The Psychology of Time Travel

‘Good?’ Grace asked.

‘Very,’ Ruby said. ‘But I’m not here to discuss gin. How can the body be Margaret’s? If the body isn’t Bee’s, what made you send her the inquest announcement?’

‘I didn’t send it. An older-me will.’

‘That’s just semantics.’

‘It isn’t. I don’t know much more than you.’

‘Oh, come on. You’ve seen the future!’

‘I’ve seen some of the future. But my older-selves have always seen more. And they haven’t deigned to explain why they left an origami rabbit on Barbara’s doorstep.’

‘Brilliant. So you don’t know why we’ve been on a wild goose chase.’

‘I have some guesses! Did you ever receive a save-the-date card before a wedding? Maybe they’re like those. But for an upcoming death. The next few months are a bad run for the pioneers. You’ve already seen what happens to me, Margaret goes in the New Year, and then it’s Lucille’s turn in the spring. Hey!’ Grace exclaimed suddenly. ‘Did you work out what those engraved numbers meant on the ring? They’re Lucille and her husband’s birth and death dates. That’s what time travellers engrave on their engagement rings.’

‘Hang on, Grace.’ Ruby spoke gently, because she wasn’t sure this woman was right in the head. ‘Why on earth would Bee want a save-the-date card for your deaths? She’d like a normal letter, or to meet you for coffee. If you’re going to die, she’d like a chance to say goodbye. That doesn’t mean she wants riddles about when it’s going to happen. Do you think this is a game?’

‘No?’ Grace bit her lip in consternation.

Ruby waited for her to continue explaining.

‘Gahhhh.’ Grace raked her hair. ‘I don’t think it’s a game. My future selves do. They drive me loopy, quite loopy. Have you met any veteran time travellers?’

Ruby shook her head.

Grace clasped Ruby’s hands across the table and looked at her intently. For a moment Ruby thought Grace was going to kiss her.

‘Believe me,’ Grace said. ‘Old time travellers are an odd bunch. They’re all so strange about death. It’s like the longer you time travel, the more cavalier you get about people dying.’

‘And that’s true of you?’

‘Evidently! I’ve spent a few Christmases with future Graces. They’re a barrel of laughs, I can tell you. Would you want to spend Christmas with several versions of yourself?’

Ruby grimaced at the thought.

‘Sad to say it, but I become very annoying.’ She let go of Ruby’s hands, and relaxed back into her seat. ‘Though I’m not as bad as some. Margaret turns into the worst person. When I first met her she could be a bit of a control freak but she had a whip-smart brain – and she was always sensible. Everything she did was for a practical reason. It was a bad move for her to head the Conclave.’

‘Oh?’

‘Maybe being in charge of time and space would give anyone a god complex, but she’s such a mean god. And it sets the whole tone there. She’s cruel to the time travellers, and the old time travellers are cruel to the wenches, and they’re all cruel to civilians. I can hardly stand to be around them, Margaret least of all.’

Grace’s complaints reminded Ruby of her own feelings about university friends. People you’d once die for take appalling paths. It’s not that they become unrecognisable. They become more like themselves. Personality quirks grow more pronounced, and so do values, until you wonder how you ever ignored the differences between you.

‘How does Margaret die?’ Ruby asked.

‘She plays a dangerous game with a gun. One day it goes wrong.’

‘No one else involved?’

‘A rather lovely femme fatale – or so I’ve heard.’

‘Fine. I’m relieved it’s not my grandmother’s body. That’s all that matters to me.’

‘If you want to know when Barbara does die, I can tell you,’ Grace remarked.

‘No!’ Ruby almost shouted, thinking of how distressing the past few weeks had been. ‘I don’t want any advance warning. I’ll enjoy the time I have with her, and when she dies it will be completely out of the blue. I won’t have wasted a moment anticipating her death.’

‘OK, OK.’ Grace eyed her empty glass. ‘Let’s order another round.’

She went back to the bar, and Ruby took the opportunity to call Bee. There was no answer on the flat phone or her mobile.

‘It’s me,’ Ruby told Bee’s voicemail. ‘The body’s not yours. Ring me as soon as you can.’

Laughter travelled from the bar. Ruby watched Grace flirt with the barman. A shaft of evening light fell on Grace’s face, and the illumination flattered her. She might be in a Terence Malik film.

Don’t fall for her, Ruby warned herself. She’s very odd.

But also beautiful, and a genius. Why wasn’t Ruby angrier with Grace, for making her fear Bee would die horribly? Was it because Grace shifted blame onto her future selves, as if she were a different person completely? She’d acted as though they’d embarrassed her – as if she and Ruby were on the same wronged side. That was cunning.

Grace came back with the genever bottle, which she uncorked efficiently.

‘By the way,’ she said, ‘don’t tell anyone the body belongs to Margaret. That information’s embargoed. If you pass it on, you’ll be committing treason. Breaking a Conclave embargo is a capital offence and you won’t want to lose your head.’

She sat down and topped up their glasses. Ruby stared at her.

‘You passed the information on,’ Ruby said. ‘You’ve committed treason. Aren’t you worried about being executed?’

‘Me?’ Her eyes were wide. ‘I died of a brain haemorrhage this morning, remember? Nobody’s going to execute me.’

*

A hundred and thirty miles south, another time traveller – Ruby’s grandmother – was browsing the Conclave store, which was the only section of the building open to the public. They specialised in the exclusive sale of food from other time periods. People could buy meals-in-pills, sonic-enhanced meat and fish, rum served in clouds. The candy accounted for most of the shop’s wares. CitronGlows. Frozen Butter Pies on sticks. Sweet Algae. Cricketsnap and Honeyed Kernels. Everything looked good to Barbara. The colours on the packets zinged. All the songs from the speakers were exuberant. Soon, if Margaret’s offer was genuine, Barbara would be travelling to new places – and experiencing the worlds her old work had promised. Barbara bought some biscuits for Breno, and a single tub of astronaut’s ice cream for herself. She walked through the doors of the shop, back into the foyer.

The receptionist ran towards her.

‘I wasn’t sure if you’d gone,’ he panted. ‘Did you say you’re Barbara Hereford?’

‘That’s right,’ Barbara said, peeling back the tub lid.

‘There’s a call for you.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I believe she said her name was Ruby.’

They headed back to the information desk, and the receptionist passed Barbara the receiver of a very peculiar phone. It had four different rotary dials, nested within each other. When Barbara pressed the receiver to her ear, the line wasn’t crystal clear – there was a whining hum of radio static, and she thought she could hear crying.

‘Ruby? Ruby, my love?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘How did you know where I was? Is something wrong?’

‘No, Granny. I’m just so happy to speak to you. I have the most amazing news.’





33


SEPTEMBER 2018



Odette


After the exam, Odette reported to her interview with Elspeth Niven. Elspeth’s office was at the north end of the building. The walls were ox-blood and the floors were polished concrete. A burnished copper desk and chairs were nailed to the floor. Everything was dark and shining. The cold edge of Odette’s seat cut into her thighs.

Elspeth had Odette’s exam paper in front of her.

‘I liked your response,’ Elspeth said. ‘But how did the experiment make you feel?’

The question surprised Odette. ‘I suppose a little anxious – as with any assessment. My teammates were sure we’d failed, and I wanted to pass very badly.’

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