Infinity Cage (4 page)

The dungeon was quiet once more, with nothing but the distant muted chug of the Holborn Viaduct generator, the whir of computer fans and the clatter-click of hard drives to keep them company. He turned to Bob. ‘So, it’s just the two of us once again, big fella.’

‘Yes, Liam. Just the two of us.’

‘I suppose we’d better start identifying
exactly
where we’re deploying. Biblical Jerusalem, I suppose, is a bit on the finger-in-the-air side.’

‘Recommendation: we identify a specific time first.’

‘Aye. I recall you and Becks had a jolly good go at calculating the start and end times of the beam when we were back in the jungle?’

‘Correct. I have the data stored.’ He reeled off the statistics and figures on his hard drive, then broke the numbers down into the conclusions they’d come to eighteen months ago. The beam in the jungle had appeared to be deliberately directed through the very centre of the earth and out of the other side. Emerging, of all places, in the middle of the city of Jerusalem. More specifically, somewhere beneath the big temple in the city. The decay rate of the tachyons suggested the beam either started, or ended, at the very beginning of the first century.

The time of Christ. Liam wondered whether that was significant or not.

‘You know the ideal time we need to aim for, Bob?’ Liam said. ‘Just before that thing is switched on. Like the day before or something. Perhaps we’ll even catch whoever these people are with their launching-ceremony party hats on, cracking open a bottle of champagne, passing around a bowl of peanuts … or something.’

‘You need me to calculate to a particular day?’ Bob looked at him. ‘I am unable to guarantee that kind of precision, Liam. I can attempt a best-guess calculation, but we may arrive days, weeks or even months before or even
after
the origin time of the beam. This will be an imprecise calculation.’

‘Well, let’s get as close to the beginning as we can. Even if we miss it being turned on, surely one of
them
will be hanging around to make sure that beam thing is working properly, right?’

‘That is a reasonable assumption.’

‘All right, then … you better start working on your numbers.’

Bob nodded. ‘I will commence calculating.’ He closed his eyes.

And, while he was doing that, Liam decided he was going to head on down to the market at the bottom of Farringdon Street and get in whatever useful things he could find for their trip to biblical times. As he headed out through their low door, he decided to pay a visit to the library too, to see if he could find anything about the temple itself; a history of the building perhaps, with information about the sacred ground beneath it.

‘This is not a suitable place,’ said Bob.

Liam nodded. The density graph was spiking every few seconds. He looked at the grainy, pixelated image they’d just snapped from the past. It wasn’t showing them very much: a
section of sun-bleached stone wall and a long hard-edged shadow cast diagonally across it. As far as Liam could make out, the shadow could have been cast by a person, a camel, a palm tree … a large dancing banana … for all they knew. And there was something blurred on the left of the low-resolution image, perhaps someone’s robe or cape swishing past. Whatever it was, this narrow backstreet in the upper city was just as busy as the last half a dozen locations they’d density-tested.

They’d also been experimenting with different times of day. This current time-stamp was at dawn. Their version of seven in the morning. They’d tried midnight, three in the morning, midday – Liam had bet midday would have been quiet. Surely, with the sun at its highest and hottest, things would slow down a little? But no. It seemed Jerusalem was a city that never settled down.

‘Seriously? Don’t these Judaeans ever sleep?’

‘We may have picked a busy period in their year, Liam.’ Bob turned towards the webcam. ‘Computer-Bob, reference the historical database.’

> I am already checking, Bob … one moment … one moment.

Liam grinned. ‘What’s it like talking to a copy of yourself?’

Bob frowned. ‘Which version is the
copy
, Liam … and which is the original?’ He frowned. ‘My AI is inherited from the first organic unit. The one that was incapacitated by Kramer and his men. As was computer-Bob’s. As such, we can both be considered “descendants” of the original AI. However, I have acquired additional first-generation memories, which computer-Bob has inherited and –’

‘All right, all right. Clearly a sore point. Sorry I asked.’ He patted the support unit like a scolded pet. ‘I was just attempting a bit of light-hearted banter there. My mistake, Mr Sulky Pants.’

Bob cocked his head and smiled – unpleasantly. All tombstone teeth and pink gums. ‘As Maddy would say … 
goofing around
?’

‘Yeah … something like that.’

The dialogue box on the monitor in front of them flickered to life.

> Information: the time-stamp you have chosen coincides with a Judaean religious holiday called ‘Passover’. The religious holiday lasts for a week. In first-century Judaea, the city of Jerusalem is a major attraction for the local population to celebrate Passover. Expect this location to be busy.

‘Great.’ Liam sighed. ‘So maybe we’re going to have to head further out.’

> That is recommended.

‘All right, then, I suppose we’ll have to take it outside the city. Computer-Bob, can you find us some quiet place not too far away? I don’t want the same back-breaking hike we had getting to Rome.’

> Affirmative. Checking …

‘By the way …’ Liam turned to Bob. ‘I picked up some things while you were sleeping.’

‘I was
not
sleeping. I was calculating our time-stamp.’

‘Aye, yeah … sure. I bet you calculated that in about three seconds and used the rest of this afternoon to get in an old-man nap.’

Bob’s thick Neanderthal brows knitted together.

‘Just messin’ again.’ He slapped Bob’s shoulder. ‘Now, I got us some clothes that should just about pass as suitable for this time. I should be OK. But, as usual, you’re going to stick out like a brontosaurus.’ He looked at Bob. The support unit’s coarse, springy, wiry hair had grown long enough during their time abroad that it was now hanging in thick corkscrews to his
shoulders. His normally smooth, square jaw had sprouted a thick thatch of dark bristles. Maddy had been nagging the pair of them to get down to the barber’s at the end of the street and tidy themselves up. Rashim, on the other hand, kept his beard meticulously trimmed and his long hair tidy, thus escaping her disapproving scowl. Luckily they hadn’t listened to her. Liam looked at Bob; the scruffy, unkempt look would probably help them. He could imagine Bob passing as some simple-minded gentle giant. Perhaps an ex-Gallic slave.

‘And … I picked up an old goatskin bag, a satchel-type thing, I’ve packed a couple of those torches. Oh, and I bought a second-hand copy of the King James Bible for reference and this … I nicked from the library.’

Liam produced a burgundy-coloured, leatherbound hardcover book.
A Remarkable Exploration Beneath the City of Heaven
, by Sir Richard F. Barton. ‘I flicked through some of this. Some gentleman explorer messing about in the sewers and Roman-era aqueducts. It might be useful.’

‘Liam, the Bible is not a reliable source for historical data.’

He shrugged. ‘You never know. There might be something we can use.’

‘Suggestion: you should download the appropriate language into one of the babel-buds.’

‘Done that … while you were napping.’ He smiled. ‘First-century Hebrew, Greek and Aramaic. You’ll need to download those into your hairy nut too.’

‘I will do that now.’

An hour later, computer-Bob finally came up with a suitable location for them. The slopes of a hill overlooking the city to the east. They examined the pinhole image and saw dry clay-orange ground and the twisted thick trunks of stunted olive trees. In the distance … the cluttered, labyrinthine mess of a
city crammed within the confines of a salmon-pink stone wall. All flat roofs and terraces, narrow streets and crowded marketplaces that shimmered with colour.

‘To be clear … that is Jerusalem, right?’

> Of course.

‘Good, then that looks to me like a short downhill stroll. Good job.’

They ran a density scan and got nothing on the display but a gentle undulation that could have been the swaying of dry grass nearby or a passing bird.

‘I think we’ve got ourselves a winner,’ said Liam. ‘But let’s just be cautious. Let’s go in after dark.’

> Good idea, Liam. I will advance the time-stamp by six hours.

‘All right, computer-Bob, looks like we’re good to go. Can you start charging her up once more, please?’

> Of course, Liam.

Liam settled on the edge of the desk. As soon as the displacement machine was charged, they were ready to go. He found himself staring affectionately at the row of monitors sitting on the bench and at the webcam.

Maddy’s final instructions to computer-Bob had been quite right. A perfectly sensible precaution. If for some reason his expedition to biblical times went wrong, as well as Maddy’s trip to meet Waldstein, then this dark refuge tucked away at the back of the brick labyrinth was destined to remain deserted for years, decades even. But one day, for certain, somebody would force that padlock and enter. What they’d find would be covered in dust. None of it would be functional, of course, but
when
it was discovered would determine how much of a stir it would cause. He imagined someone discovering these inert pieces of technology during, say, the Second World War
would attract the attention of the highest levels of British government. However, someone coming across the same things forty or fifty years later might think they were looking at the abandoned props for some low-budget science-fiction movie, or think it some abandoned backstreet computer workshop.

If both their missions went wrong, computer-Bob was going to have to destroy the displacement machine, completely erase the hard drives and erase himself – an act of digital suicide.

Sorry, ol’ fella
.

He heard the displacement machine starting to hum as it began to accumulate a reservoir of stored energy. The first three charge-indication lights were already flickering amber.

> Caution: preparing to open Maddy’s one-hour window … in ten … nine …

Liam turned to look at the space in the centre of the dungeon where the sphere routinely opened. A part of him was hoping that a few moments from now they’d emerge from the hovering portal. Already confounded by some problem or obstruction or threat, and deciding instead to come along with him and Bob for an adventure in the past.

Space–time suddenly warped into a sphere and a gentle gust of displaced air disturbed the drapes round the hammocks, sending several pieces of paper skittering across the computer table. And there the portal hovered and flexed two feet above the ground. He could see a rippling oil-painting depiction of the future – the sky tones of sickly sepia, the ground a drab, lifeless grey. He couldn’t make out any details clearly, but from what he could see the future was not a particularly colourful or inviting-looking place.

More to the point, he saw no dark silhouettes preparing to
come through. His heart sank a little as he realized they’d already set off on their quest. They were gone.

Just us, then.

The sphere hovered for another few moments, then collapsed with a soft pop.

‘OK, that’s it … now it’s our turn, Bob.’

In silence, they stripped out of their Victorian clothes, Liam carefully folding his smart trousers, morning shirt and waistcoat and placing them on his hammock. Then he pulled over his head and narrow shoulders an extra-large cotton nightshirt that hung down to just above his knees. It looked close enough to the pale-cotton jellaba that he’d researched most Judaeans wore in this time. A pair of leather slippers were as close a match as he could find to sandals.

He looked at Bob. The same-sized nightshirt that hung loosely on Liam was tight round his chest and bulging biceps. The hem hung only as far as his pelvis. Luckily he was wearing a pair of leather breeches. Hardly authentic clothing for the time, but nothing that would catch a person’s attention any more than the sheer ox-like size of him.

Liam reached for the goatskin bag he’d bought from the market. In there were a few essentials he was going to have to keep from prying eyes, the torches in particular.

‘You all ready to go, Bob?’

‘Yes, Liam.’

He turned towards the screen beside him. ‘Computer-Bob?’

> Yes, Liam?

‘Just thought I’d better say, you know … just in case … it’s been an honour and a privilege working with you.’

> Thank you, Liam. It has been an honour working with you also.

The cursor blinked silently for a few seconds before finally jittering across the screen.

> Your last statement suggests you anticipate not coming back?

He was going to say no. That it was nothing. No big deal. Just something nice to say to fill the time. But that would be disingenuous. Computer-Bob wasn’t just a bunch of looping code. He was a friend. A friend who deserved the truth.

‘I certainly intend to return. But I won’t lie … this time it feels like we’re pushing our luck.’

> Maddy’s strategy is a calculated risk. I am sure she will return safely.

‘Really? How can you even begin to predict that?’

He had no idea what they were going to learn from Waldstein, if anything at all. That is, if he didn’t have them wiped out by another group of meatbots ready and waiting to jump them as soon as they came knocking. And, if he
did
lay out some profound revelation before them, what was that going to do to Maddy’s already-troubled mind? Make everything all right once again? Was the truth from him – whatever it was – going to set her free … or send her over the edge?