The Map of Time (Trilogía Victoriana #1)(132)

“The hole was a doorway onto a pink, windswept plain where time stood still,” he went on, “which was no more than my portrayal of the fourth dimension. The plain, a sort of antechamber to other eras, was peppered with holes similar to the portal connecting it to the African village. One of these led to May 20 in the year 2000, on the very day the humans fought the decisive battle for the survival of their race against the automatons, amid the ruins of a devastated London. And, having discovered the existence of this magic hole, what else could my father and I do but steal it and bring it to London in order to offer it to the subjects of Her Imperial Majesty? So that’s what we did. We locked it in a huge iron box built for the occasion and brought it here. And, voilà, I had found the solution, a way of traveling in time that involved no scientific devices. All you had to do to journey into the future was pass through the hole into the fourth dimension aboard the Cronotilus, cross part of the pink plain, and step through another hole into the year 2000. Simple, isn’t it? In order to avoid having to show the fourth dimension, I inhabited it with terrifying, dangerous dragons, creatures of such horrific appearance I was forced to black out the windows in the Cronotilus in order not to alarm the passengers,” he said, inviting the author to examine the porthole-shaped windows, painted black as he had said. “And so, once the passengers had climbed aboard the time tram, I carried them, using oboes and trombones to conjure up the roars of the dragons roaming the plain. I’ve never experienced the effect from inside the Cronotilus, but it must be very convincing, to judge by the pallor on many passengers” faces when they return.” “But if the hole always comes out in this square at the exact same moment in the year 2000 …” Wells began.

“Then each new expedition arrives at the same time as the previous ones,” Gilliam cut across him. “I know, I know, that’s completely illogical. And yet time travel is still such a young idea, not many people have considered the many contradictions it can give rise to. If the portal into the fourth dimension always opens onto the exact same moment in the future, obviously there should be at least two Cronotiluses here, as there have been at least two expeditions. But as I already said, Mr. Wells, not everyone notices such things. In any event, as a precaution against any questions the more inquisitive passengers might have posed, I instructed the actor who played the guide to explain to them as soon as they arrived in the future, before they even stepped out of the vehicle, that we drove each Cronotilus to a different place, precisely in order to avoid this eventuality.” Murray waited to see if Wells felt like asking any more questions, but the author appeared immersed in what could only be described as pained silence, a look of impotent sorrow on his face.

“And,” Gilliam went on, “as I had anticipated, as soon as I advertised my journeys to the year 2000 in the newspapers, numerous scientists asked to meet me. You should have seen them, Mr. Wells. They came in droves, barely able to conceal their contempt, hoping I would show them some device they could gleefully demolish. But I was no scientist. I was just an honest businessman who’d made a chance discovery. Most of them left the meeting indignant, visibly frustrated at having been presented with a method of travel they had no way of questioning or refuting: you either believe in magic or you don’t. Some, however, were thoroughly convinced by my explanation, like your fellow author, Conan Doyle. The creator of the infallible Sherlock Holmes has become one of my most vigorous defenders, as you will know if you’ve read any of the numerous articles he devotes to defending my cause.” “Doyle would believe in anything, even fairies,” said Wells derisively.

“That’s possible. As you have seen yourself, we can all be deceived if the fraud is convincing enough. And to be honest, far from upsetting me, the regular visits I received from our skeptical men of science gave me great pleasure. Actually, I rather miss them. After all, where else would I have found a more attentive audience? I enjoyed enormously relating Tremanquai’s adventures over and over: as you will have guessed, they were a veiled homage to my beloved Henry Rider Haggard, the author of Solomon’s Mines. In fact, Tremanquai is an anagram of one of his best-known characters, Quatermain, the adventurer who—” “And none of these scientists demanded to see the … hole?” interrupted Wells, still disinclined to believe it had all been so easy.

“Oh yes, of course. Many refused to leave without seeing it.

But I was prepared for that. My instinct for survival had warned me to construct a cast-iron box identical to the one in my story, supposedly containing the portal to the fourth dimension. I presented it to anyone who wanted to see it, and invited them to go inside, warning them I would have to close the door behind them, because, among other things, the box was a barrier that prevented the ferocious dragons entering our world. Do you think any of them dared to go in?” “I imagine not,” responded Wells, despondently.

“That’s correct,” affirmed Murray. “In fact, the entire artifice is based on a box, in which the only thing lurking is our deepest fears. Don’t you think it’s both poetic and exciting?” Wells shook his head with a mixture of sadness and disbelief at the gullibility of his fellow men, but above all at the scientists” lack of spirit, their spinelessness when it came to risking their lives in the service of empirical truth.

“So, Mr. Wells, that is how I transport my customers into the future, escaping the time continuum only to plunge back into it somewhere else, like salmon swimming their way upstream. The first expedition was a resounding success,” Murray boasted. “I confess to being surprised at how readily people were taken in by my hoax. But then, as I said before, people see what they wish to see. However, I scarcely had time to celebrate, for a few days later the Queen herself asked to see me. Yes, Her Majesty in person requested my humble presence at the palace. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I went there prepared to receive my just desserts for my impudence. To my astonishment, however, Her Majesty wanted to see me for a very different reason: to ask if I would organize a private trip to the year 2000 for her.” Wells stared at him, flabbergasted.