by Alex Scarrow
The thudding was suddenly so much louder, Caligula could hear what sounded like a voice shrieking and wailing like a man tormented by a thousand demons. He dropped to his knees behind the parapet, his eyes bulging with terror.
The giant thing, not alive, not any kind of animal, he sensed that now — some sort of vast flying chariot perhaps? — finally slid over the last stall and down on to the arena floor, whipping up swirling clouds of sand and dust.
A second one of these leviathans appeared over the top wall of the amphitheatre, glided down across the stalls, now empty except for the writhing bodies of the trampled and wounded, finally coming to rest beside the first. Both olive-green leviathans were hovering a man’s height off the ground, churning up storms of grit and sand into the thousands of terrified faces all around.
Finally the roaring wind sound began to drop in pitch and volume and both monsters settled gently on to the ground, the storm cloud of dust and sand settling around them. The deep booming thudding and the horrifying wailing continued, however, drowning out the hoarse screams of panic from all sides of the amphitheatre.
Caligula realized that beneath his imperial robes he had wet himself. Another childhood memory for him today.
Shame.
CHAPTER 21
AD 37, Amphitheatrum Statilii Tauri, Rome
Rashim could hear Stilson’s voice over the comms-channel, guffawing like a frat-boy with a hall-pass. ‘Just look at ’em!’
Dreyfuss was grinning too. Drinking in the spectacle of the arena.
The combat unit leading the platoon, Lieutenant Stern, barked some orders to his men and they dropped down from the hulls of both MCVs on to the hard sand, setting up an ordered circular perimeter, kneeling, weapons raised, around both vehicles with quick, well-practised efficiency.
‘Can we cut this wretched noise now?’ said Rashim. ‘I can’t help but think we’ve made our point!’
Forty feet away, standing on top of the weapons turret of his MCV, he saw Stilson nod slowly. ‘I guess these dumb suckers have heard enough AC/DC. Yeah, OK, you can cut it.’
Rashim ducked down inside and gestured for the unit manning the console to turn the music off. He flipped a switch… and all of a sudden they were engulfed with silence. Complete, hear-a-pin-drop silence.
Stilson’s voice quietly crackled over Rashim’s earpiece. ‘I think we got their attention, eh, Dr Anwar?’
Rashim nodded. Yes, I think you could probably say that.
‘Have we got that recording ready to go?’
Dreyfuss had worked with Stilson last night, taking the vice-president’s scribbled words and translating them into Latin then reading them aloud and recording it. He’d fussed and fretted for endless hours over the various versions of the recording, worrying about the precise pronunciation of the language. ‘No one knows for sure how some of these words were actually spoken!’ had been his repeated complaint. But he’d done it… eventually settling on one particular recording as the best he was ever going to get.
‘It’s good to go,’ said Dreyfuss over the comms-channel.
‘Then let’s play it!’ said Stilson, hopping down from the weapons turret, walking across the sloping hull of his vehicle and standing proudly on the front of it, hands on hips like some Shakespearian actor centre stage.
The complete silence was broken by the booming sound of Dreyfuss’s voice over the two vehicles’ synced PA system.
‘CITIZENS OF ROME! We come in peace!’
Rashim shook his head. Only a pompous idiot like Stilson would start with a line as cheesy as that.
‘We have come down from the heavens to be gods among mortals! We are here to show you new ways, to share our knowledge and our wisdom with you. We are here to educate this dark world, bring peace to every land and… prosperity to you!’
He looked at the crowd. The panicked stampede from the stalls had stopped and all around them, on the four sides of the Statilius Taurus, ten thousand faces stared in silence at Stilson… assuming the voice they could hear was his. The members of Project Exodus, crammed down inside the MCVs, began to emerge warily from a ramp at the rear of each vehicle.
‘We… are all gods in human form. We are all from the heavens, a place that we call… America. And we are here to bring you our way of living. The “American way”!’
CHAPTER 22
2001, Barnes amp; Noble, Union Square, New York
‘This is not the historical reference section, Liam.’
‘What? Uh…’ Liam looked up guiltily from the comicbook in his hands. ‘Oh hi, Bob, I wondered where you got to.’
‘I have been waiting in the historical reference section for twenty-nine minutes.’ Bob looked at the label at the top of the spinning carousel. ‘ Graphic novels? You will not find relevant or useful texts in this section. I have located the computer technology section at the — ’
‘You should have a look at these!’ Liam flicked through several pages. ‘I never really took any notice of the cartoons in the Cork papers. Thought they were for children, or fools who couldn’t read proper.’ He handed the comicbook to Bob. ‘But this…’ he said, grinning, ‘it’s properly amazing, so. Look at them pictures.’
Bob looked at the cover of the one Liam passed him. ‘ Judge Dredd?’
‘Aye. And the hero fella, this Dredd, he looks just like you: all muscles and chin and no bleedin’ smile. You could be his twin!’
Bob’s contemplative scowl remained as he scanned several pages. ‘You cannot see this character’s face. He is wearing a helmet.’
‘Hey, we could dress you up like that. Eh? Get you one of them big motor bicycles and you could ride round the city being all grumpy.’ Liam nudged him. ‘What do you think about that?’
Bob handed the comicbook back to him. ‘This is not relevant reading material.’
‘Well… we’re on strike, are we not? I fancy something a little bit more fun to read.’ He stuck the comicbook under his arm and flipped through a few more. ‘This stuff is all so fun… and look! This one’s got a big grumpy fella who dresses like a bat, so he does!’ Liam giggled. ‘I love it!’
‘This is not useful or relevant reading material.’
He pulled another one out and silently flipped through a dozen pages, grinning at the illustrations. ‘Ah now, will you look at this one. Right up your street, so it is.’
Bob looked at the cover. ‘ 2000AD: Robo-Hunter. ’ He shook his head disapprovingly. ‘It does not depict cybernetic technology accurately.’
‘Aw, come on, Bob. It’s just a bit of fun.’ Liam patted him. ‘I’m having this one as well.’ He looked up at Bob. ‘How much money have we got?’
‘Maddy gave us ninety dollars.’
Liam nodded. ‘Enough for another couple, do you think?’
‘Negative, Liam. You have enough money to purchase one more comicbook, if you still also wish to purchase a hot dog afterwards.’
They were out on 5th Avenue, ambling north in the general direction of Central Park. Hot dogs on the grass in the midday sun — that was the plan. A bit of ‘lads-together-time’ was Liam’s justification for blagging some petty cash from Maddy.
Liam was already eagerly leafing through the glossy coloured pages of Judge Dredd. ‘Ah, this Dredd fella’s such a cool customer, so he is.’
Bob strode along beside him thoughtfully. ‘Define cool customer.’
‘Well… he just seems so calm. See, look at his mouth. It’s always the same… not screaming or laughing or anything. Just like this.’ Liam pressed his lips together firmly into a passable approximation of humourless stoicism. ‘I wish I could be like that. Calm. Firm. You know? In charge of things. No fear.’
‘You are able to do many expressions with your face, Liam. Why would you want to limit yourself to only being able to do one?’
‘Well, I got a terrible feeling that I spent most of the last few months with me gob hangin’ open like a barn door.’
Which was probably true. It see
med if he wasn’t utterly confused by events going on around him, then he was busy being utterly terrified by them.
‘Mimicking human facial expressions is one thing I find difficult to do convincingly,’ said Bob. ‘Becks managed to be far more effective at this.’
‘Ah, but you see that’s part of your charm, Bob, being the surly ol’ lump that y’are.’
‘It is, however, one of my goals to appear more human than that.’
‘Goals?’ Liam looked up at him. ‘You actually have a personal goal?’
Bob nodded. ‘Affirmative. Between mission specifications there is the ongoing imperative to improve the efficacy of my on-board AI.’
‘Now see… when you said “goal”, you actually sounded a lot more like a human just then.’ Liam laughed. ‘Then you went and ruined it with all that mission specification nonsense.’
They walked in silence for a while. ‘May I ask you a question, Liam?’
‘Aye. Sure.’
‘Do you have… personal goals?’
He frowned. ‘Well, there’s a question and a half… hmmm.’ Since being snatched from certain death at the bottom of the Atlantic all those months ago it seemed his mind had been double-timing to catch up on events. To learn about this world of 2001; to learn about nearly a hundred years’ worth of twentieth-century history and technology. His mind had been so swamped with absorbing new information it seemed there was little time or space inside his skull for such petty things as… a personal goal, a wish, a hope. Even a comicbook.
‘For example,’ continued Bob, ‘would you like to return to your own time, Liam?’
Liam shook his head. ‘I got the job on the Titanic so’s I could escape home. Wanted to see the world, to visit America and all that.’
‘You have seen many things now, Liam.’
Liam laughed. ‘More than I bargained for, I’d say.’
‘So you currently have no goals in your mind?’
‘To stay in one piece, that’s a pretty important one for me.’
Bob nodded. ‘Affirmative. That is sensible.’
‘I’ll tell you one thing I wouldn’t mind, though, Bob.’
‘What is that, Liam?’
He stopped, stepped aside to let a pair of young women pushing double baby buggies pass by; both of them were yapping on their phones, taking the whole pavement between them, oblivious to the disgruntled pedestrians in their wake.
‘I wouldn’t mind going back to Nottingham.’ He smiled wistfully. If there was one abiding memory he was always going to treasure, it was waking up with the sun streaming into his bedchamber. Stepping out on to the balcony and surveying the city stirring to life; the smell of woodsmoke, the morning chorus of cockerels, the swooping of swallows around his keep… and knowing he was lord — albeit temporarily — of all that he surveyed.
‘That was a good time, wasn’t it? You and me in charge of things?’
Bob nodded. ‘We worked efficiently together.’
‘That we most certainly did.’
He gazed at the shop window beside him; a mobile-phone store, the window peppered with deals on call tariffs and unlimited texts.
‘Ahhh, yer eeejit!’
‘What is the matter, Liam?’
‘I forgot to turn me bleedin’ thingamajiggy on again.’ He fished deep into his trouser pocket for the mobile phone Maddy had issued him with. He was always forgetting to switch the infernal thing on. He was in for a moan from her if she’d tried his number without any luck. He fumbled with the tiny buttons and finally the small screen flickered to life.
Seven missed calls.
And all of them from her.
Oh, great.
He quickly dialled her number and she picked up on the first ring. ‘C’mon, Liam! What’s the point in you having a freakin’ phone if you never turn the thing on!’
‘Ahh… I’m sorry, Mads, really sorry. I was just — ’
‘Get home now!’
‘Why? What’s up?’
‘Just get back here now! We’ve got a problem!’
CHAPTER 23
2001, New York
‘It was some little kid’s Yankees baseball cap,’ said Maddy. ‘Wasn’t it?’
Sal nodded. ‘That NY logo on the front you see everywhere, it changed to a trident. Just changed in the blink of an eye.’
Liam lowered the shutter door. ‘So?’
‘And so, as any old dittobrain knows, the trident is the symbol for the Greek god, Poseidon. Right?’
‘Of course.’ Liam nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, I knew that.’
‘And that’s what I figured until we got back here and started doing some data-trawling,’ said Maddy. ‘Something to do with Greek gods. But then it was pretty clear this is a Roman thing. See, the trident also works for Neptune; that’s the Roman version of the Greek god, Poseidon.’
‘Hold on,’ said Liam, ‘it could be either, then, couldn’t it? A contamination from Roman or Greek times?’
Maddy shook her head. ‘No, this is definitely a Roman thing.’ She led him over towards the desk. ‘We’ve got us a doozy of a change right here. Computer-Bob flagged it up straight away.’ She sat down. ‘Bob, put up that list from our internal database.’
›Yes, Maddy.
A list of names and dates appeared on the screen in front of them.
‘Roman emperors,’ she said. ‘That’s the whole list. All the way through the Roman Empire.’ She turned to address the screen. ‘Bob, can you put up the list from our external source?’
Another list appeared on the screen next to the first.
‘Spot the difference,’ said Sal, taking a seat beside Maddy.
Liam spotted instantly. ‘It changes after the third fella.’
Caligula.
‘You got it,’ said Maddy. She pointed with a biro, running it down the screen. ‘The correct data says he should have been Caesar from Ad 37 to 41. That’s just four years. Now look at the external data — we’re drawing this from a database location at bibliotheca. universalis/libri. cldvi. See? We’ve got the Emperor Caligula ruling for nearly thirty years.’
‘Weird,’ said Sal, looking at the database address. ‘A Latin Internet.’
Liam squinted as he looked at the names on the screen. ‘And the names are all different after him too.’
‘Right.’ Maddy sat back in her chair. ‘So someone somewhere has just made sure Caligula stays in power for much longer than he’s meant to.’
‘There’d be a much bigger change now, though,’ said Liam. ‘Wouldn’t there?’
‘Well, sheesh, God knows what we’re going to get when the next ripple arrives.’
Sal tutted. ‘Someone’s just been very naughty in Roman times.’
Liam looked at them both. ‘So-o-o…?’
Maddy sighed and tossed the biro on to her cluttered desk. ‘So…’
They shared an uncomfortably long pause, a who’s-going-to-crack-first silence. The question hung in the air between them, not asked and not answered.
‘So,’ said Sal, ‘are we dealing with this, or are we still on strike?’
‘This is a significant contamination,’ rumbled Bob.
‘Yeah, thanks for that, Dr Brainiac,’ said Maddy. She huffed irritably. ‘It would just be so nice if this Waldstein guy actually — you know — bothered to acknowledge what we’re doing here. I want answers before I do another thing for this agency.’
‘Still heard nothing from that advert?’ asked Liam.
‘Not a thing. Nada. Zip.’
‘We cannot ignore this contamination,’ said Bob.
›Bob is correct.
Maddy cursed. ‘Great, now I got both of ’em nagging me.’
Liam shrugged. ‘I suppose I wouldn’t mind having a quick look at them Romans.’ He offered Maddy a conciliatory smile. ‘And maybe the Bobs are right?’
‘If Foster’s telling the truth, Maddy,’ Sal said quietly, ‘if we really are the only team…?’
‘But what
if we let it go?’ said Maddy. ‘Let this small timeline change work its way up to whatever year Waldstein is watching us from. Maybe that’ll make him take notice of us. Make him answer our questions.’
‘We cannot ignore this contamination,’ said Bob again.
She balled her fist on the table. A soft gasp of frustration deep in her throat.
Sal looked uncertainly at her. ‘There will be more changes coming soon, Maddy. You know how it goes.’
‘Aye… we ought to do something.’
Maddy turned in her chair to look at them. ‘Right.’ She nodded angrily. ‘Clearly I’m the one being the stupid idiot here. And clearly I’m not actually in charge of this team, then. It seems this is in fact a “decision-making committee” and apparently I’ve been outvoted. That about the size of it?’
Sal was right, though. That was the annoying thing. Liam was right too; even their dumb support unit and the networked computers were right. They couldn’t just do nothing; couldn’t just sit on their hands and ride this one out.
‘Crud. I just wanted to… to wait and see, you know? See if someone else might step in and help out.’ She tried sounding hopeful. ‘Maybe even force Waldstein to come back and pay us a visit. You never know.’
The silence was deafening.
‘All right. OK… I get it. All right.’ She pushed her chair back with a squeak of complaint from castor wheels forced across the pitted concrete. ‘I suppose we better start getting organized, then.’
‘What are they?’
‘They’re called babel-buds,’ said Maddy. ‘According to the packet they came in, everyone in the future uses them all the time.’
Liam looked down at them. They looked like flesh-coloured Smarties with a dimple on one side. Maddy opened a small Ziploc plastic bag and dropped two of them in. ‘I checked them. They support seventy-six languages, Latin among them. Just pop them in your ears when you arrive. There’s a spare in case you lose one.’ She looked at his shaggy hair. ‘And since your ears are lost under that mop, no one’s going to see them anyway.’
