04.28.05
Posted in Uncategorized at 4.37 pm by niltiac
I tend to like my sleep so I wasn’t too pleased to be woken up by the phone ringing at 1 o’clock this morning! Mindful of the time difference with Australia and worried that something terrible had happened, I jumped out of bed to answer it – only to find it was a recorded message from the Labour party asking me to volunteer this coming weekend. Well, er, thanks but no.
I find it hard to believe that the Labour party is deliberately calling voters in the middle of the night. After all, the whole point is to woo voters not piss them off! I suspect that either their call centre software screwed up or that another party is playing dirty tricks to try to turn voters against Labour.
The election is one week away today. I’m finding it quite interesting because it is so different to elections in Australia, despite the great similarities of our parliamentary systems. For example, there is no advertising on television or radio allowed, so it’s all concentrated on press, outdoor and of course, plenty of PR activity. All the major poltical leaders seem to be granting interviews to women’s magazines such as Glamour and Grazia every five minutes. The two main differences are that voting is not compulsory and there is no preferential voting, which obviously affects campaign strategy. Oh, and you don’t vote for the upper house.
It’s also interesting because it’s actually relevant. Unbelievably, Jack and I get to vote! We are not British citizens but the UK allows Commonwealth and European Union citizens who are resident in the UK to vote. It’s remarkably generous although I do believe there are many good arguments in favour of the wider suffrage – we live here and we pay taxes here so it’s fair we should have a say in our government.
Since I can vote, I will vote. Firstly, because I’m Australian and accustomed to compulsory voting so I’m in the habit of voting. Secondly, because our ancestors threw themselves under horses to achieve suffrage for women (and working men before that), and it seems disrespectful not to exercise my democratic rights.
The difficulty is who to vote for. There is a crucial difference with the Australian electoral system, which will make all the difference to the way I vote. That is, that Australia has preferential voting so, if there are ten candidates, I number them in preferred order from one to ten and my vote is not wasted if I vote for a minor party first. In the UK, however, I have to pick one candidate and one candidate only.
Labour: Well, they didn’t do themselves any favours with last night’s phone call but I wouldn’t make my decision purely on that basis. I feel generally happy with the way things are going so the prospect of another five years of Blair seems more or less okay. But there are certain things I am unhappy about. For example, Blair made a lot of noises about climate change last year but the environment hasn’t featured in his election campaign at all. Then there is the anti-terror legislation, which is winding back on civil liberties for not much practical gain.
Conservative: I can’t truly see myself ever voting for the Tories but I would always at least think about it. The problem is that Michael Howard has spent the campaign demonising Gypsies and asylum seekers and harping on about immigration. Nasty.
Liberal Democrats: I do like some of their policies but I don’t have a clear picture of what they stand for and Charles Kennedy seems a little wet. (Apparently he was famous at uni for getting cabs between his lecture theatres!). I also wasn’t very impressed that they sent Jack a campaign letter but not me – sexism, incompetence or did it just get lost in the post?
Greens: They barely seem to have made a blip on the political radar here so it would truly be a protest vote.
Ukip or BNP: A bit like One Nation though I think Ukip is the more moderate of the two. Absolutely not.
(An aside: I ran into – and ran away from – a crowd of skinheads waving the flag of St George and carrying National Front banners at Waterloo station on St George’s Day last weekend. Scary. But at least they were outnumbered by police.)
My electorate in south London is, not surprisingly, a Labour stronghold with the strongest challenger being the Liberal Democrats.
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04.26.05
Posted in Uncategorized at 11.45 am by niltiac
Yesterday was Anzac Day… It’s hard to believe that a year ago we had left Australia and were already in Turkey! We spent last Anzac Day at Gallipoli, for the Dawn Service at Anzac Cove and the Australian service at Lone Pine. This year, my friends Nat and Cam have made the same pilgrimage.
Turkey was a wonderful, wonderful place to visit. For those of you who missed it, this is the letter I wrote about our travels in Turkey last year. Also, I have now published the travel article on Cappadocia, which I wrote for The Australian last year.
This Anzac Day was a little more low key. My boyfriend baked Anzac biscuits on Sunday and we both took a batch into the office to share with our workmates on Monday. That was it really.
I had to explain the concept of Anzac Day to a few of my colleagues so for anyone who is reading this site and doesn’t know … Anzac Day is a national holiday in both Australia and New Zealand. It commemorates the Anzacs (Australia New Zealand Army Corps) landing at Gallipoli on 25 April 1915. Our troops were met by the defending Turkish army and slaughtered in our thousands but amazingly we managed to scale the cliff and capture a ridge where before battening down into trench warfare for the next nine months before the British finally pulled us out. It was a hideous military defeat with enormous loss of life on both sides for absolutely no gain. Australia and New Zealand were both young countries and it is regarded as coming of age for the identity of both nations.
There are some who argue that Anzac Day glorifies war, which is obviously something to be avoided. I’ve thought about this quite a bit but ultimately I’ve decided that I don’t see it that way. I believe it is important to remember the brutality and futility of war – and also the great courage and humanity shown by many individuals. It’s worth bearing in mind that on Anzac Day we are remembering a military defeat not a victory. It’s also worth bearing in mind that the Turks allow us into their country to commemorate Anzac Day at Gallipoli and they fly the Turkish flag alongside the Australian and New Zealand flags at the Dawn Service. I very much felt welcome in the towns in the days leading up to Anzac Day and felt it was something that we shared with the Turks.
I’m not sure why Anzac biscuits are traditional for Anzac Day unless perhaps they baked them at the front?
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Posted in Uncategorized at 11.30 am by niltiac
I have mentioned my friend Caitlin who works for the same company before. She is my museum/gallery buddy and we jokingly call ourselves the Caitlin Culture Club or CCC, of which we are joint-presidents. So far, we have been to the Encounters exhibition at the Victoria & Albert Museum (last year), the Turks exhibition at the Royal Academy (earlier this year) and recently, the August Strindberg exhibtion at the Tate Modern.
Here is a picture of us outside the Tate Modern at South Bank:
Caitlin and Caitlin at the Tate Modern 
The August Strindberg exhibition was really good and very uncrowded, which made a nice change after the rush and crush of the Turks exhibition. He paints these amazing turbulent seascapes but also lovely, calm seashores with a solitary flower. He is an interesting guy – a contemporary of Monet and the like but too much of an individualist to be part of any school. He was Swedish but lived all over Europe, including Germany, Switzerland and France. He was a photographer and writer as well as a painter. It seems that he was a bit of a misogynist and firmly believed that a woman’s place was in the home and the greatest feminine virtue was motherliness. Paradoxically, he was always attracted to strong career women! He was married three times – and separated/divorced three times – and had five children.
After a lovely morning at the Tate, Caitlin and I went our separate ways and I walked along the Thames to the Tate Britain at Pimlico. I was meeting my aunt and uncle from Scotland who were down for a couple of days. They were off to the sold-out exhibition of Turner Whistler Monet and I met them for lunch beforehand. Then I walked home via Vauxhall and Clapham Junction so I did loads of walking that day!
Panorama of the Thames and London Eye
Statue of Emmeline Pankhurst behind Westminster
PS I have every intention of writing about my trip to Paris but haven’t had time to do it justice.
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04.25.05
Posted in Uncategorized at 1.16 pm by niltiac
By Caitlin Fitzsimmons
The fresco in the ancient church puzzled us: what was the patron saint of England doing in Turkey? It was definitely St George. The painting showed a knight on horseback fighting an evil dragon, his shield with the distinctive red-on-white cross clearly visible.
Of course, it turns out that St George was a local; just the first of many surprises in store for us in Cappadocia, a land of fairy chimneys and underground cities on the Anatolian plateau in Turkey. The alien landscape, shaped first by volcanic eruptions and then erosion, is honeycombed with caves and tunnels.
The region was an early centre of Christian learning and the birthplace of St George of Cappadocia, a fourth-century martyr believed to have been burned alive by the Romans. St George spent part of his life in Palestine but certainly never made it as far as England, at least not while he was alive. He was adopted by the English in the Middle Ages after he appeared in visions….
Cappadocia is plateau country rift with steep gorges and dotted with strange rock formations, from the characteristic clusters of ‘fairy chimneys’ with their little protective caps to a large outcrop in the shape of a large camel. A long time ago the volcanoes of Mount Erciyes and Mount Hasan covered the region in ash, which set into rock and then eroded with wind and rain. Over the centuries, the inhabitants have dug into the soft rock, building everything from pigeon houses to secret churches and vast underground cities. The views as you drive or hike through the area are spectacular, but earthbound. To appreciate the scale and grandeur of Cappadocia, you must go high in the air; to discover its secrets, you must go underground.
The fragile landscape means Cappadocia is a no-fly zone for aeroplanes but there are a number of companies offering hot-air ballooning. We went with Kapadokya Balloons in Goreme, run by an Englishwoman Kaili and her Swedish husband Lars. The couple live in Cappadocia for nine months of the year, drawn there by what they describe as the best ballooning in Europe.
We booked our flight for our first morning in Cappadocia, a precautionary measure in case the weather conditions were unfavourable and our flight cancelled. The wake-up call came around 4am and by dawn we were standing in a field some miles away, our excitement mounting as the men spread the balloons on the ground and the delicate fabric began to billow with hot air.
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Preparing for our hot air balloon ride in Cappadocia
We stood 12 deep in the basket with our pilot, Kaili. I could see the roar of flames that signified take-off and hear the whoosh of air filling the balloon, yet I scarcely felt us move. I was surprised to look down and see how the ground had shrank and expanded into a vista. Because we travelled with the air currents, we floated gently without feeling the breeze or sensing our speed. Lars was pilot for a second group and the two balloons would spend the morning in a balletic courtship, almost touching several times as they traversed the sky.
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Hot-air ballooning over Cappadocia
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Fairy chimneys in Cappadocia
Balloon rides usually go up and along and then down but Kaili and Lars took us for a thrill ride, guiding the ballons down into the gorges and past rocky outcrops with just metres to spare. It felt almost as if we could reach out and grab the rocks. Secretly, I feared we would hit the ground, until it was made clear that the balloon and its shadow were nowhere near touching. At one point, Kaili pointed to a mound of rocks, riddled with holes for pigeon nests, and told us it was a church; I thought she was joking but we later found out it was true.
The volcanic rock, or tuff, is soft when first mined and hardens with exposure to the air, making it perfect for digging caves. The locals have exploited this in every conceivable way, most famously with the underground cities of the early Christian era. Today, every village home backs on to a cave and the soil, which appears to be barren, is actually quite rich because the villagers dig small caves for pigeons in the hills and collect the guano to fertilise the fields.
It is possible to get around by mini-bus but we opted for the luxury of our own hire car. The local maps are not very detailed, although the roads are mostly decent and well sign-posted. We decided to take a guide for the first day of touring and visit the nearby places on our own the following day.
Camel and minaret
Our tour guide, Izmit, was a local with good English who leads mountain expeditions in the summer. He has climbed Mount Ararat numerous times, helping an archaeological team hunt for evidence of Noah’s Ark. Izmit explained that Cappadocia, which is now predominantly Muslim, had quite a large Christian population until 1923 when hundreds of thousands of Christians emigrated under the Population Exchange Treaty with Greece. There were still a few Christian families in the area when Izmit was at school 30-40 years ago but most had moved to Istanbul since then. Izmit showed us Ayo Stefonos (St Stephen’s) and Ayo Nikalos (St Nicholas’s), two of the many crumbling churches hidden among the rocks. Ayo Nikalos, which we recognised as the rocky mound from the balloon, was abandoned in the early 20th century when a new church was built in town.
Christianity in the region dates to the time of St Paul, who settled in the area to hide from the Romans and established the first Christian colony. Vulnerable to marauding parties, the fledgling Christian communities built enormous underground cities where they could hide the entire population of the village and its livestock. There are dozens of such cities in Cappadocia but only a few are accessible to the public. One of the biggest is Derinkuyu, which is believed to be 18-20 storeys deep and have housed up to 20,000 people. We explored the smaller site at Kaymakli, which has at least four levels and could house up to 4000-5000 people. There could be as many as seven or eight levels in total but cave-ins have stymied the full exploration of the city.
These days there is electric lighting to guide the way through the curved stone corridors but it is still dimly lit and atmospheric. Despite being only a makeshift home in times of danger, the priorities of the city founders were clear: not only was there a church; there was a winery to make wine for the sacrament. There were also stables, a communal kitchen, a drinking well, multiple storage rooms and sleeping quarters. I was impressed by the quality of the engineering: there were clever ventilation systems to disperse the smoke from cooking without betraying the location of the city; and the discrete levels could be securely sealed by rolling a large rock between the entrance and a wall.
After Christianity became the official state religion, the area flourished and the town of Goreme became one of the great centres of Christian learning. From the outside, the remarkable Open Air Museum at Goreme looks like a couple of rocky hills dotted with motley cave dwellings, but within there is a World Heritage-listed collection of medieval churches and religious buildings. There was a large monastery and the religious community also supported a number of hermits who lived in the hills. The churches themselves are notable for their exquisite religious frescoes.
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Goreme Open-Air Museum – church and monastery complex built into rock
Most of the frescoes depict biblical scenes, but on the wall of the Snake Church you will St George and the dragon. The best frescoes are in the Dark Church, which is worth the extra admission cost because the lack of natural light has preserved the vibrancy and colour of the art. Nearly all the frescoes bear the marks of religious vandals, namely the iconoclasts who considered representational art to be sacreligious. Fortunately, they concentrated on faces and those images that were easy to reach, leaving plenty to see, particularly on the ceilings.
The traditional lifestyle is alive and thriving in Cappadocia but basic services are good. Many people still live in villages, raising sheep and cattle and growing apples, crops and vegetables. We visited the village of Sagonli, in the Valley of the Dolls, where the women supplement their income by making and selling dolls through a cooperative. The village was built into a hillside and, while there was electricity and plumbing – and a number of television satellite dishes – most people lived in basic cave dwellings. We stopped for lunch at the village restaurant and ate on outdoor tables under the blossom trees. The menu offered classic Turkish fare, such as lentil soup and lamb kebabs, and the food was delicious, plentiful and cheap. This was the only occasion that we encountered Turkish bread in Turkey. It is known there as ‘village bread’ and the bread elsewhere, while very good, is much more western in style.
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Two village children in Uchisar near our hotel
The villages of Uchisar, Urgup and Goreme all make good vantage points for exploring this region and each has its own charm. Urgup is home to most of the mass-market hotels, Uchisar is smaller with boutique luxury hotels, while Goreme appeals to the backpackers. The nearest airport is in … It is a eight-10 hour drive from Pamukkale, near the Aegean Coast, or a four-hour coach ride from Ankara.
Museum Hotel
Building hotels over old cave systems is all the rage in Cappadocia these days but I doubt you find a more tasteful and luxurious conversion than the Museum Hotel in Uchisar. The hotel is set high on a hillside with spectacular views from the rooms and balcony bar, particularly at sunset when the rocky landscape is infused with colour. Most of the rooms are caves, which are elegant and luxurious with arched doorways and windows and traditional Turkish furnishings. Woven carpets and registered historical artifacts are on display throughout the hotel, including the rooms. There is a lovely outdoor pool for the summer months, or you can enjoy a glass of wine while soaking in a long, hot bath – with spa jets if you are staying in a luxury room. The hotel is small and friendly, with about 17 guest rooms and obliging staff who go to great lengths to ensure your wellbeing. It is worth negotiating a room rate that includes at least some meals, as the hotel has an excellent restaurant with indoor and outdoor dining. Breakfast is a buffet with Turkish delicacies alongside continental options, plus hot omelettes and freshly squeezed orange juice. For dinner, you can order a la carte or enjoy a superb three-course meal from a set menu that varies daily. The rooms range from $US80 to about $US150-190 for the luxury rooms, including the lovely Honeymoon Suite. The lavish Sultans Cave Suite, complete with its own wine cellar, is $US450 a night.
Museum Hotel
The terrace at Museum Hotel
The pool at Museum Hotel
Cave room at Museum Hotel
This article was first published in The Australian’s Travel & Indulgences section on 23 August 2004. Copyright to text and photographs is held by Caitlin Fitzsimmons.
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04.23.05
Posted in Uncategorized at 9.44 pm by niltiac
I released this on Thursday 21 April 2005 at Croydon Clocktower Cafe (underneath the library) in Croydon, England United Kingdom. It was found by a BookCrosser a few days later and they left this journal entry:
Journal entry 3 by neoliminal99(27/16) from London, England United Kingdom on Saturday, April 23, 2005
Was really pleased to find a book ‘in the wild’. Have been releasing books for a couple of years, this is the first I have found. Bill
See all journal entries for this book.
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04.12.05
Posted in Uncategorized at 2.39 pm by niltiac
This a science fiction story I wrote about a year ago before leaving Australia. It’s the first short story I’ve written for years and I would welcome any feedback.
Lost and Found
By Caitlin Griffin
The engines whirred and the ground dropped away gently. High over the city, Joe flicked a switch and sank into the leather lounge. An attractive brunette appeared on the screen.
“Good evening, Mr McNamara. The Mars administration has demanded 100 new enforcers after an outbreak of violence at the weekend. Riots swept the embattled colony when food delivery was disrupted for the third time this . . .”
Joe closed his eyes and sighed. “Just give me the business news,” he said.
The electronic newsreader continued smoothly. “The merger between Northcorp and research outfit Space and Time Travel moved another step closer today.”
Joe’s eyes snapped open and he leaned forward intently.
“Millionaire Arthur Brooks, who owns 35 per cent of STT, today indicated his support for . . .”
The incoming call light flashed but Joe remained rigid.
“. . . the merger. The comments came as STT board members launched a campaign against the merger in an attempt to sway shareholders before next week’s . . .”
The screen flickered and Beth appeared, her features chiselled in anger.
“Don’t ignore me, Joe, I don’t have time for it. I need you home on time tonight. The Logans are coming for dinner. Wear your grey suit with the blue shirt. Don’t be late.”
Joe grimaced but he nodded and his wife disappeared. Far below, the city lights flickered red and white. Joe stretched out and succumbed to sleep.
#
The car glided to a standstill on the roof. Joe climbed out, crunching fresh snow under his boots as he started for the door.
“Daddy!” A nine-year-old cannonball flew at him. “Hello, pumpkin,” he said, lifting his daughter above him and poking her in the ribs. Emily shrieked and kicked her legs and Joe released her to the ground with a smile. “What’s new?” he asked as they walked inside.
The suit and shirt were already laid out on his bed. Joe dumped his briefcase, swearing as he knocked his knee on the bed post. He walked into the bathroom and stepped into the shower, ready to face the inevitable.
He found his wife in the kitchen directing the robotic maids. Beth cut an elegant figure in a long blue dress, her dark hair swept above her head and diamond studs in her ears. Joe stood in the doorway for a moment before she turned to greet him. “Hello, sweetheart” she said, gliding forward and proffering her cheek. Joe kissed her and stepped into the living room to wait for their guests.
#
Senator Logan’s latest husband was about thirty with the kind of clean-cut good looks that belong to Ivy League footballers and Ken dolls. The senator had her grey hair cropped short and she wore a cream linen suit with a crimson scarf.
Dinner passed in a pleasant tedium of good food and polite small talk. Afterwards the two couples retired to the living room for a game of euchre.
“Let’s get down to business,” Senator Logan said. “You called me here for a reason.”
Beth blushed. “Oh no, Patricia, how could you think that. The pleasure of your company is reward enough.”
“Cut the bull,” the senator said, leaning back and sipping her port. “You want me to nominate you for membership of the Pioneers Club.”
“Well . . . I hadn’t really thought about it before but . . .”
“I’ll do it. But I need you to do something for me in return.”
“Of course,” Beth exclaimed.
Senator Logan turned to Joe, who was concentrating on shuffling the deck of cards.
“I need you to tell me about the time travel project,” the senator said.
#
Beth stood at the lake in her fur, bracing against the icy wind. About a hundred people were gathered for the annual Wiltshire Grove Skate Day. The air filled with brass music and excited chatter. Beth squeezed her daughter’s hand.
“Your race is next,” she said.
Emily peered from beneath her hood, a shadow flitting across her face.
“Daddy’s not here yet,” she said.
Beth masked her irritation and smiled brightly.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. But I brought the camera so we’ll be able to beam it to his car.”
Emily looked uncertain. “Okay,” she whispered.
The announcer called the race and Beth clapped her daughter on the shoulders.
“You can do it, sweetheart. Show us what you can do.”
Emily peeled off her coat, shoving it in her mother’s hand and skated off to the start line.
Beth was fuming. Joe had promised he’d be here and the race meant so much to Emily. She scanned the crowd hopelessly before realising her handbag was beeping. She fumbled for her mini-screen and read the text message silently. “Can’t make it. STT to be sold. Job on the line. Wish Emily luck.” Beth clenched her jaw and turned her attention to the race.
The gun fired and Emily was off. She had the inside lane, which gave her a slight advantage but the other contestants quickly surrounded her.
The biggest danger was that the skaters would collide and crash. This happened every so often and it generally meant the slowest person won. Some people won their share of medals by hanging back and waiting for a lucky break but Emily preferred to strive for the glory of an outright win.
Emily was leading as they rounded for a second lap. She whizzed past with a fierce look and five skaters on her tail.
“Go, Emily,” Beth called.
The skaters were on the far side of the lake when they crashed, sending bodies sprawling across the ice. Beth hid her head in her hands; Emily’s chance was shot. She looked up and waited for the skaters to fly past and Emily to pick herself up and follow.
But something was wrong. Beth realised the girls were screaming and turned to see two sleds taking off over the ice. She couldn’t see her daughter.
“Emily,” she cried.
Beth started running but slipped and fell. Dropping the two coats, Beth slipped off her shoes and ran in her stockinged feet across the lake.
Emily was trapped under the lake. The ice had cracked as the skaters crashed and Emily and two others had fallen in. Two bedraggled girls lay shivering on the ice. One of the officials was talking into a mini-screen calling for stretchers and back-up, the other was lying on his belly fishing for Emily. Beth hopped anxiously, her feet numb, as terrifying moments passed. Then Emily’s hand appeared and both men grabbed her torso and pulled. She was safe.
#
Joe tore through the main entrance of the hospital and barged up to the counter.
“I’m Emily McNamara’s father. Where is she?”
The robot sitting behind the desk showed no reaction. “Level 2, Ward 12,” it said.
Joe ran for the lift and arrived panting at the ward. A human medic greeted him at the door.
“Your daughter’s condition is very serious,” she said. “She’s in a coma. Your wife is in there.”
Emily lay outstretched on the bed with her eyes closed, her small body covered in tubes and wires. Beth sat beside the bed in silence, her face red and streaked with tears. Her clothes were torn and muddy and her hair was matted.
#
Joe could not fathom that people could still die in the late 21st century. Disease had been eradicated, murder was unheard of except in the City and the average lifespan was 160 and rising. But for all its wonders, medical science could not bring back the dead. Emily had been trapped under the ice for too long. Brain death had set in and her heart would not beat without the machines to do it for her. The medics said there was nothing more they could do.
Beth stayed in bed all day, crying, sleeping and staring at the wall. From time to time, a maid delivered meals, which remained mostly untouched. Joe battled his own pain to reach out for her but all he could do was squeeze her hand and stroke her face. Beth remained unreachable, trapped behind a frozen wall of grief.
Joe started taking long rambling walks in the forest reserve beside his house. Spring rains soaked his clothes and matted his hair but he did not care. He felt a sense of release as he pounded through the mud and beat back branches that blocked his path.
#
Joe returned to the house at nightfall to find Beth sitting up at the kitchen table for the first time in weeks. She had allowed the maids to wash and dress her and her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun. She seemed strangely calm.
“Tell me about your work,” Beth said.
Joe didn’t know what to say.
Beth tried again. “When does the Northcorp takeover take place?”
“Next month,” Joe muttered.
“And you were telling Senator Logan they’re going to close your project down.”
“That’s right,” Joe said.
“How far advanced are you?”
“We seem to have the reverse time portal functioning but the future paths are a little flaky.”
Beth smiled. “In English?”
“We’re pretty sure we can go back in time but the catch is that we can’t return to the same present. We’ve had rats disappear but they’ve never returned.”
Beth leaned forward.
Joe kept talking. It helped dull the pain to talk about science again.
“Time is like a tree. For every event there is an equally possible opposite event. There is an infinite number of worlds, some like our own, some very different.”
Joe picked up his fork and dropped it on the table. He continued.
“There is a parallel world in which the only difference is that I did not drop that fork. There is also a parallel world in which, say, humans never settled Mars. Or a parallel world in which I was never born.”
Beth nodded, triumphant. “And there is a parallel world in which Emily never died,” she said.
Joe froze and suddenly understood.
#
“It’s good to see you back,” Rick Delaney clapped Joe on the shoulder. “How’s the wife?”
“She’s holding up, thank you,” Joe said. He kept walking. Rick was a mate but Joe was in no mood to talk.
Joe arrived in the laboratory. The room was deserted. It was common knowledge that the Northcorp board would close the loss-making time research unit. They wanted STT for its lucrative hyperdrive design and manufacturing arm and most STT scientists were busy rewriting their curriculum vitae accordingly.
Joe closed the door behind him and turned on the screen. He put on a bulky pair of headphones and sat down. There had been little progress since Joe’s last day at work so it took less than five minutes for the neurotransmission to complete. Joe flicked another switch and started the download from the beginning. He had worked on the project for five years and as chief scientist for two but he needed to be sure he knew every detail by heart.
#
Rick was worried. Joe had been sitting in the lab for five hours downloading data. Everyone knew the project was a lost cause and Joe was wasting precious time on it.
He peered around the doorway. “I’ve brought you a hamburger,” Rick said.
Joe removed his headphones. He smiled at his friend. They had gone through university together, been best man at each other’s weddings and now they would never see each other again. Joe took the burger and gestured for Rick to take a seat. “You’re a good friend,” he said. “I might have to go a way for a while. If anything happens, I want you to have my house.”
Rick guffawed. “Don’t be stupid,” he said.
#
It was 3am. A soft red glow exuded from the darkened streets. Beth stood nervously by the courier dock. She jumped as a rat scurried across her feet. What was keeping Joe?
Finally, the door opened. Joe beckoned urgently and Beth ran inside the building. It wouldn’t be long before the system would detect an intruder and the enforcers would arrive. Hand in hand they jogged along the darkened corridors. They reached the laboratory. Joe pressed his thumb against the control panel. The door opened. Joe shoved his wife through the door and jumped after her, just as the alarm began to sound and the doors closed.
Beth stood clutching her day bag. Joe had assured her that the other Beth would have everything she needed but Beth wasn’t so sure. Joe was doing something on the control panel. They had less than five minutes before the enforcers would arrive.
A swirling blue vortex appeared. Beth’s dress blew up in the wind and she stepped backward. Joe grabbed her by the hand and together they ran and jumped into the unknown.
Outside the city lights flickered as a huge amount of power surged through the network and then disappeared.
#
Horns blared. Wheeled vehicles rushed beside them, some small like Joe’s car; others twice as high and four times as long. The traffic rushed along at great speed, surging from lane to lane. It appeared that humans were at the controls. “Get off the road,” someone yelled, their head sticking out the window.
Joe and Beth ran for safety, dodging the traffic. They reached a concrete island in the centre of the road and stood beside a large green and white sign: “Expressway ends 1km”. They were surrounded by traffic. Even if they could get across, there were high walls on both sides and nowhere to hide.
“We’ll have to do it here,” Joe whispered, fingering his mini-screen control. Beth nodded her agreement.
#
News bulletins that night reported a three-car pileup on the City Expressway and tales from motorists about strange alien lights.
#
Joe and Beth stood once more in the laboratory. No alarms sounded but Jim knew they didn’t have long. He grabbed Beth’s hands and they ran back along the corridors. They left through the fire escape at the back of the building, just as the enforcers arrived at the front, and ran for a few blocks. The enforcers would search the building rather than the streets – they would assume that someone had broken into rather than out of the building.
Joe was pretty sure they were in an alternative present because the alarms were not ringing when they arrived. When they reached the spot where they had parked the car and it was not there, he was certain. They would have to spend the night in the City.
Joe estimated it would be four more hours before his alternative self arrived at work. The streets around the STT office were not the worst that the City had to offer but they were not exactly safe either. He didn’t want to arouse suspicions by going anywhere public where they were likely to be scanned. If the enforcers analysed the data and realised there were two Joe and Beth McNamaras running around the City, there would be trouble. The best thing to do was to find a deserted alley and sit there until morning.
#
Dawn broke, cold and grey. Joe sat awake, his wife huddled in his arms in a half sleep. A black-hooded figure appeared at the end of the street. Joe felt fear curdling in his stomach. He pulled Beth to her feet and again they ran.
At 7.30 in the morning Joe left Beth sitting in the park a block away from the office. He walked to STT, tilted his head for the retina scan and entered. This time he took the lift all the way to the roof. He crouched behind another vehicle and waited.
Half an hour later his car landed. The other Joe stepped out and walked briskly to the door. Joe ran to the car and climbed in. The vehicle lifted and started for home.
“Church Street Park”, Joe stated clearly. The car changed direction and almost immediately dropped down to street level. Beth was waiting for him. Without a second glance, she climbed in and they took off for home.
Joe waited until they were out of the car to explain the next part of the plan. He could not risk the security software in the vehicle listening and reporting to his alternative self.
“We have to go back,” he whispered. “If anyone notices the car is gone, we’re in trouble. We’ll take separate cars and I’ll come back with you.”
#
“Hello, I’m home,” Joe called. There was no answer. Emily would be at school but the Beth he knew was usually home. Nervously, Joe walked downstairs into the kitchen. The screen lit up and his wife’s face appeared. She had left a recorded message.
“Joe, I’m at the Pioneers Club afternoon tea. Don’t forget our bridge tournament at the Kennedys tonight. Pick me up from the club at 7 o’clock. Don’t be late. Emily is staying with Claire tonight. Oh and wear your navy suit.”
Joe smiled. It used to grate on him but right now it was good to see his old wife back. It was going to be hard to kill her.
He looked at the kitchen clock. It would be at least four hours before his other self was due home and that’s if he was on time. Thank god Emily was out of the way for all this.
Joe walked out the back door into the garden. The snow had melted and spring bulbs were starting to poke green shoots through the mud. Joe stood before the shed doors for a minute waiting for the identity scan and then stepped inside. He stood for a moment surveying the orderly shelves; everything in place just the way he liked it. Joe grabbed a golf club and left.
At 6 o’clock Joe positioned himself behind the roof door. It would probably be another 40 minutes before the other Joe arrived home but he had to be sure. He squinted through the peephole and waited.
#
Beth sat in the attic running her fingers through the dust in the floor. She would have to get the maids to clean up here when it was all over. Slowly her attention shifted back to the task ahead and she began to formulate a plan. Joe had ruled out using physical force on the other Beth and they had eventually agreed to take care of killing their own counterparts.
#
Thwack! Joe hit his alternative self with the golf club. The man stepped back, his eyes wide with fear, and Joe hit him again knocking him to the ground. Joe took a deep breath and pounded him in the head with the golf club. Blood spilled on to the snow, staining it pink. Joe dragged the body across the roof and hoisted it into the boot of the car. Grimacing, he climbed in the front.
“Duncan’s Wood,” he said.
The forest reserve at the back of the McNamara property was not big enough to hide a body but Joe figured he could slip seamlessly into the victim’s life and the enforcers would never look.
#
Beth paced the attic floor, dread rising in her throat. The house was silent. She did not know what time it was but it was getting dark outside. She heard the car land, the crunch of snow and cry of pain. She tensed, unsure who had won the fight, then breathed as she heard the car take off again.
Noiselessly, Beth crept down the stairs. She paused in the bedroom doorway, struck by the familiarity of her surroundings. A few moments passed. Finally she forced herself to move. She walked across the room to the bathroom and removed a bottle of rat poison from the cabinet under the sink.
#
Joe found it hard to concentrate at bridge. His mind kept flashing images from the fight; his own body lying in the snow, the look of terror on his face. Then it would flash forward to the ordeal ahead. He looked at the woman sitting beside him, blithely unaware that she would die that night, and he saw the woman he had married, the woman he sometimes loved.
They lost the game badly and his other wife was unmerciful.
“It was entirely obvious that you were throwing the game,” she said on the ride home. “Everyone will think we’re just social climbers if you carry on like that.”
“Aren’t we?” Joe said, closing his ears.
When they got home, Joe made his excuses and retired to his study. He did not want to be around for the next part.
The other Beth went upstairs to bed. Her routine every night was the same. First she had a good soak in a hot bath – the height of luxury in the late 21st century. She washed and moisturised her face and cleaned her teeth. Then she reached for a jar full of brown liquid. “Anti-ageing vitamin syrup”, the label said. She scooped a spoonful into a glass and filled it with water.
She drained the glass and instantly fell forward gagging. Her throat was burning and her face red and throbbing. She felt unsteady on her feet and fell to her knees in front of the toilet bowl. Her eyes widened as she saw the empty bottle of poison in the bin. She fell forward vomiting and passed out.
#
Beth helped Joe carry the body up to the roof. For the second time that night he stuffed a body into the boot of the car. And once again he left the body in a shallow grave in Duncan’s Wood.
#
Joe woke to find the sun streaming in the window and his wife curled up beside him. Relief swept over him. They had survived and their old life was theirs for the living.
Overcome with love, he reached out and pulled Beth’s warm body into his arms.
“I love you, sweetheart,” he said. “I really do.”
Beth murmured and nestled her head on her husband’s shoulder. “I love you too,” she said.
They dressed in jeans and t-shirts and Beth tied her hair back in a ponytail. Today was a special day and they were going to make it count. Emily had always wanted to go to Disneyland.
#
Emily ran up to her room, her face glowing. She had been allowed to go on the big rollercoaster, eat pink fairy floss and wear her princess dress all day. And it was not even her birthday! But best of all, Mummy and Daddy were there together and they actually seemed happy. Normally they fought all the time.
Joe tucked Emily into bed and read her the story of Snow White. Exhausted from the day’s doings, she was asleep before he even finished. He kissed her forehead and tip-toed out of the room.
Beth was waiting for him in the spa with a bottle of wine.
“To us,” she said. They clinked their glasses and smiled. They had Emily and they had each other and life was good. Joe drew his wife close, their need unspoken but understood.
#
The robomaids were cleaning the house for the third time that day, while Beth stood in the shower scrubbing herself vigorously. She felt stained and dirty and she knew that soap and perfume would not help.
Joe was at work and Emily at school. ‘Hours to kill,’ Beth thought with a grimace.
“Hours to kill,” she repeated out loud, enunciating each word.
#
Joe arrived home happy and eager to see Beth and Emily. Life had given him a second chance and he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes twice. He hummed as he strode out of his car and towards the front door, a bunch of flowers in his arms. Then he felt the full weight of a steel golf club crash down on his head and the world went dark.
*************************
I submitted this to an online SF magazine Andromeda Spaceways In-Flight Magazine. It was rejected and the reader notes said this:
No thank you. An interesting idea (though a bit predictable) but the
dispassionate story delivery was a real turn off. Perhaps a more
appropriate title could be found too.
Agree? Disagree? Please tell me what you think.
The general rule for a short story is to start off as close to the action as possible. Based on that, maybe I should have started at the point where they are preparing to go back in time and then filled in the back story as we went. That’s technically quite a bit trickier to manage though, which is why I thought I would go for the simple narrative structure first time around.
I was trying to work in a bit of a Macbeth theme but it feels a bit clunky now that I’ve re-read it. Was it too obvious?
I also thought I might use a pen name for my fiction work to distinguish it from my journalistic work. I chose Griffin because it has fantastic connotations without being too obvious like Dragon. I am toying with the idea of ‘Griffin’ for science fiction and/or fantasy and ‘Griffith’ for non-genre stuff to keep them close on the shelf (sort of like what Iain Banks does by being Iain M. Banks for SF). What do you think?
NB. This story is copyright and all rights are reserved.
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04.11.05
Posted in Uncategorized at 4.30 pm by niltiac
It was my boyfriend’s birthday on Saturday and I surprised him with a weekend away in Oxford. I didn’t actually realise quite how close Oxford actually is and now I am amazed that we’ve not been there before. It’s one hour and 40 minutes away by bus and costs £12 return – that’s day-trip territory.
View of Oxford from the tower of St Mary the Virgin Church
We stayed at the Bath Palace Hotel, a very nice B&B in a very central but quiet location. For dinner we went to Aquavitae, an Italian place by the river, which was absolutely lovely. The food was great and the service was even better; we had drinks before the meal and I spilled my gin and tonic (no surprises there!). They wiped it up immediately and brought a new drink over, free of charge. Then when we sat down, they made sure to move us to a table by the window as soon as it became available.
Our home away from home in Oxford
It was gorgeous spring weather – a bit of a chill but plenty of blue sky and sunshine – and we just took it easy, walking around exploring various nooks and crannies. We didn’t break our necks running around from college to college; in fact, we only saw two – Magdalen College on Saturday and Christ Church on Sunday. Instead we climbed the tower at St Mary the Virgin Church for panoramic views of the city, walked around admiring the medieval architecture with cool features like gargoyles and spiral columns and went for long walks in the parks and gardens, which were full of spring flowers and budding greenery. One surprise discovery was a rambling old graveyard, full of moss and ivy, which turned out to be the burial place of Kenneth Grahame, author of Wind in the Willows.
View of domed building from St Mary the Virgin Church
Covered walkway
Spiral columns on St Mary the Virgin Church
The graveyard at St Cross Church Holywell, Oxford
Grave marker
Kenneth Grahame’s grave in the churchyard of St Cross Church Holywell. According to the inscription, when he died in in 1932 he ‘crossed the river … leaving childhood literature the more blest for all time’.
Magdalen was interesting because the stain-glass windows in the church are sepia toned. I’m sure they were once coloured but it’s faded and now it looks like it was intended to be a study in shades of brown. The college also has a fantastic water meadow behind the cloisters. Christ Church is bigger and more famous and the cathedral had some lovely features but unfortunately we couldn’t go into the picture gallery or the dining room, which has lots of real-life links to Alice in Wonderland.
Jack in meadow behind Magdalen College, Oxford
Water meadow behind Magdalen College
The gate house of Christ Church, designed by Christopher Wren
Stain glass of St George and the dragon in Christ Church cathedral
Sun dial in Christ Church – near the tree that Alice’s cat Dinah, the real-life inspiration for the Cheshire Cat, like to sit in
Robin redbreast in garden cafe
Blackbird
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04.04.05
Posted in Uncategorized at 3.36 pm by niltiac
This website lets you create a map of the world showing the countries you have visited in red. Mine is below.
create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands
I have visited 22 countries or 9% of the globe. Unfortunately, small countries such as Fiji or Trinidad & Tobago end up as a speck, while the fact that I have been to Moscow means that I get a swathe of red all the way to Vladivostock. But what can you do? It’s still a cool map.
The discussion on the website is fascinating. There are all the old chestnuts about whether England, Scotland and Wales are separate countries (yes but they’re countries within the larger country of the UK), whether Hong Kong and Taiwan should be included as part of China or listed separately or whether Palestine should have its own listing. There is a significant push by Americans to have US states listed separately (not as a political statement but just so they can have fun filling in the map) but this was just as strongly resisted by others and I think it was eventually accommodated by building another map just of the US and its states. There are also the inevitable dumb questions such as the one about why Brussels isn’t on there (uh, Belgium is).
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