Chapter Twenty

Also not her. 

The Character From a Science Fiction Novel That Has Yet To Be Written and Himself – or Herself – [fashioned] a time machine out of discarded action figures, flippant remarks, and bits of the Parthian Empire.  They [christened] their invention The Salamander, and from their vantage point in the distant and present future they [set] out on a journey of exploration into the past, or maybe the future, or maybe the present.

        In order to achieve trans-temporal velocities, The Salamander must first reach the Speed of Transcendence, which is the fastest velocity not yet known to Man.  At this Speed of Transcendence, it is able to pass around the curvature of the entire universe, and thus arrive at an age far removed from their present future.

        The only difficulty [lies] in leaving the time machine.  Due to quantum interference, the travelers [will pass] into a dimension so small as to be beneath others’ notice, and this [will make] observations in a previous past time a challenge.  The Character From a Science Fiction Novel That Has Yet To Be Written [believes] that he [is] able to overcome this obstacle, though Himself (or Herself) [has] his (or her) doubts.

IF THEY JOURNEY INTO THE FUTURE, REMAIN ON THIS PAGE

IF THEY JOURNEY INTO THE PAST, REMAIN ON THIS PAGE

[Arriving] at their destination, the two time travelers [find] themselves (or themself) in the Middle Ages.  They [are] in a monk’s cell somewhere, probably in northern Europe, and the stench of a chamber pot [emanates] from the corner of the room.

        Two men [tower] above them, and both [are] dressed in black robes crawling with white lice.  It [is] early evening, and candles [have been] lit throughout the small chamber.  Through the flickering light they [see] damp stone walls, a bed of straw, and a primitive sort of chair.  There [are] no windows in the room, only a thick wooden door that [leads] into a dim hallway.

        The larger of the two figures [is] an older man with a hairless head and a clean shaven face.  His age [is] hard to determine because of both the insufficient light and the griminess of his person.  The smaller of the two figures [wears] the monastic tonsure, and [sports] a long black beard streaked with gray.  It [is] the smaller man who [is] talking.  He [speaks] with a deep bass, and his tone [is] that of an inferior speaking to a superior.

        “Quite interesting,” [says] Himself (or Herself), “It seems that they are speaking to one another in Latin.  I can’t make out everything they say, but fortunately we brought our Miraculous Translating Machine with us, which is able to translate any language without needing to make any sense of what people are saying.”

        “Yes,” [says] The Character From a Science Fiction Novel That Has Yet To Be Written, “But you will need to hold the microphone closer.  At this size it’s like trying to hear a conversation in another galaxy.  Not only are the room and the people in it beyond our visual comprehension, but at this size the sound of their voices – lacking proper instruments – would be quite beyond us.”

        Himself (or Herself) [adjusts] the microphone – which might just as well be called a macrophone – in the proper direction, and the two [listen] intently.

“…I have never seen such a one as this.  We place her in the flames, and she curses us.  We stretch her upon the rack, but she will not confess her heresy.  She does not understand that it is not for our own sakes that we do this.  She does not understand that it is only for the greater glory of God that we scourge her, so that she might be set on the path that leads toward the true doctrines and teachings of our sovereign lord Jesus Christ.

        “She came unto us many days ago, and has resided here within the keep since her arrival.  I have assigned the most skillful of torturers to her case, so that she might be more swiftly made to understand the nature of her sins.  On the first day we saw fit to deprive her of food and water, and on the second day one of our torturers applied the whip.  This was done in the most judicious fashion.  

“I myself oversaw the whipping, and I myself witnessed her obstinacy.  She bears a heavy weight of transgression upon her shoulders.  The woman even cursed the name of our Holy Mother Church, and commanded us to desist from our interrogations.  Of course we knew that there was no way for us to do so, as we are all true men of the Church Triumphant, brothers in Christ, and too merciful to give up on her so easily.

        “It was the villagers that brought her to us.  It was reported that on several occasions she was seen in the company of a man who was not her husband, and that she had followed this man into the depths of the forest, where their doings could not be discovered.  This man wore upon his breast a strange manner of cross, with eight points, and other items of jewelry, all of unknown manufacture.  We have sent brothers into the forest to look for this man, though he has thus far eluded us.  That she has lain with this man after the manner of a wife with her husband is common knowledge in the village, and her husband has even delivered to us items that this other man brought into their shared abode.

        “The woman speaks strangely.  I have investigated countless other witches and warlocks on behalf of the Church, and I am convinced that this woman possesses knowledge of some strange, black art that is not easily understood.  She persists in the claim that she has been faithful to her husband, despite evidence to the contrary.  At this time there are too many details pointing toward her guilt, and she has done little to refute the veracity of these details.  It would help our cause greatly if she could produce the man, but she seems to have no knowledge of his present whereabouts.

        “In the end it matters little, however, for the Lord will be glorified, and Satan will be cast out.  We will not forsake this poor, troubled soul in her hour of need.  Her redemption at our hands will be both an example and a warning to many others.”

“How interesting,” [says] The Character From a Science Fiction Novel That Has Yet To Be Written, “But I’m wondering if they will still think the same way in a hundred years or so.  Their faith in the unobservable is admirable, but I’m wondering if this lack of empiricism is common to the age, or only common to these two men.”

        “An interesting question,” [says] Himself (or Herself), “But will these two men be alive in a hundred years?  I don’t think that humans lived so long in this era.”

        “Your guess is as good as mine,” [says] The Character From a Science Fiction Novel That Has Yet To Be Written, “But anyway, I’m growing bored of all this torturing and religious mystification, and the smell from that chamber pot is also starting to bother me – even at this size.  Let’s set the dial for a hundred years on, and see if they are still here, and if so, whether or not they are still obsessed with the same articles of faith and sexuality.”

        “Fair enough,” [says] Himself (or Herself) as they [set] the controls for a hundred years on.  “From this time it will take no time at all to reach that time.”

        [Arriving] at their next destination, the two time travelers [steer] a course for the pews.  The church they [occupy] seems to belong to the early colonial phase of American history, though Himself (or Herself) [expresses] doubts as to their exact location on the time axis.  It [is] another small space – or it [would be] a small space, if they [were] larger than a quark – with rows of wooden benches [looking] upon a simple altar where a cross [sits] upon a blue cloth.  Bodies [move] around them – the immense forms of the parishioners - and The Character From a Science Fiction Novel That Has Yet To Be Written [takes] a moment to look up at the ceiling timbers, and to admire the way the sunlight [passes] through the imperfections in the window glass.

        “I see we are in a church,” [says] The Character From a Science Fiction Novel That Has Yet To Be Written, “And that the pastor is addressing his congregation.  It would seem that faith still holds a place in their future.  And yet these people are slightly cleaner, and I have yet to detect the stench of any chamber pot.”

“It is also written within the pages of our Bible that the world was made in six days, and that on the seventh day the Lord rested.  After this he created Man, and from Man, Woman, and Woman was tempted by the serpent, so that mankind was cast from Eden, and the Lord placed a flaming sword before the entrance thereto.  This sword turned every which way, and prevented our return to paradise on Earth.  In this way God, in His infinite wisdom, saw fit to throw us upon our own resources, which we do now in this New World, so that we might partake of the fruits of our labors, giving the greater part thereof unto the glory of the Lord, as for a thanksgiving.”

As the pastor [takes] a moment to clear his throat, the two time travelers [debate] their next destination.  The Character From a Science Fiction Novel That Has Yet To Be Written [wants] to travel a hundred more years into the future past, while Himself (or Herself) [wants] to go backwards (or is it forwards?) and observe some of the dinosaurs firsthand.

        They [argue] until the pastor [finishes] his oration, and all of the parishioners [have] left the church.  Minutes or millennia later or before they [are] struck by a past future version of themselves, or rather The Single Omnipresent Electron That Is Moving Backward In Time, and they [begin] to realize that love – and not a cruel kind of fortitude – might just be the answer to a world that is coming to an end.

“Oh well,” says one of the time travelers, “At least we have escaped the fate of men in long gone ages.  We will be smashed to bits by a subatomic particle, and this, at least, is something new.”

        “I’m not so sure,” says the other as if to himself (or herself) “We may have just repeated their mistakes in a different form, and on a smaller scale.  The mistakes they have made live on in our chemistry, and it may be heredity, if not from the beginning destiny, that wins the day.  However we might have bounded through time, the same clock would have been ticking.  And even cells so small can hold us.”

TO GIVE THANKS TO THE INEVITABLE, TURN TO THE NEXT PAGE

TO WALLOW IN THE MISTAKES OF PREVIOUS GENERATIONS, TURN TO THE NEXT PAGE