Trace Memory

'You were thirty-one,' said Jack, smiling.

'Thirty-one,' said the old man, chuckling to himself. 'Thirty-one, indeed. I'd just come back from the Boer War, and I was just as lost as you are now, I'll wager. Now look at us. You'd reckon he was my grandson.' Sam looked down at his liver-spotted hands. 'It's a funny old thing, getting old. For those of us who do, that is.' And now he shot a smile at Jack and winked. 'Handsome devil, isn't he?' he said to Michael. 'Bit of a charmer too. Never went on in my day, of course…' And he winked again.

'OK,' said Jack. 'We need to go. But thanks. I'll see you around some time.'

Sam looked up towards the ceiling once more, his brow furrowed, and then back at Jack.

'Yes,' he said. 'You most certainly will.'

As they were about to leave him, Sam reached out and held Michael's hand.

'So lost,' he said, his face crumpling into a sad smile. 'But so brave. Safe travels, my friend.'

They were walking down the steps of the museum before Michael spoke again.

'What did he mean?' he asked. 'And how does he do that? How does he know things?'

'Because he's Sam,' said Jack. 'And sometimes it's best not to ask. Sometimes you just have to accept things as they are.'

Once they'd left the museum, they walked for a while around a nearby park, enjoying the last of summer, and Jack told Michael about the things that would happen in the world.

Two years from now,' he said, 'man walks on the moon for the very first time.'

'The moon?' said Michael. 'Now I know you're making it up. The moon?'

Jack nodded. 'Uh-huh. He flies all the way to the moon. It takes them three days just to fly there, travelling faster than any car or plane ever did, on top of a giant rocket, and when he gets there, do you know what he finds?'

'Aliens?' asked Michael.

'No,' said Jack, laughing. 'He finds nothing. Just rocks, and a big black sky. You know, the moon is so small that when the first men are just standing there they can see its curvature, so that everywhere they look, it's curved, like they're just standing on this cold ball of rock in the middle of a black void. But do you know what else they can see?'

Michael shook his head.

'They can see the Earth,' said Jack. 'They can look up at the sky, and they can see the Earth, and they can blot it out with their thumb. Everything they know, every country, every single human being alive except themselves, and it can be blotted out with their thumb. But other than that, all they can see is black sky and that cold little rock.'

'So what's the point?' asked Michael. 'I mean, if there's nothing else up there. Why go?'

'Because they don't stop there. In a couple of hundred years there are ships, like the ships that you saw in the docks, only bigger, floating through the black sky, finding other places, and those places are much more interesting. Believe me… Boy, some of them are very interesting.'

'Hey…' said Michael. 'You told me I couldn't tell you anything about the future, and now you're telling me this.'

'I told you you couldn't tell me anything about my future,' said Jack. 'That's different. Nobody should know what's waiting for them. If you knew your future, why… it would take all the fun out of living.'

'But what about Sam? You asked him questions about the future.'

Jack frowned, looking up at the sky for an easy answer. Then he smiled and ruffled Michael's hair.

'Well, sometimes you have to cheat a little,' he said.

It was starting to get dark when they arrived on the inaccurately named 'Island' at Barry-in reality a peninsula that had long been linked to the mainland with the construction of the docks. A chilled late-summer breeze passed along the promenade, where Jack and Michael sat, looking out at the sea.

'Is it like this?' Michael asked. 'When you're looking out at space, I mean? Is it like when I'm looking at the sea?'

Jack nodded. 'Yeah, I guess,' he said. 'Depends what it's like when you're looking at the sea.'

Michael looked back at the ocean and frowned, deep in thought.

'It's like I can go anywhere,' he said after a while. 'Sometimes, when I was working, I'd be up on one of the cranes, looking at the sea, and it was like you could see for ever. I kept thinking maybe, if I squinted my eyes, I'd be able to see America, on the horizon, but I couldn't.'

Jack laughed. 'No,' he said. 'Well, America's a few thousand miles thataway.' He pointed out toward the horizon. 'And the Earth is round, so you won't see it.'

'Are you making fun of me?'

'No,' he said, laughing again. As if I would.'

'But that's what it was like,' said Michael. 'That's why I always wondered whether I should just join up with the Merchant Navy, get on a boat and go out there, go anywhere. I could see America, and China, and Japan. I could go places where I wouldn't feel so…' He shrugged. 'I don't know… different.'

'Yeah,' said Jack. 'I know that feeling.' He looked at his watch. 'Ten to nine,' he said. And it's already getting dark. Summer's almost over, I guess. Another summer, anyway.'

'How many summers have you seen, Jack?' asked Michael.

'A lot of summers,' said Jack. 'Too many to count. Some good, some bad. And on lots of different planets.'

'Really? You've really been to lots of different planets?'

Jack nodded, and Michael laughed.

'You know, a few days ago I'd have said you were gone in the head, but now… I don't know…' He looked up at a moon that was almost full, hanging on the darker edges of the sky. 'Two years?' he said. 'Two more years and man's walking on that thing?'

'Walking,' said Jack, 'playing golf, looking at the rocks. It's a start, at least.'

He looked at Michael with a soulful, almost apologetic gaze.

'I've got to go,' he said. 'To see people.'

'I'll come with you,' said Michael.

'Oh, no. You're staying here. I won't be long.'

'But you said you were going to ask questions and get answers,' said Michael. 'What if I've got questions? I'm tired of not knowing anything, Jack. I'm tired of running away from things, from people, and monsters. I'm tired of being on my own.'

Jack nodded.

'OK,' he said. 'But stay out of trouble. If anything happens, you run, OK? Don't worry about me.'

'I said I'm tired of running,' said Michael. 'And I meant it.'

They walked up an embankment towards the funfair. It had, Jack supposed, seen better days; rickety rollercoasters and a decrepit Ghost Train decorated with painted images of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. The whole place was illuminated by the flashing lights of the rides and the amusement arcades, its soundtrack one of howling sirens, ringing bells, and the chaotic strains of 'Surfin' Bird' by The Trashmen. Any other night and Jack might have been able to cut loose and enjoy it for what it was worth, take in the sweet smell of hot dogs and candyfloss, and take it on its own terms, but not tonight. Tonight there was something sinister about the noise and the lights and the shuffling crowds.

'We came here once,' said Michael, 'when we were kids. Dad said we couldn't afford to come every year.'

But Jack was no longer listening; he was scanning the faces of the crowd, looking for… looking for…

Hugo.

Hugo Faulkner stood beside the dodgem cars, still dressed immaculately in a pinstriped suit, holding an oversized lollipop. He'd been watching them the whole time.

Jack paced across the funfair and Michael followed.

'Jack!' said Hugo, smiling. 'And you've brought a little friend with you. How nice. Though that wasn't a part of our arrangement.'