The Man Of One Million Years (2 page)

Benjamin Rutherford furrowed his brow and did not even attempt to disguise his confusion. The professor did not seem to notice. “All my life, Captain Rutherford,” said Harley emphatically. “I have strived to understand perfection, to create a being of the most perfect wisdom who is able to answer all of the fundamental questions of our universe. To this end I have conducted many experiments and at last I believe I have found an answer.” He leaned forward and his voice became a whisper. “What I have done, you see, is to create a chamber in which the particles control time itself, in which they do not age with time but rather exist in a state of constant harmony. Everything within that chamber is as it is, and will remain how it is for
ever. It cannot be damaged, it cannot be destroyed. Do you know what this means, Captain Rutherford?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“It means I can at last begin to create the perfect being!” Exclaimed Harley emphatically. “For this is no ordinary chamber I have created, rather it contains everything one could possibly require to obtain perfection! On a computer within that chamber is a database containing every printed work ever written, computerised in digital form. There is also an antenna within the chamber that will download to type format every spoken and printed word as it comes in, so that one can keep up with progress without being corrupted by the outside world. But best of all I have invented a giant computer programme within the chamber, a sort of computer game if you will. I call it the God Simulator. I created it by downloading the entire database of the British Library and have fed into it every feasible scenario that could possibly take place in our universe, as our current laws of physics understand it. With the God Simulator you can make any command you desire. You can simulate the creation and advancement of intelligent life, build rivers and mountains – plants and suns, an entire universe of your own making. There are no limits! With this simulator to learn from, and with the knowledge of the entire world, one could remain in that chamber for a million years and emerge at last into the sunlight as the supreme being!”

“As God you mean?” Said Benjamin, his eyes wide open. “You mean you wish to create a man to become God.”

“I believe it is possible,” replied the professor. “And I would like to offer you the opportunity. I do not deny it will be difficult. You will face trials the like of which no man has ever faced, for you will feel yourself to be immortal. But afterwards, oh but you could control the world, Captain Rutherford. Just think of it!”

“So what would you have me do?”

“Just stay there, in the chamber that I have created” replied the professor. “There is actually a great deal to be done in there, more than there is to be done within four walls anywhere else in the world. If you are hedonistic you will be provided for. Likewise if you are studious, religious, romantic or psychopathic – and you will be all of these things at some point or another.”

Benjamin’s face became serious. “I think you are quite mad,” he remarked.

“Of course you do,” replied the professor calmly. “And I do not blame you for thinking that, because you do not understand what I am saying. Your mind simply cannot comprehend the enormity of what I am saying. Of course you think me mad.”

Benjamin Rutherford thought carefully for a moment.
“Like I say,” he said at last. “I do not believe for a moment you have the means to carry out what you have just described, not that I understood half of it anyway. However before you came into the room I was five minutes away from discharging myself from hospital and jumping off a bridge. You have, at the very least, got my attention. I do not believe a word you are saying but I am nonetheless willing to play along with your game. I have no family, no career. Nothing, in short, to lose.”

Thus did Benjamin Rutherford allow himself to become persuaded, and it was easy. Harley Huxtable, with his great mind, had counted on nothing less. He had chosen Benjamin Rutherford precisely because of the former captain’s fragile mental state, because he had all but given up, his mind was no longer with the conventional world and could thus be moulded and led like a pliant sheep. The morality of the situation was lost on the professor. He had long since ceased to care about society’s scruples. All was fair in the quest for the greater good of bringing his life’s work to fruition.

Two weeks later Harley Huxtable and Benjamin Rutherford met near the same mountain in the Scottish Highlands where Harley had concealed the chamber all those months before. “This rock formation is geologically secure,” said Harley as he led the way down the darkened tunnel. “It has not changed in almost fifty million years and it is not likely to do so either. It may be submerged by rising sea levels in time but it will not vanish altogether. And even it did this chamber is made of the strongest material imaginable – why it would survive a nuclear explosion.”

“I was not sure whether I would come or not,” said Benjamin vaguely, not really paying attention
and speaking more to himself than the professor. “In the end I thought what the hell, I’ll play along for now. A few weeks by myself in complete solitude, away from the world and all its ills and playing computer games – the perfect escape.”
“I can see you still doubt me, Captain Rutherford,” said Harley, not sounding at all bothered. “Rest assured I am true to my word. You may not yet realise the huge impact you are eventually to have upon mankind, or perhaps you just cannot cope with the timescale involved. Either way you are to enter the chamber and that is good enough for me.”

“And do I have a get out clause?” Asked Benjamin. “If I don’t like it can I leave whenever I want?”

“You will not want to leave,” replied the professor confidently. “But if anything does go wrong whilst I am alive I will of course take steps to assist you.”

“Well I suppose that’s something.”

Steep steps led downwards to a heavy looking metal door that reminded Benjamin of a bank vault. The professor produced a large wheel and inserted it into a cog, turned it hard. The door swung open. Another door of exactly the same type stood before them. “This is the entrance,” explained Harley as he closed the first door behind them. “This door is simply to avoid corrupting the atmosphere of the chamber.” He inserted the wheel into the cog of the new door, turned it and it swung open. “If you please.”

Benjamin smiled sardonically as he stepped into the chamber. “See you in a million years,” he muttered as the door swung shut behind him.

Harley
Huxtable walked back up the steep stone steps, along the stone passageway and out into the open. Over the next two days large mixing lorries poured concrete into the entrance to the chamber until it was completely filled in. The professor purchased himself a cottage in the nearest village and phoned the university to resign from each of his posts. He ordered a few possessions be brought up from his farmhouse in Oxfordshire and made arrangements for the farmhouse to be sold. Then he ensconced himself in the attic bedroom of his cottage and determined never to be seen in public again.

Benjamin turned back towards the door and found there was no handle attached to it. It was just a smooth piece of what appeared to be wood. It did not budge when he pushed against it. Benjamin did not harbour any especial desire to escape, simply to test out the parameters of what was, for the time being, his prison. The chamber was like a well-furnished, spacious middle class living room with plastered magnolia walls and comfortable furnishings, a settee and an easy chair set out near the centre before a large Persian style carpet. A large and elaborate looking chandelier hung down from the ceiling. A huge screen dominated an entire wall. Stairs led upwards to a mezzanine floor which contained a large circular structure shaped like a circus big top. Benjamin approached the circular structure which whirred and buzzed. A door was set into the side. Benjamin reached out to open it then stopped himself. This must be the God Simulator, he told himself, and he was not ready to enter that just yet. Underneath the mezzanine floor was a sleeping area complete with double bed and chest of drawers. The computer was set just before the stairs to the mezzanine floor and appeared to be attached to the giant screen. Next to it lay a portable reading tablet. An old fashioned grandfather clock stood not far from the computer. Below it was a timer which counted how long had passed since his confinement. Two minutes so far. To the right was what appeared to be a window, for there were curtains across it and sunlight seemed to stream in. But when Benjamin investigated further he found that it was in fact an artificial light source there to simulate sunlight which could be turned up or down as required and even had a full and half-moon setting. A closed off area leading to what was presumably a bathroom stood to the near right hand side. Of the fabled antenna there was no sign. Benjamin assumed that if it existed at all it must be on the outer structure. There was no kitchen area, Benjamin suddenly realised with alarm. No kind of food at all for that matter. There was, however, what appeared to be an oven door situated just to the side of the great screen. Benjamin approached and opened it cautiously. It was exactly like an oven inside. Written on the back wall of the oven however, in what appeared to be black marker pen, were the following words: ‘Ask. Close oven. Open oven. Consume.’ Benjamin’s face creased in confusion. He closed the oven door. “Steak,” he said uncertainly. There came a whirring sound from within the oven itself. He opened the door. The steak stood there on a plate, medium rare. Just the way he liked it. He retrieved it from the oven and wolfed it down hungrily. As good as any steak he had ever tasted. He approached the oven again. “Beer.” And it was there. “Cigarettes.” Cigarettes. “Women.” Nothing happened. Consumables only, it seemed. Benjamin sank down into the easy chair and declared to himself that it was the most comfortable seat he had ever sat on. A remote control sat on the arm rest. Benjamin flicked a random button and the screen flickered to life. The following words appeared: “Choose film or show.” Benjamin chose a film. The lights dimmed. The film played on the big screen complete with 3D effects and surround sound. It was like being in a cinema. “This is okay,” said Benjamin aloud. “I will not starve, I will not die of boredom. I can stay here for a few months. This is not so bad.”

Benjamin Rutherford spent the first three days of his confinement drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and watching films on the big screen. During that time he remained in a near constant state of drunkenness and so was unable to fully appreciate the anomalies taking place around him. He did not at first think to question, for example, why the plates and beer bottles and cigarette ends he so casually discarded simply disappeared within an hour of being done with. He did not question why it was that when once he fell asleep with a smouldering cigarette in his mouth which then dropped down on to the carpet below there was no scorching or worse. He did not draw any relevance from the time he staggered up to use the toilet and tripped and fell against the glass coffee table then got up without a scratch. He did not wonder why he only used the toilet when he thought he should, and not because he really needed to. He did not comment upon his lack of a hangover when he woke up.

On the fourth day Benjamin Rutherford awoke in his bed and decided he would not, after all, get drunk today. Instead he would clear up the mess he had surely made. But of course there was no mess to clear up. Everything was as clean as it had been the day he moved in. Benjamin’s first thought was Harley Huxtable had come in to clean up whilst he was sleeping, or had sent a cleaner in on his behalf. Or perhaps Benjamin had somehow managed to do it whilst very drunk. No, that could not be it. He could just about accept the notion of food appearing from nowhere but he could not see how things could simply vanish into thin air. Benjamin decided to perform an experiment. He approached the oven. “Orange juice,” he ordered. The machine whirred, Benjamin opened the door and there was the orange juice. He downed it quickly and set the glass down upon the coffee table and waited. After around half an hour the glass simply vanished. Benjamin shook his head. He could not understand it at all.

Of course the truth was that the food and the beer and the containers they came in were not really there at all. They existed in the chamber solely because Benjamin willed them to exist. He did not, in fact, need to eat, drink, sleep or go to the toilet. He did so only because he was used to it and because he found such things to be rather pleasing. Here in the chamber, with its sealed environment, shielded from the excesses of time, everything would remain the same. Not even Benjamin could change it. He could only change himself. If he felt drunk it was because he wanted to be drunk, if he was hungry or thirsty it was because he willed it upon himself. He did not wish to suffer physical pain or headaches and so he did not suffer them, even though in the real world these things came naturally to those who over imbibed as Benjamin did.

Two weeks into his confinement Benjamin Rutherford decided he had had enough. He wanted out. It was not that he was bored of the chamber, or frustrated or claustrophobic, it was merely that he desired human company. But the door was bolted firmly shut and there was no method of communication with which to call the outside world. Ben began to panic. He overturned the tables and chairs and his bed; he smashed his fists against the magnolia walls and gouged his fingernails against the plasterwork. It was no use. He ordered a bottle of whiskey and drank it all down in under half an hour then passed out on the floor (but only because he thought this was the appropriate action to take. He did not have to pass out or be drunk if he so desired). When he awoke the room was back to normal again. All was as it was before. For two weeks the cycle continued anew. Ben would wake up, smash up the chamber, get drunk and fall asleep.