The Pages of Time

by Damian Knight

  ‘A long time ago,’ she said, following the direction of his gaze. Her voice was soft and only just audible. ‘Believe it or not, I was young too once.’ She stared at the photo for a minute, a far-away look in her eyes, then turned back to Sam. ‘So tell me, how have you been? Any more seizures?’

  ‘No, I feel pretty good,’ he said, ‘like I’m getting stronger all the time. My sister keeps hassling me to take my epilepsy pills, though. I tried them once, but it made me feel slow in the head.’

  ‘Not to worry, I’ll have you transferred from your doctor and take over that responsibility myself. That way we might avoid any external interference in our work, so to speak.’

  ‘You can do that?’

  ‘Oh yes. To keep your sister pacified I can even supply you with placebo pills which look exactly the same as your epilepsy medication, but contain nothing stronger than sugar.’

  ‘That might be an idea,’ Sam said. ‘I was having to hide them and then flush them down the toilet just to keep her off my back.’

  ‘Hear that?’ she said, turning to Steele, who had taken the chair next to Sam. ‘Young Mr Rayner is already mastering the art of deception! You may have a promising future in the field of espionage ahead of you, my dear boy.’ She opened a drawer, took out a folder and slid it across the desk. ‘Now, I expect you’re wondering why I invited you here, but before we can proceed there are a couple of items of paperwork that we need to get out of the way.’

  Sam opened the folder. It contained two stapled documents. The print was so small that he had to squint to read it, and when he did he found the language so complicated it was almost unintelligible.

  ‘I assure you, they’re both standard documents,’ Steele said, leaning over to hand him a metal ballpoint pen.

  McHayden cleared her throat. ‘If you choose to proceed then you’re about to become involved in a matter of national security. Unfortunately, I need more than just your verbal assurances that what we discuss will go no further. The first document is the Official Secrets Act. The second gives me legal status as your doctor and prevents your records from being shared amongst the medical community. You need to sign each at the bottom, there and there.’

  Sam gripped the pen, his hand trembling slightly. After this there would be no turning back. He took a deep breath and, before he could wimp out, signed his name on both pages.

  ‘Excellent stuff,’ McHayden said. She swept the documents into the folder and tucked it back into the drawer. ‘Now that the formalities are out of the way, we can get down to business. As I think I mentioned the other night, I come from a medical background. For some time now I’ve led a research group made up of selected government officials, scientists, doctors and independent backers, known as the Tempus Project. The focus of our work has been to investigate the influence certain areas of the brain have on time perception. That is, how people experience the passage of time.’ She pushed her chair back and laid her hands flat on the desk. ‘You see, Sam, the passage of time, and our perception of it, is not necessarily a constant, linear thing. Rather, it can be highly subjective. I’m sure you’re aware of the expression “time flies when you’re having fun”?’

  ‘Yeah, of course. It’s, like, if you’re doing something fun time goes by really quickly, but if you’re doing something you hate, like a boring lesson at school, it feels like it lasts forever.’

  ‘Couldn’t have put it better myself,’ she said. ‘As it happens, there’s more than an inkling of truth to the saying. Time perception depends on a person’s state of mind. As you rightly point out, a pleasurable activity may seem to pass faster than an unpleasant one, even if they both take the same amount of recorded time. In rare cases patients with traumatic brain injuries and those with severe brain disorders can experience profound difficulties judging the passage of time. What may seem like a few minutes to a perfectly healthy person could feel like hours to someone with such difficulties.’

  Sam thought back to when he’d just come out of his coma, when days and nights had passed in minutes and events had seemed jumbled, with no logical order. ‘So you think I might be one of these people?’ he asked.

  ‘On the contrary, dear boy, I hope that you might be considerably more exceptional. Let me tell you a story, if I may.’ She leaned back, lowered her hands to her lap and exhaled. ‘Several decades ago, during the Vietnam War, I worked with a patient, an American soldier who was involved in an explosion and suffered an injury in which a piece of shrapnel became embedded in his brain.’

  ‘Like me?’

  ‘Like you. The shrapnel was successfully removed which, given the circumstances of the operation, was quite remarkable. Back in the United States, it was immediately apparent that he had become delusional. He claimed that he was suffering from a form of time sickness and had become unstuck in time.’

  ‘What happened to him, this soldier?’

  She paused to wet her lips with her tongue. ‘I’m sorry to say that he took his own life shortly after. The single biggest regret of my career is that we never had the chance to further explore his ability. In all the intervening years I’ve never given up hope that it might be possible to recreate his condition in another person. Once I was in an appropriate position to secure funding for further research, I established the Tempus Project. Since then I’ve worked with countless patients, many suffering from abnormalities in time perception and even the occasional oddball who claimed to be able to travel in time, but none who could accurately predict future events in scientifically verifiable conditions. That is, I very much hope, until you.’

  ‘So, what is it that you want me to do?’ Sam asked.

  She watched him intently. The casual atmosphere in the room had evaporated. ‘I don’t think you realise the implications of this research,’ she said. ‘Suppose that you could be trained to channel and focus your episodes, choosing when they occur and exactly how far backwards or forwards you see. It would revolutionise the work of the Security Service. An attack such as the one in which you were injured and your father was killed need never happen again. If we were able to reliably predict future events we could prevent such tragedies before they even happen. If we knew the time and place that an attack was planned, we could act pre-emptively, just like we did when you tipped us off about the bombing of this very building but without the element of luck. You could become the ultimate defence against threats to the nation. The war on international terrorism could be won in one fell swoop. You have a responsibility, Sam, not just to your country but to all of mankind.’

  ‘What about Esteban Haufner and the people he was working for?’

  ‘Catching them would be the first item on our agenda.’ Her voice was low, as if she were letting him in on a secret. ‘What do you say, my dear boy? Are you along for the ride?’

  3

  The car turned onto a muddy, rutted path that looked like it led to the middle of nowhere. Winter had arrived and although it wasn’t late yet the last daylight had already slipped away. Sam used his sleeve to wipe a circle of condensation from the window and peered out. They were travelling through a dense wood of pine trees that rose high on either side of the path. After a few more minutes they approached a clearing, where a gate was set in a tall metal fence topped with razor wire.

  The tyres crunched over frozen ground as the car slowed to a halt. A uniformed guard carrying a machine gun and torch stepped from a small hut beside the gate. Steele, in the driver’s seat, opened the window, allowing freezing air to flood in, and presented his ID badge. The guard glanced at it, shone the torch in Steele’s face, swung the beam to the back seat where Sam and McHayden were sitting and then opened the gate and waved them through.

  After another couple of hundred metres they pulled up outside a low concrete building with a sloping, corrugated-iron roof. A flaking sign on the wall read, KPP&R Logistics. Sam stepped out of the car and rubbed his hands together, his breath forming puffs of steam in the air.

  ‘This way,’ McHayd
en said, and began striding towards the double doors at the front of the building. Sam and Steele followed her through into a reception room. There was a waiting area to the left, containing several chairs, a water dispenser with an empty bottle on top and a brown potted plant that had shed half of its leaves over the black and white chessboard floor tiles. Against the wall to Sam’s right was an old vending machine that looked in desperate need of restocking.

  Another guard was reading a book at a desk in front of them. ‘Evening boss,’ he said, dog-earing his page. ‘Miserable weather we’re having, eh?’

  ‘Good evening, Arnold,’ McHayden said. ‘Allow me to introduce Sam Rayner. You’ll be seeing rather a lot of him, I think.’

  Sam fumbled in his pocket for the security badge he’d been given (his half-blinking face and shoulders superimposed next to the picture of a lighthouse – the emblem of the Tempus Project – and the words, SAMUEL RAYNER, SUBJECT 102) and held it out at arm’s length.

  ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ Arnold said and tipped the peak of his cap. ‘Go on down, the others are waiting.’

  He leaned to one side and pressed a button under the desk. As he did so, Sam noticed a heavy-looking pistol hanging at his hip and wondered if he ever had reason to use it. There was a faint hissing sound and then the vending machine slid to the side to reveal the interior of a lift. McHayden and Steele stepped in, and Sam followed after. The walls were bare, polished metal apart from three unnumbered buttons next to a dull black plate the size of a sheet of paper. McHayden placed her hand to this and a bar of green light pulsed from top to bottom like a photocopier. She hit the lowest button and the doors closed behind them. There was a jolt, followed by the sensation of movement as they began to descend.

  The doors opened on an underground level that was several times larger than the building above, reminding Sam of an iceberg with the main bulk hidden below the water’s surface. Everything – walls, floor and ceiling – gleamed pristine white under bright fluorescent lighting, making him wince. A small group of people in lab coats stood talking at the far end, but the sound of their voices was replaced by hushed silence as McHayden approached.

  A short, stocky man separated from the rest of the group and came to greet them. His skin was raw with eczema, angry red flakes peeling from his neck and the backs of his hands. ‘You must be Sam,’ he said breathlessly.

  ‘This is Malcolm Fairview,’ McHayden said. ‘Malcolm is Head Technician here at the Tempus Project.’

  ‘We’re thrilled to have you aboard,’ Fairview said, grinning at Sam. ‘I can’t tell you how exciting it is to finally begin trials with a human subject.’

  ‘Human subject?’ Sam said, remembering the wording on his security badge and imagining himself as some sort of living crash test dummy.

  ‘Sorry, probably a poor choice of words. Follow me and we can get started.’

  Sam looked to McHayden.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ she said. ‘Go ahead, I’ll be waiting right here.’

  He followed Fairview to a small room at the back of the main laboratory, where a table and chair were surrounded by several video cameras on tripods. There was a computer monitor on top of the table, which was connected to a plate with two metal joysticks sticking out, both capped by a red button.

  ‘Seriously, you invited me all this way to play computer games?’ Sam said. ‘You haven’t got the new FIFA, have you?’

  ‘You’re actually closer to the mark than you realise.’ Fairview unhooked a sizable set of keys from a clip on his belt and unlocked a metal cabinet in the corner of the room. He removed one of the small brown bottles from the rows that lined the shelves and turned back to Sam. ‘This is Tetradyamide. The molecule was originally discovered in the 60s, but the formula was lost after the head scientist working on its production went missing. We’ve been attempting to recreate it ever since I joined the Tempus Project. Early batches were of low purity, but we’ve made significant progress over the last year or two. This particular batch, I’m rather proud to say, is my own design.’ He popped the lid and shook a yellow pill the size of a pea into the palm of Sam’s hand.

  Sam rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. The little pill felt sticky to his touch. ‘Tetra…what did you call it?’

  ‘Tetradyamide.’

  ‘What does it do?’

  ‘Don’t look so nervous. We’ve conducted extensive trials and the drug is perfectly safe for human consumption. You’re potentially too valuable an asset to be used as a human guinea pig.’ Fairview returned the bottle to its cabinet and locked the door. ‘Tetradyamide increases neurological activity in the areas of the brain associated with time perception. I’ve tried it myself, as a matter of fact, and I’m still here to tell the tale.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘Well, if ingested by a person with relatively normal brain function – which apparently I have, no matter what Cynthia, my ex-wife, might say – it has the effect of slowing time perception. My own experience was of seeing the world pass by in slow motion. To an external observer, a user may appear to think, move and react at an accelerated rate.’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ Sam said. ‘You’re telling me this pill slows down time?’

  ‘The drug slows the perception of time. Its original development was funded by the United States military in the hope of swinging the Vietnam War. I’m sure I don’t need to spell out the advantages of being able to think and move faster than your enemy. Unfortunately, early formulations had a number of side effects, such as an intense euphoric “high” and the associated lack of judgement. It’s only under the guidance of Dr McHayden that we’ve been able to fill in some the blanks and, with improved techniques and equipment, refine production to limit most side effects.’

  ‘So what if someone who doesn’t have normal brain function takes it, someone like me?’

  Fairview rubbed his hands together. ‘Ah, now that’s where things should get really interesting. Bear in mind this is all theory, but the effects should be much more profound. We’re hoping the drug will simulate one of the seizures you’ve experienced, increasing neurological activity in certain areas of your brain. The big difference is that Tetradyamide should stop you from experiencing unintended seizures and, with practise, you should even be able to control them, choosing when an episode comes on and how far into the past or future you wish to travel. At least that’s Dr McHayden’s hypothesis.’

  If what Fairview was saying were true, the pill in Sam’s hand could hold the key to controlling his fits, and if that were possible then who knew what else might be? Perhaps he could undo what had happened to his parents.

  Without another moment’s hesitation, he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it down.

  ‘Good lad,’ Fairview said and chuckled. ‘You know, I had a feeling about you the minute you stepped into the lab.’

  ‘Don’t suppose you’ve ever considered sugar coating those things?’ Sam asked, gagging at the bitter chemical taste.

  ‘Duly noted. I’ll be back with some water.’

  Fairview left the room and returned a minute later carrying a paper cup, which Sam drained in a single gulp.

  ‘I don’t feel any different yet,’ he said.

  ‘You wouldn’t.’ Fairview took back the empty cup, scrunched it into a ball and tossed it at a wastepaper basket by the door, missing by some distance. ‘The drug takes about ten minutes to enter the bloodstream and the effects then last for between three to six hours, after which they gradually diminish. In twelve hours it should have left your system completely.’

  ‘So…what should I do now?’

  ‘There’s nothing to do but wait,’ Fairview said. He pulled the chair back from the table. ‘Here, have a seat and I’ll explain how the test works.’ He pressed a button at the back of the monitor and the blocky image of a house with a smoking chimney and picket fence appeared on the screen. Two blue doors, numbered 1 and 2, were set in the front
of the house.

  ‘Don’t you reckon I’m a bit old for this kind of thing?’ Sam asked, thinking it looked like something Lewis’s little brother might have drawn.

  ‘Cutting-edge graphics weren’t considered much of a priority, I’m afraid. The programme is a random chance generator. It’s essentially like flipping a coin over and over – you’ve got a fifty percent chance of heads and a fifty percent chance of tails. Behind one of the doors is a smiley face and behind the other is a skull and crossbones. Your job is to find the smiley face and avoid the skull and crossbones, but until you open a door there’s no way of knowing which one hides which.’

  ‘Sounds simple enough.’

  ‘Good. Why don’t you give it a try? You can choose a door by pressing either button.’

  Sam gripped the joysticks and, after a moment’s consideration, pressed the button on the left. There was a small musical fanfare and Door 1 swung open, revealing a smiley face. When the door closed a counter in the bottom corner of the screen rolled over to 01.

  ‘Good guess,’ Fairview said. ‘That’s one in a row. Have another try.’

  This time Sam pressed the right button. Door 2 swung open to reveal the skull and crossbones. There was an angry buzz and pain shot up his hand from the joystick. He cried out and immediately let go. The counter in the corner reset to 00.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Just a little incentive to encourage you to select the correct door. Both joysticks are electrified. If you choose the wrong one you get a mild electric shock. Probably should have warned you about it, but I couldn’t resist. Fancy another go?’

  ‘And get shocked again? No thanks. What’s the point of it anyway?’

  ‘The test is designed to improve your close control,’ Fairview said. ‘If you don’t press a button then both doors will automatically open after sixty seconds, but the counter will reset back to zero. Once the Tetradyamide takes effect, all you need to do is make the decision not to open either door, then travel forward sixty seconds into the future to see where the smiley face is hidden. In theory, you should be able to return to the present, select the correct door and thus avoid getting shocked.’