Robert Appleton: Prehistoric Clock

Extraordinary.

“Perhaps we should give you a chance to think over our proposal, Professor Reardon?” Wallingford touched his earlobe as he glanced at Miss Polperro-a signal for them to leave. “When you’re better rested perhaps?”

“No, that’s quite all right. You can have my answer now. I agree to all your terms, and I will gladly join your Atlas Council or whatever the blasted thing is called. But I would like three things in return.”

The curious tilt of Wallingford’s head betrayed his genuine surprise. Had he not expected to discuss terms so soon? All the better. “Yes?” he asked.

Gritting his teeth, Cecil half sat up and bunched his pillow behind him against the brass bars at the head of his bed. “Firstly, unconditional, posthumous pardons must be given to Lord Garrett Embrey, his father, Marquess Embrey, and his uncle, Lord Fitzwalter. The highest military service commendation must go to Lieutenant Verity Champlain and her second in command, Lieutenant Tangeni. All these must be announced in the Times before I even think about resuming work.”

The crookbacked politician’s fake smile barely masked his chagrin. “I believe that can be arranged, but-”

“Secondly, I demand to know why Embrey’s family was victimized.”

“That one I can answer personally,” Wallingford said. “Both his father and uncle were highly influential men, in business and in politics. We gave them an invitation to join the Atlas Club, along with a brief explanation of its purpose, and they refused. In today’s seditious climate, such a refusal cast doubt upon their loyalty to the Crown. After the Benguela fire, we thought it prudent to make an example of aristocratic officers for a change, to remind our armed forces that no one, no matter their station or privilege, is above the law.”

“So you hanged two innocent men?”

“For the greater good, yes. It wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. In every country it has long been a vital method of ensuring general obedience during wartime.”

“Tried and tested or not, it’s repugnant. Not to mention evil.”

“If you can come up with a better way, Professor, be my guest.”

Cecil narrowed his eyes at the little bastard. “Just give me that chance.”

Miss Polperro’s angry scoff only redoubled his grit. “Why not appoint yourself Prime Minister while you’re at it.” She paced to the far wall, chunnering to herself.

“Ha! And thirdly, I want you two to summarize for me, here and now, the grand purpose behind these godforsaken towers that reach for the clouds for no apparent reason.” He glared at Wallingford, who sniffled and checked his pocketwatch. “Is that too much to ask?” He filled those words with as much scorn as he could manage-not as much as he’d hoped, for curiosity had got the better of him. He’d longed to know the answer to this riddle for most of his life. He’d even worked in the tower for many years without having so much as an inkling as to why it had been built in the first place.

Wallingford blinked rapidly, no doubt considering all the angles before formulating his response, as all political creatures are wont to do. “Very well, Professor. A brief summary you shall have. I’m quite certain the other Council members would not begrudge you that if you accede to our request.” His sharp glance across to his schoolmarm colleague met with a bitter, resigned shrug.

Well, well. How the tables have turned. It seems I do have the winning hand after all.

“How much do you know of the Atlas comets?” Wallingford asked.

“Little except the name.” Comets? Whatever next?

“They are three comets of varying mass, whose wide, unusual orbits around our sun occasionally bring them within close proximity to the earth.”

“Yes, I saw a painting once,” Cecil said. “The 1714 comet shower-lit the western sky with brilliant blue sparks for a full day and night.”

“Correct, but do you know what the blue sparks actually were?”

“Hmm, I’ll hazard a guess at highly concentrated psammeticum in either solid or gaseous form.”

“Very good, Professor.” Miss Polperro unhooked the clock from his wall and hurled it against the skirting board, sending clockwork innards and glass smithereens all across the floor. The crash spun Wallingford around. A moment later he began to chuckle, and Miss Polperro grinned at him. Some kind of private joke they shared, one Cecil would rather not be in on.

And she called me mentally unstable!

“Three comets, two imminent encounters with the earth,” she said. Her little colleague bowed in acquiescence to her scientific expertise. “The next encounter, in two years’ time, will be similar to that of 1714. We plan to channel a significant amount of psammeticum directly into the tower, at high altitude. Its gaseous form is diluted in a high oxygen atmosphere, so by the time it reaches the earth’s surface, it has lost much of its potency. By collecting it in a slightly thinner air, we will conserve an enormous amount of psammeticum energy.”

“Yes, I know that. The spire receptor has been gathering it for years.”

“Only the cosmic trickle-trifling amounts.”

“So how much are we talking about? These comets you speak of?”

“That’s classified.” She glanced at Wallingford, who merely rolled his eyes. “The comets’ second close pass, in a decade’s time, will shower the earth with approximately five times that amount,” she said. “By then, our towers will be significantly higher, our storage units more sophisticated. We will be able to stockpile an extraordinary volume of psammeticum, approximately a trillion times that which we currently collect from the meagre cosmic trickle. So you see, Professor, why these great edifices reach for the sky.”

He scrubbed his face with weak, aching hands. “Admirable, but why all the secrecy?”

“Why, exclusivity of course. If our enemies got wind of it, they might try to steal our thunder as it were. Or even scupper our operation. No, it is best they think of the Leviacra as eccentric British follies. In a decade’s time, they will learn the truth soon enough. A new age of science will be upon us.”

Such grand ideas and yet Cecil cringed at the thought of anyone wanting to amass that much energy. A volatile thing like psammeticum stored in tanks, sent through pipes like natural gas? The potential for devastation was incalculable. He’d already witnessed its unpredictability during the first time jump. But if that was their intent, at least it wasn’t as sinister as most of the theories he’d heard over the years. At its heart, it was a scientific endeavour-a frightening and megalomaniacal one, but scientific nonetheless. And until he could figure out a way to escape his prison, he would aid them to that end, if only to help make the collection process safer for the men and women working on the project. Scientists all.

“And the towers we found in prehistoric Europe?” He began to fill in the gaps. “A large-scale attempt to harvest some invaluable comet-stuff brouhaha across time?”

“From what we have ascertained through geological study, several pieces of the largest Atlas comet broke off and hit the earth in the early Cretaceous Period. The comets themselves skimmed our atmosphere. The sublimation that occurred filled an entire hemisphere for months. When we first found the collapsed towers, I was as puzzled as you, Professor Reardon. But now it makes perfect sense. We are destined to achieve large-scale time travel, and our future successors in this endeavour will be even more ambitious than we have dreamed.”

“Maybe, but they failed, didn’t they? The towers were empty and decrepit. The dream you speak of seems fraught with more dangers than anyone can predict. Is there such a thing as too much ambition?”