A light appeared on the dashboard of the ageing Alfa Romeo.
“What do you suppose that means?” said Derek, who was driving.
“Probably three hundred quid for a guess.”
“I mean, can we keep driving, or what?”
“It’s still going isn’t it?” said Archie.
“Fair point.” said Derek.
“This thing’s like a slot machine in reverse. Lights come on and you’ve somehow lost a load of cash.”
“Why don’t you buy a new car? We’re doing all right. You can afford it.”
“Anna wants to go on holiday to Portugal.” said Archie glumly.
“Portugal?” said Derek incredulously. “Why would anyone go to Portugal?”
“Believe me, it’s as much a mystery to me as it is to you.”
They drove on in silence for a while, Archie gazing idly at the Yorkshire hills, lost in thought.
When Derek spoke again, Archie almost jumped.
“So what’s this next one?”
“Time machine.” said Archie. “Some bloke thinks he’s developed a time machine.” He sighed heavily. “The usual story, of course. Massive business interests suppressing his innovative technology. Politicians trying to murder him, and so on and so forth.”
“Archie, what’s the point of this?” said Derek. “I’m tired of these people. They’re all paranoid and they wouldn’t know proper scientific methodology if it beat them over the head in a dark alley. Our website’s supposed to be about overlooked scientific innovations, not mental derangement.”
“All very easy for you to say.” said Archie. “You don’t own an old Alfa and your girlfriend doesn’t want to go to Portugal. The fact is, a time machine will get us clicks and views, and clicks and views bring in the money.”
“You know damn he’s not made a time machine. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t decide we’re from the government and try to brain us with a spanner.”
“Clicks and views, Derek.” said Archie distantly, gazing at the fog descending on the hills in the distance. “Clicks and views.”
Some time later they pulled up outside a pleasant little cottage on the outskirts of a tiny village. The village featured only a small shop for a few basic groceries, a pub, a town hall and a church. The houses were made of stone, with slate roofs.
“This is actually quite nice.” said Derek.
“What, the house?” said Archie.
“The entire place. I could see myself living in a place like this.”
“You’d have to get into farming or repairing stone walls.”
“Nah, I’m sure they’ve got internet. Everywhere has internet these days. Worst case, have to use a mobile. Can probably get 5G from those masts on the hill.”
Archie was already getting out of the car.
“Let’s go and see what’s what, then.” he said.
They knocked firmly on the door and an elderly man appeared, dressed in the blue overalls of a mechanic. He was extremely thin, with high cheekbones and a full head of immaculately-styled white hair. He seemed chirpy enough, but pale, and his eyes seemed to speak of a vague underlying sadness.
“Good Afternoon.” he said. “You must be Derek and Archie.”
“The very same.” said Archie. “And you must be Dr. Riddick.”
“I am indeed, but you may call me Peter.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Peter.” said Archie.
“Well, do come in.” said Riddick.
The man walked off into the recesses of the house.
“No bow tie.” Archie whispered to Derek. “That’s a good sign.”
“He’s not pretending to be an academic either.” whispered Derek.
“No, but he is actually an academic. Was. Physicist.”
“Eleusis is in the basement.” said the man cheerily over his shoulder.
“Eleusis?” said Derek.
“That’s what I call the machine. Bit of a nod to the Ancient Greeks.”
They descended the cellar steps and found themselves confronted with numerous massive wire coils and vats of liquid nitrogen emitting white fog.
“So this is a time machine?” said Archie.
“Exactly.” said the man. “Oh, but I’m being rude. Can I offer you two gentlemen a tea?”
“No, we’re fine, thanks.” said Derek. “Do you mind if we film it?”
“Be my guest.”
They walked around the apparatus filming it and photographing it.
“Fascinating.” said Archie.
“So,” said Derek, “how does it work?”
“It’s quite simple, in essence.” said Riddick. “The difficulty is you’d need to be familiar with my theory of spatio-temporal resonance. Are you familiar with it?”
“‘Fraid not.” said Archie. “Is it published somewhere?”
“Why, yes.” said Riddick, leading against one of the wire coils with one hand. “As a matter of fact, I published it —”
But at that moment his hand slipped. He emitted a yelp as he fell backwards, falling on a lever.
For Archie and Derek, everything went suddenly dark.
“Derek?” said Archie, tentatively.
“Yes.” said Derek.
“I can’t see anything.”
“Neither can I.”
“What happened?”
“I think he activated the machine by mistake.”
“So we’re blind now?” said Archie.
“Possibly.” said Derek. “However, I suggest we consider alternative hypothesis.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, the lights went out.”
“Peter?” said Archie, expecting Riddick to reply.
“I don’t think he’s here.” said Derek. “I can’t feel any of the stuff either. I think we’ve gone somewhere else.”
“Wait, there’s a door here.” said Archie.
Feeling around, he located a door handle and swung open a door.
Faint sunlight streamed down a flight of stairs, heavily draped in cobwebs, dim rays of light illuminating thick dust.
“We’re still in the cellar.” said Derek.
“What a relief.” said Archie. “I really don’t want to be blind. I mean, it’s probably not as bad if you’re born blind. Then you can get used to it. If you can see all your life and then you get blinded by an enormous machine, that’s different.”
“Let’s get out of here.” said Derek.
They made their way up the stairs and emerged into the ruins of a house. Dust and cobwebs lay everywhere, alongside pieces of half-broken furniture.
“Reeks to high Hell in here.” Derek commented.
Archie tried the door, and it opened.
They stepped out into an enormously overgrown garden, and from there made their way back onto the narrow road that led past Riddick’s house.
“Your car’s gone.” said Derek.
“Oh.” said Archie. “Well, that’ll save me some money I suppose.”
“How did the house get like this?”
The house from which they’d emerged was clearly in a severe state of disrepair. Several windows were boarded up, and the others cracked and broken. The garden gate was covered in rust and hadn’t been oiled for years.
“I have a hypothesis.” said Derek.
“Do tell.”
“The time machine works, and we’ve gone way into the future. At least twenty or thirty years, I’d say.”
“Makes sense.” said Archie, with growing excitement. “Hey, this could be the breakthrough we’ve been looking for. Proper viral content.”
“That’s all you can think about?” said Derek. “You’ve just travelled through time and you’re thinking about viral content?”
“I’ve got bills to pay!” Archie protested. “Did I tell you, Anna wants to go on holiday to Portugal?”
“Archie,” said Derek, “That was twenty or thirty years ago. She’s probably totally forgotten about you by now, never mind the holiday.”
Archie thought for a moment.
“Fair point.” he said glumly, deflating suddenly. “How are we going to get back? Maybe we should wait in the cellar till Riddick reverses whatever he’s done.”
“I’m not waiting in there!” said Derek. “We’re in the future now! Let’s at least go and see what it’s like.”
“I don’t want to be stuck in the future!”
“A five-minute walk around the village. That’s all I’m asking.”
Derek was already striding down the road.
“Oh, for crying out loud.” said Archie, but he hurried after Derek nonetheless.
As they walked they began to notice a distinct lack of cars on the road, even in the tiny village.
“People probably fly.” suggested Derek. “We should watch out for things flying over.”
“I don’t think they’re flying.” said Archie. “Look.”
As they rounded a corner, they came upon three cars parked in front of each other. The cars were of a distinctly archaic design.
“I’d say cars that look like that were popular sometime around 1970.” Archie added.
They stopped, staring in amazement.
“We’ve gone backwards in time.” said Derek.
“This is really bad.” said Archie.
“Why?”
“They put lead in petrol in 1970. We’re literally inhaling lead now, probably.”
“Oh, lead, get out of it!” Derek’s tone switched to one of enthusiastic imploring. “We’re in 1970! The Beatles are releasing their final album, like, now! This is incredible!”
“But how are we going to get back?” said Archie.
“We’ll go back to the cellar in a bit and wait for Riddick to fix his mistake. I just want to see a bit of 1970.”
For a while they walked around attempting to marvel at everything, but even Derek struggled a little. Aside from the cars and the lack of traffic, the visible differences weren’t striking. They passed several people in the course of walking around the town, one of whom raised an eyebrow at their modern clothing, but not even that really stood out to any great degree.
Finally they went back to the cellar and waited, in the dark, for Riddick to transport them back again.
“I’m hungry.” said Archie after they had sat in the dark for two hours .
“Well, we can’t get food.” said Derek. “They won’t accept our money.”
“This is worse than that time that bloke tried to blow up the entire world with his antigravity machine.” said Archie miserably.
Since they had no alternative, they continued to wait in the cellar, complaining bitterly to each other.
After dark the temperature dropped significantly.
“We could build a fire.” said Archie.
“No matches, no lighter.” said Derek. “I knew I shouldn’t have given up smoking.”
“Let’s go and see what’s in the rest of the house. Maybe there’s a box of matches.”
“We can’t even see anything now.”
“All the same. Worth a try.”
They rummaged about in the house, but found nothing useful.
For the rest of the night they tried lying on the cold floor, standing up and pacing around, and walking around outside, but nothing really helped with the cold.
They watched impatiently, standing outside the front door, as the sky slowly lightened, and finally the edge of the sun became visible over the horizon.
“I’m going to find a town.” said Derek. “I’m cold and hungry. You can stay here if you want.”
“No, I’m coming.” said Archie.
“We can find someone who seems a bit approachable, tell them we’re from the future and beg them for some food, in exchange for information. We can tell them what the future’s going to be like. That’s got to be worth something.”
“We can’t do that.”
“Why not? I need to eat and warm up somehow.”
“Firstly, you’ll actually change the future if you go around telling people what’s going to happen. Secondly, they’ll never believe you.”
“They will believe me.” said Derek, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I switched it off. Still got 40% battery.”
“No.” said Archie.
“Yes.” said Derek.
“I don’t think we should do this.”
“Do you want to eat or don’t you?”
Archie pressed his lips together and made frustrated fists in the air, unable to quite decide what kind of gesture would appropriately express his feeling. Then he shook his head and said, “I could do with a nice mug of coffee.”
“There you go, then.” said Derek. “How’s your phone?”
“20% left.” said Archie.
“That’ll do.” said Derek.
They walked into the village, where they asked a passing farmer the way to the nearest town.
“Over yonder.” he said, pointing with the stem of a pipe. “‘Bout five mile.”
“Five miles!” said Archie as they walked in the direction the farmer had indicated.
“At least the walk’ll warm us up a bit.” said Derek. “Stop complaining.”
An hour and a half later they found themselves in a small town. A little café was already open, serving bacon rolls and mugs of coffee to a variety of council workers and assorted others.
A newspaper shop next to it displayed papers with the current date: June 3rd, 1970. The headlines were about labour disputes involving coal miners, the forthcoming election, and the Troubles in Northern Ireland. They stared at it in amazement, then they turned to gazing longingly into the café.
“We’ve still not got any money.” said Archie.
“Leave it to me.” said Derek, and he stood quietly watching the smattering of people walking past.
When he saw a youngish-looking man, fashionably dressed in flares and what appeared to be a sheepskin jacket, he said, “Hey, can I ask you something, mate?”
“What?” said the man.
“Listen, we’re from the future.”
He began to pull his phone out of his pocket but then man uttered a vulgar expletive and walked off.
“I don’t think this is going to work.” said Archie, clapping his arms around himself in an effort to warm himself up.
“It’ll work.” said Derek. “We just need the right kind of bloke.”
“Or a woman.” said Archie.
“No.” said Derek. “Women are too practical. We need someone with his head in the clouds a bit. Anyway a woman’ll just think we’re dangerous nutcases.”
“I’m thinking that myself.” said Archie.
“Hey.” said Derek, and he nodded at a man who was approaching them, a little way off.
The man was young, perhaps late 20s, with a head of slightly floppy blond hair, and he wore a cotton jacket with corduroys.
“I like the cut of his gib.” said Archie.
“He seems harmless.” said Derek.
“Just what we need.”
“Maybe even a bit gormless.”
“Exactly. Perfect.”
“I think you should talk to him.” said Derek. “He’s more your type of person.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just do it. Show him your phone.”
“It’s down to 15%.” said Archie, taking his phone out of his jacket pocket.
“More than enough.” said Derek.
When the man drew almost level with them, Archie said, “Excuse me.”
The man stopped and looked at them expectantly. Then a look of surprise formed on his face, and he said to Archie, “Hey, nice jacket. Where did you get it?”
“I’ll tell you,” said Archie, “but first I have to explain something. You see, we’re from the future.”
“The future?” said the man, suitably surprised.
“Yes. In the future, we all carry portable communication and computing devices with us. This is mine. Look.”
Archie waved the phone in his face.
“Place an mp3 or something.” said Derek.
“Oh, yes.” said Archie. “Wait. I’ve got one downloaded.”
He opened an mp3 on his phone, and a voice began to speak.
“What the hell is that?” said Derek.
“It’s a speech about Austrian economics.” said Archie.
“I meant, play him some music.” said Derek.
“This is all I’ve got.”
But the phone had done the trick.
“That’s incredible.” said the man. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“We’re from 2025.” said Derek. “In 2025, everyone has one of these.”
“Astonishing.” said the man. “Say, I’m Will. I’m an artist.”
Will extended his hand, and Archie and Derek shook it, one after the other.
“I’m Archie and this is Derek. We work together. We investigate amateur scientific inventions. The last one we investigated transported us accidentally fifty-five years backwards in time. We’re stuck now.”
“That’s awful.” said Will. “When did you arrive?”
“Yesterday.” said Derek. “And we haven’t eaten since then.”
“Oh, right.” said Will.
He seemed to think for a moment, then he said, “Look, I don’t know if you chaps are on the level or not, but that machine of yours is astonishing. If you want I’ll buy you breakfast, and you can tell me more about it.”
Archie and Derek broke into wide smiles.
“It’s a deal.” said Derek.
Soon they were drinking mugs of hot coffee and eating full English breakfasts, at Will’s expense, complete with bacon, sausages, beans, eggs and toast buttered with margarine. In return they showed Will the various games available on their phones, and tried to explain the normal function of mobile phones. He was soon completely absorbed in playing “Snakes”, while the other people in the café threw curious glances at them.
“Maybe we should try to keep this a bit more low-key.” said Archie nervously.
“This is the biggest score I’ve got so far.” said Will, jabbing at the phone.
“Listen, Will.” said Derek. “We need your help, mate. We’ve basically got to wait in a cellar for this bloke —”
“Dr. Riddick.” said Will absently.
“— yeah, him.” Derek agreed. “We’ve got to wait for him to transport us back. We need food, blankets, something to lie on at night.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can help you with all that.” said Will. “Damn! I almost did it again. One mistake and you’re done for.”
“In return we can tell you whatever you want to know about the future.” Archie chimed in.
“OK,” said Will, staring at the phone. “I just need to break three thousand first.”
Soon they had fitted out the basement with enough supplies to last a few days.
“Can’t be more than a day or so, I wouldn’t think.” said Derek.
“You’re assuming he actually has some way of transporting us back.” said Archie glumly.
“Of course he does.” said Derek, with a discernible note of uncertainty in his voice.
But the days wore on, and they remained stuck in 1970, afraid to leave the basement in case staying in the basement proved key to Riddick transporting them back to 2025.
“We’ve been gone now for four days.” said Archie glumly one evening, as they lay on mats staring at the ceiling, with a candle for light.
Neither of them had shaved in four days, and between them lay a bottle of wine, which they were rapidly working their way through, pouring it into mugs supplied by Will.
“Probably just some glitch.” said Derek, equally glumly. “He’ll have us back soon.”
“Anna must think I’ve died.” said Archie. “I need to get a message to her somehow.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know.” said Archie.
Two days later, with little change in their circumstances, Archie came up with a plan.
They were both still lying on the mats in the cellar floor, having gone out only briefly for a walk earlier in the day. Will had brought them food, including another bottle of wine, and also a small camping stove which they used to make coffee with instant coffee powder, a process which at first Archie had objected to on the grounds that instant coffee wasn’t really coffee, but in the end had succumbed to on the grounds that beggars can’t be choosers. Derek had also helpfully added, “Any port in a storm.”
“Anna and I went for a walk in about 2023.” said Archie. “Somewhere in Derbyshire. The Peak District. Place called Stannage, I think. I remember on the way we stopped to look at a stone circle. If I were to engrave a message on one of those stones, I think I’d see it, in the future.”
“Your plan is to deface an ancient monument?” said Derek.
“Only a mild defacement.” said Archie. “I haven’t got any better idea.”
“What are you going to say to yourself?”
“I’ll say, AS—those are my initials—do not visit PR in 2025.”
“Do you think that’ll be enough?”
“Probably. It’s worth a try. If it doesn’t work, I can go back and enlarge upon the theme.”
“Then what will happen to us, now, if you manage to convince yourself not to visit Peter Riddick in the future?”
“Well, we won’t have gone anywhere near his infernal machine, so we won’t be here anymore.”
Derek thought for a while, sipping wine.
“What do you think?” said Archie.
“Let’s fire up the stove and have another coffee. It helps pass the time. Anyway I’m getting a bit chilly. It’s surprising how cold it can get in June, if you’re living in an unheated cellar and basically sleeping on the cold floor.”
“I mean, about the plan?”
“It’s just—we’ve gone through a whole bunch of experiences in the past few days, right?”
“True.”
“So,” said Derek slowly, “are you saying all this stuff will never have happened?”
“I’d imagine so.”
“Well, how can that be?”
“What do you mean?”
“By your reasoning, it’s possible to change the past. So, for example, you could go back in time and kill Hitler.”
“In theory.”
“Then the concentration camps would never have happened.”
“Not those concentration camps, no. Others, maybe.”
“But then a ton of people suffered horribly. They had real experiences. Horrible experiences, that went on for years in many cases. I just don’t see how it’s possible to make something not happen, that did actually happen, if people have already experienced it. I mean, those experiences were real. They happened, and they were powerful, and they went on a long time.”
“Look,” said Archie, rising to a sitting position and lighting the camping stove, “I don’t pretend to know the details of how all this works on a technical level. Riddick built the time machine, not me. As far as I can see, if I send a message to my future self, telling my future self not to tangle with him, I don’t see how we can end up here. That’s all I know.”
“Fair enough, mate.” said Derek. “We’ll give it a go if you want.”
“Tomorrow.” said Archie.
“Tomorrow.”
The following day they awoke early, shivering, as usual.
“I think I can see daylight.” said Archie, eyeing the faint glimmer of sunlight emerging from the cellar steps, while groping around for the box of matches that Will had given them.
“Today’s the day, then.” said Derek.
“Today’s the day.” said Archie. “Last day we’ll spend in this godforsaken hole.”
After lighting the candle they ate a breakfast of what Archie dismissively called “fake supermarket bread” and cheese, washed down with instant coffee.
Then, they staggered up the stairs.
“You smell awful.” said Archie pleasantly.
“So do you.” said Derek. “Like a bloody goat, mate.”
When they opened the front door of the dilapidated house, they froze in shock. There, standing in the road, was Archie’s old Alfa Romeo.
“How did that get here?” said Derek.
“I’ve a horrible feeling.” said Archie.
“What?”
“What if Riddick can’t find a way to get us back home, so he’s decided to just send us our car as the next best option?”
Derek made a scoffing sound, then grew serious and sober.
“Do you really think that could be it?”
“I don’t see any other explanation.”
“Doesn’t matter.” said Derek. “This just means we can drive to your stone circle.”
“We’ll attract attention with a car that looks like this.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really care at this point.”
“Me neither.” said Archie, and they got into the car.
They drove off through the village, and it was only when they reached the main road that their tired minds realised something had changed.
Archie grasped Derek’s arm suddenly, causing him to almost swerve off the road.
“Derek, these cars are modern!” he said.
Derek’s eyes were widening. They had both noticed the same thing at the same time.
“How is it possible?” said Derek. “You haven’t done anything yet.”
“Never mind.” said Archie. “I need to see Anna. She must be going frantic. Drive me home.”
“All right.” said Derek. “Then I’m going home for a shower and a supermarket cottage pie.”
Soon they were outside the house were Archie lived with his girlfriend. Derek watched as he bolted out of the car and ran to the front door. By coincidence, Anna happened to open the door just as he arrived at it, on her way out somewhere.
Archie wrapped his arms around her.
“I’ve missed you so much!” he said.
“Steady on, tiger.” said Anna. “It’s only been three hours. What’s got into you?”
Archie pulled away from her, holding her shoulders in his hands and staring wildly into her eyes.
“Three hours?” he said.
“What’s happened to you?” she said, suddenly alarmed. “You’ve practically got a beard.”
Derek shook his head, smiling, unable to hear their conversation but happy to see them reunited, and drove off back home.
The following day, a shaved and refreshed Archie and Derek met at their little rented office to discuss their plans.
“We need to go and see Riddick.” said Archie.
“Now, hang on a minute.” said Derek.
Archie held up a hand to silence his objections.
“We won’t go into his house. We won’t go anywhere near the time machine. We’ll simply have a word with him, at his front door.”
“Oh, I’ll have a word with him all right.” said Derek grimly.
“I wonder where he lives now.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t live at the cottage. We’ve just come from there.”
“Fair point.” said Derek. “Let’s see if we can look him up on the internet.”
After a few minutes of searching, they found him. Riddick now appeared to be living in a large farmhouse only a few miles from the cottage he’d owned in their previous timeline. He had a website where he proudly demonstrated his time-related research, none of which seemed particularly interesting.
“Let’s go and pay him a visit then.” said Archie.
“Yeah.” said Derek grimly. “Let’s pay him a visit.”
“No violence.” said Archie.
Derek harumphed irritably.
Soon they were on their way to Peter Riddick’s farmhouse. When they got there, they marched up to the door and Derek banged loudly on it.
After a few shorts moments, Riddick appeared. He was wearing a tweed jacket a shirt with a bow tie and his complexion seemed slightly more tanned than previously. In fact, he appeared altogether healthier in general than he had previously.
“I’m not interested in your religion, sorry.” he said.
“Don’t you remember us?” said Archie.
“If you’ve been here before, you know better than to keep trying to convert me.” said Riddick. “I’m absolutely sick of it.”
“We’re not hoovers.” said Archie. “We investigate scientific innovations. Haven’t you built a time machine?”
Riddick’s expression changed, and he smiled self-deprecatingly.
“Well, I’m trying to.” he said. “Did Will send you? I’m happy to discuss my latest research with you, but there’s no working time machine just yet, I’m afraid.”
Archie and Derek exchanged baffled glances.
“We need to figure out what’s going on here.” said Derek.
“Amen.” said Archie.
“Would you like to come in for a tour of my lab?”
“Your time machine doesn’t work?” said Archie.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then we definitely would.” said Archie.
Riddick, it emerged, now lived in a rather luxurious, immaculately-renovated former farmhouse where he had assembled an impressive laboratory in what had once been a cow shed. He proudly showed them his experiments, none of which really amounted to much, but he evidently felt he was making progress, albeit slight.
“May I ask a slightly personal question?” said Archie.
“Ask away.” said Riddick.
“How did you afford all this?”
“Oh, my benefactor funded it.” he said. “I thought you knew him? Will Asquith-Smythe. Extremely wealthy man. I gather he had the foresight to invest in Bitcoin, when he was already nearly 70 years old. Not many men have such an extraordinary ability to keep up with modern developments at such an age. But he’s a remarkable individual.”
“Derek,” said Archie, “did we mention Bitcoin at all to Will?”
“Yeah.” said Derek. “We did.”
“I think let’s go and have a word with Will Asquith-Smythe.” said Archie.
“Yeah.” said Derek. “Could do with a bit of funding ourselves.”
