recover his smug grin. ‘As Fm sure you’re aware, Charles Winslow is known all over London for his insolence. If it weren’t for his father’s money . . .’
A murmur spread through the crowd, drowning his words. Everyone turned to face the back of the room where Gilliam Murray was making his way on to the stage.
Chapter XIX
He was without doubt one of the biggest men Claire had ever seen. From the way the boards creaked under his feet, he must have weighed more than twenty stone, yet his movements were graceful, almost sensual. He was dressed in a smart pale purple suit that shimmered in the light. His wore his wavy hair combed back, and an impeccably tasteful bow tie struggled to fit around his broad neck. His enormous hands, which seemed capable of pulling trees up by the roots, rested on the lectern as he waited – with a patient smile – for the murmur to subside. Once silence had settled over the gathering, draped over it like the dust sheets placed on furniture in houses closed for the season, he cleared his throat loudly and unleashed his smooth baritone voice on his audience.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, there is no need for me to tell you that you are about to take part in the most astonishing event of the century, the second journey through time in history. Today you will break the chains that bind you to the present, avoid the continuity of the hours, confound the laws governing time. Yes, ladies and gentleman, today you will travel through time – something that, until yesterday, man could only dream about. It is my great pleasure to welcome you on behalf of Murray’s Time Travel and to thank you for choosing to take part in our second expedition to the year 2000, which we decided to arrange following the overwhelming success of the first. I guarantee you will not leave here disappointed. As I already mentioned, you will be travelling across the centuries, beyond your lifetime. If this were all Murray’s Time Travel had to offer it would still be worthwhile but, thanks to our efforts, you will also have the chance to witness possibly the most important moment in the history of mankind: the battle between the brave Captain Derek Shackleton and the evil automaton Solomon, whose dreams of conquest you will see perish beneath the captain’s sword.’
Some timid applause broke out in the first row, but Claire felt this owed more to the emphasis the speaker had laid on his last words than to their implication for the gathering, to whom the outcome of this distant war was surely a matter of indifference.
‘Now, if I may, I shall explain in a few simple words the method of travel to the year 2000. We will be journeying in the Cronotilus, a steam tram specially built by our engineers. The vehicle will leave our own time in the present and arrive at midday on the twentieth of May in the year 2000. Naturally, the journey will not take the one hundred and four years separating that date from the present for we shall be travelling outside time – that is to say, through the famous fourth dimension. Although I’m afraid to say, ladies and gentlemen, that you will not see it. When you climb aboard the time-tram, you will notice the windows have been blacked out. This is not because we wish to deny you a glimpse of the fourth dimension, which is nothing more than a vast plain of pink rock, swept by fierce winds where time does not exist. We have covered the windows in your best interests, for the fourth dimension is inhabited by monstrous creatures resembling miniature dragons. They are not friendly. By and large, they keep away from us, but there is always a possibility one may stray too close to the tram for comfort, and we would not wish any ladies to fall into a faint at the sight of so hideous a beast. But have no fear: such an event is very unlikely to occur because these creatures feed exclusively on time. Yes, time is an exquisite delicacy for them, which is why before boarding the tram you are requested to remove your timepieces. This minimises the possibility of their scent attracting any creatures to the vehicle. Moreover, as you will soon see, the Cronotilus has a turret on its roof, where two expert marksmen will ward off any creature that tries to approach. Put this out of your minds, then, and enjoy the trip.
‘In spite of the dangers, the fourth dimension also has some advantages. One of these is that, while you are there, none of you will age for you will be outside time. It is quite possible, dear ladies,’ he said, forcing a smile as he addressed a group of matronly women at the front, ‘that when you return your friends may even say you look younger.’
The women giggled nervously.
‘Now allow me to introduce you to Igor Mazursky,’ he went on, beckoning a short, stout fellow on to the stage. ‘He will be your guide to the year 2000. Once the Cronotilus reaches its destination, Mr Mazursky will lead you through the ruins of London to the promontory where you will witness the battle to decide the fate of the world. Let me reiterate that there is no risk involved in the expedition. Even so, you must obey Mr Mazursky’s instructions at all times to avoid any cause for regret before the journey is over.’
With these words, he flashed a warning look at the crowd and let out a long sigh. Then he adopted a more relaxed, almost dreamy pose at the lectern.
‘I imagine most of you think of the future as an idyllic place, where the skies are filled with flying carriages, and tiny winged cabriolets glide like birds in the wind, where floating cities sail the oceans pulled by mechanical dolphins, where shops sell clothes made of special dirt-repellent fabric, luminous umbrellas and hats that play music while we walk along the street. I don’t blame you. I also envisaged the year 2000 as a technological paradise in which man would have built a secure, just world in which he lived harmoniously with his fellow man and with Mother Nature. After all, it is a fairly logical assumption to make, given the unstoppable advances of science, the endless miraculous inventions that emerge every day to simplify our lives. Unfortunately we now know this isn’t true. The year 2000 is no paradise, I’m afraid. Quite the contrary, as you will presently witness with your own eyes. Rest assured, when you return most of you will feel relieved to be living in our time, however tiresome you may find it. For, as you will know from reading our brochure, in the year 2000 the world is ruled by automatons and the human race is, to put it mildly, considered dispensable. The truth is that the human population has been decimated, and those left are struggling against total extinction. This and no other is the discouraging future awaiting us.’
Gilliam Murray made a dramatic pause to allow the audience to stew in the doom-laden silence.
‘I imagine you must find it hard to believe the planet could be taken over by automatons. We have all seen examples of these harmless replicas of men and animals at exhibitions and fairs, and no doubt some of your own children can boast the odd mechanical doll among their toys, as can mine. But has it ever occurred to you that these ingenious artefacts might one day take on a life of their own and pose a threat to the human race? No, of course not. And yet I regret to say that they will. Now, I don’t know about you, but I can’t help seeing in this a sort of poetic justice meted out by God to teach man a lesson for having attempted to emulate him by creating life.’
He paused again, taking the opportunity to cast a sorrowful eye over the hall, satisfied with the spine-tingling effect his words were having on the assembly.
‘Thanks to our research we have been able to reconstruct the disastrous events that led the world into this terrible situation. Allow me, ladies and gentlemen, to take a few moments of your time to relate to you in the past tense something that has not yet happened.’
With these words, Gilliam Murray fell silent once more. Then he cleared his throat and began the story of how the automatons had conquered the planet. Although sadly true, it could easily have been the plot of one of the voguish so-called science-fiction novels, and that is the way I will tell it, provided you have no objections.
In the years leading up to the mid-twentieth century, the production of
