Taurus Class
Pendelshape sat back and clasped his hands behind his head while he continued his extraordinary story. “About fifteen years ago, a small group of physicists, associated with the nuclear research facility at CERN, near Geneva, conducted the first practical experiments in time travel. At first, very simple non-organic structures were transported backwards and forwards through space and time. Then, we started to experiment with more complex structures. We then moved on to the first organic material, then living creatures… and, finally, a human being. Up to this point the level of excitement among the group was incredible, as you can imagine. But then, one of the leaders of the group, Counsellor Inchquin, started to think seriously about the power of what they had created. Here was a technology that had the potential to change the past, and thereby change the future. In the wrong hands, or, even in the right hands, this could be catastrophic.” He paused. “Think about it.”
“You’re right, you could go back and steal some money, no one would know…” Angus said, intrigued.
“Of course. But I’m afraid that’s the least of it. Think about the pivotal moments of history, some of which have rested on small, even chance, events that have had huge consequences. These are the ‘what ifs’ of our history.” Pendelshape’s eyes opened wide in enthusiasm. “Think about it: what if Hitler had been killed in the First World War and had not become the leader of Germany? What if Gavrilo Princip had not assassinated Archduke Ferdinand? The list is of course endless — and fascinating. The consequences for us and for future generations, however, are difficult to comprehend.”
Jack spoke slowly, trying to understand what he was hearing, “So you’re saying that these scientists created this thing… the power to time travel… but decided not to use it?”
Pendelshape replied sadly, “It was debated. Despite the computer simulations that we could create to model the consequences of any changes made in history, most felt that it was too risky and that no one should be given the chance to exercise such power. Counsellor Inchquin felt this most strongly and led the group with this point of view.”
“Who won the argument?” Angus asked, engrossed.
“Who do you think?” Pendelshape said. “In the end it was decided that, although it was not possible to ‘un- invent’ the technology, it was possible to control it. VIGIL was formed and everyone agreed to abide by a strict set of rules. A code of conduct if you like. It came to be known as ‘The VIGIL Imperative’. All those in the know were forced to abide by it. The early Taurus experimental facility was closed down and, outside of a select group, it was suggested that the project had been an abject failure.”
Jack looked around, “What’s this place then?”
“It’s a replica Taurus made using components from the original machine. Although you don’t know it, yours is a rather special school: it secretly houses a working Taurus. All members of VIGIL have moved on to rather mundane jobs. I, for example, am now your history teacher. Rather appropriate don’t you think? And our Rector, himself a brilliant scientist, finds himself here as head teacher — during term time at least. But in fact he has a much weightier responsibility: to keep this facility permanently mothballed and secret, yet in working order so that the technology is preserved.”
“Why not just destroy it altogether?”
“That was certainly an option — but in the end the people who had worked so hard could not quite bring themselves to go that far. It was also anticipated that in the future, there might possibly be scenarios where it could be necessary to use Taurus. We might not even know now what these scenarios could be, but science moves very fast. It seemed sensible at least to retain the option to use it. But that’s not all…”
“There’s more?”
“Yes. There was also a small group with a different point of view to Inchquin and the others. They were led by the Benefactor and they believed that the technology could and should be used as a force for good.” Pendelshape paused for a moment and eyed Jack with an odd, enquiring look. He seemed to be thinking about something and lost concentration for a moment.
“Benefactor — that was the name in your email,” Jack said.
“Yes, Jack… and…” but before Pendelshape could continue, Angus butted in.
“OK, hold it right there, sir… I’m not sure what this place is, but I have to tell you I’m finding it difficult to believe all this…” he glanced at Jack. “Very difficult — it’s a big joke — right?”
Pendelshape’s eyes flashed in frustration. “Wrong. I know, Angus, it’s a lot to take in. But I must ask you to try. It is quite important… for us all. As you are about to find out. However, I agree it is reasonable to ask for some proof…” He looked round the room, then stood up and walked over to one of the shelves and started leafing through a thin folder.
“Here. Maybe this will do it.”
Pendelshape produced a small photograph and handed it to them.
“So, Jack, remember our lessons on the First World War, the assassination in Sarajevo, the Black Hand… Gavrilo Princip… and all that…?” He looked down at the photograph knowingly, “Well…?”
Jack suddenly realised what he was looking at. His heart jolted. It couldn’t be. But the image was unmistakable.
It was an old black-and-white photo of four young men — grim faced and serious. One of them was the assassin from Sarajevo that Jack had seen in one of the early levels of
Jack slowly raised his eyes to Pendelshape who smiled knowingly at him.
“So you see, boys, this photo was taken in Belgrade in the Balkans… in 1914. And no, it’s not a fake or a digital enhancement. It’s real. There’s me on the left. On the right is Gavrilo Princip, the man who shot Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo and triggered the First World War. To the left of Princip are two of the other assassins — Grabez and Cabrinovic.”
“And what about him?” Angus pointed to the fourth man standing next to Pendelshape.
“Dani Matronovic. Lesser known — was killed before the assassination. History does not relate what happened to him. His sister took the photo,” his eyes glossed over for a moment. “Pretty girl… Anna.”
Pendelshape flipped over the photo. “Their names are on the back — look.”
Sure enough on the back of the photo, in Pendelshape’s distinctive scrawl, were scribbled the words — ‘Belgrade, Serbia, 1914’, followed by the names: ‘Princip, Grabez, Cabrinovic, Matronovic.’
Angus just couldn’t believe it, “So you’ve gone back in time using that… thing?” He looked over at the Taurus brooding silently behind the green glass of the blast screen.
“Yes, Angus. Even though the purpose of VIGIL is to preserve the technology — and not to use it — everything still had to be fully tested. No point in deciding to keep the technology — unless you know it will work.”
“But why did you go back then, you know, to 1914?” Jack asked.
Pendelshape shrugged, “It was a pivotal point in history.”
“Why you? Why did they choose you?”
“I’m the historian, anyway, I thought it would be interesting…” Pendelshape’s eyes glazed over as he added, dreamily, “and I was right. It was incredible, to see even a tiny piece of what you had learned from a textbook, to see it, to smell it…” He smiled. “Keep the photo if you like.”
Jack took it gingerly, as if handling a precious jewel, and stared at it silently for a moment longer, before putting it carefully in his bag.
Pendelshape pressed on more quickly now, trying to bypass interruptions from his bewildered pupils. He revealed more about VIGIL. He explained how the idea of hiding the Taurus in a school had worked well — the initial refurbishment of the school had been a good front for the early building work, with holiday periods providing quiet time for research and maintenance, and, of course, it was easy to maintain a staff of teachers, who were, in reality, scientists from the original Taurus team. It had taken them some time to identify an appropriate home for the
