by Alex Scarrow
‘Net?’
Maddy shook her head. Of course, back in 1994 they called it the Web. A different language for the technology they took for granted in 2010. ‘You posted on the university’s public forum that you’d decoded a complete sentence of the …’ She forgot the name of the thing.
‘The Voynich Manuscript,’ said Becks, helping her out.
He nodded his head vigorously. ‘Yes … yes. I did! That’s what, that’s exactly what I was instructed to do. I – I did exactly what I was told. I did what –’
‘Told? Told? By who?’
Adam looked from Maddy to Becks, then back again, completely bewildered. ‘By you? … I was kind of thinking you’re involved?’
‘Not me.’ Maddy shook her head. ‘I never heard of the Voynich Manuscript until last night.’
Adam still appeared completely on edge and wary of them both. ‘Never heard of it?’
‘Nope.’
He licked dry lips. ‘So you can’t be the one. You can’t tell me why my name’s in the –’
Maddy raised her hands to calm him down. ‘I know about Pandora, Adam. I know that much.’
He regarded her suspiciously.
‘You’re involved … us too, in whatever this means. I’m just trying to make some sense of it. I need to know what it means too. Please,’ she said softly, ‘please … why don’t you tell me about this Voynich document?’
His eyes flickered uncertainly from her to Becks.
‘Please?’ She spread her hands in a disarming way. ‘Then maybe the three of us can figure this out together? Huh?’
‘Yeah, sure.’ He seemed relieved at the suggestion, relieved to have somebody else to share what he knew.
As an afterthought he nodded towards a stool and a beanbag. ‘Want to sit down?’
Maddy smiled. ‘Thanks.’ She unzipped her anorak and laid it on the bed and gestured to Becks to settle down on the beanbag. She was going to look less intimidating that way than standing over them both like a guard dog.
‘So?’ Maddy looked at Adam expectantly.
He sat down on the end of his bed. ‘It’s the ultimate challenge for code-breakers,’ he started. ‘It’s a several-hundred-pages-long document that’s been carbon-dated back to the twelfth century and the entire volume is written in a completely unknown language. I mean the whole thing … is a bunch of characters and glyphs that have never been used in any other written form.’
Adam’s ragged nerves seemed to be settling a little. ‘People have been trying to decipher this thing since the seventeenth century when it was first discovered. It’s been floating around from one archived library to another. Spent a hundred years or so in the papal library in Rome until the Jesuit order desperately needed some cash and flogged off a whole section of their library in 1912. It was a job-lot bought by a trader in old manuscripts called Wilfrid Voynich. He found it buried among crates of old papal paperwork. He had it for a while, and tried selling it on to various collectors. He realized there was something very special about it. He never did manage to sell it, though.’
‘What happened to it?’
‘He died in 1930, left it to his wife. She died in 1960 and left it to a friend who sold it to another dealer, a bloke called Hans Kraus. Like Voynich, he took it around a bunch of collectors hoping to make some money, but no one took it. Eventually Kraus donated it to Yale University in 1969.’ He opened a bottle of flat, weak Pepsi and took a gulp. ‘And that’s when it became public domain. And ever since then code-breakers, linguistic hackers have all been having a go at it.’ He offered the Pepsi to Maddy. She nodded and took a polite sip.
‘It really is the most incredible coded document in history,’ he continued. ‘No one – I mean no one – has managed to extract even a single meaningful sentence from it, not even a single word.’
‘Until you did.’
He nodded. ‘Until I managed to decipher that, uhh … that bit, yeah.’
‘Information,’ said Becks. ‘Adam Lewis is exhibiting behavioural stress indicators. He is concealing truth from you, Maddy.’
Adam looked at her, suspiciously. ‘Are you two some sort of secret-service types?’
Maddy laughed. ‘God, no!’ She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Becks here is pretty paranoid. She’s good at spotting things like this. So … is she right? Is there something you’re not telling me, Adam?’
‘I …’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a fisherman’s float. ‘OK … all right, I – I deciphered a little more than the sentences I made public.’
‘How much more?’
He looked up uncertainly at Maddy. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’
Maddy shook her head. ‘I can’t help you make sense of this unless you tell us what you’ve got, Adam.’ She looked at him, then around the room. Clearly the poor young man had been holed up in here for too many days. Presumably too frightened to step outside. ‘You want someone to share this with, don’t you?’
His head nodded vigorously. ‘I … yes. Actually, I’m totally freaked. This is seriously hardcore. I … yes. Jesus, tell me you can make sense of this stuff, tell me!’
‘We’ll do our best, Adam. Just let me know what you decoded.’
He licked his lips again, took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. ‘All right, then … OK, this is how it goes.’ He took another slurp from the two-litre bottle of Pepsi.
‘You must make public the last part of this message, Adam Lewis, and I promise you someone will come and explain everything. When she comes, it is important you tell her this: “Seek Cabot at Kirklees in 1194”. Do not reveal any more of this message to anyone else. The last part now follows. Pandora is the word. The word leads to truth. Fellow traveller, time to come and find it.’
‘That’s all of it?’
He nodded.
Maddy turned to Becks. ‘What do you think?’
‘At this time I can offer no data.’
Adam stood up. ‘I really have to go pee. You’re gonna stick around, right?’
Maddy nodded and watched him tiptoe across the messy floor and open the door to an equally grubby bathroom. She waited until she heard the door lock click before turning to Becks. ‘My God, Becks – this Voynich Manuscript, it’s a drop-point document! It has to be! It’s got to be another team, do you think?’
Becks’s eyes fluttered – processing going on inside. ‘This is possible. It is also possible this is a document that will be used at a later date by your team.’
Maddy shook her head. ‘No, there’s no way I’d use it now. Because it’s … look, now I know it’s been decoded by some teen hacker, I certainly wouldn’t allow Liam to use it to talk through time to us. Not now we know it’s compromised, that it’s been hacked. And I’ll tell Liam when we get back, of course. So, look, whatever happens in the future, we know we can’t use it. Therefore it has to be someone else.’
Becks nodded. ‘A logical argument.’
‘What we’ve got to do is get back home to 2001. Then I’ll send a warning message into the future, to 2056. I’ll send a warning that the Voynich Manuscript isn’t safe for any other teams to be using.’
Becks nodded approval.
There was the sound of a flushing toilet, and a moment later the lock clacked and Adam emerged. Maddy hastily picked up her anorak from his bed. ‘Adam,’ she said, ‘we have to leave. We’ve got a … got a train to catch.’
His jaw dropped open. ‘But – but … you said …’
‘We can’t stay, I’m really sorry.’
‘But I need someone else. I need someone to explain what this means!’
Maddy shook her head. ‘Sorry.’ She pointed at the door and Becks reached to open it.
‘Please don’t go! I – I’m completely freaked here! Who wrote that message? Why was it me that deciphered it? Why me?’ Adam grabbed at her arm, holding it tight.
‘I don’t know, Adam. But, look, we have to go. When I know what this all means, I’ll come back, OK? I’ll come b
ack and tell you! I promise!’
‘Please! Don’t go!’ His grasp was tightening. Hurting her.
Becks noticed and with one swift movement she grabbed one of his fingers and twisted it savagely back. He screamed with pain and released his grip.
‘Ahhh! Jesus! It’s broken!’
Maddy winced. ‘I’m really sorry, Adam … We’ll be back, I promise.’ She stumbled out of the open door and into the hall, down the noisy wooden steps and past the young man who’d answered the door. ‘Everything OK, girls?’ he asked as they swept through the hallway towards the front door.
‘Fine,’ said Maddy hastily.
He reached out an arm in front of Becks, blocking her way. ‘Sure you don’t wanna stay and share a few beers with me and the lads?’ Lance offered her his most charming smile, the one that never let him down. ‘We could part-eee, sweetheart.’
Her cold grey eyes locked on him – calmly assessing what level of force would be appropriate to remove the obstruction from her path – but Maddy stepped in and casually pushed his arm out of her way. ‘I really wouldn’t recommend doing that – she’s, uh … she can get quite tetchy.’
CHAPTER 11
2001, New York
Liam’s stomach was groaning from the burden of consuming a dozen pancakes glistening with maple syrup. He belched so loudly it made Sal jump.
‘Shadd-yah, you are too gross!’
‘Sorry,’ he uttered shamefaced as he sat down in front of the computer screen. ‘Hello, Bob.’
> Hello, Liam, did you enjoy a good breakfast?
‘I did, thank you. Although I’m feelin’ as sick as a butcher’s dog.’
> Information: I have two notifications for you. The displacement machine is fully charged and ready to activate the return portal. Also, the support unit in growth-cycle is now ready to be ejected.
‘Thanks, Bob. Looks like you’re going to be walking around with the living again soon enough.’
> I am very pleased. I enjoyed working with you in the past, Liam O’Connor.
‘And me with you. Be good to have another man about the place, so it will. It’s gettin’ all frilly and girlie in this place.’
> I do not understand. Please explain ‘frilly and girlie’.
‘Just a turn of phrase, Bob.’ He turned to Sal, pulling a face at her.
‘Well, I’m not frilly and girlie,’ she huffed.
Liam chuckled. ‘All right, Bob, which should we do first? Bring back the ladies or toss the new clone out of his tube?’
> Recommendation: I suggest activating the return portal first.
‘Right you are. Let’s get a wiggle on and do that, then.’
CHAPTER 12
1994, UEA campus, Norwich
Maddy checked her watch: they had a few minutes to spare before the portal was due to open. The return coordinates were outside, beside a service entrance behind the university’s pool building. It was gone 2 a.m. and the hustle of life after dark on the campus had died down to the snuffling of a fox going through bags of rubbish nearby and the far-off wail of a police siren.
‘Becks?’
‘Yes.’
‘I need to discuss something. It’s something that –’ She frowned as she tried to find the right words. ‘It’s something I’ve been keeping from the other two, because … well, because I have to. But I need someone else to talk to about it. It’s driving me nuts.’
‘You wish to talk to me confidentially?’
‘Yes … but I know everything I say to you becomes data. Everything you see, hear, becomes data that’s available to the others.’
‘I can partition my hard drive and create a folder that is accessible only after a certain code word is used. Data that is acquired while the partition is open will be stored there. The partition can be closed again and access-locked with the use of the same or a different code word.’
‘Do you mean everything you hear, see …? If we were to have a conversation while this partition is open, the memory of it would remain in there? Would remain a secret?’
‘That is correct. My normal functioning AI would also not be aware of those memories until you activated them with the code word.’
Maddy understood. It would almost be as if Becks was operating as a schizophrenic: a person with a multiple-personality disorder, unaware of the actions of the other personality. A little bit weird, to be honest. But she needed someone to help her make sense of things, someone to help her connect the dots. Something was going on out there, someone wanted her to know something … just her.
‘Do that, please, Becks: set up your separate partition.’
‘Affirmative.’
Becks’s eyes blinked rapidly, her cool emotionless gaze lost and far away for a moment.
‘Information: partitioned drive ready. Please provide an access code.’
‘What – anything? Any word?’
‘Recommendation: three words one after the other that would not normally appear next to each other in sequence during a normal conversation. This would provide adequately strong security.’
‘What, like … banana – alien – jigsaw?’
‘Correct. Is this your code-word sequence?’
‘No, hang on. I’d forget that. Let me think.’ She rubbed at her chin thoughtfully as the police siren faded, leaving the night still, quiet.
‘OK, this’ll do: iPad – Caveman – Breakfast.’
‘This is your code-word sequence?’
‘Yes.’
Becks blinked again. ‘Security measure activated. The partition is open.’ She turned slowly to look at Maddy. ‘I am listening, Maddy.’
‘OK.’ Maddy puffed a breath. ‘OK … this is what I’ve been keeping from Liam and Sal. When we went to get some new clone foetuses, back before that whole dinosaur mess – before you were grown, Becks – we got the foetuses from the San Francisco drop point, the one based in 1906. There was this secure deposit box where we found a crate of refrigerated embryos. But also there was this note … all scribbled, like somebody had tried to sneak it in real quick. It was a message addressed to me, for my eyes only. Liam didn’t see it. So it’s just me knows about it.’
Becks nodded. ‘Do you wish to tell me what the message was?’
‘You promise me this is all secret?’
She nodded. ‘It is password protected. When you have finished discussing the matter with me and speak the code-word sequence, my normal AI will only be aware that a duration of time has passed without sensory data being collected.’
‘Right. OK. Well, this was what the note said: Maddy, look out for “Pandora”, we’re running out of time. Be safe and tell no one.’
Becks nodded and looked at her. ‘This is why you instructed Liam not to come along on this mission?’
‘That’s right. And … obviously, when I saw the phrase this Adam guy decoded and posted publicly, it contained the word Pandora.’ She bit her lip for a moment. ‘My God, Becks … I can only think it’s someone trying to contact me through this Voynich thing?’
‘The Voynich Manuscript is approximately nine hundred years old.’
‘I know! I know! That’s what’s so creepy! Somebody nearly a thousand years ago wants to talk to me! Why?’
‘I have no data to answer that.’
‘And what was that weird stuff Adam said he had to tell me?’
‘Seek Cabot at Kirklees in 1194.’
‘What’s a Cabot? Or who?’
‘I have no data at this time.’
‘We have to go back there, Becks. If “1194” is a year! We’ve got to go back to that time and find out what Pandora means, what it refers to. And why it’s me – me, of all people, who needs to know.’
‘That would seem the logical next step.’ Becks raised a hand. ‘I am detecting tachyon particles.’
Maddy looked at her watch. They’d run out of time to talk this through; the portal was moments away from arriving. ‘Becks, can we talk about this again?’
�
�Affirmative. You should close the partition with the code-word sequence now. When you wish to resume this conversation, repeat the sequence to open my drive.’
‘OK. Here it is, then: iPad – Caveman – Breakfast.’
Becks blinked rapidly several times, then her head cocked on one side, curious. ‘I appear to have two minutes thirty-two seconds of unlogged time.’ She turned to Maddy. ‘Did I malfunction in any way?’
The air in front of them pulsed, stirring plastic bags and newspapers into chasing each other in the dark. Ahead she could see the shimmering forms of their colleagues: Sal waving, Liam doing bunny ears behind her head.
‘No, you’ve been just fine, Becks. Perfectly fine. Let’s go home, shall we?’
CHAPTER 13
1994, Norwich
Adam’s hand throbbed. The tall girl with the surprisingly strong grip hadn’t in fact broken his finger, just stretched the tendons in his hand. Not broken, but still incredibly painful. Under normal circumstances it would have been painful enough for him to take himself to the campus walk-in surgery for a splint or icepack and some serious painkillers, but he was distracted enough that the throbbing in his finger was, for the moment, ignorable.
It can’t be. That’s what his mind was muttering to itself. It just can’t be.
‘What we’ve got to do is get back home to 2001.’ That’s what the girl with the glasses had said while he’d stood in the bathroom, holding his breath and listening to them. ‘Then I’ll send a warning message into the future, to 2056.’
He’d nearly laughed out loud at that. If he had, it would have been the shrill humourless laugh of someone losing their mind. Because this – the stuff they were saying – it was plain crazy, right? Because … because 2001 was seven years from now. 2001 was the future.
Mission Control to Adam, his mind chastised him, are you about to tell yourself that they’re time travellers? Is that it? Have you really gone that insane?
