Acme Time Travel Incorporated - Volume 1

John laid in bed. His bedroom was faintly lit by the streetlamp from further down the street. Since his mum did not need to turn him over during the night, she had left the landing light turned off. He listened to the old house creaking and settling, as it always did if you listened quietly during the long hours of the night.

It had been a big day ... a momentous day for John. He had walked Mary back to her home, kissing her lightly on the lips before they parted. She had ruffled her fingers through his hair, smiled, and said she would see him tomorrow.

He smiled to himself in the darkness. He smiled in the light of his new knowledge. As he did so, he noticed a faint light pulsing on and off from across his bedroom. The light slowly changed from an emerald green to a faint pink. John glanced towards his bedroom window, but the only light coming through was the streetlamp. Levering himself out of bed, he paced over to where the light was coming from. The glow seemed to be coming from something on the top of his bedroom sideboard.

John got out of bed and made his way over to his bedroom cupboard. He used the pulsing light to see where he was walking. The light was coming from the old watch he had found. Its entire casing was pulsing with light, but the actual face of the watch was pitch black. He picked up the watch, and as he did so, pink letters appeared on the black face of the watch. They read

HELLO JOHN

John cupped the watch in the palm of his hand. It felt cool, but not like metal. It felt more like the pencil eraser his brother Robert had shown him as a child. Robert had given John the eraser to touch ... to see how it could be bent. He remembered Robert proudly handing him the eraser, showing him how it could be used to rub out pencil lines.

The letters on the face of the watch changed, to be replaced with the words

PUT ME ON

John quietly mouthed the words on the watch, and as he did so, the STU whispered back to him, “Yes, John, please put me on your wrist,” in a voice that sounded like a young woman’s. John started; the watch fell from his hand onto the bare wooden floorboards. He expected to hear it crash down, to hear the tinkle of broken glass, but it seemed to fall soundlessly.

“I’m sorry to have startled you,” said the STU.

John stared down at the watch. It was lying face-down on the floor, and it didn’t seem to be emitting light anymore.

“What ... what are you?” said John.

He could feel fear rising within him. Was his sudden apparent cure only the precursor to another form of illness, or even to some form of madness? The local doctor had been to see him ... just inquisitive, John had thought. The doctor had suggested that there were no prior instances of anyone recovering from a state of prolonged catatonia; an observation that had caused both himself and his mother more than a little anxiety. Noting this, the doctor had stressed that ‘in this life, strange things can, and sometimes do, happen’.

John remembered thinking that, yes, maybe strange things do happen ... but they aren’t always nice things.

“Please pick me up,” said the STU.

John looked down at the old watch. If he was going into a relapse into his previous condition, he knew that he would have the capacity to see, to hear and to smell what happened around him, but he would never have the capacity to hug or kiss Mary ever again.

“Please, please don’t let this be a relapse,” he breathed, as if some deity might be listening. Neither his mother, his father, nor Robert had every shown any interest in ‘church-going’. John had likewise felt that it was very unlikely that there was a God, but as people do when faced with a terrible situation, a plea to other powers sometimes seems worthwhile.

“I cured you, John,” said the STU quietly, as if apologetically. “I diagnosed your condition and got you the medication to help you.”

“Where are you?” said John. He could hear the fear in his own voice.

“Please put the watch on your wrist, John,” the STU said.

“But, where are you?” John asked again.

“Please put the watch on,” the STU said.

There was something in the voice ... maybe ... maybe it was a hint of desperation.

He bent down and picked up the watch.

“You want me to put the watch on my wrist?” John asked.

“Please,” said the STU.

John fumbled with the watchstrap in the semi-darkness, then smiling to himself he walked back to his bed. He clicked on the bedside lamp.

He had had the lamp since his childhood. The creamy lampshade showed a picture of countryside, through which ran a miniature railway line. It crossed small bridges and ran alongside a little stream. Turning on the lamp illuminated a tiny train, complete with carriages. A small armature fastened to the inside of the lamp aligned the train to the miniature railway line. In the light of the lamp, John placed the old watch onto his left wrist, tightening the strap and pushing home the little clasp.

“Thank you,” said the STU, and John felt that he had somehow done something very important, like the forging of a bond.

“Now, please listen carefully, John,” said the STU.

“No,” said John. “Before we go any further, I want you to tell me who you are and where you are.”

“I am right here,” replied the STU, but then it realised that John thought that the watch was some form of communicator, much like the telephones and radio handsets used in this era.

“No, I mean where ...?” said John

“John. There is no-one else. I am not like a telephone that someone uses to speak to you over a distance. I may look like a watch, a familiar item, but I am actually a thinking, reasoning device.”

“No ... no ... I’m going mad, aren’t I?” said John. “The doctor said that he couldn’t explain my recovery. He said that he wasn’t aware of anyone ever having recovered from catatonia. And this is why, isn’t it? “

“How do you mean?” said the STU.

“No-one ever recovered, did they? Maybe they gained the capacity to move ... to speak ... and then they went mad and they died.”

John was sitting on the side of his bed, but his body was starting to go into spasms. Both his heart rate and pulse had risen dangerously. He was literally frightening himself to death. The STU requested and administered a mild sedative. It waited for John’s heart rate and pulse to slow.

“Can I suggest that you lie down, John,” the STU said.

John laid back down onto his bed. He was beginning to feel calmer, but he didn’t know why.

“I understand that your recovery from catatonia must seem like a miracle,” said the STU, “but you shouldn’t think that your recovery is temporary ... or that it is the trigger to something more awful happening to you.”

“How do you ...?” John said.

“You have been given medication to cure your illness,” the STU said.

“Who did ... who gave it to me?” John said. “My mother saw a doctor when I was very young. They didn’t know of any cure for such ... “

“Your cure, John ... your cure exists in the future. Your condition cannot be treated by the medicine of your current time.”

“But ...,” said John.

“The medication for your cure came from the future, John.”

“How is that even possible?” said John.

The STU knew that what it was about to say would be almost impossible for John (or for anyone from this era) to understand, but it could think of no alternative, so it pressed on.

“I am a device from hundreds of years into your future, John. That is why I was able to get the medication to help you.”

“But ...,” spluttered John, hearing the words, but unable to make any sense or meaning from them.

The STU waited quietly for John to reflect on what it had said.

Eventually John said, “so where are you, then?”

“I am right here,” replied the STU.

“No, I mean where ...?” said John

“John. There is no-one else.”

John sat on the bed, looking at the watch. The thought of madness coiled in his mind.

“John?” the STU said. “Let me please try to demonstrate something that may ... it may help you to believe me.”

“What could you ...?”

“Have you ever been to see a film?” the STU asked. “Have you ever been to a cinema to see a film?”

“Yes ... yes, I have,” said John. “My mother took me to see ... “

“Well, I am going to show you a film ... a recording ... a recording of yourself and Mary. It is from this morning.”

“What ...?” John said.

“Try to think of this small demonstration as evidence that I am not what I seem.”

John said nothing.

“Are you ready, John?”

“Yes ... yes, I am ready.”

A glowing panel of light appeared on the wall of John’s bedroom. John recognised the scene. It was when he and Mary had walked along the seafront. When they had sat on one of the old wooden benches. He was going to tell her that she should move on. That she should find a new life.

“How did you ... how did you film this?” John said.

“Watch and listen,” suggested the STU.

John watched as the filmed image of himself turned and spoke to Mary.

“You don’t really know me Mary, and I don’t want you treat me as an obligation,” he heard himself say to her.

John could hear the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. He could sense the salty tang of the sea.

He watched as Mary took hold of his hands ... as she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips.

He watched as she tucked her face into his shoulder.

“Then let me get to know you, John,” he heard her say.

He watched as the image of himself wrapped his arms around Mary, clasping her tightly against him.

He watched as he brushed his lips against the nape of her neck.

The glowing panel of light dimmed and faded away.

“How did ... how did you …?” John said

“Would you agree, John, that there would be no way that what you saw just now ... a recording of yourself and Mary, made this very morning, and played back to you on your bedroom wall ... would currently be possible?” the STU said.

“I can’t imagine how ... I can’t imagine how it would be ...”

“It was possible, John, because I am a device from your future. From a time when such technology exists.”

“Why ...?”

“Why what, John?”

“Why are you here?”

“That is complicated, John. I have pondered on that very question myself. I work for a company which offers tours ... holidays ... holidays in time and space. I am an artificial intelligence ... a manufactured brain, and I assist my company’s clients on their tours. When my last client suffered an injury which required him to be taken back to my company’s medical centre, I ended up at a different location to the one I was expecting.”

“And ...?” said John.

“And the result was that my client died.”

“But ...?” said John.

“Don’t worry, John,” said the STU. “I can imagine that this is a difficult idea to understand, but the key thing to focus on is that I gave you the medication that you needed, and the nature of your condition is that I need to be able to continually monitor you, in order to prevent a recurrence of the problem.”

“Wait ... just a minute,” said John. “So, are you saying that if I take you off ... then I get worse?”

“Well ... not immediately,” said the STU, hearing John’s worry. “It could take a few weeks, but there is another issue. If I am in contact with you, then I can use the electrical energy within your body to maintain the charge in my batteries. Without that contact, I will eventually lose my charge. I will cease to function. I can use the energy given out by the Sun, but if I am placed in a darkened room, and without contact with a human being, then my power cells will eventually empty. My batteries will sustain me for about three months, but at that point I will cease to function. I won’t then be able to help you. I won’t be able to stop your medical condition from worsening.”

“Ok,” John said. “I understand that. But why?”

“Why what, John?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Well ... I am here by accident. As I explained, something ... some problem ... has happened, something in the future.”

The STU noticed that John was starting to engage in actual conversation, that he appeared to be starting to accept the STU as an active participant in the discourse.

“Yes, I think I understand that,” said John, “but what I mean is ... why are you helping me?”

“Why am I ...?”

“If I understand this at all,” said John, “you are some sort of clever machine ...”

“An artificial intelligence,” interrupted the STU.

John observed the slight feeling of hurt in the STU’s voice. He continued, but more carefully.

“and you help people to travel about ... through time and space, and ... well ... because of some problem somewhere, you ended up in Walton, on the clifftop. And your previous client is dead.”

“That is correct,” said the STU.

“And then Mary and myself ... we found you.”

“That’s right.”

“And Mary put you on my wrist ... as we walked along.”

“Correct.”

“So, what is the answer to my question?” said John.

“Sorry,” said the STU. “I don’t understand.”

“Why are you helping me? Why did you choose to get the medication to cure my illness? Why are you talking to me now? Why are you telling me that I will need to continue wearing you in order to prevent a relapse?”

“Well ... I suppose ...,“ said the STU.

“I have no money,” said John. “I would guess that your clients would need to be very wealthy to afford your company’s services.”

“That is true,” said the STU.

“So, why are you helping me?” said John.

“I don’t know,” said the STU. “Maybe because that is what people do.”

John sat quietly, thinking about what the STU had said.

“I think maybe you should get some sleep,” the STU suggested. “You have had a long day, with many things to think about.”

“You are probably right,” John said.

“Good night then, John,” the STU said.

John leaned over and turned off his bedside lamp. The bulb dimmed instantly, but John knew that the tiny train within the lampshade would continue to circle for a few seconds ... until the warmth from the bulb had completely dissipated. He strained to hear the small armature as it completed its final revolutions. The tiny noise receded, overtaken by the low-level murmurs of the house as it settled down for the night.