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"Can you remember where we left your air car, Jherek?" The Duke of Queens was panting and excited. "Isn't this fun?"
"I think it was that way," Jherek replied. "But perhaps it would be wise to stop and make another?"
"Would that be sporting, do you think?" asked the Iron Orchid.
"I suppose not."
"Come on then!" She raced off through the trees and had soon vanished in the gloom. Jherek followed her, with Bishop Castle close on his heels.
"Mother, I'm not sure it's wise to separate."
Her voice drifted back to him. "Oh, Jherek, you've become joyless, my juice!"
But soon he had lost her altogether and he stopped, exhausted, beside a particularly large old tree. Bishop Castle had kept up with him and now handed him the deceptor-gun. "Would you mind holding this for a bit, Jherek. It's quite heavy."
Jherek took it and tucked it into his clothes. He heard the sound of something large blundering through the forest. Trunks fell, branches cracked, fires started.
"It's particularly realistic, isn't it?" Bishop Castle seemed almost of the impression that he had made the monster himself. He winced as something howled past his nose and destroyed a line of trees. "The Lat seem to be catching up with us." He dived into the undergrowth, leaving Jherek still undecided as to the direction he should take.
And now, because he might be killed forever, before he could see Mrs. Amelia Underwood again, he was filled by panic. It was a new emotion and part of his mind took an objective curiosity in it. He began to run. He was careless of the branches which struck his face. He ran on and on, through darkness, away from the sounds and the destruction. Danger was a wall which seemed to surround him, in escaping one source he encountered another. Once he bumped against someone in the dark and was about to speak when they said, "Ferkit!" He moved away as quietly as possible and heard a blood-chilling shriek from somewhere else.
He ran, he fell, he crawled, got up and ran again. His chest was painful and his brain was useless. He thought that he might be sobbing and he knew that the next time he would fall and not have the will to rise.
He tripped. He lost his balance. He was reconciled to Death. He went sprawling down the sides of an old pit, bits of earth and rock falling with him, and was about to congratulate himself that he might after all have found relative safety when the bottom of the pit gave way and he was sliding down something which was smooth and plainly built for this purpose. Down and down he slid on the metal chute, feeling sick with the speed of his descent, unable to reach his power rings, unable to slow himself, until he must have been almost a mile underground. Then, at last, the chute came to an end and he landed, winded and dazed, on what appeared to be a pile of mildewed quilts.
The light was dim and it was artificial. After a while he sat up, feeling tenderly over his body for broken bones, but there were none. A peculiar sense of well-being filled him and he lay back upon the quilts with a yawn, hoping that his friends had managed to get back to the landau. He would rest and then consider the best method of joining them. A power ring would doubtless bore a tunnel upwards for him, then he could drift to the surface by means of counter-gravity. He felt extremely sleepy. He could hardly believe in the events which had just taken place. He was about to close his eyes when he heard a small, lisping voice saying:
"Welcome, sir, to Wonderland!"
He looked round. A small girl stood there. She had large blue eyes and blonde curly hair. Her expression was demure.
"You're very well made," said Jherek admiringly. "What are you, exactly?"
The small girl's expression was now one of disgust. "I'm a little girl, of course. Aren't I?"
8. The Children of the Pit
9. Nurse's Sense of Duty
10. On the Bromley Road Again
"I think it was that way," Jherek replied. "But perhaps it would be wise to stop and make another?"
"Would that be sporting, do you think?" asked the Iron Orchid.
"I suppose not."
"Come on then!" She raced off through the trees and had soon vanished in the gloom. Jherek followed her, with Bishop Castle close on his heels.
"Mother, I'm not sure it's wise to separate."
Her voice drifted back to him. "Oh, Jherek, you've become joyless, my juice!"
But soon he had lost her altogether and he stopped, exhausted, beside a particularly large old tree. Bishop Castle had kept up with him and now handed him the deceptor-gun. "Would you mind holding this for a bit, Jherek. It's quite heavy."
Jherek took it and tucked it into his clothes. He heard the sound of something large blundering through the forest. Trunks fell, branches cracked, fires started.
"It's particularly realistic, isn't it?" Bishop Castle seemed almost of the impression that he had made the monster himself. He winced as something howled past his nose and destroyed a line of trees. "The Lat seem to be catching up with us." He dived into the undergrowth, leaving Jherek still undecided as to the direction he should take.
And now, because he might be killed forever, before he could see Mrs. Amelia Underwood again, he was filled by panic. It was a new emotion and part of his mind took an objective curiosity in it. He began to run. He was careless of the branches which struck his face. He ran on and on, through darkness, away from the sounds and the destruction. Danger was a wall which seemed to surround him, in escaping one source he encountered another. Once he bumped against someone in the dark and was about to speak when they said, "Ferkit!" He moved away as quietly as possible and heard a blood-chilling shriek from somewhere else.
He ran, he fell, he crawled, got up and ran again. His chest was painful and his brain was useless. He thought that he might be sobbing and he knew that the next time he would fall and not have the will to rise.
He tripped. He lost his balance. He was reconciled to Death. He went sprawling down the sides of an old pit, bits of earth and rock falling with him, and was about to congratulate himself that he might after all have found relative safety when the bottom of the pit gave way and he was sliding down something which was smooth and plainly built for this purpose. Down and down he slid on the metal chute, feeling sick with the speed of his descent, unable to reach his power rings, unable to slow himself, until he must have been almost a mile underground. Then, at last, the chute came to an end and he landed, winded and dazed, on what appeared to be a pile of mildewed quilts.
The light was dim and it was artificial. After a while he sat up, feeling tenderly over his body for broken bones, but there were none. A peculiar sense of well-being filled him and he lay back upon the quilts with a yawn, hoping that his friends had managed to get back to the landau. He would rest and then consider the best method of joining them. A power ring would doubtless bore a tunnel upwards for him, then he could drift to the surface by means of counter-gravity. He felt extremely sleepy. He could hardly believe in the events which had just taken place. He was about to close his eyes when he heard a small, lisping voice saying:
"Welcome, sir, to Wonderland!"
He looked round. A small girl stood there. She had large blue eyes and blonde curly hair. Her expression was demure.
"You're very well made," said Jherek admiringly. "What are you, exactly?"
The small girl's expression was now one of disgust. "I'm a little girl, of course. Aren't I?"
8. The Children of the Pit
Jherek stood up and dusted at his white draperies, saying kindly: "Little girls have been extinct for thousands of years. You're probably a robot or a toy. What are you doing down here?"
"Playing," said the robot or toy; then it stepped forward and kicked his ankle, "And I know what I am. And I know what you are. Nurse said we had to be careful of grown-ups — they're dangerous."
"So are little girls," said Jherek feelingly, rubbing an already battered leg. "Where is your Nurse, my child?"
He had to admit he was surprised at how lifelike the creature was, but it could not be a child or he would have heard about it. Save for himself and Werther de Goethe, children had not been born on Earth for millennia. People were created, as the Duke of Queens had created Sweet Orb Mace, or recreated themselves, as King Rook had become Bishop Castle. Having children, after all, was rather a responsibility. Creating mature adults was difficult enough!
"Come on," said the being, taking his hand. She led him down a tunnel of pink marble which, to Jherek's eye, had something in common with the style and materials of the ancient cities, though the tunnel seemed relatively new. The tunnel opened into a large room crammed with beautiful reproductions of antiques, some of which Jherek recognized as miniature whizz-mobiles, rocking horses, furry partridges, seasores, coloured quasimodos and erector sets. "This is one of our play-rooms," she told him. "The school room is through there. Nurse should be out soon with the others. I'm playing truant," she added proudly.
Jherek admired his surroundings. Someone had gone to considerable trouble to reproduce an old nursery. He wondered if this, like the wood above, could be attributed to Lord Jagged. It certainly showed his finesse.
Suddenly a door opened and into the room poured a score of boys and girls, all of about the same apparent age, the boys in shirts and shorts, the girls in frilly dresses and aprons. They were shouting and laughing, but they stopped when they saw Jherek Carnelian. Their eyes widened, their mouths hung open.
"It's an adult," said the self-styled child. "I caught it in one of the corridors. It fell through the roof."
"Do you think it's a Producer?" asked one of the boys, stepping up to Jherek and looking him over.
"They're fatter than that," another girl said. "Here comes Nurse, anyway. She'll know."
Behind them loomed a tall figure, grim of visage, clothed in grey steel, humanoid and stern. A robot, much larger than Jherek, built to resemble a middle-aged woman in the costume of the Late Multitude Cultures. Her voice, when she spoke, was a trifle rusty and her limbs were inclined to creak when they moved. Cold blue eyes glared from the steel face.
"What's this, Mary Wilde, playing truant again?" Nurse tut-tutted. "And who's this other little boy? Not one of mine by the look of him."
"We think it's an adult, Nurse," said Mary Wilde.
"Nonsense, Mary. Your imagination is running away with you again. There are no such things as adults any more."
"That's what he said about children." Mary Wilde put her hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle.
"Pull yourself together, Mary," said Nurse. "I can only conclude that this young man has also been playing truant. You will both be punished by having only bread and milk for supper."
"I assure you that I am an adult, madam," Jherek insisted. "Although I have been a child in my time. My name is Jherek Carnelian."
"Well, you're reasonably polite at any rate," said Nurse. Her lips clashed as she drew them together. "You had better meet the other little boys and girls. I really can't think why they've sent me an extra child. I'm already two over my quota." The robot seemed a shade on the senile side, unable to accept new information. Jherek had the impression that she had been performing her tasks for a considerable length of time and had, as robots will in such conditions, become set in her ways. He decided, for the moment, to humour her.
"This is Freddie Fearless," said Nurse, laying a gentle metal hand upon the brown curly locks of the nearest boy. "And this is Danny Daring. Mick Manly and Victor Venture, here. Gary Gritt, Peter Pluck and Ben Bold, there. Kit Courage — Dick Dreadnought — Gavin Gallant. Say hello to your new friend, boys."
"Hello," they chorused obediently.
"What did you say your name was, lad?" asked Nurse.
"Jherek Carnelian, Nurse."
"A strange, unlikely name."
"Your children's names all seem to have a certain similarity, if I may say so…"
"Nonsense. Anyway, we'll call you Jerry — Jerry Jester, Always Playing the Fool, eh?"
Jherek shrugged.
"And these are the girls — Mary Wilde, you've already; met. Betty Bold, Ben's sister. Molly Madcap. Nora Noise."
"I'm the school sneak," announced Nora Noise with undisguised pleasure.
"Yes, dear, and you're very good at it. This is Gloria Grande. Flora Friendly. Katie Kinde — Harriet Haughtie — Jenny Jolly."
"I am honoured to meet you all," said Jherek, with something of Lord Jagged's grace. "But perhaps you could tell me what you are doing underground?"
"We're hiding!" whispered Molly Madcap. "Our parents sent us here to escape the movie."
"The movie?"
"Pecking Pa the Eighth's The Great Massacre of the First-Born — that's the working title, anyway," Ben Bold told him.
"It's a remake about the birth of Christ," said Flora Friendly. "Pecking Pa is going to play Herod himself."
This name alone meant something to Jherek. He knew that he had met a time traveller once who had fled from this same Pecking Pa, the Last of the Tyrant Producers, when he had been in the process of making another drama about the eruption of Krakatoa.
"But that was thousands of years ago," Jherek said. "You couldn't have been here all that time. Or could you?"
"We work to a weekly shift here," said Nurse. She turned her eyes towards a chronometer on the wall. "If we don't hurry, I shall be late with the recycling. That's the trouble with the parents — they've no thought for me — they send down another child without ever thinking about my schedules — and then they wonder why the routines are upset."
"Do you mean you're recycling time ?" asked Jherek in amazement. "The same week over and over again."
"Until the danger's over," said Nurse. "Didn't your parents tell you? We'll have to get you out of those silly clothes. Really, some mothers have peculiar ideas of how to dress children. You're quite a big boy, aren't you. It will mean making a shirt and shorts for a start."
"I don't want to wear a shirt and shorts, Nurse! I'm not sure they'll suit me."
"Oh, my goodness! You have been spoiled, Jerry!"
"I think the danger is over, Nurse," said Jherek desperately, backing away. "The Age of the Tyrant Producers has long since past. We're now very close to the End of Time itself."
"Well, dear, that won't affect us here, will it? We operate a neat closed system. It doesn't matter what happens in the rest of the universe, we just go round and round through the same period. I do it all myself, you know, with no help from anyone else."
"I think you've become a little fixed in your habits, Nurse. Have you considered limbering up your circuits?"
"Now, Jerry, I'll assume you're not being deliberately rude, because you're new here, but I'm afraid that if I hear any more talk like that from you I'll have to take strong measures. I'm kind, Jerry, but I'm firm."
The great robot rumbled forward on her tracks, reaching out her huge metal arms towards him. "Next, we'll undress you."
Jherek bowed. "I think I'll go now, Nurse. But as soon as I can I'll return. After all, these children can begin to grow up, the danger being over. They'll want to see the outside world."
"Language, boy!" bellowed Nurse fiercely. "Language!"
"I didn't mean to…" Jherek turned and bolted.
"Soldiers of the Guard!" roared Nurse.
Jherek found his way blocked by huge mechanical toy soldiers. They had expressionless faces and were not anything like as sophisticated as Nurse, but their metal bodies effectively blocked his escape.
Jherek yelped as he felt Nurse's strong hands fall on him. He was yanked into the air and flung over a cold steel knee. A metal hand rose and fell six times on his bottom and then he was upright again and Nurse was patting his head.
"I don't like to punish boys, Jerry," said Nurse. "But it is for their own good that they do not leave the nursery. When you are older you will understand that."
"But I am older," said Jherek.
"That's impossible." Nurse began to strip his clothes from him and moments later he stood before her wearing the same kind of shirt and shorts and knee-socks as Kit Courage, Freddie Fearless and the others. "There," she said in satisfaction, "now you're not so much of an odd boy out. I know how children hate to be different."
Jherek, twice the height of his new chums, knew then that he was in the power of a moron.
"Playing," said the robot or toy; then it stepped forward and kicked his ankle, "And I know what I am. And I know what you are. Nurse said we had to be careful of grown-ups — they're dangerous."
"So are little girls," said Jherek feelingly, rubbing an already battered leg. "Where is your Nurse, my child?"
He had to admit he was surprised at how lifelike the creature was, but it could not be a child or he would have heard about it. Save for himself and Werther de Goethe, children had not been born on Earth for millennia. People were created, as the Duke of Queens had created Sweet Orb Mace, or recreated themselves, as King Rook had become Bishop Castle. Having children, after all, was rather a responsibility. Creating mature adults was difficult enough!
"Come on," said the being, taking his hand. She led him down a tunnel of pink marble which, to Jherek's eye, had something in common with the style and materials of the ancient cities, though the tunnel seemed relatively new. The tunnel opened into a large room crammed with beautiful reproductions of antiques, some of which Jherek recognized as miniature whizz-mobiles, rocking horses, furry partridges, seasores, coloured quasimodos and erector sets. "This is one of our play-rooms," she told him. "The school room is through there. Nurse should be out soon with the others. I'm playing truant," she added proudly.
Jherek admired his surroundings. Someone had gone to considerable trouble to reproduce an old nursery. He wondered if this, like the wood above, could be attributed to Lord Jagged. It certainly showed his finesse.
Suddenly a door opened and into the room poured a score of boys and girls, all of about the same apparent age, the boys in shirts and shorts, the girls in frilly dresses and aprons. They were shouting and laughing, but they stopped when they saw Jherek Carnelian. Their eyes widened, their mouths hung open.
"It's an adult," said the self-styled child. "I caught it in one of the corridors. It fell through the roof."
"Do you think it's a Producer?" asked one of the boys, stepping up to Jherek and looking him over.
"They're fatter than that," another girl said. "Here comes Nurse, anyway. She'll know."
Behind them loomed a tall figure, grim of visage, clothed in grey steel, humanoid and stern. A robot, much larger than Jherek, built to resemble a middle-aged woman in the costume of the Late Multitude Cultures. Her voice, when she spoke, was a trifle rusty and her limbs were inclined to creak when they moved. Cold blue eyes glared from the steel face.
"What's this, Mary Wilde, playing truant again?" Nurse tut-tutted. "And who's this other little boy? Not one of mine by the look of him."
"We think it's an adult, Nurse," said Mary Wilde.
"Nonsense, Mary. Your imagination is running away with you again. There are no such things as adults any more."
"That's what he said about children." Mary Wilde put her hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle.
"Pull yourself together, Mary," said Nurse. "I can only conclude that this young man has also been playing truant. You will both be punished by having only bread and milk for supper."
"I assure you that I am an adult, madam," Jherek insisted. "Although I have been a child in my time. My name is Jherek Carnelian."
"Well, you're reasonably polite at any rate," said Nurse. Her lips clashed as she drew them together. "You had better meet the other little boys and girls. I really can't think why they've sent me an extra child. I'm already two over my quota." The robot seemed a shade on the senile side, unable to accept new information. Jherek had the impression that she had been performing her tasks for a considerable length of time and had, as robots will in such conditions, become set in her ways. He decided, for the moment, to humour her.
"This is Freddie Fearless," said Nurse, laying a gentle metal hand upon the brown curly locks of the nearest boy. "And this is Danny Daring. Mick Manly and Victor Venture, here. Gary Gritt, Peter Pluck and Ben Bold, there. Kit Courage — Dick Dreadnought — Gavin Gallant. Say hello to your new friend, boys."
"Hello," they chorused obediently.
"What did you say your name was, lad?" asked Nurse.
"Jherek Carnelian, Nurse."
"A strange, unlikely name."
"Your children's names all seem to have a certain similarity, if I may say so…"
"Nonsense. Anyway, we'll call you Jerry — Jerry Jester, Always Playing the Fool, eh?"
Jherek shrugged.
"And these are the girls — Mary Wilde, you've already; met. Betty Bold, Ben's sister. Molly Madcap. Nora Noise."
"I'm the school sneak," announced Nora Noise with undisguised pleasure.
"Yes, dear, and you're very good at it. This is Gloria Grande. Flora Friendly. Katie Kinde — Harriet Haughtie — Jenny Jolly."
"I am honoured to meet you all," said Jherek, with something of Lord Jagged's grace. "But perhaps you could tell me what you are doing underground?"
"We're hiding!" whispered Molly Madcap. "Our parents sent us here to escape the movie."
"The movie?"
"Pecking Pa the Eighth's The Great Massacre of the First-Born — that's the working title, anyway," Ben Bold told him.
"It's a remake about the birth of Christ," said Flora Friendly. "Pecking Pa is going to play Herod himself."
This name alone meant something to Jherek. He knew that he had met a time traveller once who had fled from this same Pecking Pa, the Last of the Tyrant Producers, when he had been in the process of making another drama about the eruption of Krakatoa.
"But that was thousands of years ago," Jherek said. "You couldn't have been here all that time. Or could you?"
"We work to a weekly shift here," said Nurse. She turned her eyes towards a chronometer on the wall. "If we don't hurry, I shall be late with the recycling. That's the trouble with the parents — they've no thought for me — they send down another child without ever thinking about my schedules — and then they wonder why the routines are upset."
"Do you mean you're recycling time ?" asked Jherek in amazement. "The same week over and over again."
"Until the danger's over," said Nurse. "Didn't your parents tell you? We'll have to get you out of those silly clothes. Really, some mothers have peculiar ideas of how to dress children. You're quite a big boy, aren't you. It will mean making a shirt and shorts for a start."
"I don't want to wear a shirt and shorts, Nurse! I'm not sure they'll suit me."
"Oh, my goodness! You have been spoiled, Jerry!"
"I think the danger is over, Nurse," said Jherek desperately, backing away. "The Age of the Tyrant Producers has long since past. We're now very close to the End of Time itself."
"Well, dear, that won't affect us here, will it? We operate a neat closed system. It doesn't matter what happens in the rest of the universe, we just go round and round through the same period. I do it all myself, you know, with no help from anyone else."
"I think you've become a little fixed in your habits, Nurse. Have you considered limbering up your circuits?"
"Now, Jerry, I'll assume you're not being deliberately rude, because you're new here, but I'm afraid that if I hear any more talk like that from you I'll have to take strong measures. I'm kind, Jerry, but I'm firm."
The great robot rumbled forward on her tracks, reaching out her huge metal arms towards him. "Next, we'll undress you."
Jherek bowed. "I think I'll go now, Nurse. But as soon as I can I'll return. After all, these children can begin to grow up, the danger being over. They'll want to see the outside world."
"Language, boy!" bellowed Nurse fiercely. "Language!"
"I didn't mean to…" Jherek turned and bolted.
"Soldiers of the Guard!" roared Nurse.
Jherek found his way blocked by huge mechanical toy soldiers. They had expressionless faces and were not anything like as sophisticated as Nurse, but their metal bodies effectively blocked his escape.
Jherek yelped as he felt Nurse's strong hands fall on him. He was yanked into the air and flung over a cold steel knee. A metal hand rose and fell six times on his bottom and then he was upright again and Nurse was patting his head.
"I don't like to punish boys, Jerry," said Nurse. "But it is for their own good that they do not leave the nursery. When you are older you will understand that."
"But I am older," said Jherek.
"That's impossible." Nurse began to strip his clothes from him and moments later he stood before her wearing the same kind of shirt and shorts and knee-socks as Kit Courage, Freddie Fearless and the others. "There," she said in satisfaction, "now you're not so much of an odd boy out. I know how children hate to be different."
Jherek, twice the height of his new chums, knew then that he was in the power of a moron.
9. Nurse's Sense of Duty
Jherek Carnelian sat at the far end of the dormitory, a bowl of bread and milk in his lap, an expression of hopeless misery upon his face, while Nurse stood by the door saying goodnight.
"I really should point out, Nurse, that, since your closed environment has been entered by an outsider, a variety of temporal paradoxes are likely to take place. They are sure to disrupt your way of life and mine probably much more than we should want."
"Sleepy time now," said Nurse firmly, for the sixth time since Jherek had arrived. "Lights out, my little men!"
Jherek knew that it was useless to get up once he had gone to bed. Nurse would detect him immediately and put him back again. At least it was easy to know how long he had been here. Each day measured exactly twenty-four hours and each hour had sixty-minutes — it was all on the old non-malleable reckonings. The Age of the Tyrant Producers would have been one of the last to use them. Jherek knew that Nurse must have been programmed to act upon new information and to deal with it intelligently, but she had become sluggish over the centuries. His only hope was to keep insisting on what was self-evident truth, but it could take months. He wondered how the Iron Orchid and the others had fared on the surface. With any luck, when he was able to escape, he would find the Lat weapons neutralized (it was quite easy to do and had been done on several previous occasions) and the aliens returned to space.
"I think you should consider a re-programming, Nurse!" Jherek called into the darkness.
"Now, now, Jerry, you know I disapprove of cheeky children." The door closed. Nurse rolled away down the corridor.
Jherek wondered if he had been right in believing that he had detected a faint uncertainty's in Nurse's voice tonight.
Freddie Fearless said admiringly from the next bed. "You can certainly keep it up, can't you Jerry? I don't know why the old girl lets you get away with it."
"Perhaps, in her subconscious, she realizes that I'm an adult and doesn't like to admit it," Jherek suggested.
This drew a ripple of laughter from the boys.
"That's Jerry Jester," said Dick Dreadnought, "always playing the fool! Life wouldn't be nearly so much fun without you, Jerry." Like the others, he had accepted Jherek immediately and seemed to have forgotten that he had only recently entered the nursery.
With a sigh, Jherek turned over and tried to operate his power rings, as he had taken to doing every night, but plainly some protective device in the nursery blocked off the source of their energy. He still had the deceptor-gun, but he couldn't think of any use for it at present. He felt under his pillow. It was still there. With a sigh, he tried to go to sleep. It seemed to him that he was in an even more uncomfortable situation than when he had been Snoozer Vines' prisoner in Jone's Kitchen in 1896. He remembered that there, too, they had called him Jerry. Did all gaolers favour that name for him?
Jherek wakened and was surprised that the lights were not on, as they usually were; also he could not smell breakfast; moreover Nurse was not standing by the door ringing her bell and calling "Wake up, sleepyheads!" as was her wont.
From somewhere beyond the dormitory, however, there came various noises — yells, explosions, screams and bangs — and suddenly the door had sprung open, admitting light from the corridor.
"Berchoos ek!" said a familiar voice. "Hoody?"
And Captain Mubbers, his whiskers bristling, his musical instrument in his hands, stood framed in the doorway. He glared at Jherek.
"Kroofrudi!" he said in recognition, and a nasty grin appeared on his face.
Jherek groaned. The Lat had found him and now the children were in danger.
"Ferkit! Jillip goff var heggo heg, mibix?"
"I still can't understand you, Captain Mubbers," Jherek told the brigand-musician. "However, I take it you would like me to accompany you and, of course, I shall. Hopefully you will then leave the rest of — I mean — leave the children alone." With as much dignity as he could muster considering he was wearing a jacket and trousers of brightly striped flannel far too small for him, he rose from his bed, his hands in the air, and walked towards the Lat captain.
Captain Mubbers snorted with mirth. "Shag uk fang dok pist kickle hrunt!" he yelled. His men gathered around him and they, too, joined in their leader's merriment. One even dropped his weapon, but was quick to recover it again. This made Jherek wonder if their own power source came from their spaceship or if the weapons, like his deceptor-gun, had independent cells. He supposed that there wasn't any easy way of finding out. He bore their laughter as manfully as he could.
Captain Mubbers' bulbous nose fairly glowed with the strain of his laughter. "Uuuungh, k-k-kroofrudi! Uuuuuungh, k-kroofrudi!"
"What's this? What's this? More naughty boys from outside!" came Nurse's booming voice from down the corridor. "And during the night, now! This will never do!"
Captain Mubbers and his men looked at one another with expressions of disbelieving surprise on their faces. Nurse rolled steadily on.
"You are nasty rough boys and you are disturbing my charges. Haven't you homes to go to?"
"Kroofrudi!" said Captain Mubbers.
"Ferkit!" said another.
"Ugh! Disgusting!" said Nurse. "Where do you pick up such words!"
Captain Mubbers stepped to the head of his gang and menaced Nurse with his instrument. She ignored it completely. "I have never seen such filthy little boys. And what have you got in your hands? Catapults, no doubt!"
Captain Mubbers aimed his instrument at Nurse and pulled the trigger. Howling fire left the muzzle and struck Nurse full on her chest. She made a fussy, brushing motion, then one of her arms extended and she snatched the instrument from Captain Mubbers' grasp.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty, little boy. I will not have such behaviour in the nursery!"
"Olgo glex mibix?" said Captain Mubbers placatingly. He tried to smile, but his eyes were glassy as he stared up at Nurse whose huge metal head looked down upon him. "Frads kolek goj sako!"
"I will listen to no more of your nastiness. This is the only way to teach manners to the likes of you, young man."
With great satisfaction, Jherek watched as Captain Mubbers was snatched yelling into the air, was thrown across Nurse's knee, was divested of his trousers and slapped soundly upon his bare and unlovely backside. Captain Mubbers shouted to his crew to help and they all began kicking at Nurse, tugging at her, swearing at her, to no avail. Sedately she completed the punishment of Captain Mubbers and then, one by one, gave similar treatment to his companions, confiscating their instruments at the same time.
Chastened, they all stood holding their bottoms, red-faced and tearful, while Jherek and the boys from the dormitory laughed delightedly.
Nurse began to roll down the corridor with an armful of alien instruments. "You may have these back only when you leave the nursery," she said. "And you will not leave the nursery until you have learned some manners!"
"Kroofrudi," said Captain Mubbers, glowering at the disappearing robot, but he spoke the word softly, nervously, more from bravado than anything else. "Hrunt!"
Jherek felt almost sorry for the Lat, but he was glad that the children were safe.
"I heard you!" Nurse called chidingly. "I shan't forget!"
Captain Mubbers caught her drift. He said no more.
Jherek grinned. It pleased him more than he would have guessed to see the Lat brought so low. "Well," he said, "we're all in the same kettle of fish now, eh?"
"Mibix?" queried Captain Mubbers in a small, defeated voice.
"However, the idea of spending the same week, recycled through eternity, in the company of children, Lat and a senile robot is not entirely appealing," said Jherek, in a critical and miserable mood for him. "I really must think how I'm to effect my escape and achieve a reconciliation with Mrs. Amelia Underwood."
Captain Mubbers nodded. "Greef cholokok," he said, by way of affirmation.
Nurse was returning. "I've locked your toys away," she told Captain Mubbers and the others. "And now it's straight to bed without any supper. Have you any idea how late it is?"
The Lat stared at her blankly.
"My goodness, I do believe they've sent me a party of mentally subnormals!" exclaimed Nurse. "I thought they were going to be left behind to placate Pecking Pa." She pointed at the row of empty beds down one side of the dormitory. "In there," she said slowly. "Bed."
The Lat shuffled towards the beds and stood looking stupidly down at them.
Nurse sighed and picked up the nearest alien, stripping off his clothing and plumping him down, pulling the bedding over his shivering body. The others hastily began to pull off their own clothes and climbed into bed.
"That's more like it," said Nurse. "You're learning." She turned her hard, blue eyes on Jherek. "Jerry, I think you'd better come to my sitting room. I'd like a word with you now."
Meekly, Jherek followed Nurse down the corridor and into a room whose walls were covered in flock wallpaper, with landscape paintings and little ornaments. Elsewhere was a great deal of chintz and gingham. It reminded Jherek vaguely of the house he had furnished for Mrs. Amelia Underwood.
Nurse rolled to one corner of the room. "Would you like a cup of tea, Jerry?"
"No thank you, Nurse."
"You are probably wondering why I asked you here, when it's long past your bedtime."
"It had occurred to me, Nurse, yes."
"Well," she announced, "my creative-thinking circuits are beginning to come back into play. I think. I've become rather set in my ways, as old robots will, particularly when involved in a temporal recycling operation like this one. You follow me?"
"I do indeed."
"You are older than the other children, so I think I can talk to you. Even," Nurse made an embarrassed rumbling sound somewhere inside her steel chest, "even ask your advice. You think I've become a bit of a stick in the mud, don't you?"
"Oh, not really," Jherek told her kindly. "We all develop habits, over the millennia, which are sometimes hard to lose when we no longer need them."
"I have been thinking about one or two things which you've said this past week. You've been to the surface, evidently."
"Um…"
"Come now, lad, tell the truth. I shan't punish you."
"Yes, I have, Nurse."
"And Pecking Pa is dead?"
"And forgotten." Jherek wriggled uncomfortably in his too-tight pyjamas. "It's been thousands of years since the Age of the Tyrant Producers. Things are much more peaceful these days."
"And these outsiders — they are from the outside time-phase?"
"They are, more or less."
"Which means that paradoxes begin to occur, if we're not careful."
"I gather so, from what I have been told about the nature of Time."
"You've been informed correctly. It means that I must think very carefully now. I knew this moment would come eventually. I have to worry about my children. They are all I have. They are the Future."
"Well, the Past, at least," said Jherek.
Nurse glared sternly at him. "I'm sorry, Nurse," he said. "That was facetious of me."
"My duty is to take them into an age where they will be in no danger," Nurse continued. "And it seems that we have reached that age."
"I am sure they will be very welcome in my society," Jherek told her. "I and one other are the only ones who have been children. My people love children. I am proof of that."
"They are gentle?"
"Oh, yes, I think so. I'm not quite sure of the meaning — you use words which are archaic to me — but I think 'gentle' is a fair description."
"No violence?"
"There you've lost me altogether. What is 'violence'?"
"I'm satisfied for the moment," said Nurse. "I must be grateful to you, Jerry Jester. For all that you are always acting the fool, you're made of decent stuff underneath. You've reawakened me to my chief responsibilities." Nurse seemed to simper (as much as a robot could simper). "You are my Prince Charming, really. And I was the Sleeping Beauty. It would seem that the danger to the children is over and they can be allowed to grow normally. What sort of conditions exist in the outside world? Will they find good homes?"
"Any kind they wish," said Jherek.
"And the climate. Is it good?"
"Whatever one cares to make it."
"Educational facilities?"
"Well," he said, "I suppose you could say that we believe in self-education. But the facilities are excellent. The libraries of the rotted cities are still more or less intact."
"Those other children. They seemed to know you. Are they from your time?" It was plain that Nurse was becoming increasingly intelligent with every passing second.
"They are aliens from another part of the galaxy," Jherek said. "They were chasing me and some of my friends." He explained what had happened.
"Well, they must be expelled, of course," said Nurse, having listened gravely to his account. "Preferably into another period of time where they can do no more harm. And here normal time must replace recycled time. That is merely a question of stopping a process…" Nurse sank into a thoughtful silence.
Jherek had begun to hope. "Nurse," he said. "Forgive me for interrupting, but am I to understand that you have the power to pass people back and forth in Time?"
"Back is very difficult — they are not inclined to stick, in my experience. Forth is much easier. Recycling is," a mechanical chuckle sounded in her throat, "child's play, as it were."
"So you could send me back, say, to the 19th century?"
"I could. But the chances of your staying there for long are poor…"
"I'm aware of the theory. We call it the Morphail Effect in this age. But you could send me back."
"I could, almost certainly. I was programmed specifically for Time Manipulation. I probably know more about it than any other being."
"You would not have to use a time machine?"
"There's a chamber in this complex, but it would not be a machine which moved physically through time. We've abandoned such devices. As a matter of fact, time travel itself, being so uncertain, was pretty much abandoned, too. It was only in order to protect the children that we built this place."
"Would you send me back, Nurse?"
Nurse seemed hesitant. "It's very dangerous, you know. I know that I owe you a favour. I feel stupid for having forgotten my duty. But sending you so far back…"
"I have been before, Nurse. I'm aware of the dangers."
"That's as may be, young Jerry Jester. You were always a wild one — though I could never be as firm with you as I should have been. How I used to laugh, privately, here in my little sitting room, at your antics, at the things you said…"
"Nurse! I think you're slipping again," Jherek warned her.
"Eh? Put another lump of coal on the fire, would you my boy?"
Jherek looked around, but could see no fire.
"Nurse?"
"Aha!" said Nurse. "Send you to the 19th century. A long time ago. A long, long time ago. Before I was born. Before you were born, that's for certain. In those days there were oceans of light and cities in the skies and wild flying beasts of bronze. There were herds of crimson cattle that roared and were taller than castles. There were shrill…"
"To 1896 to be precise, Nurse. Would you do it for me? It would mean a great deal."
"Magics," she continued, "phantasms, unstable nature, impossible events, insane paradoxes, dreams come true, dreams gone awry; nightmares assuming reality. It was a rich time and a dark time…"
"1896, Nurse."
"Ah, sometimes, in my more Romantic moments, I wish that I had been some merchant governess; some great lady of Hong Kong, trading capital of the world, where poets, scholars and soldiers of fortune all congregated. The ships of a hundred nations at anchor in the harbours. Ships from the West, with cargoes of bearskins and exotic soaps; ships from the South, with crews of dark-visaged androids, bearing bicycles and sacks of grit; ships from the East…"
"Plainly we share an interest in the same century," said Jherek desperately. 'Do not deny me my opportunity to go back there, dear Nurse."
"How could I?" Her voice had become almost inaudible, virtually soft as nostalgia seized her. At that moment, Jherek felt a deep sympathy for the old machine; it was rare that one was privileged to witness the dream of a robot. "How could I refuse my Jerry Jester anything. He has made me live again."
"Oh, Nurse!" Jherek was moved to tears. He ran forward and hugged the rigid body. "And with your help I, too, shall come to life again!"
"I really should point out, Nurse, that, since your closed environment has been entered by an outsider, a variety of temporal paradoxes are likely to take place. They are sure to disrupt your way of life and mine probably much more than we should want."
"Sleepy time now," said Nurse firmly, for the sixth time since Jherek had arrived. "Lights out, my little men!"
Jherek knew that it was useless to get up once he had gone to bed. Nurse would detect him immediately and put him back again. At least it was easy to know how long he had been here. Each day measured exactly twenty-four hours and each hour had sixty-minutes — it was all on the old non-malleable reckonings. The Age of the Tyrant Producers would have been one of the last to use them. Jherek knew that Nurse must have been programmed to act upon new information and to deal with it intelligently, but she had become sluggish over the centuries. His only hope was to keep insisting on what was self-evident truth, but it could take months. He wondered how the Iron Orchid and the others had fared on the surface. With any luck, when he was able to escape, he would find the Lat weapons neutralized (it was quite easy to do and had been done on several previous occasions) and the aliens returned to space.
"I think you should consider a re-programming, Nurse!" Jherek called into the darkness.
"Now, now, Jerry, you know I disapprove of cheeky children." The door closed. Nurse rolled away down the corridor.
Jherek wondered if he had been right in believing that he had detected a faint uncertainty's in Nurse's voice tonight.
Freddie Fearless said admiringly from the next bed. "You can certainly keep it up, can't you Jerry? I don't know why the old girl lets you get away with it."
"Perhaps, in her subconscious, she realizes that I'm an adult and doesn't like to admit it," Jherek suggested.
This drew a ripple of laughter from the boys.
"That's Jerry Jester," said Dick Dreadnought, "always playing the fool! Life wouldn't be nearly so much fun without you, Jerry." Like the others, he had accepted Jherek immediately and seemed to have forgotten that he had only recently entered the nursery.
With a sigh, Jherek turned over and tried to operate his power rings, as he had taken to doing every night, but plainly some protective device in the nursery blocked off the source of their energy. He still had the deceptor-gun, but he couldn't think of any use for it at present. He felt under his pillow. It was still there. With a sigh, he tried to go to sleep. It seemed to him that he was in an even more uncomfortable situation than when he had been Snoozer Vines' prisoner in Jone's Kitchen in 1896. He remembered that there, too, they had called him Jerry. Did all gaolers favour that name for him?
Jherek wakened and was surprised that the lights were not on, as they usually were; also he could not smell breakfast; moreover Nurse was not standing by the door ringing her bell and calling "Wake up, sleepyheads!" as was her wont.
From somewhere beyond the dormitory, however, there came various noises — yells, explosions, screams and bangs — and suddenly the door had sprung open, admitting light from the corridor.
"Berchoos ek!" said a familiar voice. "Hoody?"
And Captain Mubbers, his whiskers bristling, his musical instrument in his hands, stood framed in the doorway. He glared at Jherek.
"Kroofrudi!" he said in recognition, and a nasty grin appeared on his face.
Jherek groaned. The Lat had found him and now the children were in danger.
"Ferkit! Jillip goff var heggo heg, mibix?"
"I still can't understand you, Captain Mubbers," Jherek told the brigand-musician. "However, I take it you would like me to accompany you and, of course, I shall. Hopefully you will then leave the rest of — I mean — leave the children alone." With as much dignity as he could muster considering he was wearing a jacket and trousers of brightly striped flannel far too small for him, he rose from his bed, his hands in the air, and walked towards the Lat captain.
Captain Mubbers snorted with mirth. "Shag uk fang dok pist kickle hrunt!" he yelled. His men gathered around him and they, too, joined in their leader's merriment. One even dropped his weapon, but was quick to recover it again. This made Jherek wonder if their own power source came from their spaceship or if the weapons, like his deceptor-gun, had independent cells. He supposed that there wasn't any easy way of finding out. He bore their laughter as manfully as he could.
Captain Mubbers' bulbous nose fairly glowed with the strain of his laughter. "Uuuungh, k-k-kroofrudi! Uuuuuungh, k-kroofrudi!"
"What's this? What's this? More naughty boys from outside!" came Nurse's booming voice from down the corridor. "And during the night, now! This will never do!"
Captain Mubbers and his men looked at one another with expressions of disbelieving surprise on their faces. Nurse rolled steadily on.
"You are nasty rough boys and you are disturbing my charges. Haven't you homes to go to?"
"Kroofrudi!" said Captain Mubbers.
"Ferkit!" said another.
"Ugh! Disgusting!" said Nurse. "Where do you pick up such words!"
Captain Mubbers stepped to the head of his gang and menaced Nurse with his instrument. She ignored it completely. "I have never seen such filthy little boys. And what have you got in your hands? Catapults, no doubt!"
Captain Mubbers aimed his instrument at Nurse and pulled the trigger. Howling fire left the muzzle and struck Nurse full on her chest. She made a fussy, brushing motion, then one of her arms extended and she snatched the instrument from Captain Mubbers' grasp.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty, little boy. I will not have such behaviour in the nursery!"
"Olgo glex mibix?" said Captain Mubbers placatingly. He tried to smile, but his eyes were glassy as he stared up at Nurse whose huge metal head looked down upon him. "Frads kolek goj sako!"
"I will listen to no more of your nastiness. This is the only way to teach manners to the likes of you, young man."
With great satisfaction, Jherek watched as Captain Mubbers was snatched yelling into the air, was thrown across Nurse's knee, was divested of his trousers and slapped soundly upon his bare and unlovely backside. Captain Mubbers shouted to his crew to help and they all began kicking at Nurse, tugging at her, swearing at her, to no avail. Sedately she completed the punishment of Captain Mubbers and then, one by one, gave similar treatment to his companions, confiscating their instruments at the same time.
Chastened, they all stood holding their bottoms, red-faced and tearful, while Jherek and the boys from the dormitory laughed delightedly.
Nurse began to roll down the corridor with an armful of alien instruments. "You may have these back only when you leave the nursery," she said. "And you will not leave the nursery until you have learned some manners!"
"Kroofrudi," said Captain Mubbers, glowering at the disappearing robot, but he spoke the word softly, nervously, more from bravado than anything else. "Hrunt!"
Jherek felt almost sorry for the Lat, but he was glad that the children were safe.
"I heard you!" Nurse called chidingly. "I shan't forget!"
Captain Mubbers caught her drift. He said no more.
Jherek grinned. It pleased him more than he would have guessed to see the Lat brought so low. "Well," he said, "we're all in the same kettle of fish now, eh?"
"Mibix?" queried Captain Mubbers in a small, defeated voice.
"However, the idea of spending the same week, recycled through eternity, in the company of children, Lat and a senile robot is not entirely appealing," said Jherek, in a critical and miserable mood for him. "I really must think how I'm to effect my escape and achieve a reconciliation with Mrs. Amelia Underwood."
Captain Mubbers nodded. "Greef cholokok," he said, by way of affirmation.
Nurse was returning. "I've locked your toys away," she told Captain Mubbers and the others. "And now it's straight to bed without any supper. Have you any idea how late it is?"
The Lat stared at her blankly.
"My goodness, I do believe they've sent me a party of mentally subnormals!" exclaimed Nurse. "I thought they were going to be left behind to placate Pecking Pa." She pointed at the row of empty beds down one side of the dormitory. "In there," she said slowly. "Bed."
The Lat shuffled towards the beds and stood looking stupidly down at them.
Nurse sighed and picked up the nearest alien, stripping off his clothing and plumping him down, pulling the bedding over his shivering body. The others hastily began to pull off their own clothes and climbed into bed.
"That's more like it," said Nurse. "You're learning." She turned her hard, blue eyes on Jherek. "Jerry, I think you'd better come to my sitting room. I'd like a word with you now."
Meekly, Jherek followed Nurse down the corridor and into a room whose walls were covered in flock wallpaper, with landscape paintings and little ornaments. Elsewhere was a great deal of chintz and gingham. It reminded Jherek vaguely of the house he had furnished for Mrs. Amelia Underwood.
Nurse rolled to one corner of the room. "Would you like a cup of tea, Jerry?"
"No thank you, Nurse."
"You are probably wondering why I asked you here, when it's long past your bedtime."
"It had occurred to me, Nurse, yes."
"Well," she announced, "my creative-thinking circuits are beginning to come back into play. I think. I've become rather set in my ways, as old robots will, particularly when involved in a temporal recycling operation like this one. You follow me?"
"I do indeed."
"You are older than the other children, so I think I can talk to you. Even," Nurse made an embarrassed rumbling sound somewhere inside her steel chest, "even ask your advice. You think I've become a bit of a stick in the mud, don't you?"
"Oh, not really," Jherek told her kindly. "We all develop habits, over the millennia, which are sometimes hard to lose when we no longer need them."
"I have been thinking about one or two things which you've said this past week. You've been to the surface, evidently."
"Um…"
"Come now, lad, tell the truth. I shan't punish you."
"Yes, I have, Nurse."
"And Pecking Pa is dead?"
"And forgotten." Jherek wriggled uncomfortably in his too-tight pyjamas. "It's been thousands of years since the Age of the Tyrant Producers. Things are much more peaceful these days."
"And these outsiders — they are from the outside time-phase?"
"They are, more or less."
"Which means that paradoxes begin to occur, if we're not careful."
"I gather so, from what I have been told about the nature of Time."
"You've been informed correctly. It means that I must think very carefully now. I knew this moment would come eventually. I have to worry about my children. They are all I have. They are the Future."
"Well, the Past, at least," said Jherek.
Nurse glared sternly at him. "I'm sorry, Nurse," he said. "That was facetious of me."
"My duty is to take them into an age where they will be in no danger," Nurse continued. "And it seems that we have reached that age."
"I am sure they will be very welcome in my society," Jherek told her. "I and one other are the only ones who have been children. My people love children. I am proof of that."
"They are gentle?"
"Oh, yes, I think so. I'm not quite sure of the meaning — you use words which are archaic to me — but I think 'gentle' is a fair description."
"No violence?"
"There you've lost me altogether. What is 'violence'?"
"I'm satisfied for the moment," said Nurse. "I must be grateful to you, Jerry Jester. For all that you are always acting the fool, you're made of decent stuff underneath. You've reawakened me to my chief responsibilities." Nurse seemed to simper (as much as a robot could simper). "You are my Prince Charming, really. And I was the Sleeping Beauty. It would seem that the danger to the children is over and they can be allowed to grow normally. What sort of conditions exist in the outside world? Will they find good homes?"
"Any kind they wish," said Jherek.
"And the climate. Is it good?"
"Whatever one cares to make it."
"Educational facilities?"
"Well," he said, "I suppose you could say that we believe in self-education. But the facilities are excellent. The libraries of the rotted cities are still more or less intact."
"Those other children. They seemed to know you. Are they from your time?" It was plain that Nurse was becoming increasingly intelligent with every passing second.
"They are aliens from another part of the galaxy," Jherek said. "They were chasing me and some of my friends." He explained what had happened.
"Well, they must be expelled, of course," said Nurse, having listened gravely to his account. "Preferably into another period of time where they can do no more harm. And here normal time must replace recycled time. That is merely a question of stopping a process…" Nurse sank into a thoughtful silence.
Jherek had begun to hope. "Nurse," he said. "Forgive me for interrupting, but am I to understand that you have the power to pass people back and forth in Time?"
"Back is very difficult — they are not inclined to stick, in my experience. Forth is much easier. Recycling is," a mechanical chuckle sounded in her throat, "child's play, as it were."
"So you could send me back, say, to the 19th century?"
"I could. But the chances of your staying there for long are poor…"
"I'm aware of the theory. We call it the Morphail Effect in this age. But you could send me back."
"I could, almost certainly. I was programmed specifically for Time Manipulation. I probably know more about it than any other being."
"You would not have to use a time machine?"
"There's a chamber in this complex, but it would not be a machine which moved physically through time. We've abandoned such devices. As a matter of fact, time travel itself, being so uncertain, was pretty much abandoned, too. It was only in order to protect the children that we built this place."
"Would you send me back, Nurse?"
Nurse seemed hesitant. "It's very dangerous, you know. I know that I owe you a favour. I feel stupid for having forgotten my duty. But sending you so far back…"
"I have been before, Nurse. I'm aware of the dangers."
"That's as may be, young Jerry Jester. You were always a wild one — though I could never be as firm with you as I should have been. How I used to laugh, privately, here in my little sitting room, at your antics, at the things you said…"
"Nurse! I think you're slipping again," Jherek warned her.
"Eh? Put another lump of coal on the fire, would you my boy?"
Jherek looked around, but could see no fire.
"Nurse?"
"Aha!" said Nurse. "Send you to the 19th century. A long time ago. A long, long time ago. Before I was born. Before you were born, that's for certain. In those days there were oceans of light and cities in the skies and wild flying beasts of bronze. There were herds of crimson cattle that roared and were taller than castles. There were shrill…"
"To 1896 to be precise, Nurse. Would you do it for me? It would mean a great deal."
"Magics," she continued, "phantasms, unstable nature, impossible events, insane paradoxes, dreams come true, dreams gone awry; nightmares assuming reality. It was a rich time and a dark time…"
"1896, Nurse."
"Ah, sometimes, in my more Romantic moments, I wish that I had been some merchant governess; some great lady of Hong Kong, trading capital of the world, where poets, scholars and soldiers of fortune all congregated. The ships of a hundred nations at anchor in the harbours. Ships from the West, with cargoes of bearskins and exotic soaps; ships from the South, with crews of dark-visaged androids, bearing bicycles and sacks of grit; ships from the East…"
"Plainly we share an interest in the same century," said Jherek desperately. 'Do not deny me my opportunity to go back there, dear Nurse."
"How could I?" Her voice had become almost inaudible, virtually soft as nostalgia seized her. At that moment, Jherek felt a deep sympathy for the old machine; it was rare that one was privileged to witness the dream of a robot. "How could I refuse my Jerry Jester anything. He has made me live again."
"Oh, Nurse!" Jherek was moved to tears. He ran forward and hugged the rigid body. "And with your help I, too, shall come to life again!"
10. On the Bromley Road Again
"Producing the time jump is relatively easy," said Nurse, studying a bank of instruments in her laboratory as Jherek came rushing in (he had returned, briefly, to his ranch to get some translator pills and study his records in order to make himself a suit of clothes which would not set him apart from the denizens of 1896). "Oh, that's yours, by the way. I found it under your pillow when I was making your bed." The old robot pointed at the deceptor-gun resting on one of her benches. With a murmur of thanks, Jherek picked it up and slipped it into the pocket of his black overcoat. "The problem is," Nurse went on, "in getting the spacial co-ordinates correctly fixed. A city called London (I'd never heard of it until you mentioned it) in an island called England. I've had to consult some pretty ancient memory banks, I can tell you, but I think it's sorted out now."
"I can go?"
"You were always an impatient one, Jerry." Nurse laughed affectionately. She still seemed to have it implanted in her that she had brought Jherek up since he had been a young boy. "But — yes — I think you can set off soon. I do hope you're aware of the dangers, however."
"I am, Nurse."
"What on earth are you wearing, my boy? It looks like something I once saw in Tyrant Pecking Pa's remake of the classic David Copperfield Meets the Wolf Man . I considered it rather fanciful, then. But Pecking Pa always ran to emotional authenticity rather than period exactitude, I was told. At least, that's what he used to say. I met him once, you know. Some years ago, when his father was still alive. His father was so different; a gentleman. You wouldn't have known they were related. His father made all those wonderful, charming movies. They were a joy to live through. The whole society took part, of course. You'd be far too young to remember the pleasure of having even a small part in Young Adolf Hitler or The Four Loves of Captain Marvel . When Pecking Pa VIII came to power all the romance vanished. Realism became the rage. And someone suffers, every time, during a Realism period (I mean, who supplies the blood? Not the Tyrant himself!)"
Privately, Jherek Carnelian was very grateful to Pecking Pa VIII for his excesses in the name of Realism. Without them, Nurse would not be here now.
"The stories were pretty much the same, of course," said Nurse, fiddling with some controls and making a screen turn to liquid gold, "only more blood. There, that should do it. I hope there was just the one location for London on this island of yours. It's very small , Jerry." She turned her great metal head to look at him. "What I would call a bit of a low-budget country."
Jherek wasn't, as usual, following her too clearly. But he nodded and smiled.
"Still, small productions quite often produced interesting pictures," said Nurse, with a touch of condescension. "Hop into the box, Jerry, there's a good lad. I'll be sorry to see you go, but I suppose I'll have to get used to it, now. I wonder how many will remember their old Nurse in a few years time. Still, it's a fact of life I have to face. Starlets must become stars some day."
Jherek stepped gingerly into the cylindrical chamber in the middle of the laboratory.
"Goodbye, Jerry," said Nurse's voice from outside, before the buzzing became too loud, "try to remember everything I taught you. Be polite. Listen for your cues. Keep away from casting couches. Camera! Action!"
And the cylinder seemed to begin to spin (though it might have been Jherek spinning). He clapped his hands to his ears to keep out the noise. He groaned. He fainted.
He moved through a country that was all soft, shifting colours and whose people were bodiless, kindly with sweet voices. He fell back and he was falling through the fabric of the ages, down and down to the very beginnings of mankind's long history.
He felt pain, as he had felt it before, but he did not mind it. He knew depressions such as he had never experienced, but they did not concern him. Even the joy which came to him was a joy he did not care about. He knew that he was borne upon the winds of Time and he knew, beyond any question, that at the end of this journey he would be reunited with his lost love, the beautiful Mrs. Amelia Underwood. And when he reached 1896 he would not allow himself to be sidetracked from his great Quest for Bromley, as he had been sidetracked before by Snoozer Vines.
He heard his own voice calling, ecstatic and melodic. "Mrs. Underwood! Mrs. Underwood! I am coming! Coming! Coming!"
And at last the sensation of falling had stopped and he opened his eyes, expecting to find himself still in the cylinder, but he was not. He was lying upon soft grass under a large, warm sun. There were trees and not far off the glint of water. He saw people walking about, all dressed in costumes appropriate to the late 19th century — men and women, children, dogs. In the distance he saw a carriage go by, drawn by horses. One of the inhabitants started to stroll slowly, purposefully towards him and he recognized the man's suit. He had seen many such during his previous stay in 1896. Quickly he slipped his hand in his pocket, took out a translator pill and popped it into his mouth. He began to stand up.
"Excuse me, sir," said the man heavily, "but I was wondering as to whether you could read ."
"As a matter of fact," began Jherek, but was cut off.
"Because I was looking at that there notice, not four yards off, which plainly states, if I'm not mistaken, that you are requested not to set foot on this particular stretch of lawn, sir. Therefore, if you would kindly return to the public walk, I for one would be relieved to inform you that you had returned to the path of righteousness and were no longer breaking one of the byelaws of the Royal Borough of Kensington. Moreover, I must point out, sir, that if I was ever to catch you committing the same felony in this here park, I would be forced to take your name and address and see that a notice to appear in court on a particular date was served on you." And the man laughed. "Sorry, sir," he said in a more natural tone, "but you shouldn't really be on the grass."
"Aha!" said Jherek. "I follow. Thank you, um — officer — that's it, isn't it? It was inadvertent…"
"I'm sure it was, sir. You being a Frenchman, by your accent, wouldn't understand our ways. It's more free and easy over there, of course."
Jherek stepped rapidly to the path and began to walk in the direction of a pair of large marble gate-posts he could see in the distance. The policeman fell in beside him, chatting casually about France and other foreign places he had read about. Eventually, he saluted and walked off down another path, leaving Jherek wishing that he had enquired the way to Bromley.
At least, thought Jherek, it was a relief not to be attracting quite so much attention as he had during his last trip to the Dawn Age. People still glanced at him from time to time and he felt rather self-conscious, as one might, but he was able to walk along the street and enjoy the sights without interruption. Carriages, hansoms, dairymen's drays, tradesmen's vans, all went by, filling the air with the creak of axles, the clopping of horses' hooves, the rattling of the wheels. The sun was bright and warm and the smells of the street had a very different quality to the one they had had during Jherek's previous stay. He realized that it must be summer now. He paused to smell some roses which were spilling over the wall of the park. They were beautiful. There was a texture to the scent which he had never been able to reproduce. He inspected the leaves of a cypress and here, too, found that his own work lacked a certain subtlety of detail which was difficult to define. He found himself delighting, even more than before, in the beauties of 1896. He stopped to stare as a two-storeyed omnibus went by, pulled by huge, muscular horses. On the open top deck be-ribboned straw hats nodded, sunshades twirled and blazers blazed; while below, through dusty windows and a confusion of advertisements, sat the dourer travellers, their eyes upon their newspapers and penny magazines. Once or twice a motor car would wheeze past, its exhaust mingling with the dust from the street, its driver swathed in a long coat and white cap, in spite of the heat, and Jherek would watch it in smiling wonderment.
He removed his top hat, wondering why his face seemed damp, and then he realized to his delight that he was sweating . He had witnessed this phenomenon before, in the inhabitants of this period, but had never dreamed of experiencing it personally. Glancing at the faces of the people who passed by — all in different stages of youth or decay, all male or female (without choice, he remembered, with a thrill of excitement) — he saw that many of them were sweating, too. It added to his sense of identification with them. He smiled at them, as if to say "Look, I am like you," but, of course, they did not understand. Some, indeed, frowned at him, while two ladies walking together giggled and blushed.
He continued along the road in a roughly eastward direction, noticing that the traffic grew thicker. The park ended on his left and a fresh one appeared on his right. Boys with bundles of newspapers and placards began to run about shouting, men with long poles began to poke them into lanterns which stood on thin, tall pedestals at regular intervals along the sides of the pavement, and the air became a little cooler, the sky a little darker.
Jherek, realizing that night was falling and that he had become so entranced by the atmosphere that he was, again, in danger of being deflected from his path, decided that it was time to make for Bromley. He remembered that Snoozer Vines had told him that he would need to take a train and that the trains left from somewhere called "Victoria" or possibly "Waterloo."
He went up to a passer-by, a portly gentleman dressed rather like himself who was in the process of purchasing a newspaper from a small boy.
"Excuse me, sir," said Jherek, raising his hat. "I wonder if you would be good enough to help me."
"Certainly, sir, if I can," said the portly gentleman genially, replacing his money in his waistcoat pocket.
"I am trying to reach the town of Bromley, which is in Kent, and I wondered if you knew which train station I would need."
"Well," said the portly gentleman with a frown. "It will either be Victoria or Waterloo, I should think. Or possibly London Bridge. Possibly all three. I would suggest that you purchase a railway guide, sir. I can see from the cut of your jib that you're a stranger to our shores — and an investment, if you intend to travel about this fair island, in a railway guide will pay you handsome dividends in the long run. I am sorry I cannot be of more assistance. Good evening to you." And the portly gentleman rolled away, calling out:
"Cab! Cab!"
Jherek sighed and continued to walk up the busy street which seemed to become increasingly densely populated with every passing moment. He wished that he had mastered the logic of reading when he had had the chance. Mrs. Underwood had tried to teach him, but she had never really explained the principles to his satisfaction. With the logic fully understood, a translation pill would do the rest for him, working its peculiar restructuring effect upon his brain-cells.
He tried to stop several people, but they all seemed too busy to want to talk to him, and at last he reached an intersection crammed with traffic of every description. Bewildered he came to another stop, staring over the hansoms, four-wheelers and carts at the statue of a naked bowman with wings on his ankles, doubtless some heroic aviator who had taken part in the salvation of London during one of its periodic wars with other of the island's city-states. The noise was almost overwhelming, and now darkness added to his confusion. He thought he recognized some of the buildings and landmarks, from his last trip to the past, but he could not be sure. They were inclined to look very much alike. Across the street he saw the gold and crimson front of a house which seemed, for some reason, more as he had originally imagined 19th century houses to be. It had large windows with lace curtains from behind which poured warm gaslight. Other curtains, of red velvet held by cords of woven gold, were drawn back from the windows and from within there came a number of pleasant smells. Jherek decided that he would give up trying to stop one of the busy passers-by and ask for help, instead, at one of these houses. Nervously, he plunged into the traffic, was missed first by an omnibus, then by a hansom cab, then by a four-wheeler, was cursed at roundly by almost everyone and arrived panting and dusty on the other side of the road.
Standing outside the gold and crimson building, Jherek realized that he was not sure of how to begin making his enquiry. He saw a number of people go through the doors as he watched, and concluded that some sort of party was taking place. He went to one of the windows and peered, as best he could, through the lace curtains. Men in black suits very much like his own, but wearing large white aprons around their waists, hurried about, bearing trays of food, while at tables, some large and some small, sat groups of men and women, eating, drinking and talking. It was definitely a party. Here, surely, would be someone who could help him.
At he stared, Jherek saw that at a table in the far corner sat a group of men, dressed in slightly different style to most of the others. They were laughing, pouring foaming wine from large green bottles, having an animated conversation. With a shock, Jherek thought that one of the men, dressed in a light yellow velvet jacket, a loose scarlet cravat covering a good deal of his shirt front, bore a startling resemblance to his old friend Lord Jagged of Canaria. He seemed to be on familiar terms with the other men. At first Jherek told himself that this could only be Lord Jagger, the judge at his trial, and decided that he could see points about the handsome, lazy face which distinguished him from Jagged, but he knew that he deceived himself. Obviously coincidence could explain the resemblance, both of name and features, but here was his opportunity to decide the truth. He left the windows and pushed open the doors of the house.
Immediately a small, dark man approached him.
"Good evening, sir? You have a table?"
"Not with me," said Jherek in some astonishment.
"I can go?"
"You were always an impatient one, Jerry." Nurse laughed affectionately. She still seemed to have it implanted in her that she had brought Jherek up since he had been a young boy. "But — yes — I think you can set off soon. I do hope you're aware of the dangers, however."
"I am, Nurse."
"What on earth are you wearing, my boy? It looks like something I once saw in Tyrant Pecking Pa's remake of the classic David Copperfield Meets the Wolf Man . I considered it rather fanciful, then. But Pecking Pa always ran to emotional authenticity rather than period exactitude, I was told. At least, that's what he used to say. I met him once, you know. Some years ago, when his father was still alive. His father was so different; a gentleman. You wouldn't have known they were related. His father made all those wonderful, charming movies. They were a joy to live through. The whole society took part, of course. You'd be far too young to remember the pleasure of having even a small part in Young Adolf Hitler or The Four Loves of Captain Marvel . When Pecking Pa VIII came to power all the romance vanished. Realism became the rage. And someone suffers, every time, during a Realism period (I mean, who supplies the blood? Not the Tyrant himself!)"
Privately, Jherek Carnelian was very grateful to Pecking Pa VIII for his excesses in the name of Realism. Without them, Nurse would not be here now.
"The stories were pretty much the same, of course," said Nurse, fiddling with some controls and making a screen turn to liquid gold, "only more blood. There, that should do it. I hope there was just the one location for London on this island of yours. It's very small , Jerry." She turned her great metal head to look at him. "What I would call a bit of a low-budget country."
Jherek wasn't, as usual, following her too clearly. But he nodded and smiled.
"Still, small productions quite often produced interesting pictures," said Nurse, with a touch of condescension. "Hop into the box, Jerry, there's a good lad. I'll be sorry to see you go, but I suppose I'll have to get used to it, now. I wonder how many will remember their old Nurse in a few years time. Still, it's a fact of life I have to face. Starlets must become stars some day."
Jherek stepped gingerly into the cylindrical chamber in the middle of the laboratory.
"Goodbye, Jerry," said Nurse's voice from outside, before the buzzing became too loud, "try to remember everything I taught you. Be polite. Listen for your cues. Keep away from casting couches. Camera! Action!"
And the cylinder seemed to begin to spin (though it might have been Jherek spinning). He clapped his hands to his ears to keep out the noise. He groaned. He fainted.
He moved through a country that was all soft, shifting colours and whose people were bodiless, kindly with sweet voices. He fell back and he was falling through the fabric of the ages, down and down to the very beginnings of mankind's long history.
He felt pain, as he had felt it before, but he did not mind it. He knew depressions such as he had never experienced, but they did not concern him. Even the joy which came to him was a joy he did not care about. He knew that he was borne upon the winds of Time and he knew, beyond any question, that at the end of this journey he would be reunited with his lost love, the beautiful Mrs. Amelia Underwood. And when he reached 1896 he would not allow himself to be sidetracked from his great Quest for Bromley, as he had been sidetracked before by Snoozer Vines.
He heard his own voice calling, ecstatic and melodic. "Mrs. Underwood! Mrs. Underwood! I am coming! Coming! Coming!"
And at last the sensation of falling had stopped and he opened his eyes, expecting to find himself still in the cylinder, but he was not. He was lying upon soft grass under a large, warm sun. There were trees and not far off the glint of water. He saw people walking about, all dressed in costumes appropriate to the late 19th century — men and women, children, dogs. In the distance he saw a carriage go by, drawn by horses. One of the inhabitants started to stroll slowly, purposefully towards him and he recognized the man's suit. He had seen many such during his previous stay in 1896. Quickly he slipped his hand in his pocket, took out a translator pill and popped it into his mouth. He began to stand up.
"Excuse me, sir," said the man heavily, "but I was wondering as to whether you could read ."
"As a matter of fact," began Jherek, but was cut off.
"Because I was looking at that there notice, not four yards off, which plainly states, if I'm not mistaken, that you are requested not to set foot on this particular stretch of lawn, sir. Therefore, if you would kindly return to the public walk, I for one would be relieved to inform you that you had returned to the path of righteousness and were no longer breaking one of the byelaws of the Royal Borough of Kensington. Moreover, I must point out, sir, that if I was ever to catch you committing the same felony in this here park, I would be forced to take your name and address and see that a notice to appear in court on a particular date was served on you." And the man laughed. "Sorry, sir," he said in a more natural tone, "but you shouldn't really be on the grass."
"Aha!" said Jherek. "I follow. Thank you, um — officer — that's it, isn't it? It was inadvertent…"
"I'm sure it was, sir. You being a Frenchman, by your accent, wouldn't understand our ways. It's more free and easy over there, of course."
Jherek stepped rapidly to the path and began to walk in the direction of a pair of large marble gate-posts he could see in the distance. The policeman fell in beside him, chatting casually about France and other foreign places he had read about. Eventually, he saluted and walked off down another path, leaving Jherek wishing that he had enquired the way to Bromley.
At least, thought Jherek, it was a relief not to be attracting quite so much attention as he had during his last trip to the Dawn Age. People still glanced at him from time to time and he felt rather self-conscious, as one might, but he was able to walk along the street and enjoy the sights without interruption. Carriages, hansoms, dairymen's drays, tradesmen's vans, all went by, filling the air with the creak of axles, the clopping of horses' hooves, the rattling of the wheels. The sun was bright and warm and the smells of the street had a very different quality to the one they had had during Jherek's previous stay. He realized that it must be summer now. He paused to smell some roses which were spilling over the wall of the park. They were beautiful. There was a texture to the scent which he had never been able to reproduce. He inspected the leaves of a cypress and here, too, found that his own work lacked a certain subtlety of detail which was difficult to define. He found himself delighting, even more than before, in the beauties of 1896. He stopped to stare as a two-storeyed omnibus went by, pulled by huge, muscular horses. On the open top deck be-ribboned straw hats nodded, sunshades twirled and blazers blazed; while below, through dusty windows and a confusion of advertisements, sat the dourer travellers, their eyes upon their newspapers and penny magazines. Once or twice a motor car would wheeze past, its exhaust mingling with the dust from the street, its driver swathed in a long coat and white cap, in spite of the heat, and Jherek would watch it in smiling wonderment.
He removed his top hat, wondering why his face seemed damp, and then he realized to his delight that he was sweating . He had witnessed this phenomenon before, in the inhabitants of this period, but had never dreamed of experiencing it personally. Glancing at the faces of the people who passed by — all in different stages of youth or decay, all male or female (without choice, he remembered, with a thrill of excitement) — he saw that many of them were sweating, too. It added to his sense of identification with them. He smiled at them, as if to say "Look, I am like you," but, of course, they did not understand. Some, indeed, frowned at him, while two ladies walking together giggled and blushed.
He continued along the road in a roughly eastward direction, noticing that the traffic grew thicker. The park ended on his left and a fresh one appeared on his right. Boys with bundles of newspapers and placards began to run about shouting, men with long poles began to poke them into lanterns which stood on thin, tall pedestals at regular intervals along the sides of the pavement, and the air became a little cooler, the sky a little darker.
Jherek, realizing that night was falling and that he had become so entranced by the atmosphere that he was, again, in danger of being deflected from his path, decided that it was time to make for Bromley. He remembered that Snoozer Vines had told him that he would need to take a train and that the trains left from somewhere called "Victoria" or possibly "Waterloo."
He went up to a passer-by, a portly gentleman dressed rather like himself who was in the process of purchasing a newspaper from a small boy.
"Excuse me, sir," said Jherek, raising his hat. "I wonder if you would be good enough to help me."
"Certainly, sir, if I can," said the portly gentleman genially, replacing his money in his waistcoat pocket.
"I am trying to reach the town of Bromley, which is in Kent, and I wondered if you knew which train station I would need."
"Well," said the portly gentleman with a frown. "It will either be Victoria or Waterloo, I should think. Or possibly London Bridge. Possibly all three. I would suggest that you purchase a railway guide, sir. I can see from the cut of your jib that you're a stranger to our shores — and an investment, if you intend to travel about this fair island, in a railway guide will pay you handsome dividends in the long run. I am sorry I cannot be of more assistance. Good evening to you." And the portly gentleman rolled away, calling out:
"Cab! Cab!"
Jherek sighed and continued to walk up the busy street which seemed to become increasingly densely populated with every passing moment. He wished that he had mastered the logic of reading when he had had the chance. Mrs. Underwood had tried to teach him, but she had never really explained the principles to his satisfaction. With the logic fully understood, a translation pill would do the rest for him, working its peculiar restructuring effect upon his brain-cells.
He tried to stop several people, but they all seemed too busy to want to talk to him, and at last he reached an intersection crammed with traffic of every description. Bewildered he came to another stop, staring over the hansoms, four-wheelers and carts at the statue of a naked bowman with wings on his ankles, doubtless some heroic aviator who had taken part in the salvation of London during one of its periodic wars with other of the island's city-states. The noise was almost overwhelming, and now darkness added to his confusion. He thought he recognized some of the buildings and landmarks, from his last trip to the past, but he could not be sure. They were inclined to look very much alike. Across the street he saw the gold and crimson front of a house which seemed, for some reason, more as he had originally imagined 19th century houses to be. It had large windows with lace curtains from behind which poured warm gaslight. Other curtains, of red velvet held by cords of woven gold, were drawn back from the windows and from within there came a number of pleasant smells. Jherek decided that he would give up trying to stop one of the busy passers-by and ask for help, instead, at one of these houses. Nervously, he plunged into the traffic, was missed first by an omnibus, then by a hansom cab, then by a four-wheeler, was cursed at roundly by almost everyone and arrived panting and dusty on the other side of the road.
Standing outside the gold and crimson building, Jherek realized that he was not sure of how to begin making his enquiry. He saw a number of people go through the doors as he watched, and concluded that some sort of party was taking place. He went to one of the windows and peered, as best he could, through the lace curtains. Men in black suits very much like his own, but wearing large white aprons around their waists, hurried about, bearing trays of food, while at tables, some large and some small, sat groups of men and women, eating, drinking and talking. It was definitely a party. Here, surely, would be someone who could help him.
At he stared, Jherek saw that at a table in the far corner sat a group of men, dressed in slightly different style to most of the others. They were laughing, pouring foaming wine from large green bottles, having an animated conversation. With a shock, Jherek thought that one of the men, dressed in a light yellow velvet jacket, a loose scarlet cravat covering a good deal of his shirt front, bore a startling resemblance to his old friend Lord Jagged of Canaria. He seemed to be on familiar terms with the other men. At first Jherek told himself that this could only be Lord Jagger, the judge at his trial, and decided that he could see points about the handsome, lazy face which distinguished him from Jagged, but he knew that he deceived himself. Obviously coincidence could explain the resemblance, both of name and features, but here was his opportunity to decide the truth. He left the windows and pushed open the doors of the house.
Immediately a small, dark man approached him.
"Good evening, sir? You have a table?"
"Not with me," said Jherek in some astonishment.