‘Good morning. I’d like to introduce you to this little chap.’ I placed the fir cone, now safe in a specimen jar, on the table. People craned to see so I brought it up on the screen. ‘This is a small pine cone, some four inches long, badly burned, species as yet unknown and up until about three or four days ago, he was happily living with his friends in the Cretaceous period.’ It went quiet while people worked this out. I made it easy for them.
‘You are looking at the first, the very first object ever to be transported from its own timeline into ours. In short, people, we have done the impossible and without even trying. Imagine what we could do if we put our minds to it.’
‘But how?’ said a voice I didn’t recognise. ‘We’ve always been told this can’t happen.’ There was a buzz of agreement.
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘But the first thing you notice about this specimen is how badly damaged it is. Another couple of minutes and it would have been completely destroyed.’ I stopped and watched them to see who would get it first.
Dieter stood up. ‘You were able to bring it back because it was about to be destroyed. It had no future; therefore it couldn’t influence the timeline because it wouldn’t exist any more. That’s it, isn’t it? ’
I beamed at him. What a good boy!
‘I think that the reason all previous attempts failed is because those objects still had an existence in the future; they had a role to play and therefore History wouldn’t allow it. Take, for example, the Mona Lisa. Consider all the events in which she has been involved over the centuries. Now consider what would happen if we had stolen the portrait from Leonardo before the paint dried and brought it back here to the future. Those events would not take place. We would be changing History and that would not be good. But if we think in terms of search and rescue, then all sorts of possibilities open up.’
Some were looking interested, some were not.
‘Let me give you an example,’ I said. ‘Mr Murdoch, would you step up please?’ I chose him because if I’d used Peterson or Dieter then everyone would have thought they were ringers.
‘Congratulations, Mr Murdoch,’ I said, as he stood uneasily beside me. ‘You are now King Tarquinius Superbus, last king of Rome.’
‘You’re making that up. No one’s called Superbus.’
‘No, I’m not. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce King Tarquinius Superbus, benevolent and enlightened ruler of Rome.’ There were jeers and catcalls from the republicans in the audience. Dave, however, drew himself up and dispensed a regal wave.
At the back of the Hall, Sibyl De Winter unfolded her arms and gave me a strange look.
‘King Tarquinius is going about his daily business, dispensing justice, raising taxes, and carrying out general ruling when he’s told that a scruffy, elderly crone – no, not me, Mr Markham – wishes for an audience. Somewhat surprised, he overrules his officials and they bring in the old lady. She’s filthy, dressed in rags, and has obviously escaped from a Care in the Community scheme. She lays nine books in front of the king. In those days, obviously, they would have been scrolls and she places them carefully, one by one, at his feet. And then she proceeds to offer them to him, but he’s not allowed to open them. Amused, he asks the price. She names a sum that is his country’s entire budget for the year. Everyone laughs, including the king.’
‘Ho, ho, ho,’ said Murdoch, padding his part.
‘He asks her why he should buy these books at such a price. What’s so important about these particular scrolls? She doesn’t answer. She simply says, ‘Yes or no?’ Of course, the king says no.’
‘No,’ boomed Murdoch, regally.
‘The old woman says nothing. She picks up the scrolls and leaves the audience chamber. On an impulse, the king sends one of his officers after her,’ – Murdoch waved his arm and nearly took my head off – ‘to find out what she does next. The man returns and tells him she went to the courtyard, took three of the books, and burned them. Then she left the palace.
‘Everyone agrees the woman’s a nutter and thinks no more of it. The next day, however, much to everyone’s surprise, she’s back and with just the six books this time. Again she lays the books in front of the king. Again, she asks the same price: the country’s entire budget for one year and now for only six books. This time, no one laughs. Well, Mr Murdoch, what would you do?’
Too late, I realised he would say kill the crone and take the books anyway! But he didn’t. He was perfect and when I think what happened to him later, it just breaks my heart.
He stood for a while then said, ‘What’s in the books?’
‘No one knows. Maybe nothing; maybe the secrets of the universe. But it will cost you all the money in your country to find out. What do you do?’
‘Yes,’ shouted someone from the back of the room.
‘No,’ shouted several other voices.
He frowned, turned to me and said, ‘There’s no way of knowing what’s in them?’
‘No way.’
‘Then, no. I won’t waste the money. If I don’t buy the books then I’m no worse off.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m not, no.’