scanned by the computer. Many were cleared for travel; many were not. In one case, a family of five were sent home because their eldest son failed the scan. Turned out he had secretly skipped a few of the lectures on seventeenth century swearwords and would have unwittingly drawn attention to himself when he accidentally shut his fingers in a barn door. His mother was furious, demonstrating her own knowledge of thirty-first century swearwords as they left. Geoff smiled to himself—at least some things hadn’t changed much.

  “Well, this little tour of our facility is nearly over,” Eric said, watching the last person being cleared for travel. “Ever fancied going back to 1666?”

  “To be honest, it’s never been on my list of places to visit,” Geoff said. “The only place I thought about going to this year was that new fish and chip shop that opened round the corner.”

  “How about it then?” Eric said. “It’ll be useful for you to experience one of these trips for yourself.”

  “But I’ve already been back to 65 million years BC,” Geoff said. After the trauma of his last trip, he was a little nervous about going back in time again. “Is it really necessary to go somewhere else as well?”

  “I think it is,” Tim replied. “I’m sure seeing the Cretaceous Period was all very interesting, but you wouldn’t have seen one of our Time Reps in action back then.”

  Geoff mulled it over. “Will I need toothpaste?” he said. “I didn’t bring any toothpaste.”

  “No, you won’t need toothpaste,” Eric replied. “You’re not allowed to take anything like that, remember? Besides, we’ll only be there a little while—just long enough for you meet another Time Rep and see the sort of thing you’ll be doing.”

  “Well, what do you say?” Tim said. “You didn’t have any other plans, did you?”

  Geoff thought about this for a moment. As a matter of fact, he did have other plans—plans that generally involved a lot of sitting down, drinking some tea, and not doing anything too stressful. But he had to admit he was curious.

  “Sure, why not?” Geoff said.

  “Great,” Tim said. “Step into the beam of light and we’ll be on our way.”

  Geoff hesitated. “Is it safe?” he said.

  “Of course it’s safe!” Eric snapped. “We wouldn’t be in business very long if it was unsafe, would we?”

  “I suppose not,” Geoff replied, cautiously approaching the pedestal and stepping up into the beam. He was surprised to discover that it was actually refreshingly cool compared to the rest of the room; so much so that goose bumps were beginning to appear on his arms. He closed his eyes and decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

  “So how come I wasn’t scanned before I went back to see the dinosaurs?” Geoff asked, waiting for the light to turn green.

  “Because we didn’t need to scan you,” Eric replied. “That trip to 65 million years BC was already taken into account by the computer when it scanned Ruth and Mr. Knight—it already knew they were going to take you there when they left here to interview you.”

  “The computer can go back that far?” Geoff said, suddenly feeling very hot. He opened his eyes. The light had turned green.

  “It’s not called a supercomputer for nothing,” Tim said. “Now, are you ready to go back to 1666?”

  “I guess,” Geoff said. “Just as long as I’m not going to see the world end again. You know—death, destruction, flames, things collapsing around me, that sort of thing.”

  “Hmm … Well you might be out of luck there,” Tim said.

  “What do you mean?” Geoff asked, rubbing his hands.

  “Don’t you know your history?”

  “Erm, I know there have been a few wars here and there, but that’s about it. What happened in 1666?”

  “1666 was the year of the Great Fire of London.”

  “The Great Fire of London? People want to go back and see that?”

  “Major disasters are always very popular,” Eric said, stepping up to be scanned. “Nothing better than a bit of death and destruction to spice up a holiday.”

  Great, Geoff thought. At least he wouldn’t have trouble thinking of something to write on the postcard.

  Seven

  Now, given all the fuss that had been made to ensure every tourist fit in with London’s seventeenth-century population—the removal of watches and earrings, adding dirt to people’s costumes and making sure no one’s hair was conspicuously styled, you would have thought the time-tourism officials would have made at least a couple of alterations to Geoff’s wardrobe, or rather to the clothes he was wearing at that moment, since large wooden pieces of furniture tended to be a bit cumbersome to carry around. As it happened, the general consensus amongst the officials was that Geoff was very suitably dressed for the seventeenth century; his hair was scruffy, his shoes were dirty enough to disguise their design, and his clothes were plain and crumpled. Whilst Eric and Tim had to get completely changed, Geoff was allowed to travel back in time with no modifications to his appearance whatsoever. One official even told him to keep up the good work.

  Just as when he had travelled back to 65 million years BC, the journey through time had felt almost instantaneous—upon putting on the earphones, his brain had tingled slightly, his heart raced a little, and his body suddenly materialized down a dark, cobbled back alley. Now that he understood what was happening to him, the experience was almost pleasurable. He removed his earphones and looked around. The alley was quite narrow, sandwiched between two tall wooden buildings. It smelled faintly of rotting vegetables. He glanced up—it was nighttime, the black, starry sky dotted with a few clouds here and there. Beneath his feet the ground was a little bit wet, as if it had rained recently. A few meters in front of him, the tourists who had passed the paradox scan were all gathering together by a stack of wooden crates, chatting excitedly amongst themselves.

  It wasn’t long before Eric and Tim arrived, the outline of their silhouettes
quietly materializing out of thin air and fleshing out into solid humanoid forms. Geoff had to admit to being a little bit disappointed with the aesthetics of their entrance—the re-materialization process must have lasted only a couple of seconds and had none of the exciting bells and whistles he was expecting to accompany what was clearly an amazing technological feat. Not that he was expecting actual bells and whistles, because that would have been a bit stupid, but he would have at least liked to have seen a few sparks or a bright flash of lightning or something. The intention was obviously to draw as little attention to a time traveler’s entrance as possible.

  “All right?” Tim asked nonchalantly, as if they’d just stepped off a bus. It took Geoff a moment to recognize his friend—without his glasses and dressed in what could only be described as a potato sack with sleeves sown onto the sides, he looked slightly ridiculous.

  “Nice costume,” Geoff sniggered. “You look like you’re about to audition for the role of the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz.”

  “At least I actually had to get changed before coming here,” Tim retorted, placing his earphones in his pocket.

  “Shall we join the others?” Eric said, leading them over to the rest of the tourists. He appeared to be having a bit of trouble negotiating the cobbled street with his walking stick, but eventually made it over to the rest of the group, leaning on one of the crates for support.

  “So what happens now?” Geoff said.

  “We wait,” Tim replied. “William should be here any minute to collect us.”

  “William?”

  “William Boyle. He’s one of the Time Reps we’ve got working for us in this time period.”

  “One of the Time Reps?” Geoff said. “How many have you got?”

  “Oh, a few hundred,” Tim said.

  “A few hundred?”

  “You’ve got to remember that the Great Fire of London only happened once Geoff, and we’ve got thousands of people paying to see it. You don’t think we’ve got just one Time Rep to accommodate that kind of demand, do you? They can’t be in several places at once.”