SideStep

SideStep


"It's a sphere, you see? Time is a sphere. An infinitely expanding, all-encompassing sphere."

The monocled professor shifted his considerable weight in his chair as the interviewer feigned both interest and comprehension.

"For centuries, Time - and I use the upper case most deliberately - was believed to be a straight line; a one-way tunnel with no alternative direction and certainly no return.

"Then came thinkers of the school of Chaos, and we began to entertain the idea that the course of Time - or at least the events which take place during it - had no fixed direction, and that any one event can have numerous consequences, each in turn giving rise, hypothetically, to numerous successive consequences, ad infinitum. Ergo, events which occur during the course of Time do obviously not go in a straight line, or at least it would be safe to say that the likelihood of them doing so is equal to that of them following any other given course: infinitely slim.

"As I have previously said, Time was thought of as a unidirectional 'tramway'. It began at the beginning, set out on its predetermined course and heads inexorably onward to an unknown (or inexistent) destination. Events and entities which come and go throughout Time's duration are merely 'passengers' for a limited section of the route. The Chaos theory (and I do not refer to Poincaré's chaos theory) merely throws in a number of variables, thus tracing an irregular, winding tramway as opposed to a perfectly straight one; more akin to the course of a river - it could go in either of the possible directions, but only goes in one.

"Now that's all very well, but if we picture Time as a river and events as little boats upon it, we are being blind to the fact that, beyond our single-track existence, other events are not happening, while Time goes on regardless. Alternative routes are available at every juncture, but we simply do not take them. So if we take that same starting point, and instead of tracing an apparently chaotic line towards infinity we describe a sphere around it, then 'inflate' that sphere towards infinity in all directions, we begin to envisage a more realistic image of Reality. The boats only follow one of the courses, but the other courses are still there for the taking.

"As an aside, I would like to mention the fact that not everything is possible; England cannot beat the West Indies at cricket without even playing them! (In fact lately we haven't been able to beat them at all, but I parenthesize.) This was one of the arguments that caused the downfall of Bosch's Randomness Theory back in the year twenty-three. Everything happens for a reason, and no matter how chaotic things may seem, or how unexpected they may be, the course of events is entirely logical and certainly not random.

"We at the Maasberg Institute have mapped out this sphere of Reality with all its possible trajectories, and I have with me a HoloSim presentation of it. Yes," he interjected amid quizzical expressions from at least half the audience (including the hard of hearing) who watched the AutoSubs scrolling by above the stage. "That's capital 'H' and 'S', for those who didn't know. The italics are merely for emphasis. Education just isn't what it used to be is it? But that's another debate entirely, and I digress; something I am not wont to do, at least on public televi..."

"And we are rather pushed for time, professor," interpolated the presenter, adjusting his earpiece. "That's 'time' with a lower case 't'!" This raised the murmur of a laugh amongst several members of the audience - mostly those previously displaying quizzical expressions - at which he grinned dazzlingly, his protagonism momentarily restored. A brief drum roll and clash of the hi-hat rounded up the gag.

"Behold, the Perisphere!" Professor Cribbins fumbled a moment with his QSB™ MemStick, found the right button, and after a few inaudible mumblings the HoloSim burst into life.

Suspended before him was a semi-translucent globe, some two feet across and bluish in colour, which at first sight resembled an antique twentieth-century lightning orb. From the central point of the sphere came numerous tendrils of orange light, each branching off at irregular intervals like placentae, creating a labyrinthine web stretching outwards to the perimeter of the globe.

"You will observe, Michael," continued Cribbins, pushing another button on the MemStick and thereby causing the sphere to revolve, "that the courses are clearly discernible, despite the reduced scale on which this model is built."

The presenter nodded sagely.

"This is because this particular model covers only the first twenty-five years after the beginning of Time; the Big Bang, as it is occasionally termed. By laymen, I might add, but I shall continue to do so for the sake of our audience. Now, we all know how and where the Universe began thanks to Randolph and Singh, and when was of course at the beginning of Time, so this," he zoomed in and highlighted the centrepoint of the orb, "this is the Focum. From this point, everything stems. Everything, everyone, everywhere that ever existed began here, at this point. And this, if I can just highlight... there, this is where our universe was ten billion years later. Now, if I just... there... we can see the Earth, and... here.”

The history of the Universe vanished from the orb - a total of over 14 billion years in the blinking of an eye - and a new Focum appeared: the origin of the Human Race. A bright red line was traced from the Focum to the outer edge of the translucent sphere, and it indeed resembled a river on a map. It began fairly straight and uncomplicated, but as it made its way outwards its trajectory became ever more complex, more chaotic, as it twisted and meandered its way through Time.

"Here we see the Nodes or 'turning points' if you will, at which the course of events changed." A number of green dots lit up where other tendrils branched off from the red line.

"And here," thousands of other green dots lit up at every intersection along the orange tendrils, "we see all the Nodes that had become available during the first twenty-five thousand years of Mankind.”

"This all very interesting, Professor, but do get to the point of the matter; how exactly does the Maasberg Institute intend to use this data for the good of Mankind? You previously claimed that you had a theory whereby we could change the course of History. I'm assuming that's with a capital 'H'."

"I'm coming to that, Mr. Leever." He fiddled with the MemStick once more. "If I now expand the Perisphere to the middle of the Holocene Epoch... like so," here the orb expanded to nearly the size of the studio, causing not little consternation amongst those present, and several members of the audience to shift backwards in their seats, "we get a reasonable idea of the sheer magnitude of Possibility within the sphere of Reality. While in the earlier stages things moved relatively slowly, as Mankind evolves the possibilities become mind-boggling. For some. Now, if I scale it back down and accelerate to the Present Day," the orb shrank, boomed back out and again contracted to the size of a small living room, "we see the moment this programme began: twenty-one hundred hours Global Mean Time on the eighteenth of August, two thousand and ninety-seven, Standard Terra. That's 18-8-97 at 9 pm for those who had trouble keeping up. Any Americans watching can change things round as they deem fit."

Several gasps rose up from the audience as Professor Cribbins' presentation suddenly became more tangible, closer to home. Half an hour had barely passed since the moment that now glowed before them on the HoloSim, but few paid attention to the apparently diminished number of tendrils stemming from this point in their little red stream. Fewer still noticed that not far back along the red line, several of the tendrils had come to an 'untimely end'.

"Few of you will have noticed," said Cribbins, addressing the audience, "that several of these Event Lines have indeed dissipated to nought, mere centuries ago, and more so in recent times."

Few nodded.

"Zooming in, we see that things have managed to stay on track, but that all too frequently in the last few thousand years, Events could have taken a turn for the worse, so to speak, and ended, quite literally... well, ended. Quite literally. Had the little boats taken either of these routes through Time," he highlighted what looked like the crown of a tree, but by now everyone knew what it was, "we would not be here prattling on about it tonight. And these Eventualities are becoming ever more frequent, Michael."

"So we are quite literally running out of Time, Professor? Capital 'T'? Not just on tonight's show?"

"Bloody right we are!" exclaimed Professor Cribbins. "And there's only one thing to do about it!"

"And what might that be? Go back and start again?"

Not back. Sideways! Start again from right now, but in an alternative Present. One where Events have less likelihood of going awry. By analysing all the possible courses, we have been able to single out nodes at which Humankind has most chances of survival. If we stay when we are, the world could end within years, or if we look here," he zoomed in on the HoloSim, "within months!"

The audience gasped in unison. Within what was discernibly a very short period of time, many of the orange strands of light dwindled and fizzled out to nothing.

"Countless attempts have been made to save Mankind by going back and starting again, but we just keep making the same mistakes over and over again. Man will just not learn; no matter how many times we send someone back in History to rectify Events, the inherent problem is that they are going back through the same course of History. What minimal changes have been made have come to nothing, and Events always find their way back on course. You cannot imagine the number of times we've tried to manipulate the U.S. election results! But human is as human does, and History remains the same.

"Everyone knows that time travel has been proven possible using the 'swivel' technique as described by Benitez. That method was honed to perfection over a century ago, but while originally employed as a means of observation, in recent years several governmentally-funded campaigns have been deployed to put Mankind on the right track. All, as you can quite clearly see, have failed.

"Now a new campaign, spearheaded by the Maasberg Institute, has been launched with a fundamentally different approach: to jump to a node in an alternative present. Right here, to be precise." He zoomed in on one of the green nodes, from which there seemed to be a multitude of possible directions, most of which in turn appeared to offer considerably more longevity than the current course of Events.

"We at Maasberg have whittled down all possible alternative presents to this node, which as you can see if we expand the Perisphere, proffers vastly more future potential than ours does, wouldn't you agree, Michael?"

As the HoloSim sphere of Reality boomed outwards, it was plain for all to see that while the new course branched and multiplied ever on through Time, their own present rapidly fizzled and was left behind - abandoned by the wayside of Time like countless others before it. Those countless others had merely been possible Realities, but this was theirs. This was real! A gloopy silence filled the studio, warping and occluding Leever's voice as it broke frailly through:

"I don' bloony benieve it," came his muffled cry through the haze. The audience's hearing returned with an audible rush. "We're doomed! And have been for--"

"Several thousand years. Mankind was doomed almost from the outset, somewhere around here, where Man's incorrigible oafishness doomed the rest of Existence to its inevitable demise."

"So let me get this straight," interposed the presenter. "In order to avoid Mankind destroying itself and all Existence with it, we have to start again at a point in Reality where Mankind has not already started cocking things up?!? You'll excuse the triple punctuation, Professor, but this is all getting too wacky. Who's to say it's even possible?"

"Possible?" blurted out Professor Cribbins. "Why! Don’t be preposterous, man, of course it's possible. "At the Maasberg Institute, we can do anything. As long as it's possible, that is."

With that, Professor Cribbins rummaged inside his waistcoat pocket and carefully unwrapped a small round, brown object from within a white cotton handkerchief. He took it between thumb and forefinger and inspected it closely through his monocle. Silence once again filled the studio; every eye was fixed upon him. The tension was palpable. Slowly, he placed the object in his mouth and sucked.

"Buttercup lozenge." He cleared his throat. "Bring in the Transposer!"

The studio band trickled to life with a half-hearted sustained roll and brass fanfare as two voluptuous hostesses wheeled in a matte titanium-coloured spherical contraption on a four-sided, four-wheeled platform. It stood eight feet high and emitted a low-frequency hum. A transparent band around its equator allowed a faint pink glow to exude from within. The APPLAUSE! sign lit up above the stage but was unanimously ignored.

"The Transposer is the very sum of all advancements made at the Maasberg Institute, and indeed the single most important scientific breakthrough since Creation itself!”

"I beg your pardon, Professor," Leever broke in, "but was the Big Bang not responsible for the birth of our universe? Or whatever you prefer to call it.

"Good Lord man, no! But I'm afraid we don't have time to go into that right now, at least not in this Now. Now, if you would be so kind as to refrain from further interruptions, I was --"

"Harping on about your Institute's scientific prowess! Now if Time really is that scarce, I would appreciate your getting to the point, Professor."

"The point, dear boy, is this: If we stay here we have at best several months, and at worst a couple of days. The Transposer is designed to "uproot" us from our current node and transpose us to our new node, with little or no spacio-temporal upheaval for us, the 'passengers'. In fact, the transition and arrival would be inappreciable to all but experienced Time travellers.

The audience stared agape.

"And when exactly do you propose to use this Transposer, Professor?" croaked the presenter, tugging at his collar.

"Well now, of course! No Time like The Present, as we say."

"W-wait a minute," said Leever, "Y-you propose to use this thing here, now, on my show?!?"

Several audience members fainted and those remaining created such a raucous that Security had to intervene. Security having had no calming effect on the audience, Professor Cribbins grabbed a handheld microphone and tapped loudly into it.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He boomed through the PA system. "There is no cause for alarm. Now if you will please lend me a few more minutes of your Time, I will repay it several million-fold, but I do need calm or this will be very difficult to explain. Even for me. Now, if you please, ladies."

The smiling silver-clad hostesses opened a Perspex hatch on the control panel of the Transposer, and one of them handed Professor Cribbins a red plastic key.

"No-one, I repeat NO-ONE will be harmed whatsoever during the course of this process. You will not be aware of even the remotest fluctuation of any kind. All that you will notice is that when we arrive, the Perisphere will detect our new position in Reality, and display it in green, while our current node will fade and die like we will ourselves if we don't get out of here quick smart.

"What about our families?" Came a loud London accent from the audience.

"Yeah, we can't leave everyone behind!" A Scottish woman cried.

"Fear not," replied the Professor. "The Transposer's effect is absolute and all-encompassing. In an instant it will transport us from Now to Now - another Now. The only difference is that our destination Now has vastly more chance of persisting than this current Now which to be very frank has None. With a capital N. You will go home this evening to your families and tomorrow you will go to work as you do every day, and nothing will have changed except that you will know the world has a Future."

Discarding the microphone he waddled over to the Transposer, inserted the red key, turned it and stood back.

A low hum climbed to a dull throb, into a heavy pulsating sub-frequency blur. The pink glow grew to a purplish-yellow haze and in spectacular crescendo the orb fizzed and crackled and hummed and throbbed and glowed ever louder, brighter, and thunder rolled and lightning filled the room and all was silent.

Professor Cribbins lay immobile - his inert and considerable mass sprawled cumbersomely on the studio floor - his monocle on the floor beside him and his MemStick inches from his hand. Michael Leever dragged himself over to it, fiddled and it burst to life. The hostesses pulled themselves to their feet, one of them still smiling. The band shifted nervously. The audience rubbed their eyes and focussed, one by one, on the red highlighted line amid the orange tentacles in the pale blue holographic sphere. This frail red line that ran from the Beginning of Time to the End of the Show. Now it faded and receded and backtracked to a node something over two thousand years ago, paused and quickly meandered back forward in Time to a point equitemporal to their previous Now, only now elsewhere within the Perisphere. They had indeed moved sideways in Time! They were in an alternative Present! An uneasy hush filled the studio.

It was as if no-one knew what to do next. Even Leever was lost for words. The APPLAUSE! sign fizzed and crackled but otherwise remained unheeded. Slowly but unsurely, utterly silent, members of the audience began to disperse and with them security guards, band members, camerapersons, set crew and shiny hostesses, all shuffled bewilderedly towards the EXIT signs.

Leever brushed himself off and slumped into the guests' armchair. No musical outro; no "See you next Time"; no smarmy whiter-than-white grin. Just the end of the show. Something of a let-down considering the world had just been proffered a New Beginning. But then, it would take time to sink in, and in the meantime all we had to do was just get on with our lives. Tomorrow would dawn like any other. Time would ramble ever on. And Maasberg shares would skyrocket. He pondered this. Cribbins' ponderous bulk shifted suddenly and clambered awkwardly to its feet.

"When am I?" He glanced at the Perisphere, still suspended in front of Michael Leever. "Well, I think that went rather well, don't you old chap?" He uttered, winking his monocle into place.

"If you say so, Professor," he replied blankly, still staring vacantly at the empty rows of seating. "You sure know how to disperse a crowd, I'll give you that."

"All for the Greater Good, old boy!" He brushed off his tweed waistcoat, fiddled with his cufflinks and swept a wisp of grey hair back over his baldness. "Now, if you'll excuse me. Tell your accounts people not to bother with the cheque. Tell them to spend it on Maasberg shares. Bloody good investment, as you can see. The Future is -- well, IS. Cheerio."

Michael Leever left his car in the TV studio car park that night, and trudged slowly home on foot. The streets were deserted but for a few stragglers who had congregated round a hi-fi store window to watch the barrage of news flashes stemming from the events broadcast on his show. His show! Michael Leever: the man who broadcast the End of Time and the beginning of The Future. He pondered this, too, and it all seemed so very insignificant - fame, fortune, ratings, advertising, share prices... all paled into futility when compared with simple fact of being. An hour earlier, the world was blissfully ignorant of its imminent doom, and now an ineffable lull pervaded the air, like a man turned forty who feels no different from the day before.

Tomorrow dawned like any other. Time rambled ever on. And the stock exchange seethed to the tune of Maasberg: The Future IS.