Guy Adams - The Clown Service

‘Right. And that works does it?’

‘There have been arguments on both sides for years. Some say it provides a believable scientific explanation for otherwise unexplained phenomena; others claim it’s pseudoscience, dressing the impossible up in apparently convincing yet strictly meaningless terms. Various experiments have been carried out trying to test it, most concentrating on brainwaves and dopamine levels, trying to isolate what it is about certain people’s biological make-up that might make them receptive to the psionic information around them.’

‘Any of those experiments fruitful?’

‘Not for most people. Because the trick lies not only in optimising the receptiveness of the witness but also strengthening the broadcast.’

‘And that’s what you do?’

‘It’s part of it. This equipment comes at both sides simultaneously. It creates a sonic wavelength that affects and focuses the brainwaves of those in the room and…’ He looked up from the mess of wiring he cradled in his fists. ‘This part is right tricky to explain in terms of school physics.’

‘Small words.’

‘Are you familiar with Close Timelike Curves?’

‘No.’

‘How about Postselection? The observance of probability?’

Toby sighed. ‘Does the thing make time go backwards?’

‘It allows us to observe history, yes.’

‘Let’s leave it at that. Leslie told me it was dangerous.’

‘If you push at physics it tends to push back. The longer we leave it active, the further back we view, the greater the risk.’

‘And the risk is?’

‘Twofold. We’re playing with probability in a manner I’ve specifically designed to limit paradox issues, the emphasis is on observing rather than interacting. That said, I’m creating a window of temporal fluctuation – and that is always open to interference. If we stray too close to it, we could end up influencing it. That would be bad. The other problem is more complex.’

‘Hooray.’

‘The longer we push the quantum state into flux…’

‘The words are getting a little long.’

‘The more we screw with probability, the more changes could actually take effect. I’m loosening the actual timeline in order to see the probability wave. Do that for too long and the whole lot could unravel: history rewriting itself from the point of intrusion.’

‘Which would be bad.’

‘Potentially catastrophic.’

Toby turned to Shining. ‘I hope this is worth wiping out history for.’

Shining smiled. ‘On the plus side: if it all goes wrong we won’t know a thing about it.’

It took Derek about an hour to get set up. What looked like cone speakers surrounded the ground floor of the warehouse, wires running from a portable generator in the back of the van to the various piles of equipment. Derek was established behind a bank of controls – everything from what looked like a portable recording studio to a very battered netbook balanced on top. Toby noted that the desktop wallpaper was a picture of the car from Back to the Future . He hoped he wasn’t about to die horribly as a pawn in the most dangerous game of live action role-playing ever played.

‘Nearly ready,’ said Derek. ‘Normally the focus of the machine would be a single object, not a whole room, so I’m hoping it’s not going to blow us up the minute I turn it on. Could one of you do me a favour and fetch the small, pink box from the passenger’s seat of the van?’

Toby obliged. ‘Will this make it safer?’

‘Not really,’ said Derek, opening his lunchbox and taking out an apricot. ‘The doctor tells me to eat little but often.’

Derek reached out to the netbook and opened a program on the desktop. Slowly, the equipment around them began to hum. Derek picked up a stopwatch from the desk and slung it around his neck.

‘Now remember,’ he said, ‘we have limited time to do this and we’re dealing with two sets of unreliable factors: quantum probability and a recording method that only registers certain events. What we’re about to see will not be linear, nor will it necessarily be the specific events you’re hoping for. It is what it is, gentlemen, and I hope it’s of use. One final warning: you must not get too close to the probability field. Your presence could contaminate the past, could change something. Basically, lads, it’s bloody dangerous – so keep behind the desk.’

He started the stopwatch while simultaneously triggering the program he’d opened on the netbook desktop.

At first nothing happened but an increase in the noise from the equipment. Toby grimaced as the hum from the speakers became so intense he was sure something was likely to break.

Then his vision skewed, as if everything in front of him had shifted to the left, distorting and stretching. Rubbing his eyes didn’t help. He felt his balance go, as his brain reacted to what he was seeing and was unable to find its equilibrium. Derek grabbed his arm.

‘It’s not your eyes,’ he shouted. ‘It takes a minute for the brain to compensate – should have warned you. Hold onto something.’

Toby did so, gripping the edge of the desk in front of him.

Despite the disorientation, he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes or look away.

The light falling in from the windows began to snap on and off, day to night, night to day. Flashes of orange street-lighting strobed across the walls, making it look like the place was in a state of emergency.

He watched as a pile of dried leaves shifted around the floor. They moved as one, skipping forward and back across the dirty concrete. Life rendered as bad stop-motion animation, jerky and non-cohesive.

Suddenly, a young man appeared in the centre of the room. In one hand he held a large torch, in the other a heavy revolver.

‘That’s you!’ said Toby.

‘It is,’ Shining agreed.

The young August vanished, and the inside of the warehouse was flooded by daylight once again. Over by the door, Shining and Toby stood face to face as they were circled by a dangerous force left there to kill them.

‘You can’t see it,’ said Toby. ‘The Angel of Death isn’t there.’

‘I’m not sure I want to know what you’re talking about,’ said Derek.

‘It exists outside time,’ explained Shining, ‘never quite in line with our physical world.’

‘As a physicist, can I just say the phrase “outside time” is setting my teeth on edge?’ said Derek.

The earlier Toby and Shining vanished and it was night once more. A large rat worked its way along the path created by the beam of street light shining through a window.

Daylight again and the room was a hive of activity: men in plain suits moving to and fro, filling packing chests with small glass bottles.

A cracking sound and a flash of sparks came from one side of the room.

‘Forty-five seconds – the equipment’s struggling,’ said Derek, checking the stopwatch. ‘I may not be able to keep this up for much longer.’

‘You have to,’ insisted Shining. ‘We’ve learned nothing of use so far.’

Was that true? Toby was staring at one of the men. ‘Him,’ he said, ‘the one on the left… there’s something familiar… I know his face, don’t I?’

Abruptly the image changed again. Night-time and the young Shining had returned, backing away from a figure that was descending towards him down the stairs.

‘Well, this rings a bell,’ said Toby. ‘Maybe I’ll get to find out how it panned out after all.’

The view changed again.

‘Or maybe not…’

It was still night-time but the warehouse seemed empty. Then, slowly, moving towards them from out of the darkness of the opposite wall, came a solitary figure.

‘Krishnin,’ said Shining.