The Psychology of Time Travel

Lucille left the stage. The recruits rose, their chairs squealing on the marble, and they exited with a subdued air; no doubt wondering what kind of information needed protecting with the threat of execution. Odette was bolder. She wanted to question Lucille directly about the intricacies of embargoes.

Lucille had her own suite of rooms. The door to her study was open when Odette got there. Lucille was already at her desk, turning the pages of an atlas. A large bay window let in light behind her, filtered through the water of a substantial fish tank.

‘Take a seat, Odette,’ Lucille said. ‘What can I do for you?’

Odette noted, once more, that there was no need to introduce herself here. Yet she didn’t feel uncomfortable, as she had with the drinkers in the bar. Lucille had a warmth that the drinkers lacked. Her welcome reassured Odette. It told her: you have a place among us.

‘Can I ask some questions about embargoed information?’ she said.

‘Feel free.’ Lucille closed the atlas. She smiled over steepled hands. A solitaire glinted on her ring finger.

‘How many people have been on trial for breaking an embargo?’

‘Impossible to say, because of the secrecy of the trials. But time travellers have sometimes gone missing without public explanation, and one of the possible reasons for that is execution. I know of twenty-seven such disappearances.’

Twenty-seven missing time travellers, at minimum. That was a frightening thought.

‘When there’s a leak, how can we identify the source?’ she asked.

‘We can’t, unless someone comes forward with information.’

‘OK… Let’s say a piece of embargoed information is reported in the press—’

‘I take it this question’s hypothetical?’

Was that a twinkle in Lucille’s eye? Odette had no idea what Lucille might be party to. Better, for now, not to reveal too much; Odette didn’t know, yet, whether Lucille was to be trusted.

‘The question’s entirely hypothetical,’ Odette lied. ‘If information is leaked in the press, but we don’t know how it got there, could we narrow down the potential sources? Could I check the time machine logs – to see who’d travelled to the right year?’

‘Yes,’ Lucille said. ‘But a canny employee could leak information remotely, to someone in a completely different period, without time travelling at all. They could use Beeline.’

‘But surely they could only reach another time traveller? I thought Beeline was just for use within the Conclave.’

‘It is. However, the system could – theoretically – be hacked to send messages to people other than colleagues.’

‘What kind of messages?’

‘Radio transmissions, obviously. With a little tweaking you could also use the bandwidth to send internet data.’

‘Could you send an email?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Wouldn’t there be a record of that? We must be able to trace any transmissions to a particular year.’

‘I’d be the only person able to check.’

‘So, I could ask you what data was sent when? And that would give me a list of possible leaks?’

‘Odette,’ Lucille said softly. ‘How would you rule me out as a leak?’

‘I couldn’t.’ Monitoring the Conclave effectively relied upon the cooperation of all its members. ‘We’d be back to the problem of needing voluntary reports.’

Lucille chuckled. She rose from her chair and stood by the fish tank. As she upended a shaker of fish-food over the water, she commented:

‘There’s another question you didn’t ask.’

‘What’s that?’ Odette said.

‘Is a leak ever defensible in the Conclave’s court of law?’

‘Is it?’

‘It should be. Sometimes, we have a moral duty to break the rules. Particularly where the rulemakers are corrupt. Do you see how that argument would apply to Zach Callaghan’s informant?’

Aha. Lucille did know that the case wasn’t hypothetical.

‘I agree Zach’s leak had a strong moral defence,’ Odette said. ‘I’m not looking for the leak to prosecute them. I think they may have information I can use.’

‘I doubt they can share anything openly.’

Odette tried to conceal her disappointment. ‘In that case I’ll have to be creative. Thank you for answering my questions.’

‘A pleasure.’

Odette walked to the door, and stopped. ‘Actually, Lucille… there is a last thing I’d like to know. Have you ever been tried for an embargo breach?’

‘No.’ Lucille winked. ‘To prosecute me, they’d have to catch me.’

*

On her return to her own time, Odette had a meeting with Elspeth to attend, to discuss her initial caseload.

‘Have you considered which criminal department you’d like to be placed in first?’ Elspeth asked. ‘Please don’t say homicide; everyone always does, and we can’t accommodate you all.’

‘Actually, I was thinking of Environmental Health,’ Odette said.

‘Good grief. You’re virtuous.’

‘I’d like to look into breaches of hygiene protocols after using the time machines. Surely it counts as public endangerment?’

‘Yes, it would. What strategy would you take?’

‘Tracking health records to see where there are any outbreaks of macromonas. Mapping them to see if we can isolate the source.’ And in the process, pin down the identity of the toy museum corpse, and that of her killer.

‘Very well,’ Elspeth said. ‘I’ll draft you into Environmental Health, effective from tomorrow morning.’





48


SEPTEMBER 2017



Grace


Ruby was in Grace’s bed; her lipstick, like peach halves, adorned the pillowslip, and her scent lingered on Grace’s skin. Grace watched Ruby sleep until she heard the click of the apartment door. The sound of reedy singing followed. Grace wrapped herself in a silk housecoat and tiptoed to the kitchen.

A very silver Grace, stooped but glamorous in a teal turban, was unpacking groceries on the counter top.

‘What are you doing here?’ Green Grace whispered.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ Silver Grace replied. ‘Was I disturbing you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I suppose I’m only the help.’ She moved from cupboard to cupboard, packing away the dry goods. Pausing, she ripped open a large bar of cooking chocolate and bit into it. ‘Without me fetching things for you, you’d be in a pickle.’

‘Please, keep your voice down.’

‘Whatever for? She needs to get used to there being more than one of us. She needs to get used to a lot of things.’

‘Not yet. Not today – she’s only just come from the funeral!’

‘Pffft. The sooner the better.’ She raised her voice still more: ‘Ruby! Ruby!’

When, thought Grace desperately, was she going to get so brash? Or was this how she came across even now, and she failed to see it in herself?

‘Ruby!’ Silver Grace called again.

They heard Ruby’s approaching footfall, and then she was there, yawning, with her hair tangled like the wool shepherds save from hedgerows.

‘Would you like some coffee and chocolate?’ Silver Grace asked.

‘Darling,’ Green Grace cut in. ‘Go back to bed if you wish. My older self is just about to leave.’

Ruby’s eyes were wide. She looked from one Grace, to the other, and back again.

‘I’d like a coffee,’ she said. ‘But no chocolate, thank you.’

‘Now,’ said Silver Grace. ‘I’ve come to do what she won’t.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Tell you straight. If you want to keep doing this, there have to be a few rules. It’s very simple.’ Silver Grace poured hot water into the cafetière. ‘Whenever I, or she, learns something about your future, she has to be able to tell you.’

‘I don’t want to know my future,’ Ruby said.

‘And that’s fine, darling – that’s absolutely fine!’ said Green Grace.

‘No,’ said Silver Grace. ‘It isn’t.’

‘Why can’t things carry on as they are?’ asked Ruby.

Green Grace felt uncomfortable, because Ruby’s discomfort with the future had already caused problems. She hadn’t wished to know when Barbara died. So when Grace had encouraged her to go home, to spend her last night with her grandmother, Ruby had assumed Grace was giving her the brush-off.

‘A relationship between equals isn’t possible if one person has all the knowledge,’ Silver Grace announced.

‘I just can’t cope with more bad news right now,’ Ruby said.

‘What if it were good news?’ Green Grace asked suddenly.

Ruby smiled sadly, and pulled up one of the breakfast stools.

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