The Very First Damned Thing Read Free

uncomfortable-looking chairs were screwed to the floor in front of the console. A row of lockers ran along the back wall, and in the far corner, a narrow door led into the toilet.
    The tiny space smelled of stale people, chemicals, hot electrics, damp carpet, and cabbage.
    â€˜I have room for one passenger to sit alongside me in relative comfort,’ said Dr Bairstow. ‘Perhaps, madam, you would like to take advantage of our meagre facilities. I’m sure I don’t have to impress upon you the importance of not touching anything.’
    Somewhat gingerly, Mrs Green seated herself and looked around.
    â€˜It’s a little bit …’
    â€˜Cramped?’
    â€˜Yes, but that wasn’t what I meant.’
    â€˜Ah. You mean the smell.’
    She smiled slightly. ‘Well, I didn’t want to be rude …’
    â€˜Yes, my profound apologies, but it is a complete mystery to us. We have no idea whence the cabbage smell emanates. We have, in the past, constructed new pods and the next day we are overwhelmed by the aroma of cabbage. One of the great unsolved mysteries of the universe, I’m afraid. You will soon grow accustomed.’
    As he was speaking, his hands were moving over the console. Lights flashed. ‘Computer.’
    The computer chirped acknowledgement.
    His passengers, as one man, looked apprehensively towards the door.
    Dr Bairstow said, in what he liked to think of as reassuring tones, ‘Please do not be alarmed. In the unlikely event of anything going wrong, we will certainly never know anything about it.’
    Mrs Green gripped the console with both hands.
    â€˜There really is no need to hold so tightly. I am rather good at this. Computer, initiate jump.
    The world went white.
    Inside the pod, complete silence reigned.
    â€˜You can open your eyes, now,’ said Dr Bairstow in some amusement.
    Four considerably shaken people opened their eyes.
    Major Guthrie said hoarsely, ‘Did something happen? We didn’t move.’
    â€˜I told you I was rather good at this. Allow me to activate the screen.’
    Four people stared speechlessly at the screen.
    Thousands of tiny figures moved purposefully around a vast landscape. In silence. Cannons fired puffs of silent white smoke. Charging horses thundered silently across the screen. Chaos reigned quietly.
    â€˜Dear … God,’ said Mr Brown, unable to tear his eyes away.
    Mr Black, however, was made of sterner stuff. ‘I don’t believe it. I don’t believe we’ve moved at all. This is just some holo projection and …’
    Dr Bairstow said, ‘Door.’
    The door opened, letting in the sights, sounds, and smells of one of the major battles of the 19 th century. Thousands of voices rose over the sound of cannon fire. The thunder of hooves caused the ground to shake. The sharp smell of gunpowder hung in the air.
    As if in a dream, arm outstretched like a blind man, Mr Brown moved slowly towards the open door.
    â€˜Everyone please remain where you are,’ said Major Guthrie sharply, drawing his weapon.
    Dr Bairstow closed the door and rose from his seat. ‘Major, I must ask you to surrender your weapon.’
    â€˜I’m afraid I’m quite unable to do that, sir.’
    â€˜I accept your instinct and training make it difficult for you to comply, but one of our cardinal rules is that no harm must ever come to a contemporary at our hands. I cannot emphasise the importance of that rule too strongly. If your life is in danger you may take steps to protect yourself with pepper spray, or a stun gun of some kind, but you must understand that killing a contemporary can have the gravest consequences. Please remember it is well known that the act of observing changes that which is being observed. We always, therefore, try to keep our interaction with contemporaries to an absolute minimum. Our primary function is to observe, record, and document. Nothing else. Therefore, Major,