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The Future
“We will send a member of our Militia back in time to retrieve Scott Campbell, who will then return to our present time and be brought to trial for his misdeed.” The most senior member of the Chief Council, Harold Farquhar, read the outcome of the Chief Council’s earlier deliberations. The Chief Council sat at their long desk, in what had once been the living room of one of the dwellings on the original farm. They discussed the progress of their action plan. The Chief Council consisted mainly of the older members of the Community who had leadership experience; their varied attire attested to their diverse backgrounds. Encouraging mentoring, the Chief Council had included Angela at a young age, her potential recognised and nurtured.
Harold addressed George Stobbart, the Acting In-Charge of the Militia. George, dressed in buckskin leggings and a shirt made from home-spun cloth, the Militia’s usual garb, stood tall to attention, his middle-aged frame still bore the strong and disciplined physique of a military-trained man.
“How are your preparations for this journey going? Have you decided on the man to send? And how are the extra security arrangements for The Time Machine coming along?”
“Well, sir, Council members,” George nodded in their direction. “We are reinforcing the security around The Time Machine. We will complete this shortly. Please remember sending a man back to the past for the retrieval of Mr Campbell will depend on the ability to bring both the retriever and the offender back to the present. Currently, this is not possible.”
“Yes, we understand this, but we must be ready the minute it is,” Dr Farquhar countered.
“It is a priority, is it not, Mr Stobbart?” Angela added her voice to the discussion. “We must attend to justice.”
“Aye, well, regarding the progress of The Time Machine’s capabilities, you will need to make your enquires to the scientists involved. As to the priority we place on this matter, I can assure you there are more pressing security concerns on our doorstep.”
The meeting then closed. George exited and made his way to Rory who was due to return from a training exercise.
Rory stood on the Militia training green, after completing a twenty-mile hike with the younger members of the Militia, its purpose to improve their fitness. The dishevelled young men and women arranged themselves untidily on the grass in front of him. They wore khaki—military clothing and equipment obtainable on the black market, or home-made clothing. Some stood; most had collapsed on the ground. The scent of sweat wafted into Rory’s face.
“You’ve got to be kidding, man!” A scrawny member of the group puffed their protest. Rory’s facial muscles tensed in an enthusiastic smile, having regained his resting respiratory rate. He thrived on exercise and fresh air. His close-fitting shirt was damp at the armpits, neck and down his back. His brow cooled as beads of sweat collected there.
“Tomorrow we will run it again.” Rory paused, interrupted by groans from the participants. “And we will carry our twenty-pound backpacks!” More groans and expressions of disbelief sounded, particularly from the participants lying on the grass. “You are dismissed!”
Turning, his cheeks still tight from a large grin, Rory spied his mentor.
“George! How goes it?” Rory’s facial muscles relaxed at the expression on George’s face.
“Need to speak with you, son. In private.”
Rory led his mentor to the nearest cabin and shut the door behind them.
“What’s gone on? You’ve been at a Chief Council meeting, aye?”
“Aye,” George replied. “And you won’t like it.”
“Tell me.”
“Your sister!” George sat and rested his elbow on the table covered in Rory’s exercise spread sheets.
“You don’t need to tell me. I know what you’ll say.”
“Angela’s a concern! She’s pushing it. It’s as if she’s got something to prove.”
“Aye, she’s got tae prove she’s ‘the best man for the job’ and is nae on the Council just because of who her parents are.” Rory exhaled loudly, frustration boiling in his chest. “She’s verra mad at Dad for embarrassing her. Anyone would think she wants to punish him for that more than the theft of a time journey!”
“Aye. She complains about your father having wasted resources, and she wants the security team to concentrate its efforts on The Time Machine! We have other pressing matters, such as defending our perimeter.”
“Not to mention the power the thing uses when it goes off. There are more vital things to run, like the medical centre.” Rory’s lip pinched between his teeth as he stared out the window at his retreating junior Militia members.
“Rory, lad, when it comes time to send someone back, you must be the one who goes, aye?”
Rory mulled over the implication of himself being the retriever. A pang of tightness caught his throat. Rory missed his dad who wasn’t only his father, but a mentor, an ideal and a best friend. He missed their conversations long into the night on watch whenever on manoeuvres.
“I have wondered if I should be the one.” Rory’s voice caught in his throat. He coughed to clear it. “Angela would be against it. She’d say I’m biased and wouldn’t do the job.”
George shook his head. “When the time comes, do all you can to be the one,” George ordered. “I would definitely give you the command, but apparently, the Chief Council seem to think they have a say in who goes, it being a special case and all.”
“I’ll try. It may be more than a wee while yet. They’ve still to develop the return journey. Might ask my wee brother where they’re up to with it.”
After showering and changing, Rory took a detour and returned to his quarters via the room which housed The Time Machine. Standing in front of it, he shook his head at the trouble it was causing his family, and at how unlikely looking an object it was. A scientist he was familiar with, Angus, had allowed him entry. Angus got along well with Murray. Well, they were both nerds. Martin the physicist was present as well and examined the board of switches for setting and discharging The Time Machine. Martin and Angus conversed intensely.
“How do you mean ‘accidentally’?” Martin’s tone was sharp.
“Well, I don’t know. I must have knocked it. It just went off! Sorry.” Angus pushed the stray strands of his black mop of hair behind his ears.
“It can’t just ‘go off’!”
“Must be a loose wire. I’ll check under the console.” Angus began unscrewing the console cover.
It didn’t sound good. Was this a security issue?
“What’s going on, guys?” Rory asked.
“Seems like there has been an accidental discharge of the machine,” Martin replied as Angus removed the console cover.
“Ah! There it is!” Angus lifted the loose wire in question.
“So, The Time Machine has gone off accidentally? Is that what you’re telling me?” Rory rested his hands on his belt as he stood directly in front of the scientists. The two scientists nodded in unison.
“That’s a shocking waste of power! You must inform the Council.”
Two heads bobbed unison again.
“Anyways, are you any nearer making the return journey possible?”
The scientists glanced sideways at each other.
“We’re making our report to the Chief Council regarding this,” Martin said.
“Okay then.” So, he was too much of a minion for access to this level of knowledge. “Write this incident in that report, would ye? And how you’re rectifying any such shameful wastes of power re-occurring in the future, aye?” Rory turned and left.
Rory usually passed Murray’s room on his way back to his own. This time he would stop and speak to his younger brother. He knocked on the door. Murray opened.
“Murray! You’re in. Got time for a chat?” Rory brushed past his much slighter built younger brother and left him standing at the open door.
“Um... Yes.” Murray closed the door, came into the room, and sat on his bed. It squeaked. Rory sat tall in the chair by Murray’s desk. His elbow knocked the neat pile of textbooks on the right, causing the stack to tumble to disarray in the bare space in the middle.
“So, brother,” Rory said, ignoring the books and glancing at Warhol’s Einstein, “you seem to know what goes on with the time machine more than anyone else. What’s the situation with the return journey? Do they ken how to do that yet?”
“How would I know? It’s a need to know basis only now. They’ll only ask me to do the calculations when they need them.”
“There’s a theme beginning to emerge here.”
“You mean they’re purposely keeping us out of the loop?” Murray sat straighter. “Us Campbells, I mean.”
“Aye. Except for our big sister. Being on the Chief Council she’ll be privy to everything.”
“You gotta speak to her. Tell her to lighten up about Dad and bringing him to justice. Please say something to her.”
“Can’t.” Rory shook his head.
“Why not?”
“I would love to grab that sister of ours by the scruff of the neck and shake some sense into her and some self-importance out.” In front of him, Rory held an imaginary Angela by the throat. “But, if I did, I would blow any chances I have of doing an important job that I must do when the time comes.”
“What important job?”
“I will be the one who goes back for Dad.”
“Oh.” Murray gulped.
“So, we’ll see what happens when it happens.” Rory stood to leave, stopped and casually added, “Oh by the way, there’s been an accidental discharge of The Time Machine. They only let me know because I was there when they were trying to figure it out.”
Murray’s mouth tensed slightly.
“Looks like they put it down to a loose wire,” Rory continued. “Shameful waste of power. They need to get it fixed pronto.”
Murray’s mouth relaxed.
Rory left his brother’s room, casting one last suspicious glance as he closed the door behind himself. What does he know?
***
“YOU MADE IT, RORY,” Angela sounded pleased. “Where’s Kelly?”
The rest of his siblings had met together for dinner and seated themselves around the dining room table. They all looked at Murray. Rory let his stare linger.
Yes, where is she, brother?
“Why ask me? Am I my sister’s keeper?” Murray flicked both hands palm outwards.
“You spend the most time with her out of all of us,” Ceilidh stated the fact.
“Okay then.” Murray stood and strode out of the dining room.
Five minutes later Murray returned. “She’s not feeling well.”
“What sort of not well?” Angela demanded.
Murray’s face pinked. “You know...girl stuff,” he said.
“Oh,” Angela didn’t enquire further.
Little conversation occurred between the six siblings as they consumed dinner. Rory kept his attention on Murray, glancing between mouthfuls of meat and potato pie, having placed himself opposite him. Murray’s eyes flicked to Rory’s intermittently. After the meal, he followed Murray back to his room, which was next to Kelly’s. As Murray entered his room, Rory knocked on Kelly’s door.
“Kelly. Can I come in?”
“She’s probably asleep.” Murray ventured.
Rory raised an eyebrow. “Asleep aye?” He placed his shoulder against the door. It only took one shove.
“Hey, you can’t do that!” Murray followed him into Kelly’s darkened room.
Rory shut the door behind them both and turned on the light which showed an empty bed, and a room deficient of Kelly. Most of her possessions were there, the scent of the outdoors and horses coming from a pile of dirty clothes abandoned by her bed.
“Where’s our sister?” Rory challenged his younger brother. He would get it out of him.
“I don’t know—”
“Aye, you do. Where is she?”
Murray didn’t reply but stood biting his lower lip.
“Let me guess. It has something to do with the ‘accidental discharge’,” Rory made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, “of The Time Machine today. Am I right?” His stare burned into the top of his younger brother’s head.
“Murray!’ Rory shouted, as his brother continued to observe his feet.
“You’re not Dad. Stop speaking to me like a father,” Murray spat out.
Rory took a breath to restrain his temper.
Does this kid not realise how serious this is?
“Murray, I need to know. I could do this officially, but I want to know what happened before I make it official.”
“Please don’t,” Murray blurted.
“Don’t what?”
“Make it official.”
“I may have to.”
“When I tell you, you may not want to.”
“Tell me, then.”
“It’s Kelly. She’s not here.”
“I may not be the brightest of us, but I had got that already, aye?” Rory crossed his arms and tapped his left bicep with the fingers of his right hand.
“She’s... gone back to warn Dad.” Murray screwed his eyes closed. Silence.
The stupid fools!
Murray ventured to open his eyes and looked up at him. Rory remained standing in front of Murray, nodding soundlessly, a heat forming at the back of his neck.
What did they think they were doing?
“Thought so!” Rory exploded. “Fool has gone back in the pod which has only been proven to work once! You don’t even know if she survived it!” He stepped closer to Murray and spoke directly into his face. “Do you realise you may have killed our wee sister?”
“It worked for Dad, it will work for her!” Murray justified.
“How do you ken it worked for Dad?”
“Mum told Kelly.”
“Aye, and did Mum mention that Kelly was there?”
Murray was silent. Rory raised his eyebrows at his brother. Smart but not so smart. Hasn’t thought of everything, has he?
“Well?” Rory asked again.
“No, but she didn’t tell Dad either, in case it changed their minds and they didn’t go, or they went at the wrong time.”
Rory closed his mouth tight, silent.
Calm yourself Rory, mind what your father always said to ye. He fixed his eyes on Murray’s and flicked from one to the other, over and over, as he mentally counted to ten.
“When in time was Kelly sent to, then?” he finally asked.
“Six months after Dad went, so she missed the bad winter.”
Rory continued shaking his head. “I hope she’s okay. As to her mission, warning Dad, it is nae going to change the fact that we’ll go back for him. Only make my job harder!”
“Are you going to tell them?”
“I don’t know. But people will wonder where she is. We must try and stall it for as long as we can.” Rory rubbed his forehead with both hands. He needed to remove the pressure building up there. “I don’t enjoy being deceitful. But the Campbells have stolen something, again!”