Uchronie Page 4

  Dwayne and his mate snorted with laughter.

  ‘What sort of decoration do you want on the handle?’ asked Wright, opening his book at a page of floral designs.

  I flipped through the book with my right hand. Dragons, griffins, skull and crossbones were old school, cogs and gears were clever, top hats and bow ties were smart… then I found bullet holes!

  ‘I’ll have bullet holes.’ I said.

  ‘Ah, a sense of humor, right enough.’ said Captain Wright. ‘I can see why DeBlanc liked you… any particular colour of bullet holes?’

  ‘A metallic crimson I think,’ I said. ‘so they look like blood.’

  ‘I’ll put you down as brass.’ said Wright, with a frown. ‘I’ll redden the edges in the furnace. Do you want anything etched along the barrel?’

  ‘Like what?’ I asked, rather bluntly.

  ‘Oh… some airmen request their initials or a superior quote from a book.’ said Captain Wright. ‘Jules Verne’s ‘Mobilis in mobili’ is popular… that sort of thing.’

  ‘I’ll have ‘Bellum est super.’ I said, feeling the grey gel setting hard round my fingers.

  ‘Hmmm, I thought you’d go for something like that.’ said Wright, frowning at me again. ‘You’re a bit of a security risk Nate, but I’ll order that up for you right now.’

  As he left the room Dwayne stood up and sauntered over to me. His yellow trainers squeaked loudly on the polished floor.

  ‘Wotcher grebo.’ he said, giving me his two fingered salute again before turning to his mate. ‘This is the glocky pixie wot I told you about Wayne. He arrived this morning wiv Ginge… in the cherry pickin’plane.’

  Looks ‘andsome.’ said Wayne, turning his seat round and resting his elbows on the back. ’Ow you getting on with Taint?’

  ‘Taint?’ I said, confused.

  Dwayne and Wayne looked at each other. ‘Taint Wright!’ they guffawed in fake cockney accents.

  I laughed at their subversive camaraderie and Dwayne took the opportunity to try to get some information out of me.

  ‘Ere wot’s DeBlanc doing wiv that Frog?’ he whispered, putting a confidential arm around my shoulder and turning me away from the crew.

  I tried to pull away from him, but I couldn’t take my hand in the box of grey goo.

  I was trapped.

  ‘Come on mate. You can tell me’ said Dwayne, putting the squeeze on me. ‘I’m cushty.’

  Next episode - Time Travel Training - released Monday 15 October 2012

  Nate learns about the days of the week

  Trapped in front of the crew in the Uchronie training room our hero, Nate, is resisting giving out information about the Commander’s secret morning maneuvers.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Steamchav Dwayne and his mate Wayne kept badgering me for information about the F.R.O.G. that Commander DeBlanc had launched that very morning. (see Chapter Two)

  Although they did it all in their usual, over friendly, way, they were so insistent that it crossed my mind that they could be spies in the service of the German Reich.

  Wayne sat in his seat firing questions while Dwayne towered over me.

  Thankfully I was saved by Captain Wright’s return to the training room.

  'Now the Surveillance Tower bays are only operational at certain times of the day.' he said, already speaking as he entered the room. 'and… Sit down Dwayne!’

  Sheepishly Dwayne returned to his seat beside Wayne.

  'Good. Now…' said Captain Wright, his grey eyes twinkling. '…as I was saying… The first officer of the day attains the weapons and ammunition and takes these items to the issue bays. The officers relieve each other throughout the day until the last officer of the day returns any unused items to the armory. Nate, you’re weapon, your new gun, will be ready in the afternoon and you’ll be able to collect it from Bay B.’

  'I’ll go and sit down as well then, shall I?' I said, pulling my hand out of the quivering grey gel that had now taken a complete cast of my hand.

  'Yes, yes. Sit yourself down.’ he said, handing me a sheet of paper, 'Taint right to keep you on your feet. This is your time sheet, hang on to it. I’ve marked you down as a ten o’clock arrival, although you were actually a few minutes late.'

  'I was working with the Commander.' I said, rather haughtily.

  'Yes, yes.' said Wright, his pale face flushing as he looked over at Wayne and Dwayne.

  Dwayne shook his head.

  I sat down, folded the time sheet neatly and put it in my top pocket behind the posy of flowers that the consumptive little girl had given me when I left Lakehurst Aerodrome many miles below.

  'Good.' said Wright, as Corporal Price removed the box of gel with my hand cast. 'Now…to continue with the Time Team training. I’m going to issue each of you with your Twenty4Seven card. This is a very important piece of kit for time travelers. If you lose it, you should go to Bay E and get a replacement immediately.'

  'It’ll cost you.' muttered Dwayne.

  'Yes, there is a small charge for a replacement.’ said Wright. 'After all you should be looking after your kit. Keep your timecard with your timesheet and make sure you complete said timesheet every day. The Time Team needs to get paid, same as everyone else, so make sure your timesheet is delivered to the pay office every Friday… no matter where you are.’

  'Or when you are.' said Wayne, rolling his eyes, 'At the risk of sounding stupid.’

  As Wright handed out time cards, Wayne turned round and slipped me a blank playing card. 'Ere you’ll need this broad n’all if you’re goin to be workin’ wiv us, mate.'

  I took the blank playing card, put it in my top pocket and studied the time card Captain Wright had given me.

  M 123456712345671234567123

  T 456712345671234567123456

  W 712345671234567123456712

  T 345671234567123456712345

  F 671234567123456712345671

  S 234567123456712345671234

  S 567123456712345671234567

  'Now, you will see that there are seven days of twenty four hours on your basic black and white timecard.' said Captain Wright, resuming his position in front of the whiteboard. 'This weekly cycle of twenty four seven has been in existence for thousands of years and, I believe, it is mentioned in many religious books.'

  'On the seventh day he rested.' said Dwayne.

  'Yes.’ said Wright, frowning at him. 'Today, it’s Friday ...again! It keeps on coming around.'

  'T.F.I. Friday.' said Dwayne.

  'P.O.E.T.S. day.' said Wayne.

  'Well I’m sure we all know what these abbreviations mean.' said Wright, regaining his composure. 'We all carry our own time machines inside our heads. The ones that take us back are memories... and those that carry us forward are dreams… but, let me ask you all a question. What is time?'

  Captain Wright's question was met with silence.

  'Is it just a human invention?' he asked, scanning the class. 'Anybody…?’

  'Time is a way of separating events from each other.' I said, breaking the akward silence. 'We see the seasons change and we see people growing old.'

  'Yes… very poetic… and very good,' he said, writing the numbers one to seven on his whiteboard, 'and it is often particularly important to know the order in which these events happen. Your Twenty4Seven card actually reveals how the days of the weeks got their names. The seven numbers represent the sun, the moon and the five moving heavenly bodies that were known to the ancient Roman Kings.'

  So saying he wrote their names beside the numbers on the whiteboard.

  One is The Moon

  Two is Saturn

  Three is Jupiter

  Four is Mars

  Five is The Sun

  Six is Venus

  Seven is Mercury

  'If you look at your timecard you will see that the first twenty four hour day is Monday which starts with number one – the moon.’ he said, ma
rking number one on the whiteboard with a lean forefinger.

  'Moonday, innit.' said Wayne.

  'Yes! Very good, Wayne.' said Wright. 'Monday or… Lundi, in French, literally means lunar day.'

  Dwayne scratched his head.

  'Now… remembering that this timetable was created in a Romance language,’ said Wright, ‘you will see that the next day is Tuesday or Mardi, literally Mars day, which relates to the number four.'

  Dwayne turned round to me, looking confused, and spread his hands. 'W.T.F.?'

  'Number four' I said, pointing at the whiteboard. 'Mars is number four.'

  'Makes no sense.' said Dwayne, grimacing at Wayne.

  'The third day is Wednesday or Mercredi,’ continued Wright, 'Mercury day. You’ll see Mercury is number seven.'

  'I’ve got it.' said Wayne, nodding confidently. 'French innit.'

  'Fourth day is Thursday or Jeudi,' said Wright. 'Jupiter day… Jupiter is number three.'

  'What…? Four equals three?' said Dwayne, throwing down his card. 'This is unpossible.'

  'And the fifth day is Friday, or Vendredi…Venus Day, number six.' continued Wright. 'The sixth day is Saturday…Saturn day, which relates to number two and, finally, the seventh day is Sunday. That’s self explanatory. Sun-day which begins on number five.'

  'Why ain’t Sunday number seven?' asked Dwayne, pointing beligerently at the whiteboard. 'I mean if Moonday’s number one.'

  'It’s a complex system.’ said Wright, 'the heavenly bodies are ordered according to the distance the Romans believed they were from the earth. The moon is the closest, so its number one, Saturn is number two and …'

  'Number two! T’aint right,' said Dwayne, 'bleedin’ Mars is closer‘n Saturn.'

  'Yes indeed… we know that now! But you have to remember the Romans didn’t have telescopes,' said Captain Wright, 'they were using N.E.O.’s… Naked Eye Observations. Study your timecard and you’ll see the pattern of twenty four seven repeats as it has done for thousands of years.'

  Everybody, except Dwayne, sat looking at their cards.

  'I know it’s a lot to take in.' said Captain Wright, 'but the concept and uses of Twenty4Seven will become clearer to you the more often you use it.'

  'If you say so.' said Dwayne, sitting with his arms folded.

  'Now… were going to break for an early lunch.' said Captain Wright, ‘It is Friday, Vendredi…Venus day, after all. We’ll start back at one o’clock and finish up around four… as long as you gentlemen don’t have any objections.'

  'None whatsoever.' said Wayne, picking Dwayne’s Twenty4Seven timecard off the floor and tucking it into his baseball cap.

  'Good.' said Wright, looking at his to-do list. 'Remember… if you lose your card you can purchase a replacement from Bay E. Now, this afternoon, we’ll deal with time travel. Linking years... The importance of detailed historical research… Weather reports…. Going into dangerous areas. Fitting in, clothes, money - if you can’t acquire them as antiques - can you make them yourself? Communications, languages and social attitudes. We’ll do all that… this afternoon.'

  Dwayne and Wayne stood up together.

  ‘T.F.I. Friday.' said Wayne winking at me. 'Come on Nate we’ll introduce you to the wonders of the Canteen. Judy Toffer will be serving today.'

  'I Wonder what’s on the menu today.' I said, trying to banter with them, but Captain Wright stopped me at the door.

  'The Commander wants to see you in the Darkroom.' he said, pointing to a dim red light glowing in the gloom at the far end of the room.

  'Laters.' said Dwayne, giving me his usual two fingered salute.'‘All the more fish pie for us, eh, Wayne.'

  Next episode ‘Noon in the Darkroom.’ released 22 October 2012

  Biffo Noone in the Darkroom

  Our Hero, Nate, has been summoned to the Temporal Darkroom where he encounters Biffo Noone’s extraordinary photographs and confirms much that was suspected.

  ‘Right let’s go and meet Biffo Noone, our deep field daguerreotyper.’ said Wright, as the rest of the Time Team left the training room.

  ‘When will I get my lunch?’ I asked, watching him type numbers into a brass keypad beside the Darkroom door.

  ‘Don’t worry, we wont be long.’ he said, checking his pocket watch. ‘Biffo goes off duty at noon, and its half past eleven now.’

  I looked away to avoid seeing all the numbers he was entering and discovered an old nursery rhyme engraved in the mahogany door frame.

  Hickory Dickety Dock, the mouse ran up the clock.

  The Temporal Darkroom lived up to its name. It was a proper black hole with heavy brocade curtains that prevented any light at all from entering. All was black, and such a dense black that, even after some minutes, all my eyes could discern was the faintest glimmer of a single red bulb that revealed a shadowy figure attaching newspaper sized sheets of paper to a thin clothes line strung across the ceiling.

  The whole room reeked of hot ammonia that stung my eyes.

  ‘Biffo,’ said Captain Wright, ‘this is Nate Drywood, the crewman that Ginger collected from the Hindenburg.’

  Biffo turned round to look at me, his face a blank silhouette against the red light.

  ‘What have you got for us, Biffo?’ asked Wright.

  Biffo indicated the several large photographs pegged up around the room with asweep of his bony hand.

  ‘Biffo doesn’t say much,’ said Captain Wright, ‘but he is an expert in this new-fangled field of photography.’

  ‘I’ve taken some photographs myself,’ I said, ‘mostly family snaps.’

  ‘Biffo is a professional.’ said Wright, ‘His pictures paint a thousand words… as they say in Hollywoodland. I want you to have a look at these Collytroid photographs that he’s acquired from the Hindenburg. See if you recognize anything… or anyone.’

  As my eyes accustomed to the deep cherry gloom I could see that the photographs were all out of focus. Rather than being professional, they appeared to be the work of a complete amateur and appeared to be over-inflated blow ups. Vague blurred dark shapes, that could either be people or pieces of furniture, stood against a light grey background that could, possibly, be the interior of the Hindenburg.

  ‘There’s not much to see… is there?’ I said in dismay.

  ‘… Choose…Tues… day four, May four,’ mumbled Biffo, indicating the photograph nearest me. ‘… St Arwar’s, start war… maybe a touch, eh? Cap...an’…’

  As his voice tailed off, Captain Wright maneuvered me in front of that particular photograph.

  ‘Biffo thinks this is the night of the meal at the Captain’s table on Tuesday, May the fourth.’ he said. ‘Can you remember where you were sitting that night?’

  ‘I was sitting beside the captain.’ I said, pointing at the formless blur in the middle of the photograph. My finger touched the paper and suddenly that part of the photograph came into sharp focus.

  I was sitting there, crisp as linen, looking like a toff in my shiny, black dinner jacket. Square rigged to the max in my Victorian collar and bow tie.

  ‘So field depth photography does work.’ said Wright, grinning in Biffo’s direction.

  Biffo’s shadow said nothing.

  ‘Who’s that behind you Nate?’ asked Wright.

  ‘I think it’s the waiter.’ I said, still amazed at the crystal clarity of my image. I could even read my name tag - in full colour.

  ‘Bring him into focus.’ ordered Wright.

  I touched the grey blur and a pin sharp image of Paul, the head waiter crystallized on the damp paper as I disappeared back into a blur.

  ‘The waiter is one of our main suspects.’ said Wright. ‘I’m aware that there’s a theory going around that the crew wouldn’t destroy their own airship, but this… Paul. was hired for just one flight.’

  ‘… mo’ fo’ over there…’ grunted Biffo, from the far side of the room. ‘…whistle pock it… and that...an’…’<
br />
  ‘Ah, yes!’ said Wright, stepping back. ‘There are more photographs over here. Look at this, Nate. Did Paul ever show you his pocket watch?’

  ‘Oh, Yes! He was very proud of his time piece.’ I said, ‘It was a Silver Bewitchment… fantastic filigree workmanship.’

  ‘Biffo has enlarged this picture of Paul‘s waistcoat.’ said Wright indicating a dark grey blur with a fuzzy white line on it. ’Could you give us your perspective on it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘…like… touch it… fo… to…’ whispered Biffo, who was now, somehow, standing right behind me.

  I touched the dark grey blurred photo and it refocused into a silk waistcoat - Paul’s waistcoat. The fuzzy white line became a watch chain.

  ‘It’s Paul’s watch chain.’ I said. ‘A silver plated Albert, with a vest clip.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Wright, ‘but without the pocket watch attached.’

  I looked at the empty chain and a memory stirred inside me. ‘That’s right… Paul misplaced his pocket watch on Tuesday morning.’

  ‘…prints …’ muttered Biffo. ‘…up se’n’ that…’

  ‘Was Paul upset?’ asked Wright.

  ‘Of course he was!’ I scoffed. ‘Somebody had duffed his yack! It was an expensive timepiece. A Bewitchment!’

  ‘Re… fuse.’ mumbled Biffo, disappearing into the shadows. ‘…wires n’ that fo to… but…’

  I looked at Wright’s serious face in the deep red light and wondered what was going on as he indicated that I should touch the photo in front of him.

  I did so and it refocused into a tangle of red and blue wires.

  ‘We think Paul’s pocket watch was stolen to be used as a trigger for a bomb aboard the Hindenburg.’ said Wright. ‘It would have completed a circuit at 5:30 EST, just after the crews were scheduled to disembark.’