File note: Messages between CLOVE SUTCLIFFE and ELENORE WALKER, received on 10 August 2058
ST ANDREWS, SCOTLAND, 2056
Clove couldn’t sleep. All she could think about was this unbelievable mystery surrounding her birth parents. There must be a reason that the evidence seemed to show they kept reappearing at different points in time. She wanted to get to the truth … and she kept coming back to the time machine.
It was a ridiculous idea, but there was still something tempting about it. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to explore the past?
She would be the first person to ever, ever travel back in time. She could explore all the exciting moments in history that were in the pictures Spart had found − the suffragette movement, the cracking of the Enigma code in the Second World War, the Napoleonic Wars, the shooting of JFK.
She couldn’t really be thinking about this, could she? She couldn’t actually believe this nonsense enough that she’d consider time travel? The time machine didn’t even have any safety permits yet. But Jen had said it was safe … so technically there was no real reason why she needed the safety permits. Right?
Clove caught herself. What was she thinking? This was crazy. She was delusional to even entertain the idea. Besides, she would need the password to use the time machine, and that was never going to happen. Today had been the last day of her work experience. After midnight tonight, she wouldn’t have access to the lab, even if she wanted to use the machine.
She was going to put the idea out of her mind. If she tried to time travel, it was sure to end in the same way that everything in her life had recently: in disaster. Everyone hated her. She’d messed up things with Meg, and she had been so horrible to her parents that they wanted to send her to a shrink! Her search for her birth parents had got her nowhere.
She sat up in bed. Was it really so stupid to go back in time? It wasn’t like she had anything to lose any more. The more she thought about it, the better the idea seemed. She knew exactly how to use the time machine now – and why waste this perfect opportunity while she had access to the lab?
Why shouldn’t she go back in time? Really, actually go back in time.
“Let’s do it,” she shouted at Spart before she could talk herself out of the idea. She could feel herself shaking.
> I find it most agreeable that you have changed your mind. Time travel makes the most logical sense. You can track down KATHERINE FINCHLEY and MATTHEW GALLOWAY and run a DNA comparison test to confirm whether there is a genetic match between the historical versions and your biological parents.
> I would recommend investigating 1745, which is the earliest appearance of them that I have been able to locate. That should be the most effective trip.
Go to 1745, see what was happening there. Easy. She could do that.
> According to a recent progress report, the machine should have received the proper safety certificates by the end of the month. That gives us plenty of time to make adequate preparations.
“I need to go tonight,” Clove said. “It’s my last day of work experience. The key card won’t let me into the physics building after midnight.”
> I don’t know how I can make that happen. There’s no guarantee it would be safe at this stage. The machine hasn’t been approved for use, and—
“We’re going to do it anyway,” she said. “We have to. We’re going to break in.” She loved the rush of recklessness that accompanied the words. She was going to travel back in time.
Spart was silent.
“Please, Spart. I really need your help on this.”
> I can’t approve this behaviour.
“Why not?!” she said, frustrated. She was aware that she sounded hysterical, but it seemed like an appropriate time for it. “You’re being stupid!”
> You are letting emotions compromise your common sense. It is you who is acting stupidly at this time.
Sometimes Clove hated computers. They were so … logical. “Urgh! I wish I’d never installed you.”
There was another silence.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. That was completely out of line.”
The quiet stretched on, long and empty in a way only a wounded computer program could sustain.
Clove tapped her foot on the floor anxiously. “Spart. I’m sorry. I need your help. I can’t do this on my own. Please?”
> I am unable to help you unless I receive a direct order from my primary administrator.
She sighed, dropping her head onto the desk.
> Which, for this version of my OS, is you.
Clove jolted upright. “Really? Spart, I order you to help me break into the university research lab and use their technology to travel back in time.”
> Very well, CLOVE.
“… We’re actually doing this. Wow.”
Clove sat in stunned silence for a moment. “What do you even pack for the past?”