5 comments/ 11615 views/ 3 favorites Tempus Frangit Ch. 01 By: The Wanderer By The Wanderer, (writing as Misnomer Jones) For those British readers who recognise the title from somewhere in your youth, welcome friend. Hail the mighty Eagle! The inspiration for this tale came from "Time Out" a short story written a long time ago by my favourite author John Wyndham. It was John Wyndham's works that opened my eyes to the written word when I was but a child. Very soon after I found my first tale of his, I was reading anything and everything he had written that I could lay my hands on, under various pen names. The beginning of my tale here lifts some of John Wyndham's "Time Out" plot and plot devices; but is much longer and ends somewhat differently. Where "Time Out" was a short story, "Tempus Frangit" is more of a novella. Maybe I should also point out, although the setting for the yarn's start is way back in the 1980s, the story it is being related to the reader many years later. Clarification:- Jacksie = a persons bottom. Curtilage = the area of land attached to a house and forming one enclosure with it. Pleb = member of the lower social classes. In southern England, the "English Channel" or "Le Manche" (as our French neighbours prefer to refer to it) is generally referred to simply as "The Channel". The "Bristol Channel" divides the South-Western Peninsula of England from Wales. Tempus Frangit Capitulus I Suddenly, I was struggling into consciousness. I'm not one to wake quickly at the best of times. All I was aware of, was, that something had stirred me. I had no idea of exactly what; just that something had disturbed my slumber. Then I became aware of my wife's voice from beside me -- I do believe possibly accompanied by an elbow jabbed in my ribs -- demanding, "What?" "What?" I echoed in return. "Well, really!" Sylvia added. Still not fully awake, I had no idea of what was going on, or why Sylvia had woken me. It certainly wasn't for any... er fun and games. We were way past that stage in our... er relationship. You know, for Sylvia to wake me at all times of the day or night just to tell me, or prove that she still loved me. Or, because she was overcome by the sudden urgent need to... Yeah, lets leave that subject, shall we? Sylvia and I had been married for about ten years by then, and the "youthful exuberance" had long left our marriage bed. Where was I? Oh yes, I was just struggling back into full consciousness, wasn't I? Hey yeah, you have no idea what an apt question that is going to turn out to be. Christ, stop wandering all over the place, George, and get on with the story, or we'll be here all bloody night. "What do you want?" Sylvia demanded. Right, there I was, lying in the pitch dark -- the moon was not due to rise until just before dawn that night -- trying to come to terms with the fact that Sylvia had woken me to demand that I explain why I had woken her up. Yeah well, that was about the gist of the situation, I think. "Sylvia, I didn't wake you!" "You did!" "No I didn't; you just woke me!" "You must have... Well, something woke me, it must have been you! Didn't you just go to the bathroom?" "No, Sylvia. I'm not at the age where I have to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night, just yet!" "You did last Friday night." "So did you, Sylvia. And I believe that had more to do with whatever we were eating at the Drury's party, than the quantity of alcohol we had consumed. I hate all that foreign food they dish up." "Yes, very iffy wasn't it. I wonder if any of the other guests had the midnight runs?" "Not something I care to discuss in the middle of the night, Sylvia. Now, why did you wake me?" "I didn't, but something woke me. The bed shook, or there was a loud noise... or something. Do you think we've got burglars?" "Sylvia, we live in the middle of bloody nowhere. Unless you think one of the holidaymakers is going to come all this way, just to rob the people across the road. How would a burglar find his way here anyway? Besides we've got sod-all worth stealing." "There's the car... and the TV." "The car's only got three wheels on it, Sylvia! You know that Doug and I didn't finish fitting the new brake calliper, because of the rain yesterday afternoon. And who the hell would want that bleeding old telly of ours. 'bout time we bought one of those Trinitron do-what's-its anyway; they're supposed to be much smaller for the size of the screen. Besides, it would take two people to carry the bugger we've got at the minute." "Well, you wanted the big screen TV in the first place; I hardly ever watch it." "No, only every damned soap opera that is ever on, and all the damned repeats." "Well, I have to..." "Yes, Sylvia, and I'm not complaining about what you watch on the television. But can I get back to sleep now, please? I have to get the car finished tomorrow so that I can get to work on Monday." "Well, no. Something woke me and if it wasn't you..." "It was probably distant thunder, Sylvia. It was very close last evening... still is actually. Those rain clouds probably developed into a thunderstorm inland somewhere." "Or, I suppose it might have been Concorde, of course." Sylvia ventured. "Sylvia, Concorde, doesn't make sonic booms around here at this time of night. It flies down the Bristol Channel during the afternoon." "And around seven-thirty." "No I think that's the French one flying down the Channel and we only heard that one when the wind was in the right direction. Anyway, take my word for it, Concorde does not make its sonic booms at this time in of night... or should I say morning? What woke you was possibly distant thunder. Now can we please get back to sleep; it's..." I was going to tell my wife what time it was, but when I looked, I saw that the bedside alarm clock was repeatedly flashing 12.00 back at me. That gave me two pieces of information. Firstly, that there had been a power cut, a not unusual occurrence out in the sticks, where we lived. And secondly, that the damned back-up battery in the clock had run down, again. I reached over to switch my bedside light on, and it took a few milliseconds to reach full brightness. "Bugger," I thought, "the power is still off; we're running on back-up power. ----- At this point, I suppose I should explain here that we lived in an isolated coastal community, some way off the beaten track. Our mains power had the habit of failing, but our cottage still retained a complicated -- and somewhat old -- Lister generator and battery back-up system from way back before mains power had even been laid on to the locality. Mind you it might have been an old system but it was an efficient system too, that had been adapted so that when our mains power did fail, it cut in and supplied just enough power to run a couple of light bulbs from the batteries. And then, it automatically started the generator, if and when anything requiring more power was switched-on. Well, it was better than nothing, when the frequent South-Westerlys that roar in off the Atlantic Ocean, took down the overhead power lines during the winter. As I said, a pretty frequent occurrence. Community, did I say? That's a misnomer if ever I heard one. Maybe I should have said, it had once been a community, or small hamlet at one time. However, just after Sylvia and I had purchased our beautiful little cottage, the whole damned place was condemned to suffer from what is euphemistically known as "Planner's Blight!" The powers that be -- far away in London -- had announced that our little bit of coastline was the perfect spot to site a nice new efficient nuclear power station, along with an offshore wind-farm and possibly wave-energy installations to boot. Early in the environmentally sustainable energy frenzy they were covering all the bases by talking about such things. But as politicians are wont to do, just talking, nothing in the way of actual actions appeared to be happening. Net result, the equity in our lovely, and rather expensive, little old cottage all-but evaporated overnight. No one, and I mean absolutely no one, relished the thought of buying a house next door to a proposed, possibly (no matter how vaguely) nuclear power station construction site. Especially when the beautiful sea views were more than likely going to be scarred by giant wind turbines. God alone knew what the suggested wave energy installations were going to look like. So, because no one wanted to buy houses locally, they no longer had value on the open market. Well not the kind of value we, and the other householders, had ploughed into the buggers anyway. Of course the power station was only a proposal. It might never get built. So until it was decided whether the thing was actually going to be built or not, there would be no compensation for any of the homeowners in our little hamlet. No compensation and nobody interested in buying the houses either, because no bugger had any idea how much compensation the government would pay, or even when. That ball was apparently in the Treasury's court, and everyone knows what those tight-fisted ars... No, lets leave it there, shall we? Me, politicians and civil servants, we don't go together well. The point I was trying to make is that spending serious money, upgrading our houses was a definite no no; so for the last eight years we'd been kind-a patching things up on an ad hoc basis. Our unique power system worked, and that was all that was really important. ----- "The mains power is out, Sylvia. It must have been a clap of thunder from a lighting-strike, that woke you. Go back to sleep. I'm sure it will be back on by the morning." "Humph!" she replied, turned over and went back to sleep. I switched the off bedside light again. Pondered for a moment why it was apparently so dark that night, and then remembered that the moon wasn't due to rise until just before dawn, I also concluded that the clouds were blocking every trace of starlight; then I went back to sleep myself. ----- I knew something was odd the moment I struggled to open my eyes the following morning. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what at the time, but I now realise that the daylight streaming in through the bedroom window was somewhat brighter than I'd expected. On reflection, our bedroom was much lighter than it had ever been before; but I had just awoken, all I really noticed was that the daylight seemed bloody bright. Screwing up my eyes some, I slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom, taking a glance at the sky through the window as I went. I was hoping for good weather that day so that I could get the car's brakes finished. Yeah, and maybe get in a bit of surfing later. Actually I got halfway through the bathroom door, before what I had seen through the bedroom window fully registered in my brain. I sort-of stopped in my tracks, and then took a few paces backwards, so that I could see the view once again. Yep, that's what I'd seen all right; a clear pale blue sky, running down to the horizon where it met the blue-green sea. In the foreground was the long sweeping beach in the cove below. I have no idea how long I stood there -- rooted to the spot -- staring at the view. "What are you doing; are you going to use the loo? I want to get in there." I suppose my climbing out of bed, had woken Sylvia. I didn't reply, I was effectively struck -dumb by the scene before me. I think I just raised my arm and pointed out of the window. Sylvia struggled out of bed herself and began to walk towards me. Asking, "What are you staring at?" and "Is the power back on yet?" as she did so. But when Sylvia's eyes saw what my eyes could see through the window, she stopped and gasped. "Oh my God, where's..." and then she fell silent. ---- Now I'll have to explain to you why we both found the view from our bedroom window that morning so surprising. Well, I've told you... well, mentioned it anyway, those winter gales that blow in from the Atlantic. Our cottage sat on the gentle slope of a hill; that side of the cottage facing almost due west. At the bottom of the hill sits most of the rest of the village -- or hamlet, I really think it should be called -- only ten houses in all. Beyond them was the cove with its slipway that the fishermen used to use. At one time the hamlet had been a fishing community, but there were no professional fishermen left in the village. In the years since the plan for the Power Station had been announced, most of the former residents had moved out, and turned their onetime homes over to holiday lets. It was a way of making as much cash as possible out of the houses until the "powers that be" either built the bloody power station, when they would be able claim compensation; or abandoned the plan completely, when they'd possibly sell, or move back in. From our bedroom window, usually, we could not see the village below, or the shoreline at all in fact. Many years before we'd bought the cottage, trees had been planted along the garden boundary to shield it from those vicious winter south-westerlys, I mentioned. But that morning, those trees were not there. Neither was the fence that just a few hours before had stood at the end of our garden. Nor the other houses down in lower part of the valley, nor the hedgerows, nor anything else, that should have been there. Three quarters of the way along our rear garden path... the garden just stopped. Everything stopped, path, lawn, flowerbeds, side fences... everything! It was as if someone had come along with a giant bulldozer and obliterated it all during the night, and then replaced it all with... well, a sort-of stunted very dry looking prairie grass. There was not even a hint of the stone jetty and its associated slipway, that crossed the beach to the sea. And what's more, the beach looked far wider than I remembered. "I don't think this is very funny, George!" Sylvia eventually commented. Her tone implying that I had something to do with the sudden change of the environment. Regretfully that was my wife's wont. If something went wrong -- or was not as it should be -- then surely George -- that's me by the way -- must have had something to do with it. "Neither do I, Sylvia!" I replied. "But how?" she asked. "Buggered if I know, kiddo. It must be a bloody dream!" A reasonable and logical assumption, I thought. "Don't talk nonsense George! We both can't be having the same dream." "That, I will grant you, Sylvia. But you could be a vision in my dream, or alternatively, I a vision in yours." "Humph, now you're being silly, George." "No sillier than the fact that the rest of the world has suddenly vanished overnight. This has got to be a dream." At that point Sylvia dashed out of the bedroom. I was still staring at the scene before me, trying to relate it to the landscape as I remembered it; albeit without the trees, shrubbery and the neighbouring houses. Basically it was close, but not quite the same. To my mind the headland was... well slightly different... maybe shorter. I've already said that the beach looked bigger than I expected it would from up there at the cottage. But then a slight scream emanated from somewhere else in the house, and Sylvia came rushing back into the room. "It's the same out front, the Drury's house is gone." She blustered. I opened the window and stuck my head out. From what I could see, just about everything, except the Sugget's cottage next door and most of its curtilage, was gone. Whatever had happened, there appeared to be a rough circle around the two cottages that remained as it should be. Everything outside that circle looked like a sort-of wasteland. "Well, I'll be buggered; this has to be a dream." I said, almost disbelieving my own eyes. "These things only happen in those bloody TV shows." "Sorry?" Sylvia asked. "The Twilight Zone; this is like being in one of those fantasy TV show episodes." "Don't talk rubbish George, how could we be in a TV show." "Sylvia, I didn't say that we were in a TV show. I just said, that it's the kind of thing that happens to people in those shows. Completely inexplicable, and totally unbelievable! I'm going outside to see what's what." "You'd better get dressed first, just in case there is a TV film crew hiding out there somewhere." I looked at my wife, but didn't actually reply; although I did throw some clothes on... Yeah well, sometimes discretion is the better part of valour. But well... Jesus wept, was that a stupid statement for her to make or what? Film crew, my bloody left foot! Besides, there was nowhere left out there big enough for a bloody film crew to hide in anyway. There was no way in hell that... Oh come on... you know what I'm trying to say. However, as I said, I did get dressed. I wasn't expecting to find a TV film crew outside, but, because Doug and Rose's cottage next door was still there, then odds were that they would be as well and... Well, not that I'd mind Rose... No, lets keep this as clean as possible shall we...? Outside, I inspected the front garden and then went out of our front gate and along the lane -- what was left of it -- until I came to the spot where everything changed. For some reason, the idea of stepping inside the Drury's garden gate opposite -- where the line of demarcation would have been closer, although their house wasn't there anymore -- felt tantamount to trespassing. As I got near to the line, I bent down to take a close look at the dried-out looking grass on the other side of it, and promptly bumped my head on... nothing; but fortunately only gently. Reaching out with my hand, I found that just before me was an invisible wall. Slightly vibrating to the touch, and even maybe, a little warmer than the ambient temperature; well it felt warm to my touch anyway. It was also apparent that it physically cut into the soil; the ground level on either side of the invisible wall did not exactly match. For what it's worth, my brain went into over-drive; instantly concluding that everything on the side of the wall I was on was inside some kind of sphere made of pure energy "A ball," I found myself musing out loud. "We're inside a ball of impossibility!" "A what?" Sylvia demanded. Making me almost jump out of my skin; I had no idea that she'd followed me outside. "Look, it's round, like a ball. It must be dome shaped above us; most likely a complete ball beneath as well, because it cuts the into the ground, and... well, it's impossible!" I replied. I must admit that I was somewhat happier, once I'd managed to find a label for the thing... phenomenon or whatever it was. Sylvia though, obviously had little understanding of what I was talking about. "What is...?" she began to say, as she made to step forward onto the rough grassland. But then promptly bounced off the invisible wall and fell flat on her... er jacksie. For an instant, she looked up at me with a surprised and somewhat perplexed expression on her face; but there was real anger in her voice when she spoke. "What was that? Why didn't you warn me?" "I thought you'd seen me..." I began to say, bending to assist Sylvia to her feet. "That's your trouble George! You're always thinking, and never doing. You might have warned me that... well... that it was there. What is it anyway?" "A ball of impossibility!" "What, in heavens name, is that?" "Buggered if I know sweetheart, but that's what it is. Damned impossible if you ask me, but we're inside the bugger anyway. Maybe we've been shifted into a different dimension somehow. Yeah, that must be it, something, somewhere, somehow, has shifted our little bit of the world into a different dimension. Only here..." "Oh my god, all that science fiction rubbish of yours again. I told you those stupid fantasy TV programs would addle your brain eventually. If you're not watching your stupid videos, your nose is stuck in those silly novels. What next, is Dan Dan the Spaceship Man, going to come riding to our rescue or something? Tempus Frangit Ch. 01 "Sylvia, it was Dan Dare, he was a character in comic books, not a TV character and what's more he didn't ride a horse, he flies space ships. Only I think they made a TV cartoon series about him once. Anyway, it has nothing to do with him or any other fictional character; I'm trying to make some logical sense out of what's going on here." "Well, I'm going to see what Rose and Douglas, make of all this. Perhaps they can think of a sensible explanation." Then she stomped off towards the Sugget's cottage, still rubbing her head. I kind of wandered along behind to watch the fun. I was pretty sure that the Sugget's wouldn't be up yet -- as in out of bed, that is. Our neighbours tended to keep late nights -- as far as actually sleeping went -- on Saturday evenings, with all that that might imply. Well, Doug was always bragging that they did anyway, and usually neither of them surfaced much before about eleven on Sunday mornings. Rose answered the door dressed in nowt but a housecoat, and demanded of Silvia, why she had "Disturbed them at this unearthly hour!" And then promptly fainted when she saw the scene beyond her best friend's face. I got more than an eyeful, because Rose had been holding he wrap closed about her and as I said, she was wearing sod-all else. Mind, nothing I hadn't seen before when the very delectable Rose wore her bikini (and sometimes not all of it) down on the beach. An advantage to living in a small community in the middle of nowhere, dress is optional -- sometimes -- when the holidaymakers aren't about. Silvia had covered Rose's embarrassment, by the time a very weary looking Doug appeared on the scene, demanding to know what all the noise was about. "What the..." Doug said, ignoring his prostrate wife as he stepped over her, while staring at the hill over my shoulder. I'll skip over the next ten minutes or so, because it is a little repetitive of what I've already told you. Only Doug took a little more logical view of situation than Sylvia had. I kinda gave Doug I quick explanation of what had apparently happened, it didn't take very long to me to get to the -- what I thought -- intelligent sounding , "...A bubble of impossibility, Doug. We've been shifted into another dimension!" Douglas, having surveyed the hill above us, nodded and then walked to the side of his cottage, from where he could study the valley and the beach bellow. Then he ventured. "No, I don't think so mate. I reckon we've been shifted in time somehow. Look, the headland and the shoreline. They have both been eroded away. If we were just in another dimension at the same instant in time, then they'd be the same wouldn't they? Or near enough!" "Good point, Doug. But maybe we're in another time, in a different dimension." "Yeah, that's an idea." "Will you two stop wittering on and help me get Rose back inside the house," Sylvia interrupted our deliberations. With only slight difficulty, Doug swept his young wife into his arms and carried her into their lounge. Silvia headed for the kitchen to make the ubiquitous cup of tea. Sylvia's panacea for all ills. ----- Maybe at this point I should tell you a little about Rose... and Douglas, as they were back then. Rose was... is Sylvia's best friend. A very shapely twenty-four-year-old (or near enough) at the time; she was eight years younger than Sylvia and I, and some sixteen or seventeen years younger than her husband, of four years. I don't know what Doug has, but he'd hooked himself a real little... um yeah. Whatever, they enjoyed a somewhat avant-garde and rather exuberant -- and remarkably noisy -- conjugal life. Despite his age, Rose's only complaint about her husband was, that he hadn't managed to get her with-child at the time. Rather ironic really, when I look back at it now I might add, a complaint that Sylvia had also regularly echoed concerning her and myself, by the way. Er no, not me not getting Rose with-child, me not getting Sylvia pregnant of course! Oh come on, you know what I'm trying to say. However, both Douglas and I placed the blame for that situation squarely on our spouse's shoulders, or rather on their metabolisms. Douglas assured me that he was firing on all cylinders in that respect. And, I knew for sure I was firing live rounds, due to a rather unfortunate (and untimely) incident with one, Mary Coplansky when I was a still a teenager. I wasn't exactly ecstatic about the abortion, but it had been Mary's decision, not mine. Whatever, it did bring an end to a beautiful relationship. Yeah well, and I was persona-non-grata with all of the Coplansky's after Mary discovered she had bun simmering away in her oven. Damn shame that; Mary's brother Bill Coplansky had been a good mate of mine... at one time! ----- I must admit that Doug had his mind on the logistical side of things even while his wife was recovering. I was still pondering on exactly what had happened and why; whilst Doug was calculating all sorts of things I hadn't thought of. Like, how much oxygen there might be inside the ball or dome, and how much food and drinking water we had available. Not things they usually tend to discuss in Sci-fi books and TV programs. Even though they do in disaster movies. After Rose had recovered from her faint, we were all outside again while Douglas tried to calculate the volume of air within the sphere, (Doug thought that sphere sounded a little more intelligent than my ball or bubble) when Rose called our attention to two small specks high in the eastern sky. I'll point out that, we'd seen nor heard a single bird, or any other living creature, outside the dome... sphere, up until that point. So we watched intently as the two specks grew larger as they approached. Eventually it was clear that they were two craft of some kind, and that our location was their obvious destination. Once they were close enough we could discern that one was about the size of a single-decker bus only lying on its side, the other that of a delivery van. All shiny flat surfaces, with rounded corners and ends, and no apparent windows. No wings, jet exhaust outlets or whirling rotor blades... or anything like that. The larger craft came to a standstill about two hundred yards from the sphere and the same distance from the ground. The smaller craft came in much closer and circled round and round the sphere until we all began to feel dizzy watching it. Then it settled near to the ground, further along the slope of the hill. Actually, had the lane still been there, right in the middle of the bugger and maybe fifty feet away from the invisible wall of the sphere. The second larger craft then also closed in and settled down near to the first. As I said, we had heard no sound of engines and could see no evidence of propulsion units of any kind; the two craft just appeared to levitate unsupported, even when at ground level. "Checking us out, do you think we'd better go get the shotguns?" Douglas suggested, "We have no of idea of these guys... or whatever they are, intentions." "Doug, what bloody good are a couple of old rabbit guns going to do us, against the kind of technology those folks appear to have?" "Good point, George. No sense in rubbing the buggers up the wrong way, is there!" Doug agreed, changing his mind. At that moment, a door opened in the side of the smaller craft, and two men... two very tall men, climbed out of it. They had a short discussion with each other, while studying the four of us standing there, gaping back at them. Then one of them -- doing a pretty convincing impression of a John Wayne walk -- strolled over towards the invisible wall and stopped maybe ten feet short of it. Big, I'd thought at first sight. When he was closer, I realised the guy was at least six-foot-four, maybe even taller, towering over me, anyway. Actually, there was no mistaking the fact that he was some "'andsome bugger". Well, no mistaking the fact that Sylvia and Rose thought he was good-looking anyway; from the appreciative noises and comments that reached my ears from their direction. Broad of shoulder, and narrow of waist, with rippling muscles clearly visible through his sheer -- bright yellow -- shirt; he sauntered closer to the sphere's wall, studied us for a few seconds more then spoke. But we could hear nothing. I cupped my hands to my ears, and he seemed to understand, because he nodded and smiled. Then he paced up and down for a few minutes apparently talking to himself. But when he turned to his left, we could see that he was wearing a device attached to his right ear, somewhat like the gadget Lieutenant Uhura used to wear in Star Trek, only a little smaller. Actually more like the older blue-tooth mobile phone units, posers took to sporting when they first came out. Anyway eventually we confirmed that these were personal communicators, and discovered that all of the two craft's crews wore them. For some considerable period of time, the guy was (apparently) in a heated discussion with someone; that was clearly discernable by his body language. But then he suddenly smiled at us again and gave us a thumbs-up sign. Then stepping close to the invisible wall, he placed a small device no bigger than a mobile telephone against it, studied the unit for a few seconds and then spoke to whomever he was communicating with yet again. There are times in your life when you really wish that you'd bothered to develop the skill of lip-reading when you were younger, that was one of mine. Another thumbs up came from the guy. Then my attention was taken by door opening in the side of the larger of the two craft, half a dozen or so, men climbed out of it and began unloading some equipment. I assume that the first guy must have looked or gestured towards the larger craft and that had caused me to transfer my attention to it. When I looked back at the first guy, he had stepped away from the wall again and was looking around for a spot where the ground inside the sphere was on the same level as that outside. I worked that out from what happened next. The four of the six new guys carried a... well, a large door -- complete with frame -- over and placed it against the invisible wall at the spot the first guy had chosen. Then they all stepped back and signalled for the four us inside to retire to a safe distance as well. Once the four of us had moved back behind my garden wall, there was a bright blue flash that ran around the edge of the doorframe, accompanied by a loud bang, that all-but deafened us, which was further followed by a whistling sound. The big guy after looking perplexed for a few seconds began frantically gesturing to his ears, and kept taking hold of his own nose. Then they all started to do the same. Their behaviour confused the hell out of us, until Douglas suddenly shouted, "Pressure differential! Hold your noses and keep swallowing!" The penny dropped quickly in my brain. Possibly because I'd flown in some old un-pressurised aeroplanes when I was younger. But Douglas and I had to spell out to the girls what was about to happen and what they should do. The whistle or more precisely a clearly audible hiss, was air evidently escaping from inside the sphere to the outside world as the pressure equalised. Once the hissing had stopped, the first man put his thing-a-me-what's-it... bugger, lets call it a tri-corder, almost everyone knows what they are, even if they have no idea what a tri-corder is supposed to do actually. Does anyone? Yeah all right, everything except lay eggs! Anyway, having apparently taken another reading, the guy smiled once more, then reached over and opened the door, which was by then, part of the invisible wall. "Well, none of you is Professor Pemberton, that's for sure," were his first words. "You speak English?" Douglas replied, sounding somewhat surprised. "Not exactly as you know it, but close enough I should imagine. My name's Adona, you are...?" To be completely honest with you, Adona's 'near enough', wasn't really! Much to his confusion. It was like having a conversation someone who spoke a version of Pidgin English for the first time. However it didn't take us long to... understand the general gist of what was being said. As time passed it became very easy for us to understand actually. However there was some confusion to start with, and for clarity's sake here I've edited out those kind of confusing parts. And I've taken the liberty of translating all the dialogue between us into English from our own time. The colloquial British version that is. Douglas introduced the four of us. "Unfortunate, but as we surmised. You're not who we were hoping to find here!" Adona said, (somewhat unconvincingly I thought) and then he asked, "What year do you come from?" "1988," Douglas replied. "Hmm!" Adona mused, then as casually as you like, continued, "There's been an almighty great cock-up somewhere. Almost seventy-five years out of sync, some idiot's got their sums wrong. It might have been a computer foul-up, but I somehow doubt it. Only as good as the idiot punching the numbers into them, are those things. There's a lot of maths involved, this could take weeks to sort out." Adona was rambling on, as if to himself; but I somehow got the impression that the whole speech was for our benefit. And possibly even that there was something not quite kosher about what he was saying. I can't tell you why, possibly an innate distrust I've always had of people in authority. And Adona appeared to be the "Big Cheese" with these new arrivals. Annoyingly, Douglas interrupted him, "What date is it here?" "Ah, now, you see... that's the problem really," Adona replied. I thought, somewhat evasively. "We kind-a started again a couple of thousand years ago, after the... anyway, I'm afraid that there's no real definite correlation between your time scale and ours. Various parts of the world recovered at different rates and all continuity was kind of lost along the way. Eventually we settled on an arbitrary start date for our calendar, but it doesn't mean much in relation to your own. This little exercise was supposed to help us put all that right. Seems the boffins were at least sixty or seventy years out in their calculations before they started." "Bullshit!" was the word that jumped to the fore of my mind. "After the what?" Adona was being very vague about something that was going to happen in our future; only at the time I could not comprehend why. From that instant onward, I was... well, more than a little cautious and sceptical of our visitors, and everything they told us. And well, there could well be an error in their calculations but that was no reason to avoid telling us what their date was. Adona's obvious refusal to inform us about that, just didn't make any sense ether. Our conversation was somewhat longer than that repeated here. Actually it was for a considerably longer period of time that Adona kept Doug and my attention off of everything else that was going on. I've taken a little artistic licence here and kind-of whittled it down a little, to give you the essence of what was said. Anyway, whilst Doug and I had been talking to him, Adona had moved further inside the sphere, and he'd evidently been followed inside by at least four of his compatriots. Who were, by the time I had became aware that they were inside the sphere... Well, there was no mistaking the fact that they were chatting-up Sylvia and Rose, or at least making a bloody good show of trying to. Hey look, I didn't get off the bloody boat yesterday; I can spot a randy letch trying to chat-up my wife, a bloody mile away. Whatever, and as they were all extremely handsome looking guys; at least as tall as Adona, if not bigger. What's more, from where I was standing it looked like Sylvia and Rose were hanging on their every word. More alarm bells started ringing in my head. "Er." I said gesturing towards the six of them. "That's our wives your friends are making-up to, over there!" I figured that one look would tell Adona what was going down. But his reply totally shocked me, and Doug. "Hmm yes, I'm sorry old boy!(sic) But we no longer have the institution of marriage in our time. Haven't had it for a couple of thousand years now. Sorry, I realise that monogamy was standard practise in your time, but it isn't here. There's nothing I'm allowed to do; we believe in free choice... er association nowadays." "Well, we believe in free choice as you put it, in our time as well." Doug interjected, "But once partners are mutually chosen then monogamy is the rule. And it just ain't done, old boy, to... well, to come-on-strong to a married woman, that is! When a woman is spoken-for, it's just not cricket mate! I think that you'd better send us back home a bit sharpish-like, or things are liable to get a little intense around here!" "I wish I could gentlemen, but we've got to find the root cause of this date cock-up first. Never-mind, you won't be here longer than is necessary." "The way they're going at it over there, it looks like we might have been here too long already," Doug replied, then he stormed off calling to his wife as he did so. "Rose, a word in private, if you can spare the time?" As Rose -- reluctantly -- broke away and the four guys closed in around Sylvia. Come on, they were like moths around a bleeding candle flame, or maybe more like jackals circling around an injured animal. That led me to call out almost exactly the same words to Sylvia. Reluctantly Sylvia also broke away from her admirers and came over towards me. "I'll have a word with my crew, but I can't promise you anything." Adona said as he moved off to where the four guys were standing. I led Sylvia into the house, where we could to talk in private. "Jesus Christ, woman, what the hell are you playing at?" I demanded. "I don't understand, what are you so upset about, George?" she replied, all innocent like. "Don't come all that old 'how's your father' with me, Silvia. You know full-well what I'm annoyed about. You, pandering to those bloody freaks out there!" "What do you mean, I was just being sociable. They're very nice guys." Sylvia sounded annoyed at my outburst, and it could be that had some influence over what she said after that. It had more than a little influence over what I subsequently said. "Randy arseholes, chaffing at the bloody bit, you mean!" I found myself ranting. "Christ woman, I'm surprised... no, I won't say it. But they're tongues were hanging out the moment they clapped eyes on you and Rose." But what she said then, really shook me to the bottom of my boots. "Can I help it, if strangers find me more attractive than my husband does? Besides, one of them might be able to do the job that you don't seem able to do." On hearing those words, I became all-but... well apoplectic. "Sylvia, are you claiming that I haven't kept you satisfied... er sexually, for the last ten years?" Her expression softened a little. Maybe she realised that her last statement had been pushing the envelope a little too far. "No, no, George, you've been a wonderful husband." She said hurriedly, but then she added. "But you have to admit, that you haven't managed to get me... well, you know. And, my biological clock is ticking, you know." Battling with myself to get my emotions back in check, and not let our disagreement spiral completely out of control; I resorted to my usual reply when Sylvia started on the biological clock thing. "I've told you before Sylvia, that is none of my doing. It has to be a problem with your... er, you know. I know that I don't fire blanks." "Rubbish George, after all the trying we've done over the years, I should have had ten babies by now!" Yes, yes, I was tempted to tell Sylvia about Mary Coplansky; but once again, I didn't. Sylvia had always been a little... er, well delicate, whenever I mentioned my experiences with old girlfriends. I figured that telling her about Mary Coplansky ending up in the family way, would have been like pouring petrol onto a fire; to wit, explosive! I didn't need that kind of grief in my life. Tempus Frangit Ch. 01 Anyway, I warned Sylvia to be careful and reminded her that she was my wife. And that there was no way I was going to stand for any kind of nonsense. Then we went back outside to join our guests again. Sylvia did look a little chastised for a while, as did Rose. I assume that Doug and Rose's conversation had gone something similar to Sylvia and my own. However it didn't take the girls long -- with those handsome guys flattering them -- to start getting out of hand, and silly again. Whether the two girls did it on purpose or not, I really do not know. On reflection, I think they probably just got carried away with the occasion, and honestly did forget themselves. Look, as far a looks are concerned, Sylvia and Rose were nothing to be sneezed at. And they were well used to receiving "the treatment", or fending-off the young hopefuls down on the beach. However these guys weren't your run of the mill "would be" Casanova's; these guys were... Film Star Heartthrob material; every damned last one of them. And, being perfectly honest with you, they put Douglas and I to shame. What's more, Adona and another guy (who had appeared from somewhere), kept Doug and I pretty well occupied for most of the day. This other guy was a historian or something, and he bombarded Douglas and me with questions about our recent history. You know WW1 and 2, and just about everything else up to the present. The present I'm referring to at that time being 1988 of course. For some inexplicable reason they appeared to be under the impression that the USA was a colony of the UK -- or so they claimed -- and were quite surprised when we informed them that it had been an independent republic for a couple of hundred years. To our surprise they didn't appear to be able to comprehend what a republic was, and insisted that there had to be an all-powerful hereditary head-of-state. On reflection (and knowing what I do now) I very much suspect that the two of them were... Yeah well they were distracting us, and I have no idea whether I now believe much of what they said that day. At one time Doug, Adona, the history bloke (can't recall his name) and I, went into our cottage so that I could make us all some tea. That's when some fun started. By mistake I filled the electric kettle instead of the gas one from the hot water supply of course, there was no mains water anymore. And then I switched the bloody-thing on. Net result, my old Lister diesel generator, sprang into life out in it's little shed, shattering the piece and tranquillity, when it began its repetitive thump, thump, thump. The sudden noise -- about the only sound that had been breaking the silence up until that time, had been the childish giggling of Sylvia and Rose -- grabbed all of our visitors attention. They (even the guys who'd been trying to chat up the girls) all crowded around the door to the generator shed while I explained how it worked. The historian guy, was the only one amongst them who appeared to have any conception of what an internal combustion engine was. Generator, they did understand; but the Lister's regular thumping completely fascinated them. Mind you, Doug and I were pleased that the episode separated the wolves from the girls for a while, and Sylvia ended up making the tea. Whilst we drank it, we discussed with Adona our immediate needs, especially as he was indicating that it would be some days -- or even weeks -- before they would be able to return us to our correct moment in time. Firstly, a supply of freshwater, and then, of course, food. Adona talked into his communicator do-what's-it and within an hour, yet another large craft arrived and a huge tank of drinking water was unloaded from it. The crew came over to stare through the invisible wall at the newcomers for a while, and then left again. Shortly after that, Adona rounded his guys up, and, telling us that they would be back the following morning, left in the larger of the two craft. However, two other men stayed with the smaller craft, and it wasn't long before they came into the sphere and were hovering around Sylvia and Rose. "What is it with these guys, haven't they got any women of their own?" Doug asked me on the quiet. "Don't look like it mate, not gullible ones anyway! I got a good mind to sort that geezer out." An expression of horror came over Douglas's face. "Now, take it easy, George. They are big boys, and that looks like a weapon of some kind they all have on their belts." "Yeah, I noticed they all seem to be wearing them. I'm going to have to have a long talk with Sylvia later." "Don't worry, I intend to put that wife of mine over my knee when I get the chance. Rose knows better than to play silly cows with me." "Hmm!" I thought to myself, "what have I been missing about Doug and Rose's relationship?" "What do you make of these guys anyway, Doug, and why have they... well brought us here in the first place? What's their game do you think?" "Not sure, George. They say that they didn't mean to bring us anyway; they were after that bloke... Pemberton, didn't they say?" "Can't recall, but yeah, they said they were expecting to find someone else here, not us." "Why in heavens name would anyone in the... shit, we still don't know what century we're in even," Doug mused. "To change their history, I should imagine," I suggested, "What other reason could there be for bringing someone from the past. There's that weird historian bloke. Perhaps he's studying the twentieth century." "Studying something, alright. But if you ask me, there's something fishy about him, he claims that he's been researching that Professor bloke." "Then I'll bet the professor invents something that's really significant in the future, and these guys want to stop him," I suggested. "I read a sci-fi tale that ran along the same lines once. Someone came from the future to stop someone inventing something and change the future." "But then again, maybe they want to make sure that Pemberton does invent something significant. Supposing the bugger is a distant ancestor of one of those guys or something," Doug suggested. "Whatever, the results of these guys fiddling with the past could be really catastrophic. Well, that's what they say in all the books." "What books?" Doug asked. "Well the science-fiction books. Only logical, when you think about it." "Er yeah, 'tis when you think about it!" Doug echoed, but sounding distinctly unconvinced. "I suppose that we'd better try to discover what they are really playing at. But be careful, George. I somehow don't think these guys are as... nice, as they appear to be." "Nice! They're arrogant tosser's. Look at the way they behave around other people's wives." "Well, hold your temper on that one, George... at least until we find out exactly what is going down here." Luckily that evening the two guys took the hint quite early and went back to their craft. I'd say they weren't as... desperate, as the four guys who'd been hanging around the girls earlier. I did wonder if it had anything to do with Doug asking them how the rabbit hunting was around there. Mind you, they appeared to have no idea what a rabbit was, or a shotgun come to that. Mention of shooting and then eating rabbits flesh made one of them look distinctly off-colour. That was when we discovered that their diet was completely vegetarian. Shortly after that, we realised the reason we hadn't seen any animals around, was because basically, there weren't any, or many. Well, not to speak of anyway. The two guys -- with more then a little trepidation apparent in their voices -- mentioned a few names that we assumed referred to wild animals of some kind, but they assured us that they were few and far between in the neck of the woods we were in. Definitely there were no domesticated animals, farm or otherwise, possibly that was why they were veggies; there weren't no meat to be had anyway. Apparently, not even rats or mice. Later, outside the sphere, we did spot just a few rather large spiders that scuttled away when they saw or heard us coming, and some beetles. Yeah beetles... very big beetles, or more likely cockroaches; I admit that I didn't look too close. But it was obvious that whatever man had done to the world, he hadn't been able to kill-off those buggers. Well, stood to reason, didn't it? That night Sylvia and I had a real good-old ding-dong. And apparently Rose and Doug did the same next door, as well. We heard them going at it hammer and tongs. As I'm sure that they must have heard Sylvia and I... exchanging words. For some reason that I couldn't get my head around, Sylvia seemed to have come to the weird conclusion, that whatever she did in that time zone, would have no... well effect -- consequence or meaning -- when we returned to our own time. Apparently one of the tosser's had told Sylvia that we would be returned to our own time at the exact same instant that we'd left it. Well, a couple of milliseconds later I kind-of gathered. Some twaddle about two things in the same place at the same not being possible. I'm willing to bet that Sylvia had had little idea of what he was really talking about anyway. Whatever the gist was -- as Sylvia had it -- to everyone else in our world... time zone -- or whatever you like to call it -- we'd never have been gone. So, whatever happened while we were away... could not have happened! Get the general idea? Anyway, consequently -- from the way Sylvia and Rose saw things -- that meant they could do whatever they liked during the time we were away, and that didn't exist in our time, so it would be of no consequence. A kind-of "time out" from their... our, usual lives, if you understand the girl's interpretation. Sounds fine in theory. But do you see any logic in it? Well, I bloody-well didn't! "Look here, Sylvia, you are my wife. In our time, or anyone else's bleeding time, come to that! You're my wife and don't you go forgetting it! You do anything you shouldn't be doing... with any of those freaks out there... and I'll be down the divorce lawyers the instant we get back. If we get back, that is! I'm not too sure any of those fruitcakes know exactly what they are doing anyway." To my astonishment Sylvia's tone was... Well, she sounded smug -- I suppose you'd call it -- when she replied. "And pray tell me, on exactly what grounds, George? Exactly when are you going to tell the divorce court that I could possibly have stepped out of line with anyone else? Especially someone who hasn't even been born yet... and won't be for god knows how many hundred years. And when will you tell the court... or anyone else, that I had the time or opportunity to do such a thing anyway. The Drury's will testify that they saw us together yesterday and they will see us together again this morning, which hasn't happened yet... only it has, but not to us in our time anyway. Sod-it, George, you know what I mean! "Do you really think that a court is going to believe any of this? No, this is all a great big dream, George. A flight of my own imagination. Probably brought on by your fascination with all that science fiction rubbish." "Don't talk stupid, Sylvia!" "George, none of this is really happening. And even if it is, I won't believe it is and you won't be able to convince me otherwise. And even if it really is happening, you won't be able to prove anything, George, and I will deny everything. Hey, are you really sure that you're not dreaming all this right now, anyway?" "Well I..." "See, all a little far too fetched isn't it. Relax George, go with the flow and enjoy yourself while the goings good. I'm not taking any of this seriously, so why should you?" Termini Capitulus I Tempus Frangit Ch. 02 By Denham Forrest, writing as Misnomer Jones There is no blatant sex in this story! Capitulus II When I spoke to him the next morning, Doug informed me that Rose had tried to feed him the same sort of ridiculous diatribe as Sylvia had tried to lay-on me. We kind-a wondered where those strange ideas had come from. It sounded like complete... twaddle, to Doug and myself. And, all rather too carefully thought out, for either Sylvia and Rose; to our way of thinking. To put it succinctly, it sounded a little too much like 'joined-up-writing' for either of our wives to have come up with it. Sorry, but one has to call a spade a spade, and both Doug and I would be the first to admit that neither of our wives were the smartest apples in the box. Oh come on, they were both extremely attractive women... had they been just a little more... er, fully equipped in the mental capacity department. Then they surely would have picked up a couple of guys with a lot more of the readies than either Douglas or I had in the bank. Mind you, it soon became apparent that Doug had been far angrier the evening before than I had. By all accounts -- actually we had heard noises that had pre-confirmed the fact -- he had resorted to tanning Rose's backside for her. Somewhat surprisingly Rose didn't appear to have been too... er put-out, by the experience either. It certainly surprised me some, that those two could be so... kinky. However, whatever had happened the night before, it didn't stop Rose from informing us that she was joining Sylvia and the four goons, who were going down to the beach for a swim, shortly after Adona and his crew returned the following day. This news took Doug and me by surprise and we could only conclude that such arrangements had to have been made the day before. "Funny," we thought, "how neither Rose nor Sylvia had thought it necessary to mention those plans whilst our mutual altercations had been in progress the night before." But then again... on reflection, I don't suppose it was. While we walked down to the beach... -- Christ, you didn't think Doug and I would let the girls go with those freaks without us, did you? -- Adona informed me that it would be at least a week -- or so -- before the boffins discovered what had really gone wrong with their time calculations and then make the necessary adjustments to their equipment so they could send us back to the right point in time. Not that I believed much of his explanation or anything much else the bugger said by then. Although, Douglas seemed to be swallowing every word the History guy told him. Well, it looked like Douglas was, from where I was standing. Look, I'm reading between the lines here. I have no idea why, but I got the impression that -- if they wanted too -- Adona and his cronies could have sent us back to our own time almost immediately. But by their accounts, the machine they'd used consumed copious quantities of power. It appeared -- or so they claimed -- that they didn't want to run the thing up again, until they were ready to bring the professor Pemberton guy forward in time in the same session. Adona said something about recharging the capacitors, or something stupid like that, anyway. Whatever, that was the impression that I got, or maybe it was the one that I was supposed to get. I told you, I was getting more distrustful of these guys by the minute. You know, I had it figured, Adona must have come from a long line of politicians. And like all the politicians of today, it didn't matter what he said, I somehow knew it was all a web of half-truths and outright lies; designed to ensure that whatever he wanted (or needed) to happen, would happen. Whether that outcome was to our (Sylvia, Rose, Douglas and my own) advantage or not! At the same time as Adona was feeding me all this sh... yeah well. I was pumping Adona -- well attempting to --, trying to discover as much as I could about why we'd been brought to that time. Doug was also trying to extract information from the historian guy about why they wanted Pemberton. I learnt almost nothing, but Doug kind-of got the impression that they wanted to talk the professor out of inventing something. "I think they daren't just kill him, because of what we were talking about earlier." Doug told me later, "You never know, he could well be an ancestor of half these people, much as you and I are likely to be. Hey, five kids; you and Sylvy must have really have got your act together once we get back." "And you and Rose?" I asked. "Three, according to the professor. He wouldn't go into details; I don't think he intended to tell me that you fathered five children in the first place. Apparently you, or your descendants anyway, are very important and they are shitting themselves on the quiet to get you back home in one piece. Me, not so much, but they are worried about my offspring as well." "They seem to know a lot more than they are saying about us and our time, Doug. Did he give any hint as to why all this happened? Something flattened the World as we know it, and killed off all the animals." "Yeah - we did! A nuclear holocaust sort of catastrophe, he's being a little vague about exactly what though. Years after our time anyway... five hundred years at least. Could be much more, for some reason these guys are a little... uninformative about actual dates, can't work out why though. Anyway, religious or ideological wars by the sound of it... He weren't too clear about that either. Whatever after they blew themselves to bits they resorted to chemical and biological warfare, I think. That led to a sort of 'dark ages' again, and it's taken them the last couple of thousand years or so, to clean everything up. Apparently they are still at-it in some places. There's only about fifty million people left on the whole damned planet now. All ruled by a sort of 'Big Brother' come 'Living God' type character. Seems a magnanimous type though, everyone appears to be happy about it, anyway." "But these guys might be his henchman, Douglas. You know, on the inside!" "That's a point, we might only be seeing one side of the coin." "I'm not sure I like this side." I said, gesturing to the four guys cavorting around in the surf, with our wives. "Me neither. But probably we'll get a better idea about what's what, when we get to the city." "They're taking us somewhere else?" "I got the feeling that they don't want to, but they are worried about our safety out here. But then again, maybe that's the impression I'm supposed to get. Apparently, there are some not very nice wild animals kicking around out there somewhere. Not many, from what I gather; but enough for them to be worried about. And of course, there's the logistics problem; keeping us fed and watered out here." About then Doug and I decided that it was time for us to go into the water for a while as well. Maybe we thought that those guys were getting a little too familiar with the girls again. Maybe it was all an act, but one thing we had noticed, was that the four tossers -- for all their apparent machismo -- well they didn't appear to be able to swim very well at all. This is supposition, but they appeared very conscious of not going out of their depth. We -- or at least I -- had noticed their confusion when the four of us had taken our surfboards along with us; it was obvious they had little idea about what they were used for either. To be honest the idea of swimming in the sea appeared to be quite novel to them. I'll admit that at first I had taken that with a pinch of salt and thought it had been a come-on where the girls were concerned. But seeing them in the water... well I been forced to revise that assumption. There was no doubt that the breakers scared them for a while at least. That is until they had begun to gain some confidence, from Sylvia and Rose's attitude. It was then that Doug and I figured we'd better get in the water a bit sharpish-like ourselves. Once the girls got out into the good waves with Doug and I, they seemed to forget about the other four guys completely. Those four might have been gaining some confidence, but they still weren't enamoured with the idea of being out of their depth. Later, one of the big guys did try to surf under Rose's instruction. But Doug and I had to rescue the sod, when he got caught in a rip. After that happened, the four strangers retired to the safety of the shallows again. "You noticed the others?" Doug asked when we were sitting on our boards together some way out, waiting to pick up on a good one. "What others?" I asked. "The rest of Adona's crew. They've positioned themselves on the high-ground around the beach." "Keeping an eye on us, in case we do a runner, I should imagine." I grinned. Not that there was anywhere that Doug and I could run to. "No, they are looking inland. They are guarding us, from something..." "Or someone?" I interjected. "Could be. You know, that's probably why those two guys were left behind last night. I've noticed that whenever we leave the sphere, they all get all figidity and those other guys fan out and start scanning the horizon. Either they are worried about that nasty wild life, or there is more than one faction around here somewhere." "You think?" "Yes, but I suspect that it's the wild animals. They don't appear to be worried while we're inside the sphere and the door is closed; and that suggests wildlife. Other people could just open the door and walk through it, couldn't they?" "Good point, but we shouldn't jump to conclusions." "That's why I told you about my thoughts. Oh, here comes a real doozy, get paddling, George." With those words Doug laid forward on his board and started paddling for all his worth. It was the biggest and best wave of the whole day, and Doug and I rode the bugger right up, virtually onto the beach, before the tunnel collapsed and broke over us. Then we swam back out to retrieve the girls who'd wiped-out; probably through... unfortunate timing. I won't say lack of skill because Sylvia and Rose are as good surfers, as Doug and I are. Wiping-out is part of the game. ----- The surfing had done something for Doug's and my self-esteem; it also helped that the four tossers couldn't talk surfing with the girls. They had little understanding of why anyone would want to risk their lives in that way anyway. It appeared that -- to them -- being out of your depth in the sea was tantamount to attempting to commit suicide. I think for a little while, the surfing session reminded Sylvia and Rose why they had married the men they had, and they stuck close to us for the rest of the morning. Lunch was supplied by Adona's people that day. We'd noticed that they hadn't accepted our offers of food and some of them had looked a little queasy when we had eaten; especially meat. The meal was carried down from the larger craft and set out for us on Sylvia's and my dining room table. Not all of Adona's people joined us. They appeared to get all the sustenance they needed in liquid form, from bottles they distributed amongst each other almost incessantly. Doug tried some of it and reported that it would never replace a good pint or cola in the popularity stakes. I passed on the offer, after seeing the expression on Sylvia's face when she tried it. Lunch consisted of fruit, that looked like no fruit any of us had seen before. Indeed nearly all of the food Adona's people supplied us with appeared to be fruit of some kind. However Sylvia and Rose, could somehow discern flavours that were, they suggested, reminiscent of fruits that we were familiar with. Doug and I just shrugged when they announced yet another one. Okay, I'll admit the taste of one giant berry did remind me of strawberries. But it looked as much like a strawberry as a house-brick would. As we ate Adona formally informed us that, for logistical reasons, we were going to be transported to "The City", until they'd sorted out their time mix-up. Doug and I had noticed that the city was referred to in the singular every time that it was mentioned. "Just one city for the whole country?" Doug mused later. "Well you said that there are only fifty million people left in the whole damned world, Doug. That's less than the population of the UK in our time. They might only need one city for each country." "Or continent!" Doug observed. "That's a point, I wonder how sustainable the world's civilisation is, with only fifty million?" I asked. "Well, it must be, they're still here, aren't they?" "But who rules out there, Doug, and why are those guys on their guard all the time when we're outside the sphere?" ----- Adona and the history guy watched in fascination when Sylvia and Rose unloaded -- and discarded outside -- the contents of our fridges and freezers. They certainly weren't going stay frozen for a week or so without mains power and my little Lister couldn't supply power for that long without more fuel. Our hosts, had little idea of what diesel oil was, or where it came from. Although I believe the history professor guy must have had; but he just didn't talk much, especially to me. I'll go further, the guy seemed to actively avoid me as much as he possibly could. Anyway a couple of tosser's who'd been chasing round the girls, threw-up and then legged it, when the girls explained to them that the meat wouldn't keep, what would happen to it over the next few days, and why. "For all their size and macho-ness, these guys don't appear to be as tough as they look!" I observed to Doug on the quiet. "Are you intending to see if they are, when it comes to fisticuffs?" He asked. "I'd rather not, if I don't have too. But if Sylvia doesn't watch her step, I might have to come over all-macho myself anyway," I replied. "Remember those bloody weapons they carry, for Chri'sake. And don't get carried away, we need these guys to get us back home." "If they can, Doug. I'm beginning to have my doubts." ----- A third craft arrived to fly us to the city. This one was all kitted out inside like the first-class section of an airliner. It even had stewardesses. More importantly, they were the first females that we'd seen. Douglas's instinctive reaction to them - "Jesus bleeding wept! Why in heavens name are those guys chasing around after Rose and Sylvia?" Mine too, I might add! My god, one can say nothing else but, "Those females were beautiful." They knocked every air stewardess, film star and catwalk model I'd ever clapped eyes on into a cocked hat. They wore the same yellow shirts as the men, but outside their leggings and they were a little longer. More reminiscent of sixties shift-type mini-dresses than anything else, but maybe that's the voyeur in me coming out. Regretfully I have to report that their lower extremities -- legs -- were also clad in those same tight... well jean's, even down to the rivets; but not made of denim, made of some very thin black material, that the guys were wearing. Yeah I know! Why hadn't I noticed those jean things before, on the guys? Well... why do you think? The women wore no bras; that was obvious, because of the sheerness of those shirts --dresses or whatever you like to call them -- they were wearing. But after careful and considered observation, Doug and I decided that they were wearing thongs beneath the leggings. Sounds better than jeans. Yeah well, Doug and I are only human. Having climbed into the craft and been shown to our seats by the stewardesses -- or whatever they were supposed to be -- the craft rose smoothly from the ground, circled the sphere a couple of times and then headed off towards the east. "Er, who's flying this thing?" Doug enquired after a minute or two. I had not noticed that no one was sat at the front, like in the drivers seat. "Computers. I tell them where to go and they do the boring bit," Adona replied, pointing to the communicator hanging from his ear. Then he mumbled something, that I didn't hear, and the craft promptly changed direction. "Dartmoor, I believe you called it." Adona directed at Doug, as we passed over the highest point of the moor. "I saw you looking at it, Douglas, and thought you might enjoy a closer inspection." It was as we were looking at the moor that I realised that, although the craft had had no visible windows on the outside, we could see out through the metal walls. But I never had the chance to ask Adona about the fact, because a herd of... well, cattle, I suppose you'd call them -- they were big and didn't look like any cattle I'd ever seen before, more like American Bison than anything, big bison at that -- had come into view in one of the moor-land valleys. Not far away from them, were two large brown cats, like lions or tigers -- obviously the same genetic family anyway -- only much larger that any big cat I'd ever seen in my life. And there was no mistaking the fact that the big cats were stalking the cattle. But they were gone again in an instant, as we flew on at speed. "What happened to Plymouth?" Doug asked as we zoomed off moor and flew a little way out over the sea. "The clean up after the holocaust. I'm afraid that it obliterated all surface trace of your time," Adona explained. "Radiological and biological contamination, I'm afraid. Every inch of the surface layer, at least a metre deep, had to be run through fusion reactors; nothing recognisable is left after that. "If you were to dig down a few feet of course, there would be traces there. But on the surface, everything was converted into sterile dust and sand. It's still in the process of recovering back into soil in some places. It was all seeded of course, but nature takes it's time." "Jurassic coast looks like it's gone completely. But that was Portland Bill if I'm not mistaken; but it's an island." Doug added a few moments later. "Natural coastal erosion Doug; it's been a long time you know," Adona assured him. Suddenly the craft turned north, inland. Douglas hazarded a guess somewhere near where Southampton should have been, but there was no sign of it or the Isle-of-Wight. As we flew northwards we found ourselves flying over dense forests. You could say that it looked artificial, and maybe it was; there was a virtual straight line of demarcation between the prairie and forest. "Damn-it. That's got to be the ruddy Thames, that's for sure; but it's so bloody big." Doug exclaimed, as we flew out over a vast expanse of water. "It's dammed down river. The Tam supplies all of the city's water and power." Adona informed us. So we learnt that the name had changed from the Thames to the Tam, in the intervening millennia. Then very suddenly we were upon it, a single great big shiny dome, maybe a mile or so across and several hundred feet high, with numerous smaller domes neatly arranged around it. The craft flew right around the city -- I assumed that Adona was showing us its extent -- and then came to a gentle halt and hovered for a while, before descending into a space between two of the smaller domes. It wasn't until our craft landed that Doug and I realised that -- like the sphere we'd been transported through time inside -- the domes were not made of glass or metal, but some form of energy. Adona's men did not accompany us, as we left the craft. He led the four of us inside one of the smaller domes, through a building where a welcoming party of sorts was waiting for us. Not that anyone of them spoke to us, as we passed through what I can only described as an airport arrivals gate. You know what I mean, there was a place to collect luggage and some desks with guys sitting behind them who I thought for a moment were going to ask us for our passports. Instead they snapped to attention and saluted Adona, who gave them a cursory nod and wave of his hand in reply. Tempus Frangit Ch. 02 Then he led us out into the vast space of the dome itself. It was much larger than I expected, considering it had to be one of the smaller domes. An odd place rather reminiscent of a town square crossed with a country park. Great paved areas, with rolling lawns in between, and a few single story buildings dotted about here and there rather higgledy-piggledy. People were lounging around outside them, on chairs and what looked like sun beds, while others appeared to be playing sports on the grassed areas. It was pleasant to note that not everyone wore the same bright yellow get-ups as Adona and his gang. Mind you, it did appear that the people liked vivid colours. Almost every colour of the rainbow it looked like. Most were wearing the same design shirt and jeans ensemble as Adona, but in many different colours, it stood out that very few were wearing yellow. But then again, some folk, both men and women, were wearing what looked something like Roman togas. Difficult to be more precise because the only togas I'd ever seen were the film industries interpretations of what a toga should look like. But once again they were of a myriad of different bright colours, and only the odd one or two of them were shades of yellow. We trailed along behind Adona right across the expanse of the dome, until we came to a long single storey building. Dotted about in a wide arc around it, were guys in those yellow shirts again. "I hope this will suffice your needs. I'm afraid that most of the city is below ground; our people only use the surface as recreation areas, but it was thought that you'd prefer to live up here. It's been kitted out with everything we believe you'll need. If there is anything we've forgotten, then please ask one of your guides." Adona told us as he led the way inside and introduced us to about a dozen young men and women, who, it was explained, were to be our guides. I kind-a sussed them as minders straight away. Most of them left with Adona, leaving us with a young couple who showed us around our accommodation. Mind you, once again, the guy had trouble dragging his eyes away from Sylvia and Rose. The young woman couldn't -- or wouldn't -- stop grinning like a Cheshire cat, at Doug and myself every-time we spoke to her. To our surprise there were four bedrooms, and it appeared to cause a little consternation in our minders, when we showed preference for only using two of them. They appeared to have assumed that Sylvia and I for instance, would use adjoining rooms. They had to swiftly move around the clothing they had supplied for us. Yeah, sorry I didn't mention the clothing did I? Well, not the fact that Adona had insisted that we did not pack or take anything with us from the sphere, other than what we were actually wearing at the time. Mind you, that had caused more than a short delay while Sylvia and Rose changed into attire they deemed suitable for travelling and meeting new people in. Much to Adona's confusion actually, but of course he was used to everyone wearing those same basic outfits. Adona had insisted that everything we could possibly need would be supplied, and it was. Albeit, that same basic designed clothing, much to the girls chagrin, at first. Well, except for shaving gear for Doug and I -- it appeared that our hosts no longer grew facial hair -- but that oversight was swiftly corrected. Oh yeah, and brassieres for the two girls by the way; once again an oversight, and one not so quickly remedied. As I said, we all had the same choice of outer clothing, either those shirts -- longer dress type things, worn untucked-in by the girls -- and the jeans or whatever. Or a kind-of short dress-thing, with the toga get-ups to go over the top. Doug and I both went for the shirt and leggings at first, although they were embarrassingly tight fitting in certain areas. Later we both switched to the toga get-ups. Yeah well, wearing a dress -- when every other male around, appears to be in the habit of wearing them -- isn't as embarrassing as virtually having your wedding tackle on public display all the time. Those bloody leggings were very thin and extremely... body hugging. Come on, you get the idea! The strange thing was, except for the leggings -- of which every pair we ever saw anyone wearing, were black. Our shirts, togas, the two girls dresses and everything else, were white. What's more, later when we went out to explore with -- or rather; were taken on a very carefully choreographed guided tour by -- our two minders, I noticed that we saw not one other person wearing white. Doug, who -- it had become clearly apparent is more observant than I -- pointed out that colour of dress appeared to be very significant in their society. "Behind us are two guys in yellow, kitted out like Adona's guys were. These two monkeys showing us around, yellow. Everyone else in shades of various colours. But, if you observe carefully, the people dressed in shades of blue appear to be subservient to folks dressed in reds, and those in green garments subservient to both. What's more, folks dressed in the subservient colours clear the way for others," Doug explained to me. "You reckon?" I asked. "Quite definitely, me old mate. What's more, I think that the brighter or more vivid the colour of their clothes, then the higher ranked they are. Notice all the subtle differences in the shades of their clothing and the way each reacts to the others." "Yeah well, Adona's shirt was a much deeper or brighter yellow than those other guys, and the history professor bloke his shirt was bright as well," I agreed, "But why are we dressed in white then, do you think that has any significance?" "Not that I can come up with, unless it's to make us stand out from the crowd." "Mind you, white is supposed to be the colour of virginity, do you think that has any significance?" I observed. "Oh Christ, I hope not; there's enough of the lechers drooling over the girls as it is. Have you noticed how these guys all seem fascinated by the sight of them?" "Yeah, but have you noticed the women, Doug. We're getting much more than a cursory glance from all of them. It don't make sense, all these guys are not far short of Adonis's. Jesus, I reckon that's where Adona gets his name from; why the hell are you and I getting admiring glances from these women all the time?" "More than admiring glances, George. There was some bird back there, giving me a real come-on look. I weren't born yesterday you know, I can tell when some bird is giving me that 'take me to bed' look." "I wonder why? You know, with all this macho talent about." "Well I think I might have come up with a theory about that one, George. Take a long look at any one of these people, and then look at any other." "Yeah well?" "Well, there's a sameness about them. All the guys are the same height and build, well almost, and they are all handsome buggers. Too handsome, if you think about it! Actually they are all a slight variation on the same theme; with minor exceptions, all the same... looking, anyway. And all these dolly birds... Well, except for the hairstyles, you'd have trouble picking that minder bird out from any of the others, if she was wearing the same colour clothing." "Jesus, you're right, Douglas, they are not far off clones of each other." "Not quite, but I suspect all these folks come from a very small gene pool. I think I've discerned about five very basic slightly different general groups of each gender, so far. There's possibly more of course; we'll no doubt find out over the next few days. "So what you are saying is, those guys are sniffing around Sylvia and Rose, because physically, they're different to the women they are used to." "That's about it my friend, and I think the females here are looking upon you and I, in the same way. I believe we are going to have to make some rather difficult decisions over the next few days." "Holy cow, you don't think Sylvia and Rose really would... do you?" "I don't know about Sylvia, she's your worry George. But Rose is... well she can be very... bugger no, I don't know if I really can trust her. She is a beautiful young woman with very high sex drive, and easily flattered, you know. I have no idea if common sense will win out over her base instincts. She's almost besotted finding herself surrounded by all these... "Arseholes, Doug; arseholes!" For the rest of our extended walking tour, I personally checked out Doug's observations and found that I had to agree with his conclusions about everything. The colour of everyone's clothes, and the apparent limited genetic pool all the inhabitants appeared to have originated from. We were taken down, well below ground level, into great chambers that had to have been hewn from solid rock. Don't ask where the ambient light came from in those great chambers, Doug and I couldn't fathom that one out at all. There were certainly no strong distinct shadows to be discerned. The light appeared to emanate from the roof of those chambers And rather strangely, in those chambers were... well, what appeared to be blocks of flats built several storeys high. And more of those gardens and piazzas again. And then there were larger buildings, halls, centres of entertainment and the like, we were told. Our guides were quite informative, but didn't seem to understand Doug and my questions about were the light was coming from. They just said, "The walls and ceiling." and pointed to them. It was only later when we'd returned to our digs as the sun was going down that we discovered that the walls, or more likely a coating of some kind on them, did give off light. When you entered any room, you just asked for light and the walls and ceiling glowed. "More light?" made them glow brighter. "Less light?" and they dimmed. "No light." and you were plunged into darkness. However Douglas and I didn't think the light in the underground domes came from the same source. But we could have been wrong. Adona turned up to join us for our evening meal, of fruit. And with him he brought several of his crew -- yes, those guys -- a group of young women, and more than a few bottles of wine. Well, they called it wine, it was a little on the weak side -- alcohol wise -- for Doug and my liking; but beggars can't be choosers, can they? It didn't taste too bad, once you got the hang of getting the stuff down, but there was little in the way of a kick behind the crap. Adona, by the way, was not sporting his yellow shirt, but a rather bright-red one. His crewmates a slightly lighter shade of red. Two of the young women's toga-dress things, were in the same shade of red that Adona was wearing. The other two were dressed in purple; a colour that Doug and I could not recall seeing anyone else wearing until we met them. One of the two, Ciera, was in a very deep yet vivid purple, toga type dress. What's more, the style or design of Ciera's attire was not exactly the same as all of the other women's toga's, we'd seen. Markedly different, actually! Ciera, I can only say, was enchanting. Mind you, as was Chaise, the other young woman dressed in purple. Actually I was quite embarrassed for a while because almost from the moment Adona introduced Ciera to me, she blatantly tipped her hat in my direction. Which I found a little suspicious... Well, I thought that Adona had brought her along that evening, and he had showered her with more attention and consideration than any other female present, even Sylvia and Rose! So at first sight I had thought... Well, I'm sure you realise why I was embarrassed. I had instantly assumed that they were an item, and remained thinking that for quite a long time. Mind you, not that I had noticed at the time, but on reflection, it was clearly discernible that all of our visitors (including our two minders) were conspicuously conscious of Ciera's wishes. Nothing was said in actual words, it was a body language thing. As the evening wore on, I found myself... how should I put it... in conversation with Ciera and Chaise the majority of the time. On reflection again I must admit that they monopolized me, and kept me so occupied, that I lost track of Sylvia and Rose for most of the evening. Doug too, if I cared to admit it! But when two very fine looking young women... Yeah well, come on you know where I'm coming from here. To be honest, I forgot myself, and the egocentric side of my nature took precedence. The strange thing was, I can't be sure now, what the hell we talked about. Well, I suppose it must have been myself, and Sylvia, and our life in the twentieth century. But I know that that first evening I learnt very little about Ciera and Chaise. Except peculiarly, that they reminded of a particular pair of twins I'd been very... friendly with, back in my school days. Ciera and Chaise quite definitely weren't twins, that was plain to see. But they appeared to have the same strange kind of symbiotic relationship that identical twins (or really close siblings) sometimes appear to have with each other. Both girls were in the habit of completing the other's sentences all the time. Whether it be a question, or answer, instinctively one seemed to know what the other was about to say. Kind-a... well, disconcerting until you get used to it. Maybe it was because I was so used to Shirley and Sheryl -- the twins from my school days I just mentioned -- doing it all the time. That at first I failed to notice that Ciera and Chaise did the same thing, as much as they actually do. Later, after all of our guests had left, Doug and I went outside together so that he could enjoy a smoke of his pipe, in peace. Yeah well, whenever he had tried to light the thing earlier... Well, imagine what would happen if Elvis was to suddenly be reincarnated in the middle Piccadilly Circus -- or Times Square -- during the rush hour. Every bugger in Christendom, walked over to stare at him. Anyway, except for those security guys, trying to look inconspicuous around the virtually deserted piazza, there were very few other people about by then. "A clear anomaly," Doug said after taking a much needed drag at his pipe. Then he looked me right in the eye, "I don't know who that Ciera bird is George, but she's different. You know those two in purple are from a completely separate social subclass to everyone else we've met, so far." "You reckon?" I replied, once again feeling that I hadn't been as observant as I should have been. "Oh yeah. Those two minders were visibly shaken when they saw the other girl, and then they nearly shit themselves when Ciera walked in the door." "You think she's someone special?" "I have no real idea mate; but she's no common-a-garden pleb, that's for bloody sure. When you and her were talking outside, those guards, or whatever they are supposed to be, were all standing smartly to attention, no mistaking it! And there were more of them about as well. They showed up at the same time as our guests arrived." "Doug, what do you think is really going on here?" "I haven't got the faintest idea about that either, mate. But something weird that's for sure. No disrespect mate but that Ciera and her mate..." "Chaise!" "Yeah, I didn't get her name, she didn't say two words to me. Anyway they were drooling over you this evening." I'm not surprised you were too busy feeding that blond bird your line of shi..." "I was doing nothing of the kind. She was asking me about... Hang on... You know what I have no idea what we talked about." "No more than you or I have any idea what our wives were saying or doing with Adona and his oppos, Douglas. If you care to think about it, we were stitched-up quite nicely this evening!" "Yeah, Jesus, we fell for it; didn't we? The buggers waved a few pretty faces in front of us, and like bleeding demented ducks we started paddling for all we were worth. I don't like all this, George. I wish I knew what their game really is. You know, I'm damned sure that Adona and his pals have been feeding us a line of shit about that Pemberton geezer. Can't exactly say why, but it just don't make much sense to me. If they do persuade Pemberton to do or not to do... invent or not invent, whatever it is... Well, as far as they are concerned they will have already done it. Do you understand what I'm getting at? "Not really, no!" "Well look at this way. If say in the year 2000, someone invents a time machine and it strikes them as a good idea to prevent World War Two from happening. Well, all they'd have to do is go back to say... 1925, and quietly bump-off Adolph Hitler... Hey presto, no Hitler... no Nazi party... and no World War Two. But the only problem is, it wouldn't bloody-well work!" "Why not?" "Well think about it... If there was no World War Two, then the guy who invented the bleeding time machine, wouldn't have reason to go back in time to Germany and kill-off Hitler, would he? Jesus he wouldn't have the faintest idea who Adolph Hitler was in the first place. And besides there wouldn't have been technology boost that came out of that conflict, and that would probably mean that the guy wouldn't have wherewithal to invent the ruddy time machine in the first place!" "That's a point," I had to agree. "So why all this interest in the Pemberton guy? No. I think we, you and me were the prime targets in this operation. You specifically." "You're kidding me?" "Nope, it's beginning to make some sense to me... not much, but a little. That history geezer seemed to know a hell of a lot about you in particular. He didn't mean to tell me, I'm pretty sure it was a slip of the tongue. He tried to cover it, by moving the subject away from you and telling me that I am going to father three kids." "So, he did some research during the night." I don't think their systems are that good George. We're just two insignificant plebs who live in the back of nowhere, in 1988 remember. Jesus, three hundred years after we're dead, I doubt anyone will even remember us. What can you tell me about your great, great grandfather, for instance?" I shook my head. "Yeah, so how-come, two or three thousand years after we're dead and within twelve hours of meeting us these guys can discover that you had five children? Not kosher George! Something very not kosher at all is going on around here!" "Well everything's being put on computers in our time, Doug; record-keeping is so much better." "George, three thousand years later..." "You really think it's that long?" I interjected. "And the bloody rest, George! Anyway, do you really think that they're still using the same computers after all this time? I doubt anyone here's even heard of sodding Microsoft and it's crappy operating systems. If you gave these buggers a bloody hard drive from our time, I'll bet they wouldn't be able to read it. No, you're something special and all this is about you in some way, I'm sure of it. "I can't believe it, Douglas." "And another thing, why in heavens name did Adona bring those four prats along with him this evening? He knows they upset us by chasing after the girls. And then these four birds tonight. I don't know about you, but the two in red are... Well, they're definitely making me feel like a younger man..." "Is that possible, Doug?" "Sure is, George, those two have just proved it! But for some inexplicable reason, I keep suspecting that they are supposed to be doing exactly that. What's more, I'm beginning to think that our wives are expected to stray. I'd say whoever is running this show is counting on it!" "But why, what's the point in bringing us through time, just to steal our wives?" "I doubt the intention is to steal them George. Impregnate them, maybe!" "What!" I blustered. "Well, the guy let slip that you and your wife had at least five kids. But he didn't actually say, that you were the father of all of them. Hey, he didn't say that I was the father of all my kids, either! Hmm, I like this less and less, the more I try to figure out what game it is, they're playing." Tempus Frangit Ch. 02 "Ah, I see. So you think that for some unknown reason, they are trying to... well, seed a child or two, back in the twentieth century and they have chosen our wives for the purpose?" "Yeah that's about it. Can you come up with anything better?" "But why, Douglas; what possible purpose could they have for doing so? What would they have achieved?" "I don't know, George. I'm doing the bloody Times crossword here mate, and I can only put the words in, when I find the bleeding clues. Whatever they are playing at, we need to keep a very close eye on our wives if we are going to frustrate them." Termini Capitulus II Tempus Frangit Ch. 03 Tempus Frangit By Denham Forrest, writing as Misnomer Jones Tempus Frangit, Capitulus III It was an interesting night after Sylvia and I eventually got to bed. I'll admit that I had been... well, sucking up -- I suppose you could call it -- all that Ciera and Chaise laid on for my benefit. Boy those two had been all over me, especially Ciera. Er, I think I should clarify that; when I say all-over me, I mean in the figurative sense, not the physical. Mind you, I had been working on -- what had I thought was -- a cunning plan. Well, I kind of had it figured, that if persuasion wouldn't bring Sylvia back into line -- she and Rose had still been blatantly playing-up to those four tossers from the instant they'd arrived. And, what with Sylvia enjoying all those compliments liberally thrown her way by all the different guys we'd met during the day; a little too much for my liking, as well -- then, I figured that perhaps a little jealousy might work. It proved to be a double edged sword. Sylvia was aroused... oh, I was sure of that all right; remember we'd been married almost ten years. But she was also extremely pissed with me, because I'd spent most of the evening, "With those painted harlots!" Sylvia's words, not mine. Yeah well, I gave back as good as I received. I suggested that Sylvia's annoyance was tantamount to the kettle calling the pot black, an analogy that Sylvia didn't appear to understand. And I reminded Sylvia that all games have to have two teams at least. If she wanted to play games, then I was very likely to want to play as well At the time I just hoped that the plan would work. But later, for some reason, I had my doubts. Best plans of mice and men, and all that gobble-de-gook. ----- The next morning two different members of the team had replaced our minders. Handsome and pretty youngsters again and dressed in yellow; so that led Doug and I to believe that they were not there just to keep us entertained for the day. After breakfast we all took a walk in the dome and watched some folks playing an incomprehensible ball game. But shortly after, we came across a group of people sitting around playing chess. Well, a slight variation on chess as we know it, but that didn't stop Doug from having a go; once he'd studied them playing at it for a while. His opponents went easy on him until he got the hang of their rules and then the games grew quite intense. I must admit that I got sucked in as well, and played a couple of games myself. It was while we were doing so, that we lost the girls completely. Our two minders looked distinctly uncomfortable, when Doug and I demanded to know where the girls had disappeared to, and claimed that they had been so engrossed in our games of chess (or whatever they called it), that they hadn't seen the going of them. "Bollocks!" Was Doug's eloquent reply, and then he marched off in the direction of a couple of the bodyguards -- or security guys -- who been trying to follow us around without us noticing them. Those guys weren't too clever when it came to covert operations; I think they were really surprised that Doug and I knew they were there. All very stupid of them, because those yellow shirts they wore, really made them stand out from the crowd. George had it figured that wherever the girls had gone, there would be at least two more of those yellow shirts trailing along behind them somewhere. He took everyone by surprise when – after one of the yellow shirts had claimed he had no idea of whom we were referring – George snatched the communicator whatsit, from the guy's ear, and stuck it in his own. "Now, I know that there is some bugger on the other end of this bloody thing," Doug ranted, "and I'm also sure that you know exactly where our wives are. If you don't get them back here in five minutes I'll... Oh, hello Adona. Well, what a bleeding surprise! Okay, where are they?" There was a pause while Adona replied. "Bloody boat! Those arseholes are terrified of water; what happens if the boat capsizes or something, are our wives supposed to save your crewmen's lives. You get them back here sharpish, Adona! You've gone too far this time!" Doug listened again; then ranted on. "I've a right to get excited, mate; Rose is my wife! Look, if both of them are not back at the digs within half an hour, they'll be bloody hell to pay, I promise you!" Adona must have spoken again. "I don't give a shit what you do in this century Adona. We're of the twentieth century, and back there, wives do not put-it-about, with all and bloody sundry. Now you better use whatever influence you have over those wankers and get our wives back here, sharpish. Then you can ship us back down west today. Bugger your logistical problems, we want as far from you and your people, as possible." Doug then pulled the unit from his ear, and tossed it back to the very shocked security guy. "Would you believe it, they've gone out on the Thames in a bloody boat with two of those tossers from Adona's crew!" Doug raved at me and then he stomped off in the direction of our accommodation at a fair-old-lick. When I got there, there was no sign of the girls. Well, I hadn't expected there would be, not that quick anyway. Doug was attacking what was left of one of the wine bottles from the night before, and he handed me a bottle. I took a good swig and figured that I was beginning to get a taste for the stuff. Then -- I'm not sure why -- I did a quick count. There were another eight full bottles of the plonk sitting on the sideboard thingy-what's-it. "Shit!" I thought, "They didn't bring that many bottles in with them last night, someone has topped up our supply. What's the plan here, were Doug and I supposed to get pie-eyed on the stuff and lose track of what's going on." I grabbed the bottle from Doug's grasp and pointed out the discrepancy in the count to him, and the possible reason for it. "Shit, they don't know us very well, do they? We could drink several gallons of this muck, and still be stone-cold sober." He replied with a wicked grin. "That's assuming it hasn't been tampered with in some way, Doug. We still don't know what the game is here." "Sure we do. They are planning that, when they send us back to our time, our wives are going to be up-the-duff with a couple of these wanker's kids. Exactly why, I have no idea. But that's got to be their plan; stands to bloody reason!" As George finished his rant, our female minder appeared in the room, and somewhat sheepishly handed me one of their communicator things. I stuck it my ear and said, "Hello." "George, I'm sorry about this..." Adona's voice replied. "Adona, I don't give a toss what you're sorry about. I'm with Doug on this. You get our wives back here now, and then you can ship us back down to our cottages, pronto!" "Just a moment, please George?" Adona replied. Then I heard nothing for maybe half a minute or so; then. "George, it's Sylvia. No, we are not coming home yet. While you and Douglas were playing your silly game, Rose and I were bored out of our skulls. Win and Mol invited us to take a cruise on the reservoir and we thought it might be fun. More fun, than watching you two argue with those people over that silly game anyway." "We weren't arguing, Sylvia, we were discussing the differences between their rules and ours." "That doesn't matter, George. Rose and I were bored silly, and the boys invited us to go on a cruise on this barge thing. Anyway we're not alone it's a regular sightseeing trip and there must be a hundred other people on here as well. Anyway it doesn't get back until..." Someone in the background prompted her, I distinctly heard a male voice say "About four o'clock." "...after four. We'll see you then. And will you and Douglas please not embarrass us by making any more fuss." "Fuss...!" I began to rant. But Sylvia was saying, "I'm going now, George." Then she didn't reply anymore. "That was..." I began to say to Doug. "Yeah, so I gathered. They aren't coming straight back are they?" "No, they're off with two of Adona's guys as we surmised." "Do you think...?" "I wouldn't be at all surprised, Doug. What with that 'time-out' line of crap Sylvia was laying on me the other day. I tell you, if she comes back pregnant, that's it, as far as I'm concerned. If I get the slightest hint of proof that she's stepped out of line on me, then that's it!" "How will you be able to tell. All the proof we're going to get around here is that they are on a boat with those guys." "Well, Sylvia claims there are other people around as well. So I should imagine, besides those two tossers, they'll be a couple of those ever-watchful security guys as well. And you know yourself, that barring Adona, who appears to be an expert at deception, these folks can't lie for nuts. All we've got to do is, watch which two security guys follow them back and straight-out ask the buggers." "Might work, I'm with you all the way George. I'm not standing for..." "Yeah, I know Doug, I know!" ---- About half an hour later, Doug, who had been staring out of the window – I think studying all the security guys in the hope he'd be able to recognise which had been missing while Rose and Sylivia had been away, when they returned – said, "Something's up, that's for bloody sure!" I went over to join him and noted that all the security guys were looking... well, smartly alert, and they were all standing to attention. Then a vehicle glided into sight. Something like one of those stretched golf trolleys that seated about six or eight people, but without any wheels; it hovered just clear of the ground. Sitting in the front of it, were Chaise and one of the girls in red, who'd been at dinner the evening before, and two of those ubiquitous yellow shirts sitting right at the back. "The first time we've seen anything like that," Doug commented, "I didn't think they used mechanised transport inside the city, only those moving walkways and escalators." "We've only seen this one small dome, Doug. That golf cart has come from the direction of the big one. That thing's at least a mile across; too far to walk. When it comes down to it mate, we've only seen what they've wanted us to see." "I'll give you that, but I wonder what do these two want?" ----- Chaise walked straight up to me wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug. Looking over at Doug I noted that the girl in red had done the same to him. Mind the two girls had been... well maybe they'd showed a little too much familiarity – of the touchy feely kind – the evening before. I know that Sylvia had been narked about that, and I had to suppose that Rose must have been as well. But then again, it was no more or less overt, than the blatant familiarity our wives had been showing towards those... "What brings you here today, Chaise?" I asked guardedly. I was definitely suspicious of the two women's unexpected arrival. I'm not sure what Doug said to the other girl, but it was pretty obvious that both of them were taken aback by the coldness in our voices. "Oh dear, am I being too forward by embracing you... I didn't mean... I'm sorry George; it's our way. Please accept my apology if I've done anything to upset you?" "You haven't exactly, Chaise, but everyone else around here has. We want out of here today... Doug and myself want your people to send us back to our own time now... today." "Oh dear, what on earth has happened?" "We suspect that you know already, young lady," Doug interjected, "Our wives have disappeared off somewhere with a couple of Adona's Neanderthals. That's why you're here isn't it, to keep us occupied while they... they fornicate somewhere. And to say that we're pissed-off about the situation, is putting it mildly." Chaise's eyes had grown as large as saucers. "Oh, dear. That wasn't supposed to happen yet, I'm sure." "What do you mean, yet?" I demanded. "Well I... Oh dear, none of this is going as it should have... I think someone has... well, there has been a major foul-up somewhere. I can't tell you exactly what was supposed to happen because I don't really know. All I can tell you is that I was detailed to accompany and chaperone Ciera when she came to... be introduced to you. I thought that Adona's people..." she stopped speaking. "Adona's people what, Chaise?" I demanded. Although mind my mind was even more confused than it had been. Chaise had used the word 'Chaperone'. "I don't know for sure, George. And I can't tell you what I think is supposed to happen either. Oh my, am I going to get into trouble for telling you anything?" Somewhat oddly -- when I thought about it – it sounded like Chaise was actually asking me, if she was going to get into trouble. As if I would know. Although there was the possibility that she was asking herself. "Chaise, you've told us sweet FA really, just confused us even more." Doug chimed in, then he demanded, "What about you, can you tell us what the sodding-'ell is really going on around here?" of the girl dressed in red. With eyes looking even bigger the Chaise's had done, the young woman just stood there --- visibly -- trembling and shaking her head. "She has less idea of Simul's wishes than I have, Douglas. Simul arrived in the city a little while ago and has requested that both of you attend an audience immediately. That is why we are here this morning and for no other reason I can assure you." "Simul!" Douglas echoed. Both, Doug and I knew that name. Adona had only mentioned it a couple of times. Simul was the name of the deity, or single world ruler, that Adona had told us about. We'd surmised that the name had a religious significance of some sort, and because of that fact it was rarely mentioned in public, or folks appeared to avoid using it anyway. "We'd better get going. Simul doesn't like to be kept waiting," Chaise went on, "And please, George, don't say that I told you anything, I beg of you?" "Chaise, you have told us nothing anyway. Just confirmed that all wasn't as we were supposed to believe it was. Lead the way, girl, let's see what the almighty Simul has to say for himself?" Doug told her. Chaise nervously slipped her arm in mine, and then led the way out to the little golf-trolley thing. She and I climbed into the front two seats, Doug and the other girl into the two behind. The two guys at the rear sat there like a pair of dummies. "The palace!" Chaise commanded, then the golf trolley gentle accelerated away, eventually getting up to considerable speed. I have no idea how it was achieved, but there was a clear pathway though the quite large numbers of people who were milling about within the dome -- doing what they usually did, I suppose -- for the craft to follow. Mind you, those people in yellow outfits kept catching my eye. The craft swept into a short tunnel, then out into the large dome. There was no mistaking it; it was so much larger than any of the others we'd been in the day before. I'll hazard a guess here, but say that there was a predominance of people dressed in various shades of red. With just the odd character dressed in purple. All watched us as we passed and some of them even bowed or nodded their heads. I glanced at Chaise and was surprised to see that she had... well, a slightly embarrassed expression on her face. Not what one would expect of someone who was used to having their presence acknowledged, or honoured as they passed. As we got nearer to the centre of the dome, the few buildings that there were dotted around between the rolling lawns and piazzas very suddenly came to an end. Then we passed through a great park -- or garden -- dotted with trees, very few of which we'd seen in the other domes. The park area was also devoid of people. Well almost, there was the odd yellow shirt to be spied here and there. Eventually the craft slowed and stopped in a cobbled courtyard before the entrance to a large -- and not very impressive – structure, that had without doubt been modelled on the 'International Style' of the nineteen-thirties. Chaise got out and I followed, as obviously did Doug and the young woman in red. I'm afraid my mind was too busy studying our surroundings. And trying to figure out why it was called a palace, in looked more like one of the older office blocks, or blocks of flats, that can be found scattered around London. Jesus, the entrance was even reminiscent of my old school that had been built during the thirties. Ciera came hurrying down the few steps to meet us, but as she did so, Chaise broke down in tears. There was no doubt in my mind that Ceira was intending to greet me as Chaise had done back at our accommodation. But when she saw Chaise was crying, Ciera quite niftily diverted to hug and kiss her. But while she did so, Ciera was staring into my eyes, almost demanding to know what I'd done to make her friend cry. Actually I'd say it that was a look of disappointment. "Don't look at me like that, girl. I didn't start any of this," I retorted. "Sorry, I know it's... anyway Simul is impatient to meet you. Follow me please," Ciera said and then taking Chaise by the arm she led the way inside the building. Somewhat surprisingly there were no yellow shirts around. A couple of people dressed in purple bowed heads very formally to Ciera as we passed them and climbed a wide staircase to a higher level. Then Ciera, stopping before a pair of large wooden doors, said, "Please go in, George. Simul is waiting for you." As I stepped towards them, the doors opened of their own accord. I heard Ciera telling Doug not to follow me, as the doors gently closed again. The room was a large hall; I'm sure designed to be impressive by it's size, rather than its décor. Actually it was very plain by our standards; reminiscent of the main assembly hall in my old school, once again. At the far end, seated on a... well, large chair, -- I'm sure intended to be a throne, but not ornate in anyway. -- that itself sat upon a raised dais, was a person dressed in the same vivid shade of purple toga that Ciera wore. And who commanded, "Come closer please, George?" in a female voice. When I had closed the gap between us, I saw that she looked to be about thirty-years-old, but I instantly got the impression that she was far older than she appeared to be. Actually I'd seen few people who appeared to look any older than forty, all the time we'd been in the city. "Good afternoon, your highness," was the only greeting that I could think of. "Oh, please don't be so formal, George. You know as well as we do, that we're just another ordinary person like yourself, Douglas, Sylvia or Rose." "Who rules the World!" I found myself reminding her. But I was thinking "And it doesn't appear to have stopped you using the Royal 'we' though, does it Simul?" I thought it prudent not to voice that thought, though. "Just because somebody has to, George. Not because we wish too. That is the first prerequisite of a Simul actually; not to want the chore." "I don't understand, your highness." "No, you're a man, I didn't suppose you would understand, unless you knew our history. You will call me Kay in my presence please, George. But always refer to me as Simul to others; no gender reference mind. Now come, we'll try to explain," she said, rising from her seat and taking hold of my arm, much as Chaise had done earlier. Then Kay led me through a doorway into, what I assume, were her private quarters. Decked out as they were in the same decor as our temporary accommodation had been. There was nothing spectacular about them at all. Tempus Frangit Ch. 03 "George, a long time ago, our society decided that if any one individual wanted to rule the earth, then they are the last person in the world that should be allowed or trusted to do so. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." "I've heard that quote before, or something very similar, anyway," I commented. "Yes, it's an old saying and one our society has been constructed around. Each Simul chooses her successor, always female, and one who doesn't want the job in the first place." "You're kidding me. Surely someone has claimed they didn't want it, when they really did?" "Some people have tried to fool the system, of course. But up until now, none have succeeded. It's very doubtful that anyone ever will, we have checks and balances in place that few of our inhabitants will ever understand. "We've even had a few males try to pretend that they are female so they might be eligible. Unfortunately for them, our reproductive system makes that deception virtually impossible before they even start. Ah, that's raised your curiosity hasn't it? All that will be explained to you later. In a way that is why you're here, we believe. "Sorry, we're confusing you George, aren't we? Yes well, we always knew that this was going to be difficult. "George, you are going to ask why we brought you here. The answer is, that we don't exactly know. History tells us you came here, stayed for some days and then went back to your own time; but we don't really know the reason why you came." There was something distinctly odd about the way Simul spoke. Besides realising that there was, I couldn't put my finger on why it struck me as so strange at the time. While what she actually said to me sounded so casual and relaxed, every so often she left distinct pauses between her sentences. Kinda like she was... I don't know, maybe calculating and discussing with herself, what she was going to say next. Her speech came out sounding rather unnatural and disjointed anyway. "Well, we do know why you have been brought here, and we don't know at the same time. Perhaps you will know when it's time for you to return. Please make it clear to Thomas, if you do?" "Thomas, who's he?" There was a distinct delay before Simul replied, as if she was in two minds whether to tell me who the Thomas she had just mentioned was. I thought, she even regretted mentioning him; but eventually she decided to half tell me. Well, I thought she did. "Oh yes. We're confusing you again, aren't we? I'm sorry this is very difficult for us. Thomas is part of your own future and our history. Much like Professor Pemberton is." "Pemberton, Adona mentioned him." "Her, George. Jean Pemberton is your great granddaughter; or will be one day. Oh my, I wonder if we should have told you that yet. Perhaps you could clarify that with Thomas as well?" "Look, you are confusing me more than a little, Simul. But am I right in assuming that, if Jean Pemberton is going to be my great granddaughter, then Thomas is a what... grandson or great grandson?" "Well we're not exactly sure, but we believe that you're on the right lines. This is very awkward for us, George, there are some questions that we know that we should not tell you the answers too; not yet. And some we do not know the answers to because... Well you didn't tell Thomas. But in time... your time, the answers to those questions will become obvious to you, I'm sure. "What we are able to tell you is all in Thomas's records of your visit here, and we have been in possession of those records for many centuries. Indeed it is they that must guide our actions while you are here... how much we may tell you, and when." "Yeah, stands to reason. I guess somewhere, that history guy who was kicking around with Adona, he's got to have a book or diary that Thomas wrote hundreds of years ago, and you people are trying to make what happened in the diary actually happen. Am I right? "You've got the basic idea, George. But you, Ciera, Chaise and your offspring have been the basis of myth and legend for many hundreds of years." "Ciera and Chaise?" "Yes, they both go back with you, and bear you five children between them." "Both of them?" "Yes! Oh, of course, monogamy is the norm in your time isn't it? Well, you must live outside the norm, I assume. Between them they bear you five children; according to Thomas's account anyway." "And Sylvia?" "She stays here, and as does Rose. Myra, the young woman who was with Chaise this morning, goes back to your time with your friend Douglas. They have three children we believe. Thomas was more than a little vague about certain facts, purposely vague we believe." "Oh my, but we can't just dump Sylvia and Rose here, and take three strangers back to the twentieth century with us. They're our wives. I love Sylvia." "You don't dump Sylvia! Sylvia effectively abandons you, or so we believe, and..." Simul suddenly stopped herself mid sentence, and then remained silent for a considerable period of time. I got the distinct impression she was debating with herself again. Then she nodded her head and went on. "No, I afraid that it's too early, we shouldn't be telling you this, yet. History must run as it has already run. We must be careful what information we do give you, but we are afraid that Adona's impatience and attempts to hurry things along, might have..." another untimely interruption, "But of course it can't have done, can it. Well, we think, not yet, anyway." "You are confusing me again, Kay." "George, you can never understand how difficult this is for us to do. We're charged with ensuring that history goes as it should, or did. And that isn't easy when you are dealing with the emotions of others that you little understand to start with. Many years ago our society developed along a different path to yours. We live with the consequences of that change of direction. Now. our duty is to ensure that life goes on as it has been. "There is much I can't tell you yet, but I'm sure that Ciera and Chaise will, after you have returned to your own time. They do not know that they both fall in love with you; or you with them for that matter. A Simul long before us, had some careful alterations made to the history as taught to our children, to ensure that the girls would not recognise themselves, when the time came. "Adona in his exuberance, has tried to... well rush things and pushed you all together far too early we believe. I'm just praying that he hasn't messed things up completely. "You see, my problem is, George, that we cannot know if Adona has broken the cycle until you do return back to your own time. And if he has, effectively, he has already done it. So far everything's fine because you are here. But Douglas and your demand to be returned back you own time at this instant does not fit with Thomas's recorded scenario, and that's why I've stepped in. Do you understand?" "No, you've lost me completely, Kay." "I feared that you wouldn't. Let us put it this way, no matter what does happen in the next few days, at this moment, you are going to return to your own time with Ciera and Chaise in about seven or ten days time. You have to, because you already have; we have Thomas's written account of the fact as proof. "Our problem is, Thomas did not go into enough detail. He just says that you were returned to your own time after spending about seven or ten days here. He's a little vague on that point; it could be much longer. But he clearly states that you had Ciera and Chaise with you. He also implies that you were somewhat chastised by some of the populace in your own time for cohabiting with the two women for the rest of your life." "Ah, I see, what you are saying is, that if it's Sylvia who goes back with me, then, most likely, Thomas wouldn't have been born and therefore he would not have been able to record it, and therefore you wouldn't be able to tell me that it happened." "You're there, George. You and Douglas are going to leave Sylvia and Rose here. Of course it will be their own decision to stay, of that fact I can assure you. Thomas is adamant about it. As things stand at present, you and Douglas are going to take three women from our time back with you to yours. It has to be, because it has already happened. If you didn't, then you would not be able to be here with me in the first place. Possibly there would not be a here and now, anyway." "Oh my god, what a responsibility." "My responsibility, George, not yours. Now, if you would, I'll ask you not to stop Sylvia from... I know that you love her, but let her go, please? And spend some time getting to know Ciera and Chaise. Apparently they both fall in love with you very quickly, why else would they choose to return to your time with you, if they didn't. They have everything they need or could possibly want here, except for you. By the time you leave, you must surely be taken with them as well, or why would you ask them to go with you? And you will. You know that now, don't you?" Well, I hope I understand you, Simul..." "Kay!" "Right, Kay, but it sounds a little too familiar for me to call you that." "My people think that I'm the chosen one, George. You know otherwise. You know that I'm just another person who is charged with keeping this society going." "Simul. From what you've told me, you are the chosen one. Your predecessor chose you, very carefully I'm sure. And I'm also sure that you will take just as much care over choosing your own successor. And I really don't envy you your job, woman. Why a female anyway, you implied that men weren't eligible?" "You saw the world as it is now, George. Were not males the..." "Kay, say no more. There never has been anything more stupid on this planet than an egotistical male who's full of his own importance and thinks he knows it all. There's not a war that I can recall that wasn't started by a power hungry male." "There were some in your history, George, you can be sure of that. But we weed that kind of mentality out very early here, and they don't become eligible to become a Simul." "I won't ask how." "Thank you, George," she said, smiling at me. I found myself smiling back at the woman. I'm not sure why, perhaps I'd begun to understand her, and maybe even the society she ruled over. "But George, even if you don't realise it, you are in control here; you and Douglas. As we understand our history, your wives... well they find they enjoy our lifestyle here, more than the one back in your own time. I know this is awkward seeing that it hasn't happened yet." "Simul, I think I understand all that side of things. "Oh, right then. Well, it's up to you and Douglas, and whether you allow your spouses... is that the right word?" "It is!" "Yes well, if you let them... well, do what they would like to do in the next few days..." "Give them enough rope to hang themselves!" "You're confusing me now, George." "Sorry, just a saying from my own time. Roughly it means to allow someone enough latitude of action that eventually in testing how far you are willing to let them go... Well, eventually they will go so far that even they realise that they can't go back." "I think I understand you, you are saying that Sylvia will know that she's... well done something that your marriage rules will not allow..." "No, not exactly Kay, I think Sylvia thinks that because she's not in our own time, she can ignore her marriage vows completely. No, I believe that eventually she's going to realise that I will not forgive her those transgressions and then Sylvia will decide to take the easiest way out she can find." "And that would be to stay here, with us." "You got it, sister!" "You won't be happy about that." "Kay, I haven't been happy about any of this. I haven't been since about ten minutes after Adona arrived at the sphere. But as you tell me all of this has already happened, then there is sod-all I can do about it, is there? I wonder if this an example of a true chronoclasm?" "I have no idea, George. But it could be that you being here is a paradox. You are in our present, yet you are part of our past at the same time. What you do now, you already have done, many years ago. All you have to do now, is persuade your friend Douglas to do what I hope you believe is the right thing." "No, Kay. I don't think I have too. Douglas doesn't know he's got a choice, and I prefer not to give him one. Well, not to ask him to make one, anyway. He's angry that Rose is doing what he construes as showing him disrespect. He is angrier than I was really; they've only been married for four years. Rose has just about used up all the rope she needs to, if you understand me. We just have to make sure that... Myra did you say?" Simul nodded, "Well that she's close-by when he needs comforting. The rest we leave up to nature." "And you and Ciera and Chaise?" "You assure me, that they have no idea that they are the two women I'm supposed to take back with me." "Totally George. They all know that Sylvia and Rose are supposed to stay here. But very few people are aware that anyone goes back with you and Douglas; not even Adona is sure of that. A predecessor of mine made sure that information was removed from the public history records. Your importance to everyone here, is that you are the great grandfather of Jean Pemberton." "And her importance to your people, in the here and now?" "We don't know George. Thomas didn't tell us. All he says is that sometime in your year 2058, she spends about a year here with us, and that she is returned to her own time at the same instant she left it. As you will have been, of course! "Why a year, and what she does here during that time we have no idea, because Thomas did not tell us in his record. We assume he did that for a reason. There are many things in Thomas's record of events that we do not fully understand yet. "For instance, he insists that you and Douglas in particular must never discover the date here now. Our historians believe that is because your arrival here might have been... well, looked on as a sort of coming of a saviour or something." "A saviour from what?" "Ah, now George, we don't know. You're from the time when people believed in that kind of thing." "Yeah I think I get the idea. Thomas had worked it out, that your people would have been looking forward for centuries to a non-event." "It's most likely that you would have told him that, George. The development of time-shift has gone on at a pace for centuries, our scientists knew they had a goal, but they did not have a deadline. Actually some of them thought it impossible. Others think it... well dangerous, and I'm sure that after Jean has visited, the technology will be destroyed." "Destroyed!" I gasped, in surprise. "Yes, naturally, the time shift was developed solely to bring you and Jean here. There will be no reason to continue with development or the research after that goal has been achieved. There are no other... anomalies that point to further visits here of people from the past in our history records. Besides, our facilities are needed elsewhere, there is still a lot more decontamination to be done." "You could visit your own future." "George, are you happy with the knowledge that several hundred years after your lifetime, almost the entire land surface of the planet is rendered contaminated desert wasteland by your descendants. Thousands of years have passed, and in spite of all of our efforts, still a good third of the planet's land surface is uninhabitable. We are working hard and eventually we might win and be able to return all the world to nature, but it's a long hard battle. "Now, I hope and trust that you and Douglas will do as our history dictates; we are in your hands. But you should get back to him now, I believe he surely must be getting a little fractious. If you wish to speak with me again, just tell Ciera and she will arrange a meeting." Taking me by surprise, Simul leant close and kissed me on the cheek. I gathered that I was being dismissed, so summoned up my best formal manners. Well, what I thought was good etiquette anyway. Standing, I turned to face Simul, reached for and gently took hold of her right hand; raising it slightly, I kissed the back of it. "My, George, I do believe." "Such niceties are old fashioned and almost obsolete even in my time, Simul. But they do have a little something, don't they?" "My, my, are Ciera and Chaise going to meet their match in you." "Milady, 'tis what you requested, I believe?" "Thank you, George. Until we meet again." ----- Back out in the first floor foyer, I found Douglas sitting between Myra and another woman looking somewhat nervous. Leaving the two females he rushed over to me. I guided him down the stairs, out of the building and onto the parkland while we talked. Signalling Myra and the other girl, and Ciera and Chaise -- who I believe had been waiting on the lower floor for us – to stay out of earshot. "What was he like?" was the first question out of Doug's mouth. "He, is a she, Douglas!" "You jest," "Nope, the whole damned world is governed by one woman. Well, she makes all the major decisions I gather. But unfortunately it looks like the likes of Adona appear to stick their noses in further down the line." "Well, is she going to send us back to our own time now?" "No, Douglas, she can't. Not yet anyway." "Why not, George? You know what is going to happen to our marriages if she doesn't." "Douglas, have you any idea what a chronoclasm is?" "A chrono-what?" "It's a kind-of paradox, Doug. In our case a paradox that's hooked up with time travel, or time displacement anyway." "So?" "Well we're living one of the ruddy things. We're slap bang in the middle of it and there's sweet FA that we can do to change what happens. Or maybe I should say, that we should not try to, because we have no idea what would be the outcome, if we did." "I'm not with you, George. Where're you going with this?" I went on to explain to Douglas that -- whether we liked it or not -- what was gong to happen in the next few days, had already happened, and that that was the paradox. Eventually he sort-of understood; I think. Mind you, I still wasn't convinced that I fully understood myself, but I wasn't prepared -- or maybe brave enough -- to try to change what Simul had told me had... would happen. Then I tried to explain to him, that... well, if our wives did forget their vows and overstep the line then they had already done so, many millennia ago; so there was little point in Douglas or I getting all out of shape over it. Yeah, I know; it still doesn't sound convincing to my mind, either. Doug had a little more difficulty swallowing that pill. You know, I think he thought that I was asking him to ignore Rose's behaviour in the beginning. But when I reminded him that infidelity was a game everyone could play and told him that forgiveness did not necessarily have to be part of the equation, his expression changed. "Are you trying to tell me...?" He began to ask. "Douglas, I am not trying to suggest anything to you. I'm just saying that Jewish law says an 'eye for an eye' doesn't it? You do as your conscience sees fit. I'm pretty sure that is what I'll be doing!" "You know that our wives are definitely going to betray us don't you?" Doug finally asked. "No, I do not know what they do in that respect, Douglas. But I do know that we have to let their actions dictate what we do over the next few days. And now, I'm thinking that the concert, or recital, or whatever it's suppose to be, that our minders told us about last night, might be a good place for us to spend this evening. With some pleasant company to boot, of course. Tempus Frangit Ch. 03 Douglas pulled a long face and reminded me... well, we'd played with the entertainment centre, radio or whatever it was back out our digs, and let's say, these people's idea of good music, wasn't ours. But then again, I'd never been partial to much in the way of most classical music back in our own time. I figured I'd be able to sit through a couple of hours of their... no, lets leave that there, shall we. Of course Doug and I talked (and walked) for far longer than that, once again I'm just touching the surface here to give you the gist of how our conversation went. Having strolled in a large circle in the park, the two of us finally returned to forecourt where Ciera, Chaise, Myra and the other young woman were waiting for us. I was still hungry for information and had decided that I was most likely to wangle it out of Chaise than anyone else. "Chaise!" I called out as we approached, "I was very short with you earlier, I need to apologise to you and make recompense. We were told that there's a recital this evening, would you please do me the honour of accompanying us to it?" I must admit that Chaise looked somewhat taken aback by the invitation, and Ciera... well we've all seen a female who's had her nose put out of joint; God did she look jealous! "Oh, you're welcome as well, Ciera," I added, hoping that she would not accept the invitation. Feeling spurned I suppose -- as some females are want to – Ciera declined my invitation, explaining that she had a previous engagement for the evening. The expression on Chaise's face informed me that my prospective suitor had just told me a little fib. "Oh, Myra, what about you? Douglas was a little short with you today. How's your calendar for this evening?" I'm not sure who was most surprised at that request, Myra or Douglas. Whatever, after a moment's hesitation, Myra said that she would be delighted to come along. Douglas and I travelled back to our digs alone. Well except for the two yellow dummies seated in the rear of the golf cart do-what's-it. But they were far enough away not to hear us if we kept our voices down. "Jesus, what are the girls going to say about those two tagging along with us this evening?" "If by girls, you're talking about Sylvia and Rose, Douglas? I very much fear that they will not be coming with us this evening. I suspect they will come home and inform us they have alternative plans; which might or might not include you and I. But we need to find out who's in the driving seat here. Lay it on the line and discover whether they will choose to come with us to the recital, or go off with whoever has invited them elsewhere. We need to see how far they intend to push their luck." "But if they..." "Yes, and then we will inform them that two can play at that game. But first we... I intend to inform Sylvia that she has definitely over-stepped the mark for what I consider reasonable behaviour for a married woman. Or one who thinks she's going to remain my wife, anyway! "Christ, things were bad enough last night, them disappearing off with those wankers all-day without a word. No mate, no woman is going to walk all over my pride like that, and remain my wife." Douglas did not reply, he went very quiet and stared down at his hands for the rest of the journey. Me, I found myself politely nodding to numerous people dressed in purple for most of the rest of the journey. Termini Capitulus III Tempus Frangit Ch. 04 Tempus Frangit By Denham Forrest, writing as Misnomer Jones Tempus Frangit, Capitulus IV Sylvia and Rose bounced into the bungalow – or whatever you like to call it – just after five o'clock, as if they had not a care in the world. The two grinning Neanderthals they called 'Win' and 'Mol' followed them. Two guys Douglas and I took to referring to -- between ourselves -- as 'arsehole' and 'asshole'. Hey, I never would have imagined that the difference between American English and the real thing, would come in so handy. Anyway Douglas's temper got the better of him and... well, I -- and a couple of those yellow shirted security guards -- had to separate the two of them. Me holding Douglas back as best I could, and the two yellow shirts restraining the guy the girls called Win, before bundling him outside. The other guy, Mol or whatever his name was, bravely inserted himself between the two women and the altercation and then did... well, he did sod-all actually, but stand there with a nonplussed expression on his face, mouth agape. I have to say that for all his size -- and apparent fitness -- the Win bloke didn't put up a very good show against Doug, even though Win did have the upper hand. Whether Win was going easy on Doug, or he just wasn't used to fisticuffs, I have no idea. Whatever Mol, followed his mate outside rather sharpish once a little decorum had been re-established. But Douglas hadn't got his emotions completely under control and once the four of us were alone, he tore into Rose – verbally. Who matched him word for word and gave him back as good as she got. Don't ask me exactly what they said to each other because with both of them shouting at the top of their voices, I couldn't exactly hear. No, I didn't instantly lose my own cool with Sylvia. Even though I was not enamoured with the idea, I suppose I had accepted the inevitability of was about to happen. Because I knew that -- in Simul's peoples' history at least -- it already had happened, and by that time in my life I was way past the point where I could be bothered to cry over spilt milk. I just stood there, without speaking, glowering at Sylvia. Who at first looked a little nervous until Rose took a holier than thou stance in her argument with Doug, then Sylvia began to look a little more belligerent. But then when the Sugget's eventually ran out of steam, Sylvia went on the attack and complained that I'd embarrassed her in front of everyone. That inevitably led to my retaliating. "How have I embarrassed you, Sylvia? I didn't go gallivanting off with a youngster half my age without word, and leaving my spouse behind." Okay a complete exaggeration, those guys had to have been in their mid to late twenties and Sylvia was only thirty-two; but really, I was trying to make a point. "George, it meant nothing. Things are different here; men and women don't get married like we do back home." "No, they don't, Sylvia! But that's no reason to forget that you are married to me. At the moment anyway, the way you're going I can't see us being married long after we get back to our own time again." "Oh, that's silly, George. You boys are taking this all too seriously. In a few days Adona's people will transport us back home and we'll be laughing about this together." "If you think that, Sylvia; you've got another thought coming. Now if you don't mind I'm going to take a shower, then we'd better eat. We're going to a concert tonight." "Concert, no. The boys told us they have an ice-skating rink in one of the domes. They are taking us..." "Sylvia. I am going to a concert, and if you have any sense left in your head, you will come with me." "No, George, their music is rubbish, I don't like it anyway. Why don't you come ice skating with us?" "You have to be kidding, me go along with you, with that freak sniffing round like a dog on heat? How long do you think it would be before I wiped that smirk off his face permanently? Sylvia, you might not realise how angry I am about the way you've been behaving around those wankers, but I'm damned sure he does. I'm going to the concert, either you come with me, or you don't come. Honestly, I just don't give a damn anymore." Our evening meal with just the four of us – our two minders trying to keep out of the way, I should imagine -- was a somewhat sombre affair. You know, I don't believe any of us said more than two words during the whole meal. But Sylvia must have been doing some thinking though, because very suddenly after the meal she started to change her position to a more conciliatory stance. I'll admit that she could only do this because I had -- I suppose some folks would say childishly -- switched into dumb mode. I refused to reply or react in any way when she spoke to me. Come-on fella's, we've nearly all had the missus play that card at least once in our lives; I wanted to see how Sylvia would react to the treatment. Very oddly, I thought, Sylvia seemed to be under the impression that... well, when push came to shove, I'd cave and go ice-skating with her, Rose and their new friends. I can only assume that she and Rose believed Douglas would do the same. A very strange conclusion for them to come to, after Douglas's violent outburst earlier, I thought. But then, I've never claimed to be able to understand how the female mind works. I know to have gone to the ice rink, would have effectively meant total surrender of our principles. And I was also aware that -- short of actually physically stopping her -- there was nothing I could do to prevent Sylvia from going skating with those idiots, if she chose too. I think the fact that Doug and I chose to wear togas told the girls where we were going, the same as their choice of those leggings and short dresses informed Doug and I of their decision. However the shock on both Sylvia and Rose's faces was plain to see when Chaise and Myra arrived in the golf trolley again to pick us up. "Did you have the front to lecture me about going ice-skating with Mol and Win, when you were intending to cavort around with those little tarts this evening?" Sylvia demanded. "Sylvia, I invited Chaise and Myra to come with us, you and me, to the concert tonight. It's you who decided to go gallivanting elsewhere without consulting me. Now you have a choice, the concert... or off with lover-boy. Frankly after your behaviour today, I don't give a monkey's where you go!" There were a few moments when I'm sure that Sylvia was in two minds. But then her facial expression changed. I'd say a look of sad understanding more than anything else, came over her face. I really do believe that was the instant that Sylvia realised that she'd probably already pushed my patience too far. "George, I'm sorry. I think I should go ice-skating with Rose, don't you?" She suddenly said. "Sylvia, I told you, I don't give a damn what you do, from now on!" "I'm sorry, George." she said. Then she burst into tears and ran back into the building. "Do you wish to cancel this evening?" Chaise asked, as I climbed into the seat alongside Douglas and behind her and Myra. "No, Chaise, it's a little too late to cancel anything. A good couple of thousand years, too late actually!" I'm sure Douglas and Rose had had words, but to this day I do know not what transpired between them just before we left for the concert that evening. To be honest, I believe that Rose and Douglas's marriage had gone up in smoke at the same instant in time as mine really had; when our wives had chosen to do their vanishing act that morning. All that had happened afterwards, had really just been the aftermath, or dying embers. The concert was... well horrendous. I really did wish that I could have gone ice-skating with Sylvia. Look, their musical instruments were crude, nothing like we are used to. And the screeching noise that came out of them has to be heard to be believed. And I'm not going to even mention the vocalist. However, Douglas and I made our mark, and -- so I'm told -- started a new trend. When the torture was finally over, out of respect and good manners, Douglas and I stood-up while we joined in the applause. It was with some embarrassment that we realised that, doing so, was unusual behaviour in their society. But because Chaise – dressed in purple as she was -- had followed our example, the people near us also stood; out of respect I believe. Well, by the time the applause faded away, everyone in the concert hall was standing. I've since been informed that is now called a 'Visitor Ovation' and has become standard procedure. After the concert, Chaise suggested that we went to one of the many eating-places in the large dome. I won't call them restaurants because they weren't, not as we know them anyway. At no time at all did I ever see any money exchanged or even signing of chits, and no prices were ever displayed for anything. Yes, there were waiters and waitresses, but often they appeared to sit down and join the customers. And it was Myra who took our order and went of to get our food and drink. She returned with another woman carrying some of it though. I'll add that Doug and I didn't actually choose anything because we still had little understanding what anything was. We did ask if there was any wine though, and that arrived in copious quantities. I fear, because the two girls were aware of how much of the stuff Douglas and I could put away when we chose to. ----- "Shall we walk for a while?" I said to Chaise once we'd left the eating-house. "As you wish," she replied. Tucking her arm in mine when I proffered it. Douglas and Myra followed suit, but soon dropped back behind us. We were followed I might add, at a discrete distance, by the golf trolley with its two yellow shirts sitting in the rear. However, I was ignoring those guys by then. I had other things on my mind. "Chaise, this morning you said something that confused me, I wonder if you might clarify it in my mind?" "If I can, I'd be delighted to, George. What did I say?" "Well you said that you were acting as Ciera's chaperone at dinner last evening." "Yes that's right, I always chaperone for Ciera; we are close friends." "But why would she need a chaperone, I thought free... Well, I thought you people had a lax attitude towards... fraternisation between the sexes." "Oh we do, but some of our females... well they can't become too emotionally involved, if you understand me. Or maybe I should say, that if they do, it's important that Simul gets to hear about it." "Why is that; is it a class thing?" "Oh my no; there are no social classes here." "Oh, come on, Chaise, don't try to feed me that line. What's all the different colours you people dress in all about, if it's not class distinction?" "Service to the community, George. In your time, as I understand it; you valued wealth. Your personal wealth dictated your social standing. Here, we value service to the community. I'm a nurse, and Ciera is a schoolteacher. She's a very good and dedicated schoolteacher, and I'm a highly trained nurse. For the dedication we put into our everyday work, we are rewarded with status within the community. Possessions mean nothing here, George." "So why then, does Simul have any interest in Ciera's... social life?" "Well, that's a little difficult to explain. But some females are chosen to... well they are selected as possible Simuls of the future. To fulfil that position, they have to be a little different from everyone else. We do still fall in love in our time, George. And it is possible for someone to be... oh dear, what do you call it? I wish I was a schoolteacher, I'd probably know then. Beguiled, is that the word I'm looking for? Simul has a very difficult job. She must be strong and not easily influenced in her decisions, by anyone." "Oh blimey, I see, your job as a nurse, is to psychoanalyse Ciera, on the quiet." "She's my friend George, I couldn't psychoanalyse her... although, I suppose I do really, unintentionally; we are very close friends. Actually Ciera would prefer it, if she was not a candidate. No one looks forward to being picked as Simul, George. It's the loneliest job in the world. So much responsibility, and so demanding." "And Adona, and all these people dressed in yellow, what are you allowed to tell me about them." "Anything you want to know. Yellow attire denotes that you are doing whatever... at Simul's direct request, or in their name, if that makes sense. Simul doesn't give individuals orders directly. And of course they are charged with keeping the peace. There are some disagreements in our society. Some members of our society... well they play with other people's emotions. From what I witnessed earlier, that doesn't appear to be a trait exclusive to our time." "Ah well, as I told you yesterday, we have a society based on monogamy, and in theory we mate for life, an institution we loosely term marriage. Regretfully, all too often that turns out not to be the case." "Why loosely?" "Well the ties that bind folks together, don't appear to be as tight as they were at one time." "I must admit that idea sounds enchanting. One person you can become emotionally attached to and stay with... forever?" "That's the theory, Chaise. Doesn't always workout like that though, as you saw earlier. The only way it can work, is if you are willing to forsake all others." "Forsake?" "Not become attached emotionally... or otherwise, to anyone else, Chaise." "Otherwise?" "Sex, Chaise, you mustn't..." "Oh yes. Sexual involvement often leads to emotional involvement, and that would... Of course it has, hasn't it? With you and Sylvia. "But tell me, George, what happens if you become emotionally involved with someone who's already... well emotionally involved with someone else?" "Oh boy, a gentleman stays well clear of another man's wife. Mind you, not every male is a gentleman even in my time." "No, not someone else's wife, supposing that you... what did you call it, fell in love with a female who is emotionally involved with another female." "Sexually?" "No, not sexually; just very close, emotionally." "Ah, like sisters you mean, no trouble there! Well usually there isn't. Most wives have the dreaded female best friend they can chew the cud with and moan about their spouse to. Like Sylvia and Rose are best buddies, they go shopping together and everything. Providing that things stop at the emotional level and don't become... Look really it's a kind of pride thing, when a couple get married, they are supposed to give their mind, soul, and bodies to each other, and theoretically no other person must come between them physically or mentally... well I'm sure you get the idea." "Oh," Chaise said with a disappointed tone to her voice. Then she went very quiet, for a very long time. ----- God only knows what time Doug and I got back to our digs that night, but there was no sign of either of our wives. There was still no sign of them when Myra turned up again, after Doug and I had eaten breakfast the following morning. She and Douglas were all over each other. Embarrassingly so, actually. But then the two of them promptly vanished off somewhere together. I didn't see either of them again for the next few days. But that was because I didn't return to our digs during that time myself. Doug and Myra hadn't been gone very long when Adona showed up, and tried his best to... well look, the poor bugger had obviously been sent by someone to keep me company; I suspected Simul's hand, but I wasn't sure. But Adona really didn't have the people skills for that kind of thing. Adona did look happy when he received a message on his communicator. Then – with a smile, invited me to take the same cruise on the Thames that Sylvia and Rose had taken the day before. Well, at the time I thought it was going to be the same cruise. I could not think of a reason to refuse and immediately agreed to go. I had some fun after that, watching Adona as he jumped to it, as some unknown puppeteer's hand -- most probably Simul -- pulled his strings. He'd turn his head away from me when he spoke into his communicator trying to ensure that I didn't overhear what he was saying. No I didn't hear anyway, but basically because I wasn't bothering to try to listen. Shortly a compact two-seater version of one of those golf trolleys arrived, and very quickly whisked the two of us out of the dome into the forest. There was no road and the craft dodged amongst the trees at breakneck speed. I'm sure one would get used to it, but I found myself trying to locate a seat belt of some sort. Adona assured me that the craft never collided with the trees or any other such similar craft. "Oh yeah, and they said the Titanic couldn't sink, didn't they?" were the sort of thoughts passing through my mind. But I didn't voice them to Adona; he weren't the type to have understood. Shortly the thing slowed as we came up behind a group of similar craft -- but of various sizes, some containing upwards of thirty or forty people I figured, more like golf trolley-busses – waiting in line to discharge their human cargo onto a large pleasure barge. However our craft didn't join the rear of the queue, it picked its way amongst the trees off to one side and when it reached the riverbank, shot straight out over the water. Very disconcerting, when you weren't expecting it. But I soon saw that there was a smaller barge lying just off the bank behind the larger. Our craft came to a standstill alongside the smaller barge so that Adona and I could literally step aboard. The smaller vessel was without doubt a kind-of private yacht of some sort. Whereas there was no mistaking that the larger was a tourist type pleasure boat. Probably the same one that Sylvia and Rose had been on the previous day because they had said there were other people on-board. No, I don't believe that Sylvia would have lied about that. Sylvia had her faults, but she hadn't lied about anything. I looked Adona in the eye and raised my eyebrows. He seemed to know what I was asking instinctively. "I don't have to tell you who they are, they are waiting on the upper deck for you," he said, then promptly stepped back onto the golf trolley, which whisked him away. Seems so silly referring to it as a golf trolley, when it had been hovering about five feet above the waters of the Thames, but what else can I call it? I located a companionway and made my way up to the upper deck, where I found Ciera and Chaise lying on sun-loungers, dressed in very little. For some reason, my instinctive reaction was to turn away, not so that I couldn't see their almost naked bodies, more to check who was staring down at them from the much larger barge. To my surprise, the upper decks of the large barge -- that was receding quite quickly by that time -- were devoid of people. When I turned back to the girls, they were both sitting up and looking at me with confused expressions on their faces. "You look surprised to see me," I said. "We, er... we had no idea you'd be on Simul's barge today as well," Chaise replied. "I didn't know I was going to be here myself, until about ten minutes ago. Is Simul onboard?" "Yes I am, George. May I have a moment with you alone please?" Simul's voice said from behind me, almost making me jump out of my skin, I noted that Ciera and Chaise tried to hide the fact that they found my reaction to Simul's voice funny. Simul pre-empted my next question. "I stay out of sight when another boat is near," she went on when I'd turned to face her, "otherwise all the partygoers feel they have to formally acknowledge my presence. Now, this way please, George?" Tempus Frangit Ch. 04 I followed Simul into an enclosed saloon at the rear of the boat that had darkened windows, obviously where she had been hiding away from her subjects gaze. "From what Chaise tells me, you and Sylvia are... well." "You are correct, Simul. History as you know it, does appear to be going as you would wish it too." "George, I really am sorry. But, Chaise tells me that she fears there's going to be a problem. Oh, no she doesn't know what is predicted, she was just spilling out her troubles to her mentor this morning." "Sorry?" "Chaise is besotted with you, George. She says that you're like no one she's ever met before." "Oh, so quickly?" "Yes, and Chaise understands your anger and disappointment with Sylvia's behaviour, more than you think." "That surprises me." "I thought it might. But the reason she does understand is because... well she feels great affection for Ciera, as Ciera does for Chaise. The two women have more than an emotional bond to each other. However Chaise seems to think that that bond might be an obstacle to you forming a relationship with either of them. Mind you, she hasn't voiced those concerns to me specifically." "Oh, so that's what she was talking about last night. Chaise was asking some probing questions, I'm afraid I was being a little dense and maybe I didn't interpret them as I should have done. Yes, there is a certain taboo and always has been about same-sex relationships in my time. Up until this moment the idea of being with a female who is... emotionally involved with another female, has never crossed my mind. "Anyway, I know that you told me that both of them will return with me but... Well, I assumed that Ciera would be... Oh god, what would you call it? The first..." "Ah now, George. I'd say that 'if' your relationship with both of them is going to work, then you have to understand that there can be no first or second in your mind. Sorry no, in your heart; it's your heart that your people say guides you emotionally, isn't it?" "You are so right, Kay. But I thought, that I'd fall for Ciera first, but last night..." "You found yourself become emotionally attached... maybe even falling in love with Chaise." "Well yes, I believe I did." Simul stood and said nothing for some moments, obviously thinking. Well I thought she was. Then suddenly she said, "He'll have to know!" "Who will?" I asked. "You will, George," she smiled at me. "George, Ciera and Chaise are a little different to the vast majority of people. They have... well, a gift we call it. They aren't really so much emotionally involved, as mentally." "Sorry?" "Yes, this is going to be a hard one for you to accept, George. But we think it's the reason both of them go back with you to your time and not just one of them. Let us try to put it this way, if Ciera falls in love with you, Chaise will do so at the same time. You see they sense each others emotions and they can... well sense, or rather feel each others thoughts." The realisation of what she was saying sprang into my mind. "They're telepaths; they can read my mind?" "No, George, they can't read yours or anyone else's mind. Although they can sense your emotions when you are in their presence. Your alarm, or concern that people might have been looking at them in a state of undress just now, for instance... they felt that quickly enough; as I did! "However they can sense each other's mind much more acutely, and very often they can interpret each other's thoughts. And any other... telepath who lets them as well. Our experts believe that it is a sense that every human once had, but one that, for some reason, lies dormant in most people. In fifteen percent of people here, it's no longer dormant and from those few, prospective Simuls are selected at an early age." "Ah, I think I'm beginning to understand. There isn't just one Simul is there?" "No, there are ten of us at present." "And you are all strong telepaths, and you are in communication with each other all the time." "No stronger than Ciera, George; but we are nurtured and trained to enhance the sense by other Simuls from a young age. When you speak to me, you are effectively speaking to all of us at the same time. But not actually in words George, the other Simul's are aware of the electrical impulses in my brain, my reactions to what you do and say. Thought patterns are a little complicated to explain. "Ciera and Chaise, when they are close to each other, are aware of each other's minds as well. When one feels alarm the other does at the same instant. She might not know why, but she senses her friend's concern." "Intriguing!" "And George, in Ciera and Chaise's case, when one of them feels attraction to another human, the other does as well. Those two are remarkably well matched, mentally. Mind you, they have grown up together, they shared the same brood group." "Brood group?" I asked. It was the first time I'd ever seen it, but for an instant, Kay looked unsure of herself. But then she recovered her apparent calm and collected demeanour, pretty quickly. Or rather she attempt to recover the situation. "Like a group of nursery school children in your time... they have been friends since they were very young." I somehow got the idea that that wasn't the full story, or the whole truth, and I'm sure that Simul -- all of them -- sensed that I wasn't convinced. Although, I was battling to hide those thoughts away in my mind. Kay went on to talk about their children being raised and educated in a Kibbutz or communal type environment. Explaining that there were none of our traditional two parent families as there is in our time, to bring stability to a child's life. The thought's that crept into my mind was, that with all the virtual free love, that Adona had implied when we'd first met him. Well, that must surely lead to many -- probably unwanted -- pregnancies. Yet, I could not recall seeing one child since I'd arrived in their time. When I thought on the subject, I could not recall seeing anyone much below the age of about twenty, come to that. I'm not sure what happened then, but I suspect the why. Our talk had not gone in the direction Simul had intended, and she had wanted to bring the interview to an end. Very suddenly both Ciera and Chaise rushed into the saloon and -- looking confused -- asked if everything was all right. "Everything is fine, girls," Kay replied, "George and I were just discussing the differences between his time and ours. Now why don't you take him below and find him something to wear while he enjoys the sun with you. Don't forget the sunscreen though; it wasn't as strong back in George's time. There is slightly less atmosphere to protect us now, George. That's why we spend most of our time under the shield of the domes." "Neatly done," I thought. I figured that Kay had somehow called the girls into the saloon using her mental powers. She had known that I hadn't been convinced... or sidetracked I suppose you'd call it, by her talk of a Kibbutz type environment for the children. I figured that she sensed my thoughts and set about diverting my attention from the subject. There was something she... they, weren't telling me, and I wondered what? However, Ciera and Chaise's arrival in the saloon, did exactly what Kay had intended it to do. Hey look, my suspicions aside, they were two very fine ladies. And still... well, they had been sunbathing hadn't they? Hey no, no more than you'd see on numerous beaches in the south of France in our time. And, on certain West Country beaches, if you know where to go. Somewhat to my embarrassment – and I have to admit, enjoyment -- Ciera and Chaise made sure that every square inch of my skin -- that would be exposed to the suns rays -- was well protected. Mind you, luckily they used a spray applicator, or things might have become even more embarrassing for me. They giggled and smiled appreciatively when I was donning the pair of exceedingly brief briefs they referred to as sun shorts. Back on deck, Kay, attired in just as little as Ciera and Chaise had been, was apparently sleeping on one of the sun-loungers. I say apparently, because I'm convinced that she wasn't asleep. I'm damned sure that Simul -- all of them -- were avoiding getting back into conversation with me. I can't explain it, but I felt that I was aware of her mental presence, or a mental presence anyway. And I'm sure that it wasn't Ciera and Chaise that I was sensing; I'd been with both girls together before, without experiencing the same phenomenon. Ah, you say, but you'd been in Simul's presence before without commenting on the sensation. No I didn't, because it hadn't been so pronounced. But remember previously I'd met Simul inside the dome, I was thinking that perhaps the energy field -- or whatever it was -- from the dome, lessened the influence of the other nine Simuls; that I then knew were out there somewhere. While Simul pretended to sleep, the two girls and I laughed, messed about and joked with each other. Thinking back, I was behaving like a teenager. And I'll admit that it felt good. But as we talked, I noted that once I'd been told about it, the mental connection between the two of them was far greater than I could have possibly imagined. I became acutely aware that the two women did appear to react to anything I said to either of them as one; well at the same instant anyhow. Sometimes it was just like talking to one person instead of two. A strange phenomenon to try to explain, but imagine if you will, one brain... No that's wrong, 'one will', split between two people. I might be speaking to one of them, but either girl might answer me. Not in an organised way either, it seemed to be completely random which of them spoke, and when. And just to confuse matters even more -- and kind-a proving that they were actually two different people -- they spoke to each other as well. Whatever, confused about them I might have been, I did find that I was really enjoying the two women's company immensely. But then, a little later, while we were all snoozing quietly on those loungers, another -- not nice -- thought, passed through my brain. Could Simul and her buddies, or even Ciera and Chaise be... well, controlling my mind somehow? Now that was a hard one for me to get my head around. But once that doubt crept into my brain, my mind ran riot with it. I began to wonder if they'd taken control of Sylvia, Rose's and even Douglas's minds as well. I'm not sure how long I lay there and mulling over the idea to myself, before I sat up and found all three women looking back at me. "You're suddenly very upset about something, George. We can all feel it!" Simul said. I looked from her to Ciera and Chaise and they all had concerned expressions on their faces. "Yes, Simul, a word with you in private, if I may?" She got up and led the way back into the salon at the rear of the boat again. "Simul, I'm wondering; how do I know that you and your... well that you're not messing with my mind somehow? You want me to take Ciera and Chaise back to my time with me. How do I know that you... Well, this instant affection that I feel for both of them. How do I know that you and your friends, haven't implanted that into my brain somehow?" "I would have thought that was obvious, George. I can sense your emotions, not your thoughts," she smiled, "Seriously though, if we, or anyone here in this time could meddle with the internal workings of your mind, do you really believe that we would be here now? Would it not have been far simpler for us to transport you to this time, make you forget Sylvia instantly, and she forget you. Then make you believe that you are in love with Ciera and Chaise and then instantly send you back to your own time again. Had we that kind of power, we probably would have removed all memory of being here from your mind at the same time. Is that not the logical course of action for us to take, had we the powers you suggest?" She was right of course; I hadn't thought the scenario through to its final conclusion. "No, George, we can only sense your emotions. As, by the way, can Ciera and Chaise, more strongly once you began to open your mind to them. They both have the same gift that I have, Ciera much stronger than Chaise, as I told you. But once a bond begins to form between the three of you, you might find that you begin to sense their emotions as well. You appear very... comfortable in their company." "I am. Too comfortable really, and that's the problem. I was lying there wondering how it was going to work... you know, what you've been suggesting doesn't... Well two's company, three's a crowd where I come from." "I have no idea, George. We might not have the institution of marriage, but it is usual for people here, to pair off together; for a while at least. Some I assume, stay together for years, maybe the rest of their lives. It's not something that falls within our remit to enquire about at present. However, I'm sure that you three will sort it out somehow. Surely Thomas would have informed us if there'd been any problem in that respect. "Anyway you can find out in the next few days. Shortly we will be arriving at my private accommodation. You, Ciera and Chaise can stay there together for a few days and see how things work out. Oh, and George.... It's situated inside a small protection dome of it's own. I will not be able to feel your emotions through it, but the two girls will be inside with you." "And Ciera and Chaise's emotions; will you be able to sense theirs?" "Ciera's yes, Chaise quite definitely not. Her senses aren't as strong as Ciera's." You know, I found that I could feel the two women's curiosity about what Simul and I had been discussing when we went back out on deck. What's more, I do believe that Simul somehow knew I could sense it, as well. She was smiling at their unasked questions when I looked her way. Eventually a dome appeared amongst the trees at the side of the great lake the Thames had become, and the barge -- it might have been Simul's private yacht, but these folks weren't into styling, it looked like a barge to me – stopped by a wooden landing stage that protruded from it, out over the water. At the end of the little jetty stood a very familiar looking door, magically attached to the dome itself. I was quite surprised when I heard Simul explaining to Ciera and Chaise that they were going to be staying in the dome for a few days, alone and with me. There was no doubt in my mind that neither woman had been aware of Simul's plans. The villa. I'll call it the villa, because in essence that was what it was, a copy of a Roman Villa. Albeit single storey, but complete with pseudo-Roman mosaics on the floors, and murals on the walls. To be honest, it kind-a felt a bit like I'd gone back in time a couple of thousand years, instead of forward. Mind you, there were showers and running hot and cold water. Everything you need, but dressed up as if it was of Roman origin. Even a sweat room and a plunge pool -- all right, more reminiscent of a Swedish sauna and a cold plunge pool – tucked away inside the villa. Outside, there was a massive patio, with a large swimming pool sunk into it. Mind you, the pool was only about four feet or so deep. Just deep enough to swim and mess around in anyway; but only a fool would dive into the bugger. Then there were extensive gardens, mainly lawn but with a few trees and shrubs dotted around; sort-of reminiscent of the great park Simul's Palace sat in. One thing that there wasn't, were any other living souls. Neither were there any entertainment systems; that I could discern anyway. It was obvious to me, that for the next few days... the three of us were going to have to get to know each other very well, or be bored out of our tiny little minds. Not that I got the chance to be bored anyway. If we weren't swimming in, or lazing by the pool, we were talking. Er, maybe I should rephrase that, 'I was talking', and both girls seemed to have an insatiable appetite for information about the twentieth century. I'll admit that I spouted off like a historian, but often I was scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as my knowledge went. Luckily they appeared quite happy that I included details of the inner workings of an internal combustion engine and recent F1 champion drivers in my definition of history. Sleeping arrangements were remarkably informal. The three of us slept together on a very large bed-come-sofa thing in the main living room. There were smaller versions of the same thing in several of the other rooms, which I supposed that anyone could have used, had they wanted privacy. I never thought of using any of them though, and the two girls didn't suggest it either. I can't put my finger on when it actually happened. Sometime during those few days I found both girls were... well, snuggling up real close when we all sat together on the sofa thing and talked. You know, I can't even tell you which one I kissed first. But very soon there was a lot of kissing going on, and when I hugged and kissed one... well, it was only fair that I hugged and kissed the other. Then I became aware that their questions about the twentieth century had changed. Well, the questions had not exactly changed, it was their comments as I spoke. Little asides like, "You will be able to show us when we get there!" and, "Do you think we will be able to learn how to do that?" No, I can't say which of them made that kind of comment first. But I can tell you that Ciera was first to ask me if I would be able to teach them to swim in the sea and how to surf. I must admit that I'd accepted the inevitable by that time, and was more worried about teaching them how to cook. The only food I'd seen since it'd arrived there was the fresh fruit. Our daily supplies were delivered early every morning by a couple of guys in a craft like the one Adona and his people had used on the first day. You know we might have been at Simul's house for four days, or it could have been five or six or even more. I have no real recollection of the individual days. All I did recall was I was still learning very little about the two girls or their lives. Yeah, I learnt that Ciera was a schoolteacher and that she specialised in teaching mathematics at a level way above my understanding. Chaise had told me she was a nurse, but I was instantly out of my depth when she started talking about her work as well, except that I got impression that she was a paediatric nurse. Neither girl said anything about their own families; overtly diverting the subject of our conversation, whenever I tried to lead it in that direction. Very often they used the word 'later' though; so I got the impression that they were withholding that information until a later date. But at the time, I could not understand why. It might have five, six or even seven days later, when – directly after the craft that brought our food everyday arrived -- I noticed that there was another craft hovering out over the water, waiting to dock at the jetty. Out of it stepped a very happy looking Douglas with an equally grinning Myra in tow; actually not so much in-tow, more plastered all over him. I still don't know what Douglas has got. But in his mid thirties he'd captured the barely twenty-year-old Rose. Now, nearly five years later it was apparent that he'd done the same thing with the twenty-two year old Myra. Oh, both Ciera and Chaise were twenty-eight at that time, by the way. That piece of information I had managed to wangle out of them. "You ready to go home, mate?" were Doug's first words. Tempus Frangit Ch. 04 I'm not sure what expression I had on my face, I'll admit that I hadn't even thought about going back to our own time. I'd been... well, my mind had been otherwise occupied hadn't it? Doug went on to explain that he'd been talking to Simul and she appeared to be happy to send us back whenever we wished to go. And he had been somewhat surprised when she'd said that it was perfectly all right for Myra to accompany him back to our time; Doug and Myra had been worried that she would not be allowed to return with us. Apparently, he'd met with both Sylvia and Rose and they'd informed him that they had Simul's permission to stay behind. "I don't know what's come-over those two mate, they're behaving like a couple of kids who've been let loose in a sweet-shop. Jesus, I was pissed-off as hell. But Myra here... well she's something special." "Rebound, Douglas?" I suggested. "Could be, George, but I don't think so. Yeah, she's taken my mind off of Rose. But Rose and I were really over the moment she started playing up to those..." "To be honest with you, Doug, I felt the same way. It was just that I had trouble admitting to myself that Sylvia could..." "Yeah, yeah, been there. But our wives got the wrong idea about what was happening. You know, I think they thought that this really was all a dream. By the time they realised that it wasn't, it was too late." "Anyway are you going to take...?" "Both of us!" Chaise interjected from the swimming pool, before Douglas completed his question. Doug looked at me again, and I smiled back at him. "Oh my God, you don't go by halves do you, mate! How's that going to pan out?" "I have no idea, Douglas. But, so far, so good!" I had no intention of telling Douglas that all that was happening had been prophesied. I'm sure he'd have been right-narked that I hadn't let him in on the secret. Termini Capitulus IV Tempus Frangit Ch. 05 Tempus Frangit By Denham Forrest, writing as Misnomer Jones Tempus Frangit, Capitulus V The craft that had brought Douglas and Myra to Simul's residence hung around until we were ready to leave, and then took the five of us directly back down west. As it came in to land near the cottages, we were surprised to find that there were many other such craft parked in the vicinity. And a very dense ring of yellow shirts were dotted around the nearby hilltops. I spotted Kay the moment we stepped out of the craft, and what's more, she had several ladies with her who I instantly suspected were some of the other Simuls, from elsewhere on the planet. They all wore the same distinctive purple attire anyway, and everyone treated them with extreme reverence. Kay removed herself from her little clique and came over to greet us, or more specifically the three women. And very affectionately I might add; much hugging went on between them. Then she turned to Douglas and I and wished us all the best; or words to that effect anyway. Douglas and I didn't discuss it, but we both took her words as a dismissal, maybe even a "Well, get on with it!" So we headed off towards the door in the dome. But we hadn't gone five yards when Douglas suddenly stopped. Obviously he'd been doing a little more thinking than I had. "George there's something we haven't thought of... paperwork." "Not with you, Doug?" I replied. "The girls, George; they are going to be nonentities in our time. No passports, birth certificates or anything. When they find out about them, the bloody immigration people are going to give us a real hard time." "Shit!" I said out loud. Then I went back to Kay and began to explain our worries to her. She just smiled at me, "Do not worry, George, all that will be taken care of!" I have no idea of what expression I had on my face, I should imagine, confusion. "Remember Thomas, George. Now, don't worry about anything my friend; I'm sure, all will become clear to you once you are back in your own time." The five of us entered the dome and retreated as far as the front garden of my cottage while a couple of Adona's guys removed the door; not as spectacular an operation as the installation of the thing had been, that's for sure. Then, so suddenly that it made me jump, there was a strange whooshing sound, made by the higher-pressure air rushing into the sphere, I suspected. I know we all felt the effect of the rapid change on our ears, but we'd been forewarned by a technician to be prepared for that. No, what made me jump was the fact that suddenly it was almost pitch black -- it was the middle of the night -- and we were... well I was, looking up at the overcast sky. Very cautiously, I turned to look to where Ciera and Chaise had been standing, and was pleasantly reassured to see the vague shadowy outline of two people. "We're back!" Douglas's voice said from somewhere out in the darkness. "We sure do appear to be," I replied. Then I recalled that there should be a torch in the glove compartment of my car, if I could only find the bugger without breaking my neck. "Everyone, stay where you are, I'm going to find some light," I was saying, when a string of rather graphic expletives filled the air. Douglas had found the stone edging of my front lawn. "Broke anything serious?" I asked. "Just my pride. Where's that bleeding torch, George?" It was one of those times when you begin to appreciate what it must be like for people deprived of the wonder of sight, as I blundered about in the pitch dark. Eventually, however, I did manage to locate my car; but somewhat confusingly, not the collection of odd tools and other detritus, that Douglas and I had left lying around it. Frustratingly, not even the front wheel I'd been sitting on whilst I'd fitted the front brake calliper; that should have been lying on the driveway. That being missing confused me, and somewhat slowed my progress for a while. I didn't wish to find the bugger the same way that Doug had located the edging to my front lawn; I had hoped to use the wheel as a kind of landmark to the car's position, if you understand me. On opening the passenger door, the car's courtesy light came on, illuminating the scene, very eerily. At that instant, I knew that something was very different; but I couldn't put my finger on exactly what at the time. However, I knew that all wasn't how I had left it. That ruddy interior light had never worked properly. That should have kind-of warned me that things had changed a little. I believe that the first thing I really noticed -- yeah well, the interior light coming on had surprised me; although it had rarely worked since I'd bought the damned car, but it wasn't averse to coming on when it felt like, if you get my drift -- was the fact that the inside of my car was remarkably clean and tidy. And, I don't mean that someone had just cleaned the interior of the car either; it had not been unkempt or anything, anyway. No, it was like I was reaching into a spanking brand new car. For an instant I must have been rooted to the spot, until Doug called out, "Where's that bleeding torch, George; a person could get killed around here. Shit, it's dark tonight!" Coming back to my senses, I retrieved the torch and then shone it around my immaculate garden. Only, of course, it wasn't my - 'immaculate garden'! I'm not much of a gardener at the best of times, especially when the surf is up. Someone had certainly paid my domain a visit and given it a bloody good once-over; or maybe even two once-overs. However, I noted that some of Sylvia's rose bushes were missing. "Jesus bloody wept, what's happened here!" Douglas had also noticed the change in ambiance. "What's wrong?" Ciera asked. Doug and I explained, and all three women started laughing. Then they went on to explain that most probably service androids had been dispatched to guard the cottages. "Service androids insist on perfection, George," Ciera grinned at me, "Anything that was worn or damaged, in any way, will have been... well serviced and returned to perfect working order." "Service androids?" Douglas repeated, "We never saw any robots or anything like that in the city." "No, you wouldn't. They cut the grass in the communal areas of course, usually at night." Chaise said, "But they don't do everything for us. That would lead to a sedentary lifestyle; not healthy for anyone! But they are programmed to repair anything that they come across that is not in perfect working order." "Well, how come they've nicked some of my rose bushes? There was sod-all wrong with them, Sylvia..." "Sod-all?" Ciera echoed. I'd forgotten myself again, the girls had no idea what sod-all meant. "Sorry, there was nothing wrong with them. Sylvia doted over the buggers." "Perhaps, if Sylvia liked them, she asked for them to be removed," Myra replied, "There are very few pretty flowers in our time." "Of course. That's why only half of them are missing, George," Douglas interjected as Myra ran out of steam. I think the young woman was not sure if she was speaking out of turn, if you understand me. "George, the androids will have been in your..." Ciera began to say, but she suddenly stopped speaking. ".... Cottage, and they will most probably have... well, serviced anything they deem required any maintenance in there, as well," Chaise completed for her. I had become accustomed to this method of conversation with the two girls, but I could see that it was still confusing Douglas, more than a little. Mind you, besides the occasional confused expression on his face -- and the odd bewildered double-take as he looked back and forth between Ciera and Chaise -- Doug never has commented on the subject. I believe he knows... and he knows that I know and understand, what is going on -- so he tries his best to ignore the phenomenon. Not that I would like to have to try to explain it to him anyway; it's bad enough, trying to explain it here to you. As the girls had suggested, the cottage had received a makeover. Everything was as it was -- or should I say looked the same -- but at the same time, brand spanking new! Carpets, curtains, wallpaper, furniture, everything as it was -- and probably better than -- when it was new. Much to his delight, Douglas's place had received similar treatment. I was surprised -- as I really do think the girls were at first -- when we discovered that all of Sylvia and Rose's personal gear and clothing had been removed from both cottages. In their place, was twentieth century clothing -- I do believe modelled on Sylvia's and Rose's -- for the three new arrivals. Oddly enough, including wet suits. I was kind-of curious about what Sylvia and Rose were going to do with their wet suits in the city; a few years later, I found out. What Ciera, Chaise and Myra were going to make of their wet-suits, I wasn't too sure at the time. But I must say, that helping them get into the things for the first time a few days later, proved to be great fun. Well, I had some fun helping Ciera and Chaise into theirs, and I assume that Doug got the same enjoyment out of assisting Myra. Doug proved to be a little more circumspect, where talking about Myra was concerned, than he'd ever been talking about his interactions (physical or otherwise) with Rose. But then, the two women had completely different characters. I won't go into all the chaos that reigned over the fact that the girls found themselves parachuted into -- what to them must have appeared as -- a very primitive society. But they all handled it extremely... confidently. Cooking they were pretty quick at picking up, although both Doug and I became veggies rather quickly. Not because the girls made a hash of cooking meat; more because we both could see that they found the thought of eating flesh of any kind, upsetting. Of course the first thing we had to worry about was that we had the locals to introduce the girls to. That proved... er, very bewildering and somewhat confusing for nearly all of our neighbours, and every other bugger in the village as well. Well think about it? As the locals saw it, one day Doug and I were living with Rose and Sylvia... And the next, Myra, Ciera and Chaise had mysteriously materialised. What's more, Doug and I were telling everyone that Rose and Sylvia had deserted us. We tried not to talk about our new partners if we could get away with it. Yeah, it didn't wash! Within a couple of days, we had the police knocking at the door asking awkward questions. Someone in the village had not swallowed our line of bull; not very surprising really. However, early that very same morning, a courier had delivered a parcel, the contents of which surprised Doug and myself. It contained a note from Adona and official papers for all three girls. Including birth certificates, passports, and full medical and educational histories; all legal and above board by the look of them. I figured that the note directly contradicted what Simul had led me to believe. Simul told me that the time shifting device would be dismantled. However, Adona's note informed us that in the following few years they had perfected the system further, and that they had sent operatives back to a time before our present. Where they had... er, made some nefarious additions and alterations to numerous official records. I kinda got the idea that the people they sent back ,did not travel through time as we had though. They must have just appeared inside whatever record office they chose, where they would then make alterations and additions as required. This sudden (and I can assure you, unexpected) appearance lark, was to be confirmed to me later; but I'll relate that shortly. So the girls being able to produce paperwork confirming their legitimate existence -- and legal history -- in our time, prevented the police asking too many awkward questions about them. Although a couple of police officers were more than a little suspicious about everything and those papers did nothing to stop those same police officers being a lot more than curious about the disappearance of Rose and Sylvia. Over the next few months, the police returned again and again, to ask probing questions. Actually, we got to know those officers quite well, but I'll return to them shortly as well. ----- A week or so after our return, when the chaos had settled down a little, Douglas sat me down one evening and told me he wanted to talk about our future; our financial future to be precise. Douglas then laid a cloth on the table, wrapped up inside which were a whole collection of cut diamonds and other precious stones. "Jesus wept, where did those buggers come from?" "Simul thought we'd... well, you really, would need some money to help you support two wives until..." But I didn't let him finish. "Holy cow; what are they worth? Must be..." I blustered, "A good few million at current prices, George," Douglas replied, with a grin. "We're going to need it to set up in business. I've got some contacts on the continent who will buy these for a good price, no questions asked. Then I would suggest we set up a company and start buying some of the properties and land around here, a bit sharpish." I have no idea what expression I had on my face; after-all the land around us was still suffering from planner's blight. "Don't panic, George. I know what I'm doing... I think!" It turned out that Douglas had done a lot of research that I hadn't even thought of doing while we were in the future. Mind you, he'd only had one woman chasing after him. "George, the power station gets cancelled in a couple of year's time, and then the value of land around here goes through the roof." "So we sell-up and make a stinking great profit?" I suggested. "No, not exactly, we turn the whole damned area into a holiday experience. By that time, we own most of the damned village anyway." "Successful?" "Very! The premier surfing location on the Southwest Coast eventually." "You're sure about this, Doug?" "It was all there in the records, George, I can assure you! So that was what we spent the next few years doing. Douglas and I (and our descendants) eventually ended up owning almost the whole damned valley between us. Well, actually owning the company that owned the whole damned valley to be precise. But for a while, our financial situation was pretty chaotic. But hey, what's new about that in this day and age? Well, our new wives coming from a money free environment that's what! It took the girls some time to get their head around the idea that everything has to be paid for with cash. But they got the hang of it eventually. Ciera put her mathematical genius to extremely good use in the company, once it was up and running. But Douglas didn't finish with the holiday centre. After purchasing the remains of a WW2 airfield at the edge of the valley, he went on to open a research establishment there. I didn't argue because... Well, by then I was looking after the holiday side of the business; if Douglas wanted to play with his chemistry set, then he had every right to do so. It was some years before I was to discover exactly what he was actually doing there, though. And then only then after one of the big chemical companies released a wondrous new paint on the market that -- when energised with a small electric current -- emitted light. Obviously, Douglas had been a very busy boy while I'd been lounging around Simul's Villa with Ciera and Chaise. But really, that all came much later. ----- One thing I think I should mention is the bedroom at our cottage; ours being Chaise, Ciera and mine, that is. Hey now, not what went on in that bedroom; that I'm going to leave to your own lurid imagination. The immediate problem was the size of the master bedroom in the cottage. Or to put it a little more succinctly, the size of the ruddy bed, when you take into account that the two girls had got used to sleeping in the same bed with me all the time at Simul's villa. They wanted to continue with those sleeping arrangements. The bed had been fine for Sylvia and I; but, there was only two of us, wasn't there. To say it was a bit of a squeeze with the three of us climbing into it every night, would be putting it lightly. Interesting, but not what one could describe as comfortable for any of us. Luckily, even though the external walls of our very ancient cottage were built of stone, almost all of the internal walls were built of timber studwork; clad in tongue and groove planking; okay plasterboard in some places, but the majority was wood. Douglas and I had to -- very hurriedly -- redesign the upper floor to make the master bedroom large enough to accommodate the biggest bed I could find. Whatever, it kept Chaise and Ciera happy. It was just a bloody-shame, that we didn't have a couple of those Androids, the girls had mentioned, to help with the conversion. ----- Life sort-of settled down reasonably quickly. The girls took just about everything in their stride; although very often they ended up confusing the hell out of some of the local women and many other folks they met. I think almost everyone took the new arrivals as some kind of hippies or something, what with their strange eating and drinking habits. Introducing the girls to the delights of tea and coffee -- and the secrets or rigmarole of their brewing and serving -- was possibly the greatest problem Douglas and I had, really. ----- One morning, while Douglas and I were still working on the bedroom, the two police officers who'd been probably the most curious about Sylvia and Rose's vanishing act, arrived at the front door; all smiles and apologies. They'd stopped by to inform us that Sylvia and Rose had sent letters to various other members of their families, explaining to them that they were both fine and in good health. In those letters they'd informed their relations that they were living in a closed religious community somewhere. The officer also informed us that around the same time as those letters had been posted, two women with documents to prove that they were Sylvia and Rose, had visited a police station in Greater London, and informed the officers there, that they were quite healthy and they had left their homes of their own volition. "Must be in some weird community," one of the officers said, "The report says that they were dressed-up in bright purple robes; not the kind of thing most folks wear around London, at this time of year. Must be something like that Hare Krishna crowd I suppose!" Doug and I both kind-a shrugged at that statement. To be honest we were both totally shocked by the officers' revelations. It was pretty clear to Doug and I, that Simul had been aware of how suspicious the police were going to take Sylvia and Rose's disappearance, as she/they were about how authorities would have reacted to finding that our new partners had no papers. Consequently she (or they) had had Adona organise the document side of things, and then later sent the girls back in time to clear our names about their disappearance. I wondered exactly how much other information there had been in Thomas's... er, good question, what to call it? Historical account, I suppose. ----- We had another little problem at first, because all three women were of the opinion that they should... well, go out to work. Unfortunately they were about as equipped to work in the twentieth century, as someone from our time would have been to work back in the Stone Age. Eventually Doug and I managed to talk them out of that idea, and they settled for going to college and studying; until a few additions to both of our families came along. Mind you, I think in the short time they did attend the local college, they managed to flummox their college professors a few times. But other things were to take precedence in all three girl's minds very quickly, much more quickly than any of us had envisaged. Tempus Frangit Ch. 05 Generally, living with two common law wives... I found interesting and very different, until I got used to it. Oddly, most folks in the village, appeared to accept the situation quite quickly. Like it was an everyday occurrence to find a guy living with two very obvious wives. Ciera and Chaise were not shy about showing their affection for me in public. Although most of my own family never could get their heads around the situation. But then again, they never could understand what had happened where Sylvia was concerned either. The religious community never did wash with any of them; as it had apparently done so successfully with Sylvia's own family. ----- The first children -- Simul had mentioned -- arrived on the scene pretty quickly. After all the time Sylvia and I had spent trying to get her "in the family way" it really shook me, when -- after just a couple of months -- both Ciera and Chiase announced that they were "with-child" on the same day. Even more surprising was the fact that not half-an-hour later, Doug and Myra came rushing into our cottage to give us the news that he was about to become a daddy as well. I found myself looking at both of my wives with a questioning eye. Ciera chose to answer my unasked question after a brief mental exchange with Chaise. Yeah, I could tell instantly by then what they were doing mentally, possibly even sensing the interchange myself. "All the females of our time are fertile, George," Ciera said, "but for hundreds of years our males, whilst... fully er, operational in all other respects, have proved to be effectively infertile. I think that we three, were possibly a little more fertile than we had realised." "But if your men are infertile... then how..." I asked. "Not infertile in actual fact, George, but they all have such low sperm counts and what little sperm that they did produce are... Well they're not known for their swimming capabilities, isn't that how you would put it, Douglas? For some reason Doug looked a little embarrassed for a few seconds, as he appeared to agree with Ciera. Whatever, the men of our time are effectively infertile. Many years ago... er, in fact in the future now, during the dark times, the human birth rate dropped dramatically; so drastically that something had to be done. By that time the scientists had perfected... well not only in-vitro fertilisation for all the livestock that they still consumed at that time, but they could and did gestate the poor creatures full-term under laboratory conditions. Nothing much could survive outside the protected areas in those days. Factory farming, I think you referred to it as, the other day, George." "Jesus, I was talking about the chicken farm up the valley, not livestock, Ciera," I replied. I had no idea why, but a few days before Douglas had mentioned that he wanted to get his hands on an old WW2 airfield at the edge of the valley. The old hangar of which was at that time being used as a chicken farm. "Unfortunately, the scientists were forced to go further, because the livestock didn't breed true. Eventually they moved over to cloning any animal they needed to, and growing them in the laboratories." Ciera went silent, so Chaise continued. "When the human birth rate got to its lowest ebb, the scientists turned to that same technology in an attempt to maintain, or increase the population. But once again, for some reason with in-vitro fertilisation, the babies.... well, they were often deformed, and didn't breed true, more often than not, being stillborn. "Eventually... probably because they'd stopped eating animal flesh... it was thought that consumption of contaminated meat might have caused the drop in the birth-rate in the first place. The scientists turned to the cloning technology they had developed for the animals. George, none of our females has carried a child, or given birth for hundreds of years," she explained. "You're all clones of each other?" I found myself blurting out, unintentionally I might add. "No, George, not in the sense I believe you are talking about. Our reproduction scientists take genes from several people and kind of intermingle them to make a healthy embryo. Then that embryo is grown into a child in the brood centres. It was the only way that the human race could survive. "Oh my god! But can you have babies..." "Yes, our doctors are convinced that we should be able to carry a child full term without any difficulty. However in our own time no one has... had the experience. Or even knows what to expect really. Sylvia and Rose will be the first two women to give birth in our time for hundreds... possibly over a thousand years." "Hold up! Are you saying that they are going to be implanted with...?" "Oh no, George; they were both pregnant; didn't you know?" "No, I bloody didn't, and I doubt Douglas did either." "That's odd, I thought you knew. Its very specific in Thomas's chronicles, Sylvia and Rose give birth to the first two naturally created children in hundreds of years. They literally show the women of our time how it is done. Then Professor Pemberton comes to our time and very quickly solves the problem our males have with their almost insignificant sperm count. It had to be done that way around, because the females of our time are rather reticent about the whole idea of giving birth in the first place." "But you three?" I asked. "George, we are here in the twentieth century now; females give birth here everyday. The doctors of your time are held in high regard where human pregnancy is concerned, by the specialists in ours. We have no worries in that respect, and we trust you and Douglas completely." I looked at Doug and he looked back at me. I won't try to describe the expression of Douglas's face. But then he smiled and said. "Shit, and the girls were always blaming us...". "Got that wrong then, didn't they? I wonder why neither of them realised that they were up the duff," I mused. "Perfect timing, I should imagine," Douglas grinned back at me. "By who?" I asked. "Christ, George, everyone! You remember that I said that you couldn't go back and change history?" "Yes!" "Well, I was bloody wrong, weren't I! Supposing someone... at some-time, comes back in time to our time and finds that Sylvia and Rose are pregnant, or about to give birth around the same time anyway. God knows how they came up with the idea, but then they then go back even further in time, to a couple of days after both women were fertilised. The night of the Drury's barbeque party I should imagine. That was some night I can tell you... and Rose and me heard you and Sylvia going at it, from our place as well." "And, a couple of nights after that, they whisk us away into their own time," I added. "You got it mate! The girls didn't know that they were pregnant when they started fooling around with Adona's people. What happened with us? Well, for my own sanity I have to believe, that originally it must have just happened. Remember that there had to be a first time for everything, before Thomas ever wrote those bloody chronicles or whatever you want to call them." "Yeah, but that's the bit I can't get my head around, anyway. In their time, this has all happened, so they must have known what they were doing," I replied. "Yeah, all very confusing, isn't it? I wish to hell I'd seen a copy of those damned chronicles." ----- Did I get angry that the information that Sylvia was pregnant had been kept from me... and her? Of course I did. But I did not get angry with Chaise or Ciera, it was Simul and her cohorts who knew what was really going down. Both Chaise and Ciera were kind-of innocents, really; they had just assumed that Douglas and I knew that our wives were pregnant. As Myra did as well, I suspect. You have to remember that with the way they were behaving at the time, neither Douglas nor I were in any mood to discuss our wives with anyone. Especially when we met the girls. Eventually, I did forgive Simul for her part in separating me from what should have been my firstborn. But I'll come to that later. It's important that the reader understand that we... Douglas and myself did not hold our new partners responsible for the situation. Anyway, at the time, I was far too busy reassuring both Ciera and Chaise about their pregnancies. Oh, they claimed that they were confident. But it was not without a lot of... apprehension that they approached their confinements. I think that I often picked up their concern via the same method they communicated their thoughts and anxieties to each other. Ciera gave birth first, and named her daughter Ottilie, much to my surprise. Not the sort of futuristic name that I was expecting her to choose, I can assure you. But the other two girls -- and even Douglas -- seemed to take it as read without comment. Much later I was to learn that there was significance in her choice of the name, though. Ciera, Chaise and Myra might not have known in advance that they were the females who were to travel back in time with Douglas and I. But they knew quite a lot about Thomas's chronicles. For some inexplicable reason it seemed that I was the only member of my family who hadn't studied them. Douglas, for all his protestations that he'd never laid eyes on a copy, was forever surprising me with information from them. I kind-of deduced that his knowledge probably came second-hand from Myra. Most likely they talked about those records far more than I did with Ciera and Chaise. Er well remember I had two wives to er... no lets leave it there, shall we. Whatever, I was somewhat perplexed when my extended family seemed to be nonplussed that the name meant nothing to me; although I'll add, that none of them enlightened me as to the why's and wherefores. Yeah well, I had kind-a suggested to the girls that I wasn't interested in knowing the future. I'd had enough of those kinds of surprises by then, thank you very much. ----- About a week after Ciera had had Ottilie, Chaise and Myra gave birth to their babies on the same day. Chaise named her daughter Sian and Myra named hers Emily; I left the choice of the childrens names to the girls and I think Douglas did the same. Life was absolute pandemonium for Douglas and I for the next couple of months or so. I must admit that I had been just a little concerned myself, about the babies and how the girls would cope; however, I needn't have worried. Chaise had been a paediatric nurse in her own time, after all. Possibly she knew a lot more about babies and children than most folks in the twentieth century. It was the pregnancy and childbirth bit that Chaise had been concerned about. Pretty rapidly our two houses matured into the state of organised chaos that babies bring along with them. I suspect two babies in my own house made for more chaos than there was to be found in the Sugget household. Although it appeared to me that Myra and Emily spent a good proportion of their day in our cottage. Especially, when Douglas went off on his business trips, disposing of those precious stones and setting-up offshore holding companies, to handle our proposed land acquisitions. Everything went very smoothly in that respect, apparently Douglas Sugget had a lot more business acumen than I'd ever imagined. And he must have been on good terms with some pretty questionable gemstone dealers as well. ------ Then one morning, late that summer, Douglas and I were out catching a few waves. I'd just missed out on a really good one that Douglas had had the ride of his life on. Well, relatively speaking, maybe I should say his ride of the day. Anyway I was sitting on my board hoping that there'd be another just as good as the one Doug had just rode in, when I noticed that there was a small congregation of people apparently waiting on the water's edge for Douglas to come out of the sea. From what I could make out, it consisted of two children about ten years old, both in wet suits and holding surfboards, along with Myra, Chaise and Ciera, and a couple of other women who were holding babies in their arms. As Chaise was carrying little Sian, I supposed that the other women were holding Ottilie and Myra's child Emily. The point was, the two strangers, who I almost instantly recognised weren't actually strangers to Douglas and I, were dressed in purple... yeah, you got it. I caught the next available wave, and rode the bugger in as best I could. Then ditching my board rushed out of the water -- somewhat surprisingly straight into Sylvia's arms and she planted a real humdinger on my lips as she enveloped me. But the kiss didn't last but a second or two before she disentangled from me and stepped back. "Sorry about that lover, but I just couldn't control myself. You always were the best... I'm sure Chaise and Ciera won't mind, they're used to sharing you anyway," she babbled, somewhat nervously. "Sylvia, what are you doing here?" I found myself demanding. "I've brought your son to meet his father. I would have thought that would have been obvious!" I found myself looking at the two ten year olds, properly for the first time. Which was my son was instantly plain to see. Although he took after Sylvia; there was no mistaking that my genes had had more than a little influence in his features. Douglas's son was the absolute image of his father. I have no idea what sort of expression I had on my face and managed to get a single "But..." out before Sylvia went prattling on. "I'm sorry it's taken so long, but they've only just perfected the system. Simul had us sent to that police station in London first and then she said we could bring the children to meet their fathers. Little George has been so desperate to meet you." "Give the lad a hug, George!" Douglas -- who was by then hugging his son -- instructed me. "You want to hug a stranger?" I found myself asking my son. "Rather, father!" the lad replied. All a little old fashioned and formal. So I took him in my arms and gave him a big hug. "Drop the father bit... son, I'm your dad, okay?" "Yes... dad." "A little better, but try to sound less formal about it, will you. Surely your mother has told you by now, that I don't go for that kind of thing." "Give-over, George. The lad's probably in shock; who wouldn't be if they suddenly discovered what a reprobate beach-bum their old man was," Douglas interjected, "Come on, lads, let's see what you can do with those boards." Then Douglas and his son raced off into the sea. I glanced at Sylvia, who assured me, "He's good, George; almost as good as his father." "You wanna show me what you can do?" I asked the lad. He didn't reply, the boy just grinned at me, scooped up his board and raced off after Douglas and his boy. All three of them, kind-a catching me off-guard. Sylvia was right, both boys were good and obviously very experienced surfers; which I found a little confusing at first. But during our very relaxed conversations sitting on our boards waiting for 'the next good wave', Doug and I learnt that quite a few things had changed since we'd been returned to our own time. Sylvia and Rose for instance, were world famous and much respected as "the first mothers". Both travelled the world -- or what was left of it -- lecturing and assuring people that natural childbirth was safe and nothing to be afraid off. You could have fooled me on that one! Apparently a small dome had been constructed in our valley, where Sylvia, Rose and a small community lived most of the time when they were not travelling. It had become a sort of holiday destination for people from the city, where Sylvia and Rose taught water sports when they were not assuring women of the world that it was safe to have babies the natural way. When I got a chance to talk to Sylvia later, she informed me that sometime before our arrival there the Simuls had decided that their civilisation was going nowhere unless it returned to the basic family unit. i.e. husband, wife -- and two point five children, I suppose -- that had theoretically been the norm in our time. For that to happen, it was necessary for their society to return to natural methods of procreation. It was difficult to deduce -- from Sylvia's ramblings -- where the family unit idea had materialised from in the first place. One has to wonder if it was something that the Simuls came up with between them, or something they read into Thomas's writings. The old "what came first; the chicken or the egg?" question, that always bugs mankind. I was just about to ask about the low sperm count problem that the men of the future were suffering from, when Syliva said. "Jean soon solved the sperm count problem; although it did call for a little unorthodox fiddling." "Unorthodox?" I asked. I knew the Jean she was talking about was professor Pemberton, by then. "A little bit of fiddling with the male populations' DNA as I understand it, George. Something to do with proteins as well... Honestly I could make neither head nor tail of it anyway. Jean's mother is a top expert in the field in your time, or she will be shortly and Jean herself has followed up on her mother's research. I think that Jean is due to drop in and see her grandfather as well, any day now. Oops, I don't think I was meant to tell you that. We brought the children to see you and Douglas as early as possible, we thought it only fair, considering. "Anyway there're pregnant women all over the world now. It's a bit early to tell, but they do seem to be settling into nice family units. But George, I have to ask you, did you and Douglas know that Rose and I were pregnant before you returned?" "Sylvia, do you really believe that I would abandon my child in the future by choice; or that Doug or I would have stood for your ruddy antics with... Jesus what were their names, those bloody two Neanderthals...?" "No, I'm sorry; I knew that you wouldn't. Rose and I got really angry with Simul for a while. She knew you know, from Thomas's chronicles. But it makes sense that she didn't tell you and Douglas; she needed to make sure history followed its preordained path. "But you have to believe that Rose and I thought it was some weird dream, until..." "There's no point in crying over spilt milk, Sylvia!" "Yes, you're right, George. And thank you for being so magnanimous about it. Rose and I made our own beds and we have no one to blame but ourselves... mind you, by the look of it, you and Douglas didn't do too badly out of our mistakes. Two wives who appear to adore you, George! I'm not sure if I'm jealous that they have you, or proud that it takes two of them to replace me." "How about you and Rose... Bill and Ben the flowerpot men still sniffing around?" "You must be joking, the shine soon wore off those two buggers. Rose has found herself a nice stable guy who works in the research labs. Working on the time shift devices actually. And I... Well one of Simuls close staff, a colleague of Adona's... He'd.... well he'd like me to... Well, take him as my life partner, to be honest. The equivalent to being my husband here. Young George gets on with him very well, but he's..." "He's what?" Well, he's one of those people who can read other peoples minds, like Simul." "As can, Ciera and Chaise, Sylvia. But they can't exactly read people's minds you know. It's more like they sense your feelings or emotions. Actually, you'll probably find that you will be able to sense his emotions as well. It's just a mater of getting... I don't know, accustomed to being with them all the time I think. Christ, I can read Ciera and Chaise like a book now." "You can..." she said with a surprised tone to her voice, "what do they think of me being here today then?" "A little apprehensive, Sylvia. They know exactly how much I loved you." Tempus Frangit Ch. 05 "Loved... in the past tense?" "Yes, Sylvia, in the past tense. I have two new wives now, and all my emotions are tied up in them and my daughters. And now young George, of course. I'm afraid I have very little... time, left to dwell on memories. Emotional or otherwise." "I understand, George, and I'm really sorry that I was so stupid. I know Rose is as well, by the way. But hey, we're not having a bad life of it. We're celebrities you know; bigger than film stars!" "Look, I'd better go and chat with Rose and your new wives. You and Douglas really should be spending as much time as we've got here with your sons. Handsome boy isn't he?" I nodded. "Takes after his dad. Christ, I hope he's got your brains as well." ----- They'd stayed with us until late in the day, but eventually Sylvia had to press a button on a little gadget she had with her and all four of our visitors almost instantly vanished; whisked away back to the future. That night I found myself wondering whether I'd ever see my son again. Ciera and Chaise both sensed that I was... well, feeling a little melancholy. Termini Capitulus V Tempus Frangit Ch. 06 By Denham Forrest, writing as Misnomer Jones Tempus Frangit, Capitulus VI For the next few months, I was forever expecting Professor Pemberton to suddenly appear out of the woodwork, but she didn't show. To be honest, I could not understand why she would want to visit me anyway. Eventually though -- probably because she didn't put in an appearance -- I all-but forgot about Professor Pemberton's prophesied visit. A good five years were to pass -- two more daughters and one son (by Chaise) had been added to our family -- before we had another visitor from the future. Well, as I implied there were other things to take my attention. A little more rapidly than I'd expected, both Ciera and Chaise had fallen pregnant for a second time. ----- In the meantime, Douglas got on with setting up our business ventures, we were buying land and houses left right and bloody centre, much to everybody's confusion. Most everyone thought we were nuts and that the land was going to remain all-but worthless. No one envisaged the politicians and pen pushers in Whitehall would make a decision about the power plants in a hurry. Those self-appointed spokesmen for the common man and the anti-nuclear power lobby were quite powerful back then and all, were... they making a good job of frustrating, all attempts to move the project forward. Even the big power companies -- who one suspects were supposed to come up with the cash for such a grandiose scheme -- didn't really want to know. They could make much better profits from natural gas power plants, which were far cheaper to build. I really don't think the moneymen in the City of London cared much about where the gas was going to come from in a few years time, when present stocks began to run low. So Doug and I just patiently sat back and waited for the politicians to get off their arses and do something, i.e. make the decision to cancel the project which we knew was coming sometime. ----- As the years passed, life settled down to as much normality as it could when there're a plethora of young children in your lives. Whatever, it was around the time of Ottilie's second birthday that our neighbours (the Drury's from across the lane) youngest daughter arrived back from Canada. Joan Drury had gone out there with her then boyfriend just after Rose and I had bought our cottage. She returned to the UK a young widow with two youngsters in tow; her Canadian husband -- not the guy she'd gone out there with in the first place -- had unfortunately been killed in a road accident. However I got a really funny feeling in my stomach, the instant I learnt that the Joan Drury who had left the UK, had returned home again sporting the name Joan Pemberton. What's more, her son John, was just a few months older than our daughter Ottilie. As the years rolled by, there was to be no mistaking the fact that young John and our Ottilie... Yeah well you have to see that kind of thing for yourself. But I knew -- and so did Ciera and Chaise... and probably Myra -- that eventually one day, our little Ottilie would be sporting the surname Pemberton. Almost from the instant the two children first met... well they... Oh Christ, you've either seen that sort of thing happen or you haven't. ----- Anyway another four... almost five years were to pass, before anything much out of the ordinary happened again. I was out in the garden of our -- much improved and enlarged cottage -- babysitting all of the children. Douglas was on fun and lifeguard duty down the beach, so that our wives could enjoy some surfing time without the worry of having to keep an eye on the young ones. Having young children about while you are surfing, doesn't make for a good mix, if you understand me. Well, lets put it this way, you can't get out there yourself into the good waves and keep a close watch on the little ones at the same time, as every good parent should! Ask any beach lifeguard and they will concur, I'm sure of it. Besides there was always the chance that one of the more adventurous little ones, might decide to go find mummy, or daddy. Anyway our standard method for dealing with the issue was for either Doug or myself to baby-sit at the cottage, while the other went surfing with the girls. And... er, chased any unwanted admirers away, I might add. They'd all had at least a couple of children each by that time, but those three women really could turn every red-blooded males head; if you jet my drift? Whatever there I was sitting in the rear garden -- sipping a cold drink -- while the children played together, when I sensed something. But for a while I couldn't put my finger on what. I wasn't sure what it was, but it instantly put me on the alert and made me look around. Then a stranger -- but at the same time, oddly familiar looking young woman -- strolled around the side of the house, like she owned the bloody place. "Can I help you?" I asked. "No granddad, I'm here to help you! Well... my grandmothers actually... and aunt Myra." She grinned back at me, taking me a little off-guard, until I realised that I'd spotted her so quickly because I had sensed her approach, much as I would Ciera and Chaise's. "Sorry?" was the best I could reply. I was actually trying to equate the... lets call them pleasant vibes, I could sense emanating from young woman with the vibes that children gave out when they were pleased about something. "I'm Jean, grandfather. Ottilie's eldest!" I found myself turning to look at my eldest daughter, who had only just turned six years. Then I looked back at the new arrival. "Eventually granddad, eventually! It's very strange seeing your own mother when she's only..." "Six!" I replied, with a smile. "Pretty little girl, wasn't she!" "Is, Jean... is! It is you who is out of time sync here, not your mother! What are you doing here, anyway?" "Can't a granddaughter visit her grandfather before he's developed into a miserable old..." "Watch it kiddo! I'm still young enough to put you over my knee and tan your backside for you, you know, and I doubt your mother will try to stop me." Both of us had grins all over our faces, by the way; just in case you thought we were being serious. As I said, Jean was emanating those... vibes, and I was sure she could sense my emotions as well. "I've got a little chore to do Granddad, but it will have to wait until grandmother, Chaise and Aunt Myra get back from the beach. In the meantime a cold beer would go down very nicely. That's something Simul really needs to get her boffins working on. "So I gather you've been there sorting out their fertility problems for them." "Yes, but really mother did most of the work," she replied, looking across at young Ottilie again. "I've only carried on her research and being the younger, mother decided that I should be the one to go and do the hard work. Maybe she thought that I'd fall for one of those... what did you call them... Neanderthals?" "Something like that." "They're not all that bad, grandfather. Some of them are quite cute actually; Sylvia and Rose seem to have fallen on their feet anyway. Whoops, sorry; I didn't mean to mention them!" "So what have you been doing in future world?" I asked, ignoring her last remark "Oh nothing much. I can't say much Granddad... you know... Thomas. But it was basically down to a chemical imbalance that had developed. Mother believes it had something to do with the fact that they don't eat meat anymore. And of course it was coupled with a little bug that most of them appear to carry around with them. Probably a result of chemical warfare, that one! That's why I'm here really, I've got to give mother and..." "An infection. Christ, could we have passed it on?" "No grandfather, nothing like that. It's the other way around, Ciera, Chaise and Myra, weren't brought up in our time. There are a few inoculations I suppose you might call them, that Simul's people overlooked. Nothing drastic, but there's no point in taking any chances." "Christ, I never thought of any of that. Microbes, bugs and things... well, they change... evolve over time. We could have brought something really nasty back with us. Bugger we could have picked up something really serious ourselves and died." "No, grandfather you couldn't! You remember that first meal that Adona brought to you?" I must have nodded in reply. "Well, that was laced with... Well you, Douglas, Rose and Sylvia, were inoculated against everything that could have harmed you or anyone from this time. And anything that you might possibly have brought back with you! The air in the dome around your cottages was laced with all that was necessary to prevent a catastrophe from occurring. "But it was only after mother started her medical studies that she realised that, grandmother, Chaise and Myra are missing a few... bugs." Jean winked at me, "When she'd first arrived here... now... in this time. You're right granddad it is all a little confusing, but you know what I mean anyway. They were... are, in no danger here in the UK, but had any of them had gone abroad... to Africa or somewhere like that for instance, or even when people from around the world start visiting the holiday complex. Well, it makes sense to, take all precautions necessary. Besides, if anyone ever does a full work-up on any of those threes blood, it might prove to be... embarrassing or at the very least inconvenient if certain microbes are missing. Do you get where I'm going?" "I think so, kiddo!" At this point young Ottilie came over to us. I had been aware that the child had been watching us from afar, while we spoke. But my daughter didn't address me, it was pretty obvious that Ottilie was fixated on Jean. "Hello, I know you, don't I?" she asked. "Yes Ottilie. In a way, yes you do!" Jean replied. "In the future?" The child suggested. Taking me completely by surprise. "A very long time in the future, Ottilie." Jean replied, with a smile. A little confusingly -- from my perspective -- but obviously satisfied, Ottilie smiled back at Jean and then turned to me. "Mother and Aunt Chaise are on their way up from the beach daddy; they wont be long. Shall, I turn the kettle on?" "Good idea Ottilie. I'm sure your mother and Jean here would enjoy a cup of tea together." The youngster smiled back and then toddled of toward the house. "Trust mum, whatever happens, put the kettle on. Tea is always her cure-all for everything." Jean commented, with a smile as Ottilie moved out of earshot. "You realise that I had to teach her mother how to make that stuff, don't you?" "Yes grandfather. So, it's you who are to blame, I could kill a decent cold beer right now." "You're too young to drink anyway! Remember you aren't even a twinkle in young John Pemberton's eye yet, young lady!" I grinned back at her. "Besides, it's not done to drink booze until the suns over the yardarm." Jean squinted at the empty can in my hand. "Funny how I can't recall my grandfather ever quoting that rule before. When is that likely to be, anyway? Jesus that stuff that Simul serves-up as wine is..." "You don't have to tell me, young lady, I've been there, remember? Anyway when I say it is. How long have you got here?" "As long as it takes, I've got this little do-whatsit here. All I've got to do is push this little button and hey presto, I'm back in the laboratory in the City. Or so Adona assures me, anyway! Why do you ask, are you trying to get rid of me already?" "No sweetheart, I thought that... Well if you're going to be here a while... then, maybe we'll have a little party later... Hey, you might even get to meet your father. He's out with his family today; shopping I think." "Okay Granddad, I think I'd enjoy that." "Christ Jean you'd better cut out the granddad lark. Some bugger might figure out what's going on. Besides folks get confused enough around here as it is." "What do I call you then?" "I don't know, George or something... Uncle George if you like? That should suffice to muddy the waters enough; no one around here has met any my immediate family... Besides my two wives, that is. And that causes enough..." "You don't have to tell me... Uncle George! You were quite notorious by the time I was at school. The other kids couldn't get their heads around the fact that I had two grandmothers. Well, three actually... oh God, you know what I mean. I think mother had some fun with that one as well when she was at school." "Stands to reason. Oh, here come your grandmothers now." Ciera and Chaise had chosen that moment to appear around the side of the house. No words were exchanged, Jean jumped up from where she'd been sitting and ran over to Ciera who enveloped her in the arms. Then Jean and Chaise hugged each other. But while that was happening, Ottilie had reappeared through the back door of the cottage. I watched as an expression of understanding came over her young face; one that belied her age. To this day I have no idea how, but I at that instant I became sure that Ottilie knew exactly who Jean was. Or rather, maybe I should put it, who Jean was going to be, one day. The child sort-of smiled at the full-grown woman that I'm sure she knew she would one day give birth to. However Ottilie didn't mention, or confirm our suspicions, to any of us. Although Ciera and Chaise sensed the same thing as I did. Oh shit, you know what I mean! They also thought Ottilie knew who Jean was going to be. Christ, this people jumping around in time all the time lark, makes things so bloody complicated. That evening we did have a party out in the rear garden. The Sugget's and the Drury's were there of course and many times I saw Jean staring at the two children who would one-day be her parents. I'd watched as Ottilie had made a point of taking the young John Pemberton over to meet Jean. You know, I've often wondered just how powerful Ottilie's mental powers actually are. As time went by I came to suspect that Ottilie's were far stronger than Chaise's or Myra's; even stronger I believe, than her mother's. Oh, my own senses had become... pretty acute by then, and I could often sense Ottilie was near -- and what kind of mood she was in -- well before I could any of the others. What I mean say is, I could sense Ottilie's mind at a far greater distance, if you understand me. I know for sure that Ciera and Ottilie were in touch mentally, at vast distances. I have to wonder whether Ottilie could... can actually read other peoples minds. And although she didn't say it -- I'd felt her presence before she stepped around the building -- maybe my granddaughter Jean, had inherited her mother's mental powers. Of course that begs the question, exactly what did pass between Ottilie and her own child (to-be one day) when the six-year-old came over to us in the garden that day? There are a great number of questions that I will never know the full answers to; I've come to accept that fact. Between us, my wives and I never discuss their/our mental connection... well, not verbally anyway. I'm not exactly sure why, but we just never have. Although I have to admit that we have experimented... well sodded around, discovering just how far apart we can be from each other and still sense either of the other's presence. But that was done mentally with something akin to "George, are you still there?" kind of thought's. But our mental contact was not in actual words, as I've tried to explain before. All very difficult to explain, really. Anyway I was telling you about that party we had for Jean, wasn't I? As I said, I noted that Jean spent a lot of the evening gazing at Ottilie who similarly gazed back at her. Both must have spent a greater part of the evening smiling at each other; even when Jean was talking to Douglas and Myra, which she appeared to for a very long time. Jean also spent a very long time in conversation the little Emily, -- at sometime to come -- her kind of adoptive Aunt Emily. But really it was only on reflection that I noted the amount of time she spent with the Sugget's and little Emily. It didn't strike me at the time, that Jean, Douglas and Myra, appeared to find so much to talk about. I just supposed that they were talking about the future. Doug was always more... how can I put it? More interested in the scientific side of it, than I was. Christ hadn't he... well nicked that light emitting paint stuff idea (and possibly the makings of the formula) from there. Well, I have to assume that's where it came from. On reflection I kind-a wondered whether Douglas was trying to pick a fellow scientist's brains, with a mind for more lucrative ventures; if you get my drift. Jean was -- even at her relatively young age -- a professor, after all. Around midnight when everyone had gone home and the youngsters were safely tucked up in bed, asleep, Jean decided it was time she left us. Jean hugged and said goodbye to her grandmother's and then turned to give me a hug. "Thanks for everything Granddad." She said. "What did I do, kiddo?" "Oh you haven't yet, well not for me. I've not even been born yet, have I? But you keep everyone at their studies, and make sure we can all surf like dolphins. It's a pity we didn't have a chance to get out there together today. And you're there whenever any of us needs you." "I'm sure that it was for my own pleasure, Jean!" "So am I Granddad, but thanks anyway!" She grinned, and then she kissed me on the cheek before saying "See you later." Then she just wasn't there anymore. No sound, nothing; Jean was just gone! "A bit disconcerting that our family is getting into the habit of vanishing like." I said out loud, but my two wives were smothering my mental disappointment at Jean's leaving, by other means. ----- As the years passed, I gathered that my son (Sylvia's boy) George (herein after "my George") had somehow talked Simul into allowing him to return to visit us whenever he wished. Well, that's the way it appeared to me at the time. Every-so-often he brought Rose and Douglas's son with him, but not always. Roughly my George would appear about once, sometimes twice a year and he'd usually stay for a day or two. My George said he'd like to stay longer but his studies prevented him from doing so. But I have to add that my George's visits were not that far apart in his own time. It took me some time to workout that he was letting his younger half-siblings catch-up, age-wise. I thought for a long time Ottilie, to be precise. But then again it might have been another child; I'll let you hazard a guess about the whom for yourself. Perhaps George used Ottilie as a sort of age marker! Anyway, once Ottilie neared his own age. My George appeared to time his visits so that they all grew-up together (chronologically), or at least someone did; but one never knows whether the Simuls' have had a hand in that kind of thing. When my George was with us, he avoided -- as much as he could -- getting into conversation with any other young people but his half-siblings and Myra's two daughters. But my George could not avoid Joan Pemberton's children because her son John was nearly always wherever Ottilie was to be found; or seemingly so. But for some reason, John Pemberton never queried my George's presence or appeared to ask any questions about him; to my knowledge, anyway. Mind you, John Pemberton was so fixated on Ottilie that I doubt the poor little bugger noticed much else that was going on around him. Not that he wasn't an intelligent lad; but his whole life appeared to revolve around Ottilie and her wishes. But then again, as they grew older, most of the time Ottilie's life appeared to revolve around John Pemberton's, so it was tit-for-tat as they say. In consequence I noted that when he did visit, my George spent a lot of his time with his half-sister Sian and their younger siblings. Ottilie and John Pemberton being somewhat otherwise occupied most of the time, if you get my drift. It took me quite a while to realise that whenever George did visit, Doug and Myra's two daughters were never far away either; or more specifically their elder daughter Emily. Tempus Frangit Ch. 06 My George, however appeared to spend a great deal of his time with his sister Sian, they were always surfing together. Whilst Myra's daughter Emily was always... Well, she was forever making herself look as alluring as possible, even from a very young age; for my George's benefit I eventually came to realise. The girl had never been as fixated on surfing as the rest of us were and once she was old enough to start thinking about boys... Well I'm sure you get where I'm going here. Eventually I kind of worked it that my George spent, about a third of his time with us mixing with all of us. Another third... er well as he grew older chatting-up and eventually courting Myra's daughter Emily; much to her obvious delight. And the other third with his sister Sian. What they found to talk about all the time, I just could never understand, but Sian and George appeared to be nattering away to each other, almost every time I clapped eyes on them. And what's more I knew that Sian would always sense my interest in them (that came with the territory, Sian had inherited the same gift, just as strong as her mother's) and she'd smile back at me. Sian stood out as the most thoughtful of my children. She seemed to have a fascination about the future. Well that isn't quite true... more a fascination with my adventures there. Sian appeared to enjoy my telling and retelling of my adventures (no holds barred when she grew older), no matter how many times I repeated it to her. Very often Sian would start me off on the old reminiscence road, by asking me to tell her the story again. Oh by the way, when the children were very young we'd soon discovered that, with a group of closely related people like my family... especially when all of whom either had the gift, or at least developed the sense a little, as I had that there was little point in trying to keep the truth about Douglas and my trip to the future, a secret from the children. Or that their mother's were... different from all their school chums mothers. I have no idea of why I know that none of my children, or Douglas's either ever mentioned to any outsiders what made our family units stand apart from the norm. I'm pretty sure that Ottilie didn't even tell John Pemberton either, quite surprising that the lad never got curious, and I have to admit that that sometimes made me wonder; but I prefer not to think that way. Eventually my George's visits became so casual that they all but went unnoticed by me. Rather odd when you're sitting there and your son -- who you haven't clapped eyes on for six months -- walks in the door, says "Hi dad" and then opens the fridge looking for a cold drink, as if he hadn't been away more than a couple of hours. Sometimes I'd be lucky if I got a good-bye out of the bugger before he went back. Mind you Sian always conveyed the news to me... mentally, when he did leave. Perhaps my George relied on her doing that. ----- George was eighteen when he asked me if he could take Emily back with him for a short visit. Astonished, I told him that it wasn't up to me he'd have to ask Doug and Myra. I also queried what the Simuls' would have to say about that plan. "She's fine with it dad, providing you have no objections." My George replied. "Then it's down the Sugget's my boy, not me!" I informed him. Well he and Emily did ask Doug and Myra, and they apparently agreed. But then... well, I suppose one might term it, all-hell broke loose. If Emily was going then her younger sister wanted to know why she couldn't go as well. And Ottilie and her two youngest siblings wanted in as well. Somewhat strangely, Sian was adamant right from the first time she heard the idea mentioned, that she did not wish to go; but her younger sister and brother quite definitely did. Even more strangely I thought at first, my George appeared to be ready for their requests, and informed me -- in private -- that permission had been granted for all five of the children to spend some time in the City and with Sylvia and Rose. He even had the necessary equipment with him to transport them as well. I looked the boy in the eye and said. "You tell me, George; do they go and do they all decide to come back again? It would appear that Simul was untruthful with me, Thomas's chronicles must predict this visit." "They do father, but Simul did not really lie to you. Technically your other children aren't of this time, they are of our time. However you will be relieved to know that they all come back. Even Emily although I'd really like her to stay with me. Simul has said I'll have to ask her again the future." "Then she must surely be able to tell you whether..." "I'm not allowed to know my own future as Thomas predicts it, father!" "Damn, I wonder when I'm going to find out who this Thomas bloke is?" "Bloke father! I'm surprised that you think that Thomas is a man." "Isn't he?" "Well, I've never thought he was and neither does mother. Stood to reason when you look at it from the right perspective." "I never though that your mother was... er." "Intelligent father? Well you are wrong there! A little slow on the uptake sometimes, I will admit. But mother told me a long time ago that she thought that Thomas was a female." "She does!" "Oh yes, mother is positive about that. But mother thinks that... Well dad, you have you look at the big picture, living as you do in the here and now, in your own time. The females here aren't the second-class citizens that they once were; well not everywhere anyway! But as mother says -- how many religious texts are there that you can think of, that were written by females? And whether you realise it or not that's what Thomas's writings have become in our time, a sort of religious prediction of the future." "Well there's the book of Ruth in the bible, if I recall correctly. I never was..." "Yes, so mother told me. But what happened to all the other Christian Gospels written by females? They were discarded... squashed by the male dominated Christian Church soon after it got organised. They were written as there are references to them in ancient texts, but they were not included in the Christian bible that people use in your time. No; Thomas knowing that a world at war with itself, would most likely be completely dominated by men ... Well, she... he maybe even you father! Decided that a male name on those papers would be best." "Oh and does your mother have any idea who this female Thomas is going to turn out to be?" "Mother doesn't, because she's never met her; but I do have my suspicions." "And you think she is George?" "Ah father, now that would be telling! I'm sure that when she is old enough you'll work it out for yourself." "George..." "All right father, but I'm not going to actually say who I believe she is likely to turn out to be. What I will say is that Thomas, whoever she/he is, can never have visited the future. Simul has so many questions that aren't answered in Thomas's Chronicles. Had Thomas been there he... then she would most probably have answered those questions. Logical?" "Pretty logical, yes George." "All right father, which of your offspring has not shown the slightest interest in actually visiting the future?" "I found myself looking across at young Sian!" "Best candidate I can come up with as well, dad! You know, she can quote you word for word on your visit to the future. But I think I'd let her decide if and when to start writing them, if I was you. Oh and I know that she's already shown great interest in some of the disused mines around here. And guess where those Chronicles were eventually discovered." "At the bottom of a disused mine?" I suggested. "Yes, when it was being converted into an shelter of some kind, or safe living accommodation during the catastrophe." ----- I haven't broached the subject with Sian as of yet. But I'm sure that one day, when she thinks the time is right, she'll tell me that's she's ready to start writing. That's assuming that Thomas hasn't started writing already, and is purposely not telling me. You can't know the answer to everything, can you? Oh well, we shall see what the morrow holds. Termini Life goes on