The Comprehensive Guide to History Control
The diagram shows the universe shifts due to Clove Sutcliffe’s initial time displacement activities. They are represented in circular coordinates where the axes indicate time-landscape versus % displacement from the baseline universe. The universe distortions are the result of a metaphorical wobble in the space-time landscape.
File note: Extract from The Comprehensive Guide to History Control, first published in 2351
CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND, 2056
After Meg and Clove had finished talking, a nurse came over to tell Clove that Matthew had woken up. He led her to Matthew’s hospital room. “He’s been awake for a while, but he’s still a little woozy,” he said. “He’s hallucinating some stuff about a castle? Talking with him might be a bit weird.”
Clove grinned. “I think I can handle it.”
“But he’s recovering well. He hadn’t had any of his childhood vaccinations for some reason, so we’ve had to give him a few. His injuries are healing well, though. He should be fit for release later today.”
“Thanks,” Clove said, and let herself into the room.
Matthew was hooked up to an IV and several machines, all of which beeped intermittently. He looked exactly like she imagined a corpse would look. She touched his hand, just to check he was actually alive.
“Clove,” he said, squinting at her. His voice was low and hoarse, and it sounded just how he looked: ashen.
“Matthew. Listen, Matthew. Don’t panic. But you’re in the future.”
“I had guessed as much,” he said dryly. “The Sparts everywhere made that easy to deduce.”
Clove tried very hard not to laugh. “Computers. They’re called computers. Only mine is called Spart. It’s a nickname.”
“Right.” He coughed, and winced. “Thank you for saving me.”
“No problem.” She frowned at him. “Why aren’t you freaking out?”
“I’ve had a while to come to terms with the idea of travelling to the future. I did see you disappear through a hole in mid-air quite recently. This is actually less strange than I had imagined.”
“Well.” Clove was desperate to know what he had imagined. “Anyway, the only reason you’re here at all is because you broke your promise, Matthew Galloway. You said you wouldn’t stop Katherine from sacrificing her life, and you did!”
He frowned. “I wasn’t going to let her die.”
“But you were perfectly happy to die yourself? You got shot!”
“But Katherine survived. Didn’t she?”
“Yes,” she said. “She survived the siege.” Clove decided not to tell him about the second version of Matthew now keeping her company. When this Matthew went back to 1745, they could sort it out between themselves. “But you should never have interfered! You destroyed the future! I nearly died! I had to fix your mess!”
“It was worth it,” Matthew said resolutely.
She gaped at him. “‘Worth it’? ‘Worth it’?!”
He nodded.
“You’re insane! You’re actually insane! You destroy the entire world and it was ‘worth it’.”
“I love her,” he said, and his face broke into a smile. “I love her. She loves me.”
Clove exhaled angrily. “What a mess.”
“So – can I go home?” he asked, meekly.
“You’ve still got a bullet wound in your chest,” she said, scowling. “You idiot.”
“When I’m better,” he amended.
“You can go home. When the doctors say you are better, I’ll take you home. If you promise to never ever do anything else that could in any way affect the future.”
He nodded. “I’ve learned my lesson. No more doing things.”
“Good,” she muttered.
“What year is this?” Matthew asked. “Everything is very … white. I can’t imagine living long enough to see the world look like this.”
“You would never have seen this,” she admitted. “It’s … it’s 2056.”
“What? How? If you are our daughter? Surely we can only have travelled a few decades into the future, despite all of these advances in science? When does Katherine arrive?”
Clove sighed. She wasn’t going to tell Matthew about the reincarnation. “Nope. I’m not telling you anything else about the future, Matthew. I’m not a total idiot.”
He looked wounded. “I wasn’t going to do anything!”
“I don’t trust a single word you say. Katherine has sent you crazy. You’re a loose cannon.”
“You have to tell me something!”
“I’m sorry, but this is your punishment for breaking your promise. You don’t get to hear any more secrets.”
Matthew sighed. “That’s reasonable, I suppose.”
“Good. Now, how do you feel?”
“I feel … not as terrible as I would have expected. Your doctor is really good. I always knew women could study like men.”
Clove grinned. “It took a while, but gender equality got there eventually. Anyway, be ready to leave this evening. We’re going to have to break you out of here.”
Matthew’s eyebrows raised. “Uh … how?”
“Trust me. The police are waiting to talk to you, and we can’t risk them working out who you are.”
“Shouldn’t we tell them the truth? Won’t they understand?”
“That would definitely not help. I don’t know what you think the future is like, but time travel is a new thing. No one would believe you.”
Matthew nodded his agreement, even if it was reluctant. “I’ll trust you, then.”
“Do you need anything?”
“A drink?”
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and stood up. “Try and rest.”
When she returned, Matthew was asleep. She left a cup of water by the bed and told the nurse she’d be in the waiting room. Apparently he was scheduled for regeneration of his wounds in two hours, and after that he would be free to leave. There was plenty of time for Clove to nap before then – and plan how she was going to get Matthew out of the hospital. Everyone seemed to do it in films all the time, so it couldn’t be that hard. She could probably just wing it. She would have to do it soon, though, before people thought he was well enough to start filling out health-insurance forms and making police statements.
Folios/v1/Time-landscape-1745/MS-12
File note: Sketches found on the back of the newspaper The Carlisle Courier dated 15 September 1745. They are believed to have been drawn by subject allocation “MATTHEW”, showing how he thought clothes would look in the future
CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND, 2056
Clove was walking back to the hospital eating a burger and fries, while listening to Spart lecture her about the things she was and wasn’t allowed to do when breaking Matthew out of hospital and sending him home. Apparently she wasn’t allowed to do anything at all until he’d told her it was OK. That seemed fair, after the chaos she’d caused so far.
“I know I messed up, but technically it wasn’t my fault,” she said, brushing her hair back. “I mean, it was Matthew’s. It was definitely Matthew’s.”
Ahead of her on the footpath was a girl, all curls and eyeliner. Her neck was wrapped in an enormous green scarf.
Clove shifted to the left, to give her room to pass. “Spart, I promise I’ll—” Clove broke off, staring at the girl. The girl had walked right up to her. The girl—
The girl—
—who Clove realized she’d seen around St Andrews University, back before she’d ever decided to travel back to the past—
The girl was Ella.
It was Ella.
It was Ella.
“Ella?” Clove said, certain she’d made a mistake.
The girl hooked her chin over the top of her mountain of a scarf – the very same scarf that Clove had stress-knitted, then left in 1745, she realized, stunned − and quirked an eyebrow at Clove. “Hey.”
Clove gaped at her, gaped some more, and then abruptly sat down on the pavement.