by Greg Krojac
He needed to know if he’d been successful in his mission. He’d warned Gillian to take additional precautions to avoid contracting coronavirus, so she surely would have done so. Gillian seemed an intelligent woman; she must have heeded his warning.
From the way that Tom had reacted when he told him of his plan, Ari didn’t think it worth it to ask him to check the Internet for him so he took the plunge and consulted the Registry himself. What he saw was demoralising.
Gillian Spencer (née Barnes)
Born: 07 October 1999
Married: Anthony Spencer 20 July 2020
Died: 04 January 2021
Cause of Death: COVID-19
Place of Death: Charing Cross Hospital, London
Nothing had changed. He’d failed. He phoned Tom and told him exactly what had occurred, word for word. Tom wasn’t impressed.
“What did you expect, Ari? The poor woman must’ve been scared out of her skin. You can’t go around accosting people like that.
“You need to stop this nonsense right now, Ari. No good can come of it. What do you hope to achieve? Things are what they are.”
That’s how the phone call was left.
Ari couldn’t “drop this nonsense” as Tom had called it. He didn’t want to and, more importantly, was incapable of stopping his investigation. The genie’s bottle had been opened, Ari had smelt the fumes, and become intoxicated with the desire to follow the mystery to its conclusion. Some might say he became obsessed with it but that was just part of his nature. And this was real detective work, not catching errant husbands and wives in the act of sexual treachery. This case had real meaning and consequences for him. If, as seemed likely, this was an organised plot to prevent time travel from being invented, his job could disappear. What would he do then?
He thought about what his next move should be and decided to go back to the library.
Just because he’d dipped his toes into the vast waters of the Internet ocean didn’t mean he was ready to jump in and immerse himself. He still preferred real books. Plus, he could take photos of the pages to refer to later. He had no reason to think they’d disappear too as the photo of Dr Spencer’s pages were still on his phone. He hoped he was right.
12:10, Saturday 25 March 2073
The British Library, Euston Road NW1
He entered the library and Susan immediately went over to welcome him.
“Mr Dunn. How wonderful to see you. We haven’t seen you for almost three weeks and were beginning to get a little worried.”
Ari felt a little unsettled by the fact that he had visited the library only the previous day and Susan appeared to have forgotten all about his visit, but what could you expect when timelines are being changed?
Ari returned her smile.
“Hello, Susan. I have been busy at work. There is nothing to worry about.”
Susan beamed at him.
“So, what are you looking for today?”
“Information about the discovery of time-travel, please.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Yes. The team members of Project Clockwise.”
“I’ll check what we have on the system.”
She waved her hand and a holographic computer monitor appeared. She tapped the projected image five times and beamed at Ari.
“We have a copy of “Time-travel: The Why, The Who, and The Wherefore”. That sounds like it would have information about the people involved. It’s at coordinates 31.198 by 20.210. Would you like a bibliodroid to fetch it for you?”
Ari shook his head.
“No thank you. I will find it myself.”
Ari walked among the hundreds of shelves, just as he had the previous day, enjoying the smells and images that surrounded him.
He found the book he was looking for and opened it up, flicking through the pages until he came to the list of team members; Brian Downing, Anita Bowen, Simon Quelch, Michelle Lavigne, Katerina Nowaková, and, of course, the team leader, Professor Ryan Chandler.
Doctors Spencer and Hardcastle, had been joined by Pinheiro in being erased from the list. Only six people now remained. He watched as Brian Downing’s name disappeared before his eyes. Now there were five.
Ari needed more information on the remaining scientists. He walked over to a pillar and pressed a blue button. Within seconds, a bibliodroid appeared.
The robot scanned Ari's face and found his record in the library’s database.
“Good afternoon, Mr Dunn. How may I be of assistance?”
Ari felt strange speaking to a metre high robot but it was surely no worse than talking to a self-driving taxi.
“I need information on Doctors Anita Bowen, Simon Quelch, Michelle Lavigne, Katerina Nowaková and Professor Ryan Chandler.”
The droid showed no outward visual sign of activity but responded immediately.
“Information located. Would you like me to fetch the books and bring them to this location, Mr Dunn?”
Ari nodded.
“Yes, please.”
Within a minute, Ari had five books in his hands, which he gathered up and took to a reading table nearby. He hastily took photos of the remaining five scientists’ family trees and any other relevant information he could find – he had no idea how long their entries would remain in the books – and drilled down several layers in the hierarchies to be on the safe side.
The time-thief seemed to be following a pattern, the order listed in Time-travel: The Why, The Who, and The Wherefore. If Ari was correct, then he should find and warn Dr Anita Bowen. And do it quickly.
Ari was suddenly distracted by the sound of a familiar voice. What was Tom doing at the British Library? As far as Ari was aware, Tom had never been in a library in his life – he was fully immersed in the digital world.
Ari turned and saw his friend standing alongside three men in black Nehru suits.
“W-what are you doing here, Tom? Who are these people?”
Tom looked like a child who had been naughty.
“They’re Temporal Agents, Ari. They know you’ve made unauthorised trips into the past.”
Ari was hurt.
“I trusted you, Tom. I know you did not approve of what I was doing but I did not expect you to turn me in.”
Tom looked at his friend.
“I didn’t turn you in, Ari. Maybe I should’ve but I didn’t. They came to me.”
“But how?”
One of the agents spoke.
“All Temporal Licenses come with restrictions. Some people, like you, are licensed to travel up to three months in the past. Some six months. Very few – usually elite Temporal Agents – may travel up to five years in the past.”
Ari interrupted him.
“I thought the record was one year.”
The agent laughed.
“The record was ten years – but you smashed that into little pieces, Mr Dunn. Your time-jumps backwards of fifty-three years rang all sorts of alarm bells.”
One of the other agents stepped forward.
“I’m sorry, but you have to come with us.”
Ari glanced at Tom, hoping that he could get him out of this mess, but Tom just shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Ari. It’s way out of my hands now.”
12:49, Saturday 25 March 2073
Bureau of Temporal Affairs HQ, Embankment, London EC4
To say that the room in which Ari found himself in at the Bureau of Temporal Affairs was minimalist would be an understatement. It housed a table and three chairs, each looking as uncomfortable as the next. That was it. No wall decorations. Not even a filing cabinet. Ari knew what would happen next – an interrogation followed by judgement followed by punishment.
The agents hadn’t been rough with him – he didn’t resist arrest – but they had taken his pocket watch from him. After what seemed like an age but was only a couple of minutes, two men in magenta Nehru suits entered the room. Ari went to stand up but one of them gestured to him that he should remain seated. They sat do
wn opposite Ari.
One of them smiled at Ari but it wasn’t a gesture of friendship.
“Ari, may I call you Ari?”
“I prefer Aristotle.”
“Okay. Aristotle it is. I’m Agent Wolfe and my colleague is Agent Sheldon.”
Agent Sheldon was taking notes. The conversation was being recorded but he preferred to have a more tangible backup too. Agent Wolfe continued.
“Aristotle. Why did you travel back to 2020?”
Ari flirted with the idea of not telling the two agents but lying didn’t sit well with him. Besides, these people could have his licence rescinded and what job could he do if he wasn’t a Temporal Private Investigator. It’s all he’d ever known. Along with his steampunk persona, it’s who he was.
“I wanted to save Doctor Spencer. Doctor William Spencer. I was in the library, reading a book about him when the book’s content started to fade away into nothing.”
“Who’s Doctor Spencer, Aristotle?”
“He is – he was – a researcher on Project Clockwise.”
Agent Sheldon queried several databases but could find no record of Dr Spencer. He shook his head.
Ari looked anxious.
“I did not imagine him. Honest. He did exist. I know he has never existed for you but he did exist.”
Agent Wolfe’s tone softened.
“Aristotle. It’s okay. We believe you. As Temporal Agents, we’re well aware of collateral damage that could be caused by timeline manipulation. There have been a couple of instances when people have gone back to a previous time to try and change their personal history but, both times, we were able to prevent the disruption.”
Ari wasn’t expecting that.
“You believe me?”
“Yes, Aristotle. But the problem is that we can’t deal with this situation directly. Those two earlier instances that I mentioned originated from this timeline. However, we believe that this time the manipulation is being instigated by somebody who’s acting outside our timeline.”
“Outside the timeline? Is that possible?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Like a parallel timeline?”
“No, not parallel, Aristotle. We think it’s from a source that doesn’t exist yet – not from our point of view anyway. We think the time thief is from the future, so he or she is still outside our timeline, as it has not yet been experienced.”
Nobody had even mentioned the idea of punishing Ari yet.
Agent Sheldon looked at his notes.
“I think we should maybe bring Doctors Bowen, Quelch, Lavigne, Loyal and Professor Chandler into protective custody.”
Ari was no time travel expert but even he could see a flaw with this plan.
“How are you going to protect them? You can’t protect them from being wiped from this timeline. Not whilst you’re in 2073.”
Agent Wolfe agreed.
“That would be normal protocol for a threat in the present day, but we have a whole new situation here.”
He grinned at Ari.
“How would you like to be a Temporal Field Agent? Temporary, of course.”
For a moment, Ari thought his mind was playing tricks on him. It had always been a dream of his to work for the Bureau of Temporal Affairs. But he was also aware that he had contravened the terms of his temporal licence.
“I would love to. But what about my unauthorised trip to 2020? I broke the law.”
Agent Sheldon shook his head.
“No problem. We’ll backdate your new temporary licence. That means that you were acting within the law.”
Ari’s brow furrowed.
“Is that legal?”
Agent Sheldon laughed.
“We make the rules, Aristotle. And anyway, these are very special circumstances.”
He disappeared and reappeared a split second later holding a fresh new temporal licence in his hand. He handed it to Ari.
“There’s your new licence. Now you are officially authorised to travel back in time up to one hundred years.”
Ari studied his new licence.
“Imagine if I could travel forwards one hundred years. Imagine what I could see, what I could learn.”
Agent Wolfe grimaced.
“And imagine what damage you could cause, bringing back technology that we’re not ready for yet. No, it’s a good job we can’t go forward in time any further than we’ve already existed.”
Agent Sheldon handed Ari his pocket watch.
“We’ve also made some alterations to your time-jumper. We’ve added a tracking facility. In future, if somebody time-jumps within ten metres of you, you can track them and find out when they jumped to. It’s automatic, so you don’t have to do anything except read the data. You can then follow them – as long as they go further into the past.”
“And if they go to the future?”
“You’ll still get the reading but you’ll have to go forward to your own point of origin, register the new destination, and join them in their new time from there. But if they travel to the future further than your original jump point from 2073... ”
“They get away.”
“Exactly. You can’t go into our future.”
Agent Wolfe spoke up.
“So, what now, Ari?”
“You are asking me?”
Agent Wolfe nodded.
“Why not? You’re the one who spotted something was wrong. You’ve already started trying to fix the timeline.”
Ari thought for a moment.
“The time thief seems to be working to a preconceived order and, if I am right, he or she will target Anita Bowen next. But there is no point in warning her – there is nothing she can do about it. I need to warn her parents.”
Agent Wolfe stood up and, as he and Agent Sheldon walked to the door, he turned to Ari.
“Good luck, Ari. We’re counting on you.”
13:49, Saturday 25 March 2073
Maidenhead Station, Maidenhead, Berkshire
Ari stood by the clock tower in Station Approach, Maidenhead, and checked the Registry app on his cell phone. He clicked on Anita Bowen’s entry, confirmed that she was born in 2035 and that her mother, Paula Bowen lived in a road called Cliveden Mead at that time. There were no details of her father but that was no cause for concern.
He watched as Anita’s name disappeared from view.
He was too late.
19:23, Friday 23 June 2034
Cliveden Mead, Maidenhead Berkshire
Sylvia and Sid Bowen had had no qualms about letting their fourteen-year-old daughter, Paula, walk down to Boulter’s Lock. The summer solstice had just passed and it wouldn’t get dark until almost half-past nine. That was just over two hours away. There would be plenty of families out for a stroll so she wouldn’t really be alone. Plus, it would do her good to stretch her legs.
The rain that had persisted during the day and kept Paula indoors had finally eased off and stopped. The sun, although not at its strongest, still had enough power to dry the pavements and roads and there was no threat of further rain.
She loved watching the boats passing through the lock, the vessels rising and falling as the lock filled and emptied. It was so peaceful. There was no sense of hurry; the lock’s cycle took as long as it took. The river was the master.
She looked at her watch; she had plenty of time left. She only needed ten minutes to get home. Less if she ran.
She bought herself an ice-cream cornet at the nearby kiosk and then walked across the single-track Boulters Bridge towards the Boathouse pub and restaurant. She wouldn’t be stopping there – she was only fourteen – and not old enough to drink alcohol. Turning right just after the curious green telephone box with its ornate pointed roof, she made her way across the wooden footbridge. She bit off the bottom of the now depleted cornet and sucked out the remaining ice cream before crunching down and swallowing what was left.
Turning left towards the weir, she was startled by the flapping wings of
a swan as it fought its way into the air but the tranquillity soon returned. There were plenty of people leaning against the railings watching the boats at the lock but Ray Mill Island was almost empty. Still, Paula didn’t plan to stay long.
After sitting and watching the rushing waters of the weir for a few minutes she turned around and started back towards the lock.
She was passing an area of dense greenery when she was suddenly hauled backwards into the foliage. Completely disorientated, she lost her balance and landed harshly on the ground.
Someone was lying on top of her.
She tried to lash out at her attacker, but he was too strong for her, pinning her to the ground.
She tried to scream but he held a grubby hand over mouth.
She felt a hand slide up inside her blouse.
Tears filled her eyes.
She knew what was about to happen.
Suddenly, an arm wrapped itself around the man’s neck, forcing him backwards.
Paula took a deep breath as the weight was removed from her body.
A fair-haired woman wearing faded denim jeans and a loose-fitting light grey sweater with a deep peach coloured horizontal band woven into the fabric had the man’s neck in a vice-like grip.
She nodded to Paula.
“Look away, Paula.”
Paula did as the woman ordered but still heard the crack of bones as the man’s neck was broken.
She screamed.
The woman disappeared.
13:55, Saturday 25 March 2073
Maidenhead Station, Maidenhead, Berkshire
Ari knew he was short of time, although, in the realms of time and space that he was moving, time was definitely relative. The number of members of the Project Clockwise team was dwindling rapidly. Five had disappeared from the timeline, leaving four to be rescued. He’d wasted time by travelling to Maidenhead but there was no way he could have known in advance what was going to happen. As a time traveller, the irony of that fact wasn’t lost on him.
He consulted the Registry to find out where he had to go next. His heart dropped as he looked at the current address of Simon Quelch and the address history of his parents – they’d emigrated to Brisbane, Australia ten years before Simon was born. There was no way he could get to Australia before whoever was changing the timeline had a chance to do his or her worst. Flight times had been reduced over the years but not enough to help him get there quickly enough to save the scientist. If he could have time-jumped across both time and space, allowing him to leave 2073 from one location and arrive at a previous time in a different location, then he would have stood a chance but time travel didn’t work that way – the point of arrival was the same as the point of departure, just separated by time.