The Thing Itself (35 page)

PETA

What?

CHARLES

Where is Roy? Can you track him?

PETA

He’s in Southampton. He hasn’t moved at all.

[CHARLES
sits down again
.
The storm has completely stopped.
]

CHARLES

I really thought I saw him. It all still feels screwy. Somehow. Screwy. I’d probably be able to agree with all the God stuff if it weren’t so, I don’t know. Hokey.

PETA

Hokey?

CHARLES

Religion, God – should be about awe. What you’re talking about, with Roy, is: what? Teleportation. Remote viewing. It’s all cheap science fiction. That’s not what religion is about, surely.

[
It is dead calm.
THE FERRY
is nearing its destination. Something is wrong, but neither
CHARLES
nor
PETA
have yet noticed.
]

PETA

You’ve never heard of the
al-’Isrā’ wal-Mi’rāj
?

CHARLES

Say?

PETA

In 620 the Prophet Mohammed travelled in one night from Mecca to ‘the furthest Mosque’, and back again. Tradition locates this mosque in Jerusalem. It’s one of the most important elements of Mohammed’s life, celebrated and revered in Islam.

CHARLES

Jerusalem’s north from Mecca, isn’t it?

PETA

Indeed. That’s an interesting point, though, isn’t it? Actually the Qu’ran says Mohammed also ascended into Heaven and spoke with God and the prophets. My point is that this kind of miraculous circumvention of spatiality is important to lots of religion.

[
Something is very wrong.
]

CHARLES

Jesus didn’t go teleporting about.

PETA

Didn’t he? After his crucifixion he appeared to many people at geographically disparate locales. He walks on water. But I think Jesus, unlike Mohammed, tended to manipulate the manifold with regard to other qualities – temporality, cause and effect, entropy. Raising the dead, for instance, is undoing the latter. Turning water to wine, altering substance and accident. Multiplying loaves – rejigging an object from singular to multiplicity. You could, if you wanted to, go through all Christ’s miracles and log the ways in which they might be accomplished by altering the parameters of the categories.

CHARLES

Jesus was an accomplished prestidigitator, no question.

[
The
SECOND PASSENGER,
a religiously devout Methodist, coughs, and looks at
CHARLES
severely. He is undelighted with
CHARLES
talking in such terms about his saviour, though too polite and British to rebuke him openly.
CHARLES
notices the
SECOND PASSENGER
for the first time.
]

CHARLES

Where did you come from?

SECOND PASSENGER

I boarded at North Berwick of course. I might ask
you
the same thing. I don’t recall you. Have you come up from your car? Drivers are supposed to remain with their vehicles.

PETA

Something is wrong. My timekeeping is too haywire. All to pot. Awry. Something have happened.

CHARLES

Something
has
happened. What happened?

PETA

Something have tangled time. Have. We have lost – weeks. It have.

TANNOY

We are now docking at Anstruther. Thank you for travelling with the East Scots Ferry Company.

CHARLES
[
to the
SECOND PASSENGER]

Please excuse the oddity of this question, sir. But what date is it?

SECOND PASSENGER

The second.

CHARLES

November?

SECOND PASSENGER

Of course not. What, last year? Are you drunk?

CHARLES

I apologise.

[CHARLES
leaves the cabin and goes on to the deck. Shafts of winter sunlight are diagonally illuminating the small harbour at Anstruther. The row of painted houses. One such shaft is pinned to the rising green-beige hills behind the little town. The air smells strongly of brine. The seagulls are crying with their nails-down-the-blackboard screech, like contemptuous car alarms. The waves cry and dash their foreheads against the stone jetty and the breakwater – like creatures possessed with obsessive-compulsion, like grieving creatures, being all one and the colours of blue-black bruises and black eyes and royal purple. Each individual wave in the harbour has hair turned white in dismay
. ROY CURTIUS
is standing on the dockside
.]

PETA

This is most disorientating.

CHARLES

I’ll call you back. [
He puts his device into his pocket.
]

10

The Last Three Days of the Time War

Possibility and Impossibility

First, the possible.

Adonais was browsing electrical goods when ruffians burst into the shop declaring that they would destroy any time machines inside. There was only one: a plastic device, no bigger than a dinner plate and as thick as a copy of
War and Peace
. This had been sat on a shelf gathering dust for goodness knows how long. Until, that is, the irregulars had come in yelling and waving their weapons: three of them, shouting excitedly. First they made the shop assistants kneel down with their hands cupping the napes of their necks. Then they’d shot the time machine full of holes, checked the stock room to ensure there were no more, grabbed a couple of iPad-17s for good measure, and ran out yelling anti-Ghost slogans.

After the attack there was a buzz in the air. The shop assistants cleared up, which didn’t take long, chattering excitedly. It died down soon enough. Adonais lingered. It crossed shis mind if si ought to just go home. Si wondered if si ought to feel more discombobulated: it had been an armed attack after all! But living through war makes a person blasé about such things. Si was aware of a distant sense of guarded excitement: no harm had been done, after all, except to the machine; and now si would have an interesting anecdote to tell shis friends later.

Quite apart from anything else, it would be rude to run off. So si helped the staff clear up the mess. There wasn’t much. The smartglass of the display window was a little singed, behind the broken time machine, but that would heal with time. The machine itself lay there, rather splendid in its ruin: like a baked brie, spilling white goo from its innards. Clearly beyond repair.

‘Hooligans,’ was the opinion of one of the three shop assistants. Nobody called them insurgents, and certainly nobody called them terrorists any more. The ‘war’ had never really been a war, in the traditional sense. Quite apart from anything else, everyone knew when it was going to end. Regular people knew because future visitors had told them. Even most anti-Ghosters accepted that there were no more than three more days to go.

‘Kids,’ Adonais said. ‘High spirits.’

‘They should be forcibly sent back to the Seventeen, Ghost
them
for a change,’ said one of the shop assistants. Since Ghosting was exactly what the irregulars were campaigning against, this didn’t seem to Adonais like a very logical punishment. The assistant was a hefty individual. Her name badge was a hologram of her own face with words spooling from her lips: ‘You wonnid the best and you godtha best: ALICIA!! How may I help
you
today?’ Adonais was surprised the manager permitted it. The text came out so far it looked like it might poke the customers in the eye.

‘A bit harsh, maybe,’ said Adonais.

‘They don’t know the first thing about the Ghosts,’ said the second assistant. ‘My brother-in-law is one. He still visits. Came for lunch last Sunday, in fact.’

‘Not to eat though, eh?’ said ALICIA!!

‘He stood in front of the telly, didn’t stop us watching.’ They both laughed. ‘My sister’s sad, of course. But their marriage was in trouble long before he went time travelling. Cause and effect, innit.’

‘Where shall I send my footage?’ Adonais asked politely. ‘I saw the whole thing, and my video feed is ultra high def.’

‘It’s not as if the police are going to do anything,’ was the third assistant’s opinion. ‘They never do. And this afternoon? Three days of the war left? For
get
it.’ Her tag was the girl from Harry Potter (Adonais couldn’t remember her name) saying ‘I’m VALZHA and I’m
here
to
help.
’

‘Boom boom this afternoon,’ said ALICIA!! ‘Don’t you know there’s a war on?’

That afternoon was the afternoon of the attack. Everybody knew it was coming. Well, not quite everyone: some made a point of insisting that nothing was determined and fixed. Maybe the future Ghosts were lying to them, they said. But so many other things had been accurately predicted, it required a particular stubbornness to stick to that view.

‘It’s not a
real
war,’ said Valzha. ‘Please excuse the inconvenience occasioned by those hooligans, sir.’ She looked Adonais up and down. ‘Madam, eh, sirmadam?’

‘No, thank you. Really, I’d be happy to upload my footage.’

ALICIA!!, looking bored, pinged her the folder and Adonais copied shis footage inside. The three attackers had worn false faces, of course, but maybe the police could pull some identifying factors from their clothes, or modes of moving. ‘Is it all right to … carry on shopping?’

‘Of course,’ said Valzah. ‘Please pay no mind to the disturbance. All our goods are available. Except the time machine. Were you shopping for a time machine?’

‘No,’ said Adonais.

‘They’re not very popular,’ Valzah agreed. ‘A new iPad? A thrinter?’

‘I need a new tablet,’ said Adonais.

‘Less than an hour to bye-bye financial district,’ said ALICIA!! ‘
If
you believe the Ghosts.’

‘Don’t you start,’ said the other assistant. Her tag said JO.

‘I’m not saying I
don’t
believe the Ghosts,’ said ALICIA!! defensively. ‘Least you can say is they’re right as often as they’re wrong. And anybody can be wrong. I could be wrong, wouldn’t make me a liar. It’s just – you know. Bloody do-gooders.’

‘Maybe it’s all a joke to them,’ said Valzah.

‘Public service,’ said Jo. ‘They deserve a medal.’

‘A translucent medal,’ said Valzah. She chuckled. She dragged her attention back to her customer. ‘What manner of tablet, sirmadam?’

‘My old one is an Asus Bio. I’m happy to go with the same model. And,’ Adonais added this latter part tentatively, because she wasn’t fond of confrontation, ‘I’d prefer no honorific.’

‘Say what?’ ALICIA!! responded absently, as she searched for a new Asus Bio from under her counter.

‘Quite apart from anything, sirmadam isn’t quite,’ said Adonais, hesitating. Si finished with ‘accurate’, but the word coincided with ALICIA!! sneezing loud enough to make the smartglass vibrate, and so the word was obscured.

‘Might I enquire what the problem is with your old slate?’ asked Jo. ‘If we are talking about a warranty upgrade, I might recommend …’

‘No, no,’ said Adonais. ‘It’s been out of warranty ages. The thing is, it has a crack in the screen that’s refusing to heal.’

‘Sounds like the nanobug has expired. We could replace the bug, but it would be as cheap to buy a new one.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ said Adonais.

‘Here you are, sirmadam,’ said ALICIA!!, turning towards Adonais so that her name tag swept round like a rapier and appeared to bisect shis chest. Adonais thanked the girl, played with the device for a little while. ‘The screen is good,’ si conceded. ‘A nice oily quality to the interface. I’ll take it.’

‘To carry out, sirmadam?’

‘I’d prefer it be sent,’ said Adonais, poking the delivery address and the payment coding into the shop’s secure folder. ‘And I’d prefer you called me friend.’

ALICIA!! peered at Adonais, as if seeing shim for the first time. ‘Come again?’

‘Instead of
sirmadam
, which I find stiff, and is not correct in any case.’

She smiled her shop-assistant smile. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Transaction all authorised, delivery before five this afternoon. Have a pleasant day, sirmadam.’

A little gush of annoyance went up through Adonais’s chest. Si half-contemplated cancelling the sale and taking shis custom elsewhere. But a sense of proportion returned. The three of them had just been the victims of an armed robbery after all. They were bound to be a little jangled, however blasé they appeared. And at that moment a police drone, like a giant snorting blue-bottle, started tapping at the glass door to be let in. So Si said shis goodbyes and stepped out.

Snow prettified the cityscape. It was the neatness of it; and neatness appealed to Adonais very much. The clarity of air from which all mist and moisture had been frozen out. Smooth duvets of snow lay over the flat roofs and clung neatly to the sloped ones. The miniature frustrations of the morning disappeared, and gladness swirled inside shim. The streets were almost deserted, of course. A significant portion of the city had vacated prior to the afternoon’s attacks. A few souls, doughty, or in denial, still made their way up and down. Adonais shimself was neither of those things. Si followed the news like anybody else, had pored over the schematics carefully, and was assured the imminent attack was to be concentrated somewhere quite other.

Still, best be indoors when it all happened. Si started for home, and was walking briskly along the road when a Ghost approached shim. ‘Very sorry to bother you,’ said the Ghost. ‘I’ve been telling everyone on this road. The direction you’re walking is a bad direction. There’s an attack coming – ten minutes, that building there.’ The Ghost raised a translucent arm, and pointed.

‘Good gracious!’ said Adonais. ‘I was just in a shop, and some terrorists wrecked the only time machine in stock. And— Are they behind this?’

The Ghost was a pleasant-faced man, middle-aged, wearing the nondescript trousers and smock of the future people. And, of course, his logo-free, dark-coloured backpack, in which he carried his supplies and time machine. Either fashion was very bland up then, or else people who opted to time travel deliberately chose low-key couture. Possibly to avoid startling the time-natives. ‘I don’t know about that, I’m afraid. That’s a little fine-grain for my historical brief. But you should know about the attack, I think.’

‘Yes, the news has been rather banging on about it. But I thought it was going to be missiles – attacking the financial district?’

‘That too. But
this
building,’ and again he pointed, ‘is I believe a greater danger. Because it is old, you see, and the glass in its many windows hasn’t been replaced with new glass.’

‘Oh!’

‘It was built in the 1980s. It isn’t the most structurally sound.’

‘A proper military style attack!’ boggled Adonais. ‘Well, we’d better get going. Will you stay here, to warn others? Or come along with me?’

‘Would you mind if I accompany you?’ the Ghost said. ‘I don’t wish to impose.

‘I had no idea this portion of the city was to be targeted!’ Si ducked shis head and smiled. ‘I would certainly not have come this way at all if I’d realised.’

‘I know some travellers have been spreading disinformation,’ said the Ghost. ‘I’m sorry to say it, and can only apologise for my fellow travellers.’

‘Why
do
they do that?’ Adonais asked.

‘There’s a not-very coherent philosophy behind it, I believe,’ said the Ghost. ‘To do with reinserting uncertainty into the timeline. But it’s junk. It’s nonsense. Gracious!’ he added, consulting his watch. ‘We really have to move away from the target.’

They started back up the street, Adonais casting occasional Lot’s-wife glances over shis shoulder at the building. It looked deserted: an ugly twentieth-century box of metal and glass with a Mondrian pattern of green, yellow and red lines across its main façade.

‘Attar,’ said the Ghost.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘My name.’

‘Oh I see! I’m Adonais. When are you from, Attar?’

‘Twenty sixty-nine,’ he replied. ‘And thank you kindly for asking.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Adonais replied, pleased at his courtesy.

‘And thank
you
,’ the Ghost added, ‘for not immediately trying to
touch
me. You’ve no idea how tiresome that becomes.’

‘Adonais,’ si said. ‘It’s my whole name. I shan’t offer you my hand to shake, after what you’ve just said.’

‘Wonderful to meet you, Adonais,’ said Attar. ‘And I don’t in the least mind shaking your hand. If you’re sure it won’t freak you out?’

Si smiled, and they shook. It was the first time that Adonais had ever physically touched a Ghost, and it was exactly as si had read about and seen on the TV: a weirdly fluid, slightly chilly contact. Si knew that, if si pushed, si could force shis hand right through his half-present, half-absent limb. But that would be rude, and he was enough
there
for shim to be able to act as if this were a perfectly ordinary handshake.

‘So can you tell me when I’m going to die?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know that,’ said the Ghost. ‘Though if you’re too close to that building when the drones attack, there’s a chance it could be this afternoon.’

Si laughed at this. There was something very charming about this particular future-man. It had to do with his courtesy, of course; and the patent fact of his being ready to sacrifice himself to time travel to warn people like shim – people from before he was even born, judging by his evident youth – away from danger. But it was also the arrangement of his features. Was it shallow of shim to be attracted to something so transient? If so, then so. Perhaps the literal transience of his out-of-time-ness layered just the right piquancy of pathos over his more obvious charms. It was all, si reminded shimself, irrelevant. Still, it was pleasant to daydream.

‘Cause and effect,’ said Attar. ‘Some, up in my time, wonder if the military attack on the city was
enabled
by so many people having vacated the space. The question is: were the city fully populous, maybe the attack would be called off?’

‘I think that unlikely,’ Adonais replied. ‘We know the war will be over in three days. I mean, the anti-Ghosters sometimes claim they
don’t
believe that, that the future is unwritten and so on. But, really: that’s all rhetoric. Surely they
know
. So the attack is not a standard strategic assault, hoping to tip an uncertain balance one way or the other. It’s pure show.’