"Yes, I see. So, someone not keeping a scheduled rendezvous means either they were deceased -- because an ill or injured traveller could eventually recover and keep the appointment -- or made a decision to go off the reservation, pardon the pun, and diverge from the schedule." Appleton stepped away from the chair, and looked back it, around it, as if to see it in fuller context. He looked at Thomas. "How does it work?" Appleton asked.
"A good question. Do you mean, how does it work, in terms of how one would use a camera to take a photograph -- what the photographer needs to know? Or, how does it work in terms of what principles and techniques were necessary for its construction -- what did the inventor of the photograph need to know?"
Appleton smiled. "I'll start with the average Kodak photographer -- have you gotten your hands on one of those amazing little boxes yet? They're quite something."
Thomas nodded. "Well, you see that little panel on the side of the chair? Go ahead, you can sit in it. I'll show you how it works."
Appleton approached the chair, then hesitated.
"Not to worry," Thomas said. "I won't actually send you back in time -- I'll just show you how it would work."
Appleton nodded, and sat in the chair. "Quite comfortable."
"Yes, it is," Thomas agreed. "Now, if you drape your arm over the right side of the chair .... That's right .... There, can you feel the panel?"
"Yes," Appleton said.
"The touch of your palm should open it -- yes, there it is."
"Can anyone's palm open it?"
"Yes," Thomas said. "As far as I know. The outer part of the panel, I believe, is just there to keep the inner part safe from stray animals, inadvertent damage, what have you ... The locking feature is part of the inner panel."
Appleton ran his fingers over it. "Feels like the keys of a typewriter. We have several in the office -- the secretaries love them."
"Good comparison," Thomas said.
"What happens when you press these keys?" Appleton asked.
"Absolutely nothing, unless you know the correct sequence."
"Ah, I see," Appleton said. "And what would happen if I did?"
"Several things," Thomas replied. "First, the chair would sprout a transparent bubble -- as clear as glass, strong as Bessemer steel, even less combustible."
"Like a diamond crystal?"
Thomas nodded.
"What next?" Appleton asked. "How would I ... guide it, to where I wanted to go?"
"A voice would speak to you."
Appleton laughed.
"I am serious," Thomas said. "As if through a gramophone, a voice -- already recorded -- would inquire of your destination."
"And I just tell it where, and this chair will take me there?"
"When, not where," Thomas replied. "If you leave from just off of Fifth Avenue, that is where you would arrive."
"I see," Appleton said. "But ... suppose I were to ask this chair to whisk me to the past, before there was a Fifth Avenue, before there was even a city here?"
"That could be a problem," Thomas replied.
"But, that aside, all I have to do, once I have engaged the voice by entering the required sequence, is say when in the past I want to go, and the chair will take me?"
"You could also type-write the destination with the keys, if you did not wish to speak. And the chair could take you to the future, too. But yes, that is way it is supposed to work -- in principle, at least."
Appleton caught the qualification. "Sometimes this chair doesn't work ... the way you expect."
Thomas nodded.
Appleton placed his fingers on the keys, and exhaled slowly. He started to vacate the chair, then reversed himself, and leaned back into it. He started to speak--
"No," Thomas cut him off. "It wouldn't be wise for me to give you the sequence at this point."
Appleton nodded, reluctantly. "You're right, I'm sure .... You didn't invent this, did you?"
"No," Thomas replied. "I ... happened on to it."
"Where? Here? In the Club?" Appleton asked, in disbelief.
"Why do you think they call it the Millennium Club?"
Appleton laughed, a little. "We are a full decade and another century away from the new millennium. I always did think the name was a bit ... premature."
"Yes."
"You say you do not come from this time," Appleton said. "Do you come from the time when this chair was invented?"
"No, I believe this chair was invented neither in my time nor your time, but in a time further in the future."
Appleton took that in, leaned back in the chair once more, and then stood. "I would like to believe you, Thomas. But I do not want that to cloud my judgement. We could settle this now, if you could show me indisputable proof."
Thomas smiled, thinly. "I am going to leave in that chair, in a few moments. I always like someone to witness my departures ... in case I do not return. I was waiting, actually, for another Club member, Mr. Cyril Charles, to serve today in that capacity. But you arrived. If you would be good enough, after I depart, to convey my apologies to Mr. Charles, I would be in your debt."
Appleton nodded his acceptance of the task.
"But it might not be safe to be in the same room with a chair that is departing -- or arriving," Thomas continued. "We're playing with powerful forces of nature here.... Might I suggest that you walk back down the spiral stairs, wait precisely a minute, and then come back up to the room? I'll leave the door unlocked for you. You'll confirm my successful departure when you see that the chair and I are no longer here."
Either a successful departure through time, Appleton thought, or you're some kind of damned clever magician....
But Appleton carefully backed his way down the narrow, spiraling ladder a few moments later. When he reached the bottom, he straightened his vest, took a deep breath, and started to count. He thought he heard a soft, penetrating "pop" somewhere overhead, like a bottle of wine uncorked. He reached sixty in his count, took another deep breath, and climbed back up. The trap door was still unlocked. Appleton entered the room.
It was indeed devoid of Thomas and the chair, but otherwise exactly as Appleton had just seen it. He walked to where the chair had been, got down on his hands and knees, and scrutinized the floor. As far as he could see, there was not the slightest indication that the chair had just been here. He ran his hand over the floor. Not even a difference in dust, though that was likely because the entire room was immaculate. He pulled out his magnifying glass. Fine print occasionally drove him to use it. His competitors had no regard for aging eyesight. He used it now to inspect the floor. Nothing unusual under this magnification, either. Perhaps a stronger lens would show more....
Appleton rose and looked around the room. He felt the way he did when he picked up a great manuscript for the first time. A Spencer, a Darwin, a Draper... He felt the swirl of the cosmos in this room... He felt in touch with profound significance...
Which proved nothing, of course. Yet that was his feeling, and it was irresistible...
He straightened his vest, again, then climbed down the spiral stairs a second time. He looked at his pocket watch and marveled at how much had happened here in so short a time. He put the watch back in his vest and walked back to the bar for that drink, after all--
Ah! And there was Cyril Charles, sitting at a table in the rear of the bar, with another, much younger, man. Appleton approached the table -- not sure, however, just what he would tell Mr. Charles, with this other man at the table. Maybe nothing. The young man was very well dressed. No, Appleton realized it was just that his clothes were brand new. Appleton smiled, Charles nodded, and--
Appleton, focusing on Charles, bumped into another member, approaching their table from the bar--
"Oh, excuse me--" Appleton said.
"Sorry, excuse me--" a familiar voice said.
Appleton turned. "My God -- Thomas--"
"Apologies for my clumsiness," Thomas O'Leary responded. "Would you join us?" His hand swe
pt to Charles and his young companion.
* * *
Appleton sat with the three men at the table. Though he had not yet even ordered his single-malt scotch, he was practically in a stupor -- he had just seen Thomas in that room upstairs, not ten minutes ago. Was there another exit that Thomas had not revealed? And how had Thomas managed to spirit that chair out of the room? "How--"
The bartender appeared with drinks. Clarets for Thomas and Mr. Charles, and a deep amber wine of some kind for the young man with the new clothes. "The usual, Mr. Appleton?" the bartender inquired.
"Oh, yes," Appleton managed.
"Very good, sir." The bartender turned away.
"You look a bit flummoxed," Charles said to Appleton. "Is everything all right?"
Thomas smiled at Appleton, brightly.
The young man sniffed his drink, and nodded.
"Why, yes, of course," Appleton said. There could be an explanation for this in the time travel, he realized, if time travel was indeed what was going on... "William Henry Appleton," he smiled, and extended his hand to the young man. "What's that you're drinking?"
"Oh, sorry, boorish of me," Charles said. "Should have introduced you. He is Greek, speaks little English, I'm afraid."
"That is date wine he is drinking," Thomas added, still all smiles. "The bar here is well stocked."
* * *
Appleton's thoughts raced. One thing he understood: he needed to be exceedingly cautious about what he said. If there was some kind of time-travel business afoot here, and he put his foot in his mouth, said the wrong thing--
"His name is Jonah Alexander," Thomas continued. "He will be visiting for the summer at the university. He arrived just this morning."
"New York University?" Appleton asked, because he knew it was safe to say. He knew Thomas was affiliated with that handsome terra-cotta building on Washington Square and Waverly.
Thomas nodded, and looked at Appleton with a twinkle, or something special, in his eyes. He knows that I know he teaches at New York University, Appleton realized, which means he knows that I am proceeding very carefully with this conversation.... That must be good.
The bartender returned with Appleton's drink. The publisher thanked him and stole a look at Jonah Alexander. He appeared to be about 25 years of age. Appleton could not decide if he was a graduate student or a young professor. Appleton also wondered about his name, which seemed as much Hebrew as Greek.
Appleton mustered his best Greek, smiled at Jonah, and said he was happy to meet him.
Jonah returned the smile. Then he said something Appleton could not understand.
"He speaks an older dialect," Thomas advised.
"Maybe we should confine ourselves to English," Charles harrumphed.
Thomas nodded, and said something to Jonah in Greek not fully comprehensible to Appleton.
Jonah regarded Appleton. "Yes," he said, in English, in a thick accent. He extended his hand and the publisher shook it.
"He is here to help with the new Socratic manuscript," Thomas said, and looked intently at Appleton. "I am glad we had the chance to talk about that, yesterday."
I will not tell him that I already told him about the telegram from Jowett, Appleton decided about Thomas at that moment. Whatever is happening here, Thomas is either pretending very hard that the two of us did not meet in this bar, under an hour ago, or this Thomas -- wherever he has come from in his travels in time -- in fact did not meet me here, and take me upstairs, and introduce me to the mysteries of that Chair. In either case, Appleton saw no overriding necessity to ask Thomas how he could have possibly forgotten about the telegram.
"Yes," Appleton said, unconsciously stroking his mustache. "It seems like a fascinating project.... I took the liberty of contacting Benjamin Jowett about it early this morning -- I trust that was not too bold of me--"
"Not at all," Thomas said, enthusiastically.
"Beat me to the punch," Charles said, a bit less so.
"Mr. Charles was going to put the manuscript in the post to Mr. Jowett," Thomas explained. "I have several more copies."
"Oh, well, please do so," Appleton said to Charles. "I just cabled a few excerpts to the Jowler, and I received a response -- here it is." Appleton produced the telegram -- the second time for him; whether likewise for Thomas, he could not tell.
Thomas looked it over, then at Jonah. Thomas spoke to Jonah, in his strange-sounding Greek. Jonah responded, at some length, in the same dialect.
"It's still mostly Greek to me," Charles said, barely smiling.
"I can translate," Thomas offered. "He said no one other than Socrates and Andros themselves can know with certainty if the events in the dialog really happened. Unless someone else actually witnessed the events. But people closer to the events -- in time -- might have a better way of judging than people far removed from the events."
"And he is an expert in Socrates and the Golden Age of Athens?" asked Appleton. He looked at Jonah and smiled apologetically. He felt uncomfortable referring to people in the third person when they were in his presence, even if they spoke little English.
Thomas translated to Jonah.
"No. Later," Jonah said, in English.
"His specialty is Hellenistic culture, about 150 AD," Thomas added.
"I see...," Appleton responded. He had a wild idea that perhaps Jonah's specialty was a very special kind of speciality indeed, a specialty that came of sitting in a chair that carried him from 150 AD to the present, but Appleton was getting to the point where he could no longer tell if he was reasoning well or imagining well. He confined himself to asking, "And was this manuscript known in Jonah Alexander's time -- the time he studies, I mean -- and lost thereafter?"
Thomas replied without asking Jonah. "Yes, perhaps so. That is what we are hoping Mr. Alexander will help us determine."
* * *
Thomas and Jonah excused themselves a few minutes later. "He is tired from his trip," Thomas explained. He turned to Jonah. "An afternoon nap might do him good."
Jonah apparently understood enough of that to respond. "The air..." -- he touched his chest -- "no good."
Well, certainly not as good as by the balmy Mediterranean, 1750 years ago, or any time, Appleton thought. "You have accommodations?" he asked Jonah and Thomas.
Thomas nodded. "He is staying with me, on the University's Mews, for the time being." He extended his hand to Charles and Appleton, and smiled, warmly. "Thank you, for everything, both of you. We shall be in touch."
Appleton watched the two leave. "Shall we have a light lunch, Mr. Charles?"
Charles smiled. "Must it be light?"
The two walked their drinks into the dining room.
"So, when did you first meet Jonah Alexander," Appleton asked, when the two were seated.
"Oh, couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen minutes before you appeared. The two were already at the table. They seemed surprised to see me -- odd, because Thomas and I had made an appointment yesterday to meet here today. But ... Thomas has not quite been himself recently. Likely because of that manuscript. Would you agree?"
Appleton's thoughts sped along a slightly different but connected path. First, if Thomas and the young man were at the bar down here at precisely the same time as Appleton had been with Thomas upstairs with the chair, that confirmed that there had to be some kind of impossible process involved, which could just as easily be time travel as any other marvel that overthrew the laws of nature. Only an archangel could be in more than one place at the same time -- which, the last time Appleton had looked, neither Thomas nor anyone in Appleton's acquaintance was....
But one way Thomas could be in two places at once was if there were two Thomases, from different points in time.... Appleton knew he had been upstairs with one Thomas -- Somber Thomas -- and the chair. But if Appleton's crazy idea that Jonah was a visitor from the past was correct, then that meant Jonah had to have arrived in the chair prior to Appleton and Somber Thomas's presence in the room at the to
p of the stairs. Had Jonah arrived in the chair that Thomas and Appleton had found in that room? But then, how did Happy Thomas -- the Thomas who had just left the bar with Jonah -- arrive here? Had he just walked in the front door of the Club, and risked bumping into Somber Thomas, right in front of the doorman? Or had he taken a journey through time, too, after his visit to Wave Hill yesterday? ... If so, where was his chair? Well, there was certainly space upstairs for more than one.... In any case, Happy Thomas and Jonah had to have come down the winding stairs before Somber Thomas and Appleton had gone up, if Happy Thomas and Jonah had indeed arrived here in that room.... There were plenty of out-of-the-way corners in the Club where they might have relaxed, prior to making their way to the bar....
Appleton realized with a start that Charles was looking at him. "It is a very complicated matter, this manuscript," Appleton replied. "What do you make of it?"
"The death of Socrates is one of the most important events in history," Charles said. "Every school boy knows about it. But it happened so long ago, we really know very little about it. Thomas's manuscript certainly could shed a whole new light on that tragedy." Charles shook his head, slowly. "But I don't know. The story it tells is so incredible -- travel from the future to the past! Can that possibly be?"
Appleton considered what to say next. Did Mr. Charles perhaps know about the chair upstairs, and was he testing him? Or was he as he seemed, as ignorant as Appleton had been about the chair, until this last hour, and the proof that the presence of the two Thomases now seemed to provide? "You say you and Thomas had an appointment to meet here today," Appleton said. "May I ask if you and he had set an agenda? I don't mean to pry, but it may help us understand."
Charles nodded. "To talk about the manuscript.... And, oh yes, Thomas mentioned something about showing me some piece of equipment."
Appleton sighed and decided. Thomas had not sworn him to secrecy. He would be betraying no confidence. In fact, to the contrary, Thomas had told him that he wanted Appleton to bear witness ... and Thomas had said he had intended to show the room with the chair to Mr. Charles today. "Shall we delay our lunch, for a bit?" Appleton asked. "There is something I should very much like to show you."
The Plot to Save Socrates (Sierra Waters Book 1) Page 8
