Out of Time

by Bruce Macfarlane

  “It is just simple logic. I see no application of computational skills at all. I know in my time the application of logic was not expected of a lady and it required considerable skill on a lady’s part to ensure that her nearest and dearest came to a logical conclusion first but I thought I would not have to exercise those skills with you, James.”

  “Elizabeth, I’m afraid to have to disappoint you, but even in my time an intelligent girl, if I ever came across one of course,” enjoying her expression of mock horror, “is expected in public to pretend that her husband is generally in charge even if it is obvious to him and everyone else he is not.”

  I could tell she enjoyed that. The constraints on her in her own time amongst men of lesser intelligence must have been very trying, though I did feel at times she was making up for lost time at my expense.

  I then returned to the subject in hand, wondering why I was so easily diverted by Elizabeth.

  As fast as I could I pushed the lines on all the bars back to zero at the same time, wondering why I had not come to this idea considerably earlier and hoping that was not going to be Elizabeth’s next question.

  To my relief the red bars on the other screens started increasing and orange and red warning signs appeared. I rushed to the other screens and repeated the process. Orange and red warning signs started flashing on all the screens. I could hear mini alarms activating on the consoles. There was a noticeable reduction in background hum. The servers were shutting down! I imagined the panic at the Weber Institute. All those Adcom subscribers were now unable to access their accounts and there was no way the billions of people and their data could be reconstructed. The hum died down. The servers with no data had shut down. It was finished. Poor Marco would arrive a year too late in a time machine that was useless.

  ---~---

  E.

  I was touched that James had offered me the diary, especially as I knew he was aware that it would be almost impossible for a lady not to ‘accidently’ glance over a gentleman’s diary. However, when I mentioned this later he told me not to worry as he wasn’t a gentleman and therefore there would be nothing of interest for a lady. I almost fell for his bluff. Nevertheless, I hoped his notes, if I were to ‘accidently’ regard them, would not change my opinion of him. I also told myself that he would expect to read mine, though as a gentleman, which he is! I knew he would never ask.

  When I do have the nerve to offer mine to him to read I must resist scoring out any comments in my diary that might be to my disadvantage. Truth is everything in love.

  James’ suggestion on how to destroy the machine was marvellous. I was surprised that he had not thought of it before, though I did not mention this as hindsight is a wonderful thing especially if it is simply explained, which James is very good at doing.

  After the machinery had become silent we retraced our steps to the coaching inn. Our room was as we left it though I did notice it had been tidied in our absence and the bed made. No doubt servants had different names now.

  I desperately needed a change of clothing and badgered James, who had just settled down to what he called a well-deserved jug of beer, to take us back to Chichester.

  We were greeted by Jill, who immediately took sympathy with my plight and whisked me upstairs. When I came back downstairs he was sound asleep on the sofa. I decided not to disturb him and instead went into the dining room with his sister to recount our tales and adventures. Jill, however, was much more interested in our relationship and managed to corner me into a confession which I was pleased to note was well received though her directness was difficult to parry.

  After a while he awoke and joined us. He looked agitated.

  “Have you seen the news? An organisation called the Dictatorship of the Air has just decreed that it is to make all religions illegal, and the air police have been sent to Mecca to close it down.”

  Jill looked at him. “So what’s the problem? They’ve been preparing that for ages. What’s wrong?”

  “Oh my god, we are in Wells’ timeline. We have taken a different path!”

  I did not understand at first, so I went to the black mirror in the other room. It was showing a new motion image, a town. People were running down the street. In the distance I could see what seemed to be gigantic tripods from which beams of horrific light dissolved buildings in its path. Across the bottom of the mirror words rolled from right to left. I ran back to the other room.

  “James! Martians have landed at Woking!”

  ---~---

  A Letter from Mr Wells

  Before continuing with my narration of how the diarist dealt with the Martians, I feel it is important to present a note I received from Mr Wells on the placing of the original diaries at Hamgreen. His involvement in the matter of their existence is still not clear but I feel he plays an integral part. I also suspect he has an ability to travel or manipulate time lines for he often appears at critical points in the diaries. But for what purpose, I am unsure.

  Professor Rolleston,

  Weber Institute,

  --------------

  Dear Mr Rolleston,

  In the course of my meetings with Mr Batalia I had the opportunity to read a copy of your narrative of the Urquhart and Bicester diaries. Mr Batalia informed me that the world in which we stood depended greatly on the retrieval of the original two diaries and their placement in a specific location in Hamgreen Lodge. In effect, without them my novels would not exist.

  The narrative in his possession was recorded on a covered black rectangular box about quarter of the size of a foolscap paper. Opening the cover revealed an illuminated sepia screen containing a page of typed text entitled ‘The Urquhart and Bicester Diaries’.

  There seemed to be only one page, but Mr Batalia showed me by pressing either side of the screen further pages of text could be revealed. A small dot in the top right-hand corner of the screen glowed intermittently between amber and green. Mr Batalia explained that the device was connected to the diaries of Miss Bicester and Mr Urquhart and through an algorithm devised by ComsMesh.

  Based on the narrative and knowledge provided by Mr Batalia, I was able to deduce that at some time Mr Urquhart and Miss Bicester would eventually want to meet with Mr Batalia again and would discover the time control centre at Midhurst. I then resolved to visit the chamber each day after work in the hope of meeting them. In addition, I also asked the local innkeepers and hoteliers to inform me if an unusual couple arrived for lodging. After several weeks a maid from the Spread Eagle informed me that a couple had arrived who were strangely dressed and asked for lodgings. I immediately went to the cavern via the church crypt. There I was fortunate enough to meet them and strike up an acquaintance which eventually allowed me to obtain their diaries.

  My difficulty was placing the diaries in Hamgreen Lodge. However, I ascertained from Miss Bicester’s diary that her sister should be living there and that if I told her the truth of their adventures she would be willing to look after the diaries for me.

  On arrival at the lodge I was relieved to find that I was very much welcomed by Flory Bicester when she heard I had news about her sister and implored me to tell her everything. I then showed her the diaries and explained as well as I could that everything that I told her depended on the diaries being found in her attic by yourself. She took this very well, especially when I told her that the act would result in a very high probability of not seeing her sister again.

  H. G. Wells

  -------------

  Part III The Martians

  Prologue

  E.

  It was disease that ended the war as Mr Wells had said. Luckily, we had stayed with Jill at the cottage in Chichester where we were protected from much of trouble though all day and night for weeks I witnessed the machinery of war pass through and over the town. The armies of James’ world were terrible to behold but I was thankful they were there. Long lines of great armoured carriages and cannons painted in all the colours of the earth rolled by and overhe
ad black whirling machines and sleek silver birds like winged harpies flew in flocks darting and diving overhead. Their noise was deafening. Occasionally out of sight or sound from behind the clouds, rockets would rain down and later the muffled sound of enormous explosions could be heard beyond the Downs. At night the northern skies lit up with hellish fireworks and flames. Green and red lanterns rose and drifted along the hills illuminating them with ghoulish colours; lines of light traced out where mortal conflict ensued. And then the reality of it all would be brought home by the screams of sirens heralding the return of those who had been wounded or injured. I was amazed to see how different soldiers had become. Gone were the red tunics and the smart lines of a regiment on the march. These soldiers walked warily in groups like skirmishers at the front of a line battalion encased in what I can only say was mediaeval armour and carrying rifles with the power of a regiment in my time. Their clothes were so baggy and camouflaged they would have turned a poacher green with envy. These armies could have blown away our empire in a flash. We also watched on the dark mirrors the tide of battle which slowly seeped our way from afar - until Mother Nature came to lend a hand.

  The time machine and the world of ComsMesh had vanished as had Mr Batalia. But there was one thing that remained. The electric diary that Mr Wells had given us. Each day as I wrote in my diary this mysterious contraption continued to record James' and my thoughts.

  One felt that there was someone watching, somewhere in time.

  ---~---

  J.

  She had coped very well. To be taken out of her time and confronted with a war with aliens. Much of the world and its infrastructure had survived and I had been able to use the confusion of the war to get Elizabeth a range of immunisations without too much questioning. She had more importantly been given an identity tag by the military which circumvented a lot of questioning on her origin and allowed her access to a range of help, not least of which was food.

  That was three months ago.

  The staff of Porton Down were still trying to cope with their popularity after having spent most of their lives being vilified by the public.

  The time diary continued to record our thoughts. Why had Wells given it to us? I agreed with Elizabeth. Someone was watching. We needed to understand what this device was and why it was created. Also, why had we ended up in Wells' time line?

  I had managed to wire up a connection to my computer. However, the operating system could not be accessed nor could I open the case or understand how it was powered. There was no reset button. I suspected its control was elsewhere.

  ---~---

  Chapter Twelve

  E.

  There was much language and mutterings which I would not expect to be said in front of a lady coming from the attic. Nevertheless I decided to enquire and found as I expected James hunched over a desk surrounded by wires and notes addressing the electric diary in a way that was unlikely to acquire voluntary cooperation. He sensed my presence. He had gone to great lengths to find perfumes and eau de cologne which reminded him of our first kiss and although I was much attracted to more modern perfumes I respected his indulgence.

  "God, Elizabeth, this is doing my bloody head in!"

  "So I heard, James, and I seem to have acquired a number of new words and phrases which I had not realised were related to that electric diary."

  “Oh, I hadn't noticed the door was open. But this thing ... What's making it work?"

  He was sitting in an extraordinary chair which swivelled in all directions and looked as though it had the comfort of those found in a gentlemen's club. He had told me it was a great aid for thinking, though on occasion I had found him thinking so deeply that it was virtually impossible to rouse him from his thoughts. Suggestions that he was sleeping was always met by vigorous though eventually humorous denial.

  On one occasion I had found him engaged in a fantastic war against almost impossible odds in which by means of a dark mirror and a small stick attached by a cable he was able to defend himself against hordes of soldiers. My concern for his safety not to mention his incredible courage in defending us was unfortunately dissipated when he explained it was just a "game" and demonstrated this by repeating his battle before my eyes. I think it was some modern equivalent of young boys playing with tin soldiers though why James was playing with such things at his age I do not know. Perhaps this is what men need. In truth I was much gratified that his participation in 'battle' was only make believe for I had known not a few war widows from the disasters in the Crimea.

  He put his arm around me and drew me close.

  "Look at this screen, Elizabeth. There's a slight pulsation in the brightness but that's all. It just sits there almost winking at me."

  He turned to me.

  “You know, at least in our previous time one of us was always in our comfort zone to support the other but now we’re both out of our time I feel completely lost."

  "I feel the same, James. This world is not ours. I cannot latch on to anything!"

  I looked closely at the screen. I could see what James meant. There was a pulse. Did it mean it was alive?

  "James, it is like it is breathing."

  "I need a strobe."

  James rummaged around in a cupboard and brought out a tube with a lens. He connected it to a box then on pressing a button the tube emitted a flashing light. He shone the light on the diary and began to increase the rate at which the light tube flashed until it became to my eye a single beam of light.

  "I'm adjusting the frequency of this strobe to see if I can match it to the pulsing of the screen."

  The flickering on the screen seemed to slow down then stop for a moment before resuming at a faster speed. Then of a sudden the screen went dark. This caused a strange sensation. The room for a moment seemed different and I felt a little giddy as though my balance was upset. I reached out to James for support. He turned off the strobe and the screen lit up again and whatever I had sensed vanished.

  "Did you feel or see that, Elizabeth?"

  I wasn't quite sure what James meant but something had changed.

  "I felt a little out of focus but I thought it was your light reflecting off the walls."

  "Yeah, must have been. Wait! I think I've found the frequency of its operation. But I don't understand. Oh, of course! It's time dilation! It's not a pulsing light. Look the whole diary is oscillating in out of focus. It must be moving backwards and forwards in time!"

  The screen seemed to be slowly vibrating.

  "But what does that mean?" I said.

  "I think it means it's not really here. It's as though it's trying to keep up with our time. Look how it shifts. It must be trying to lock onto us or something."

  He turned to me.

  "Elizabeth, what brought us together?"

  "If you mean when we first met - why, it was our meeting at Hamgreen. Something happened which brought you back to my time."

  "Or something happened which brought you and Hamgreen temporarily back to my time."

  Then he turned and looked into my eyes and said something for which at this time I was not prepared.

  "Elizabeth, you said you had a past. I don’t know whether it’s relevant to this problem but if you can bear to tell it ...."

  But as I gathered my thoughts Jill appeared at the door with perfect timing.

  ---~---

  J.

  "What the hell is going on, Jim? I could hear you from the kitchen then it all went quiet for about twenty minutes. Hello, Elizabeth. Welcome to Jim’s special language laboratory."

  I looked at my watch. The minute hand had moved forward about twenty minutes. Did the machine do that? Did we move forward in time? I decided to keep this to myself.

  "Sorry, Jill. Just giving this box a verbal kicking."

  "It didn’t sound like it was your foot you were threatening it with. Anyway, so how come you both still think you’re in the wrong time line? You’re here at home and with your Elizabeth. Marco's stuck in th
e future and ComsMesh and Adcom are finished."

  "Because we don't remember any of this world, do we, Elizabeth?

  "I don't know, James. I was not brought up in your world so I don't know whether it's real or not."

  There’s nothing like support when you need it.

  "God I'm beginning to doubt my sanity. Look, before Wells gave us this infernal machine there were no Air Police and no Aliens. I would've remembered, wouldn't I?"

  "Well", said Jill, “this is the real world to me, Jim. If there is another Jill then knowing you she's probably fried in a nuclear war."

  A thought came into my brain and came out before I could stop it

  "Or you had triplets."

  "I had triplets?" Said Jill and gave me a look that told me I was entering a domain where man and his humour should never tread. "Are you telling me when you persuaded me to go into that time machine I could have come out with a slack belly and a house full of kids?"

  Elizabeth looked at me, then Jill and back to me. I looked for the opening in the door.

  "OK, OK, that was stupid. Sorry. Look I don't know what's real and what isn't."

  Elizabeth tried to defuse the situation but unfortunately or perhaps fortunately misjudged what the fuse was attached to.

  "James, you asked about my past. Why don't we look up my past to see if it matches what I remember?"

  I quickly took up the diversion and looked up Elizabeth and Flory Bicester.

  "It seems, Elizabeth, that you were living with a solicitor in Chi and Flory married your cousin Henry. Oh, well, there is nothing like keeping it in the family, is there?"

  Elizabeth did not seem to find that funny. In fact there was cold shock on her face. I shouldn't have cracked that old joke.

  I had now wound up two women. Death would be painful and slow. Then just as I braced myself for an attack on two fronts, a woman's insatiable thirst for gossip and scandal came to my rescue.