It had been known for a quite a while that the UK’s landmass was tilting, with the South–East of England going down and the North–West of Scotland rising up. Travelling to Scotland therefore seemed a safe bet. I had been a student at the University of Edinburgh and recalled the large hill known as Arthurs Seat within the city. Niki agreed that the place sounded safe enough, and it would also provide the opportunity to see how the city had changed in over two thousand years. So Edinburgh in the year 4200 it was. Now, what should we take with us?
“Smirnoff,” replied Niki without hesitation after I posed this question one Saturday afternoon.
“The vodka or the contract killer?” I asked.
“The hit–man. You know I hate vodka, Joe – it’s worse that Bai Jiu.”
Bai Jiu (literally, ‘white alcohol’) is the Chinese spirit drunk at many business and family dinners in China. It can be more than 70% proof, so we both avoided it like the plague. Actually, it might help in a plague – no virus would stand a chance.
“So you’d rather take Smirnoff this time – not Magic?” I asked.
“Magic was great in China. But for the year 4200, I think we might need someone like the guy in the Terminator movies.”
“Really? You want Arnie Schwarzenegger? Well I could phone his agent if you like…”
“You know what I mean Joe – stop being pedantic.”
“Pedantic? Have you been reading my dictionary again?”
“You know that my English vocabulary is far more extensive than yours, so cut the crap.”
I understood that Niki wanted to feel safe – we had no idea of what sort of people we would encounter two thousand years into the future; Smirnoff was definitely the man.”
“Okay, let’s give him a call then. Usual rate? He might fancy a trip to Scotland.”
As it turned out, he was very interested in the project. Having not heard from us for a while, he had been wondering whether or not we still required his services. He was therefore pleasantly surprised to get the text from Niki.
‘Count me in,’ was his text back, adding ‘Will they still have whiskey in 4200?’
‘We’ll take a bottle for you,’ Nik texted back.
“I didn’t think Smirnoff drank on business,” I said.
“I don’t think you know Smirnoff,” Nik replied.
We talked about how we were going to get up to Scotland, and I suggested a camper van. It would give us the mobility to move around, plus the option of sleeping in the van overnight if other accommodation was difficult to come by. Niki thought this was a good idea.
“Just one thing,” she said. “We don’t have a camper van.”
“No problem, we’ll just buy one.”
“And when we get to Scotland, how do we take it with us to the year 4200? Are you sure it will travel with us through time?”
This was a good point. My gut feeling was that we just hold on to the vehicle, and then time jump in the usual way – based on the principle that anything attached to us always seems to travel with us. But we’d never taken anything as big as a van to the past or into the future before.
“We should try it first,” she suggested.
So that’s exactly what we did. Not with the van – we put one of our cars to the test before splashing out on the Camper. We drove up to Hampstead Heath one evening, and tried to jump a couple of years into the future. If it worked for a two year leap, then surely it would work for four thousand right?
Both of us stood outside the car, each of us simply holding a door–handle as I changed the date on my phone. I’d placed a beer bottle outside the car in the road as a control (if the beer bottle was still there after two years, then we clearly hadn’t gone anywhere). The method worked! The wobble effect was a lot bigger than anything we had previously experienced, so we didn’t want to try it too many times – but it did work.
Next, we sat inside the car and attempted to travel into the future. This would be much more convenient if it worked. But this time, we were on the road to nowhere… the beer bottle was still sitting outside. We set the date to twenty years in the future just to double-check, but the same result.
“Why didn’t that work?” asked Nik. It was a good question – but one I couldn’t answer.
“Search me,” I said after a moment.
“Why? Are you hiding something?”
“It’s an expression Nik – you must have heard of that one?” She smiled at me. “Oh, you’re joking.” I stared into the distance through the windscreen. “There must be some reason for this...”
Then Niki got it. “We’re sitting inside the car.”
“Okay…. and?”
“We’re sitting inside the car, in the same way that we sit inside our house.”
“Oh!” I said as it began to dawn on me. “Whenever we jump anywhere from our house, we don’t take the house with us.”
“Right.”
“That’s because we’re not actually attached to the house…” I surmised.
“And because the house is fixed to the Earth,” Niki added.
“Well, that’s true. When we stand on a road, we don’t take the road with us. On the other hand, the car is a moveable object. So maybe it’s a matter of movability, and also where we’re located?”
“It seems so,” agreed Nik.
Whatever the exact reason, we knew one way to take a car into the future with us, and that was good enough. The next stop: the camper van shop.
*
The vehicle we purchased in the end was more of a motor home than camper van. We might need to accommodate the three of us, and we wanted to have room for food, clothing and other things. Our money and credit cards would be worthless two thousand years from now, so we had to make sure we’d got everything we needed to survive for a while. Yes, we could always jump back to the present – but only if our phone continued to work as a time machine. Our experience in ancient China had taught us to err on the side of caution and assume that if things can go wrong, then they might go wrong.
As usual, Smirnoff said he would meet us at our destination rather than travel with us. So Nik and I had plenty of time to talk on the way to Scotland.
“Joe, are you getting bored of time travelling?” Niki asked me as we drove along the motorway. The question surprised me.
“Bored? No… why do you ask? Are you getting bored with it?”
“Sometimes I wonder why we’re doing it.”
“Making a difference… curiosity… that’s the main reasons I do it.”
“It can be dangerous.”
“Sure it can – I know that. We don’t want to a repeat of what happened in China. But I still think it’s worth doing. If we told anyone we were bored with time travel, they’d think we’d gone crazy!”
“There’s one thing time travel can’t do…”
“Which is?”
“Make us live longer.”
“Ah!”
I had thought about this a few times. We continued to age normally however much we travelled through time, and irrespective of the time zones we occupied. But would we really want to live forever? Or even a longer life?
“Maybe people in the future will find a way to live longer,” Nik said.
“The secret of eternal life?” I replied.
“Something like that.”
“I think eternal life is overrated,” I said. “Who would want to live on this planet forever?”
We both went quiet with that thought. Deep questions about the purpose of life and what awaits us after death were round the corner, and at that moment neither of us wanted to face such questions. But we would be forced to face them one day.
We left London at 6am in order to avoid the main traffic, and Niki got a rest in the back whilst I drove. I turned on the radio and listened to some laid back jazz. We took our turns at driving and resting and didn’t rush to get to Edinburgh, having arranged to meet Smirnoff in Holyrood Park in the city at 3pm that next day. I was loo
king forward to seeing him again.
***
Thirty–Eight
Arthur’s Seat is situated in Holyrood Park, which is also the location of Holyrood Palace, the official residence of the British Monarch in Scotland. Edinburgh is said to be built on seven hills, and Arthur’s Seat is the highest at 250 metres tall. I figured that if parts of Edinburgh had been flooded by 4200 CE, the top of Arthur’s seat would be one of the safest locations for us all. I had lived close to the hill during my student days at the University and regularly used to run up the north side to keep fit. The view from the top was amazing, with a postcard picture view of the city. It’s said to be the site of an extinct volcano, with a row of sandstone rocks called the Salisbury Crags running down from the summit.
Smirnoff looked different. He’d shaved off the stubble, had his hair cut and was sporting a new jacket. He greeted us like family.
“Nikita, Joe! I’ve missed you!”
“What have you been up to?” I asked the Russian, not expecting an honest reply.
“Oh, you know… killing time, and other things. So what’s this big trip into the future about… trying to stop a crazy dictator pushing the button again?”
“Not exactly,” I said, “we just want to know the future of the planet … the effects of global warming.”
“And you think you can stop it by telling all those small–minded presidents around the World what is going to happen if we continue to burn oil and gas… that sort of thing?”
“Something like that.”
“Okay, well I tell you the truth Joe - as a friend: no–one’s going to listen to you. They’ll ask you how you know what is going to happen, and you’ll say you’ve been to the future and seen it for yourself. And then they’ll lock you away. They don’t give a shit now, and they won’t give a shit then.”
“Well, we want to have a look anyway,” said Niki. “Personally, I’m not interested in making a difference anymore – I just want to know the future. Call it curiosity.”
“And you think it could be dangerous?” We both nodded. “Nice motor!” he said changing the subject and pointing towards the vehicle. “How much did you pay for it?”
“Enough,” I said.
“I tell you what… instead of paying me, you can give me this… how about that?”
We had paid close to 40,000 pounds for the motor home, so it seemed a good enough deal.
“Okay, we’ll think about it,” I said. I wanted to talk to Niki privately before handing over the keys. I wanted to make sure his contribution was worth that sort of money.
Smirnoff gave me his bags to carry into the van. One felt incredibly heavy.
“Jeez, what have you got in there – a small machine gun?”
“You said you needed firepower, so that’s what I brought.”
Once we were ready, we drove along the road leading towards the summit. There’s a small lake fairly high up called Dunsapie Loch, close to which we could park the van and then walk to the summit of Arthur’s Seat.
I’ve always had a good feeling about this hill. I used to have a view of it from my room in the adjacent student halls of residence where I stayed. Arthur’s Seat looks like a sleeping lion, guarding the city and waiting to be reawakened. Before jumping to the future, Niki wanted to see the city from the top of the hill and take some photographs, so we headed up a well–trodden path to the summit. Smirnoff preferred to stay by the van to have a smoke.
There were quite a few people at the top enjoying the fresh air and the views of Edinburgh. The vista was virtually unchanged since my student days.
“What’s that over there – the rock with the buildings on?” Nik asked.
“Oh, that’s Castle Rock… the famous Edinburgh Castle.”
“Is that the tallest building in Edinburgh?” Nik asked.
“I suppose so. But if you want the tallest free–standing building, it’s that one over there.” I pointed towards a church spire in the distance.
“It’s a church!” she exclaimed.
“Yes! St Margaret’s, I think. It’s around ninety meters high.”
After we’d satisfied our curiosity, we returned to Smirnoff and the van.
“Can we drive the van up the hill a little?” asked the Russian as we walked back down the grassy slope.
“Well, we’re not supposed to, and it’s quite steep,” I said, “but I guess we could try. Are you thinking the van would be safer up there?”
“I am,” he replied.
We returned to the van, and drove it up the slope in the direction of the summit. I was glad we’d purchased a vehicle with four–wheel drive. After about a hundred metres, we thought it was far enough and stopped the van. We were ready to jump to the future.
“Can we stay in the van to do this?” Smirnoff asked?
“Been there, tried it… doesn’t work,” I said.
“We have to hold on to the outside of the van,” Niki explained.
Making sure no–one was watching, we did exactly that, whilst I got ready to change the date to 4200 CE on my phone.
“Ready?” I asked. The others nodded. I noticed there was a camper’s tent around two hundred metres away – that would be a good test of whether or not we had actually moved through time. I changed the date to 4200 CE and we experienced the biggest wobble yet – it felt like a small earthquake. It was all I could do to hold onto the vehicle. When it was over, the tent had disappeared. But more than that, the whole vista looked very different – mainly because the car park below us was now a small lake. It was a good thing we followed Smirnoff’s idea and moved the van. We grabbed a bag from inside containing a camera, binoculars and a couple of Smirnoff’s hand guns, and returned to the top of the hill. I stared at the view in awe.
“Oh–my–god!” Nik exclaimed.
Where once buildings lay, now only a vast expanse of water met our eyes. Pretty much the entire city of Edinburgh had been consumed by sea.
“It’s amazing,” I murmured.
“So where is the capital of Scotland?” Smirnoff asked. “I’ve always wanted to see it.”
“Well if you’ve brought your scuba gear, you probably still can,” I replied.
“The top of the Castle is still there,” Nik observed excitedly. “It looks like an island!”
Just the buildings were still visible – seemingly floating on the sea.
“What are they over there – in the distance?” Niki was looking through her binoculars and pointing at two towers standing out of the water towards the West. I took the binoculars and stared where she was pointing.
“Oh! It’s the Forth Road Bridge – what’s left of it.”
“Let me see,” Niki said, taking back the binoculars from my hands.
I remember the Bridge used to be around a hundred and fifty metres high, and it looked like there was about a third left above water. So the flood was probably around a hundred metres deep. That was enough to submerge all the city buildings – save those on Castle Hill.
The question was now: where did everybody go? If Edinburgh had been flooded, it was likely that other towns and cities in the region had suffered the same fate. People must have headed for higher ground, assuming the residents had time to escape the flood. It could well have been gradual over time – sea levels had already been rising in our own time with the effects of global warming.
“Joe,” Niki said, “I don’t get it. You said that the UK was tilting… London and South–East England sinking, and North–West Scotland rising.”
“That’s right.”
“Then why is part of Scotland under water?”
It was a good question.
“Well, for one thing,” I replied, “we’re in the east of Central Scotland – North-West Scotland should still be above water. I hate to think what could have happened to London and the South East though.
“We should try the mountains in The Highlands. If people are anywhere, they’ll be there,” sug
gested Smirnoff. We both agreed with his plan – it made perfect sense. The question was: how could we drive anywhere surrounded by this vast expanse of water? The answer in the end was simple – if you can travel through time. We returned to the van, jumped back to the present, and then drove towards Stirling – the gateway to the Highlands of Scotland.
***
Thirty–Nine
It was late by the time we arrived in Stirling, but we managed to find a small hotel for the three of us in the town centre. Smirnoff didn’t mind sharing a hotel – he didn’t think he’d be known in this neck of the woods – and after having a drink (or two) in the hotel bar, we said goodnight and went to our respective rooms. We had a lot to think about before travelling to the mountains the next day.
*
In the morning, Smirnoff was nowhere to be seen, so Niki and I breakfasted alone.
“Mmm… real Scottish marmalade!” remarked Niki crunching her way through the toast.
“You’re really not Chinese anymore, are you Nik? You’re supposed to enjoy congee and baozi’s, not toast and marmalade.”
“Do you think they’ll still have haggis where we’re going?” she asked, ignoring my quip.
“And deep–fried mars bars?” I suggested.
“You never know,” she said, walking over to help herself to more coffee. “But I’m really looking forward to finding out what the people are like in two thousand years’ time.”
“Me too.”
“I mean, imagine the technology they must have,” she continued, “what we have will seem totally Neanderthal.”
“We don’t know that, Nik. With the floods, and whatever else will happen, society might regress – retrograding to a cave–like existence.”
My mind turned to the Russian.
“I should look for Smirnoff – I thought he was joining us for breakfast. Don’t you think he’s different this trip Nik?”
“He does look different,” she replied.
“Yeah, but I mean his character… more distant.”
“You worry too much Joe – Smirnoff’s Smirnoff – he’s always like that. Unpredictable.”
Maybe Niki was right, but I wasn’t so sure. I looked around the hotel, and found him in the bar. He was sitting talking to the barman – they were just the two of them in the room.