The Map of Time (Trilogía Victoriana #1)(145)
But it seemed very likely this gene was responsible for the travelers” ability to connect with the area of the brain which for the rest of the population remained switched off. Research showed that the gene was handed down from generation to generation, meaning all the travelers shared the same distant ancestor. The Government never managed to discover who the first carrier was, although they thought it might be this woman. It is widely believed she had a child with a man, possibly also able to travel in time, and that their offspring inherited a reinforced gene, establishing a line of time travelers who, by mixing with the rest of the population, would decades later trigger the epidemic of time travelers. However, every effort to find her has failed. The woman vanished hours after turning up at Olsen’s department store and hasn’t been seen since, as the article says. I won’t deny some of us time travelers, including myself, worship her like a goddess.” Wells smiled, peering affectionately at the photograph of the ordinary-looking woman, obviously confused and afraid, unable to believe what had happened to her, whom Marcus had elevated to the status of Goddess of Time Travel. No doubt she had suffered another spontaneous displacement and was wandering around lost in some other distant era, unless, faced with the prospect of losing her mind, she had chosen to kill herself.
“Each of the other strings represents a parallel world,” said Marcus, requiring the writers” attention once more. “A deviation from the path that time ought to have taken. The green strings represent universes that have already been corrected. I suppose I keep them for sentimental reasons, because I have to admit I found some of the parallel worlds enchanting, even as I was working out ways of restoring them to the original.” Wells glanced at one green string from which dangled several celebrated photographs of Her Gracious Majesty. They looked identical to the ones of her he had seen in his own time, except for one small detail: the Queen had an orange squirrel monkey perched on her shoulder.
“This string represents one of my favorite parallel universes,” said Marcus. “A squirrel monkey enthusiast had the eccentric idea of persuading Her Majesty that all living creatures radiate a magnetic energy that can be transmitted to other beings to therapeutic effect, in particular the squirrel monkey, which according to him worked wonders on people suffering from digestive problems and migraines. Imagine my surprise when browsing the newspapers of the period I found this startling addition to the photographs of the Queen. But that was not all. Thanks to Her Majesty, carrying a monkey around on your shoulder became a fad, and a walk through the streets of London turned into a rather amusing spectacle. Unfortunately, reality was far less exciting and had to be reestablished.” Wells looked out of the corner of his eye at James, who appeared to heave a sigh, relieved at not having to live in a world where he was forced to go around with a monkey on his shoulder.
“The blue strings, on the other hand, represent the timelines I have not yet corrected,” Marcus went on to explain. “This one represents the world we are in now, gentlemen, a world identical to the original, but where Jack the Ripper did not mysteriously disappear after murdering his fifth victim, thus becoming a legend, but where he was caught by the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee after perpetrating his crime.” The writers gazed curiously at the string to which Marcus was referring. The first cutting related the event that had caused this bifurcation: Jack the Ripper’s capture. The next cutting described the subsequent execution of the sailor Bryan Reese, the man who murdered the prostitutes.
“But as you can see, this is not the only blue string,” said the traveler, fixing his attention on another cord. “This second string represents a bifurcation that has not yet taken place, but will happen in the next few days. It concerns you, gentlemen. It is why you are here.” Marcus tore off the first cutting from the string and kept it momentarily concealed from his guests, like a poker player pausing before he reveals the card that will change the outcome of the game.
“Next year, a writer named Melvyn Frost will publish three novels that will bring him overnight fame and secure him a place in literary history,” he announced.
He paused, observing his guests one by one, until his eye rested on the Irishman.
“One of them will be Dracula, the novel you have just finished, Mr. Stoker.” The Irishman looked at him with astonishment. Wells watched him curiously. “Dracula?” he said to himself. What was the meaning of that strange word? He did not know, of course, nor did he know much about Stoker, save for the three or four already mentioned facts. He could never have imagined, for instance, that this unassuming, methodical man who observed society’s norms, this man who by day adapted with tragic subservience to the frenetic social life of his conceited employer, at night indulged in endless drinking sessions run by whores of every category and condition, wild orgies whose admirable aim was to alleviate the bitterness of a marriage, which, following the birth of his son Irving Noel, had turned into a sham.
“Although you do not know it yet, Mr. Stoker, although you would never dare even dream of it, your novel will become the third most popular book in the English language, after the Bible and Shakespeare’s Hamlet,” the traveler informed him. “And your Count Dracula will enter by right into the pantheon of literary legends, where he will become a truly immortal creature.” Stoker swelled with pride at the discovery that in the future the traveler came from, his work would be regarded as a classic.