“Wow,” said Ruth. There was no other reaction.
“Not an office, then,” Adam said.
“Nope. I think we found what we were looking for.”
“But what is it?”
They were in a long rectangular room, about the size and shape of a
shipping container. The door that had looked just like any other wooden
in the corridor from the outside was, they could see, actually only
half of a set of double metal doors that could be closed with not only
the lock but also bolts and had hoops where a metal bar could be placed
across to stop anyone getting through.
The walls were also metal, but hung with black curtains. Lights were
mounted on bars on the ceiling. There were no windows.
On the long side to the left of the door were a series of wide
shelves, divided into three sections. The middle section was perhaps
the easiest to understand. There were a couple of computer screens, a
keyboard and other electronic gadgets. The section furthest from the
door was separated from the centreal one by a wooden partition, and
contined, of all things, a kettle, small sink and what looked like a hob
for cooking on. Mugs were hung from the back of the shelf, and a big
teapot was in front of them. Well, of course, Ruth thought. Any
-whatever this place is- connected to her friends was always going to
contain a teapot.
The section nearest the door contained a keyboard- not a computer
keyboard, but a musical one, with a stand to hold sheet music. Tom saw
that it was connected by wires to the computer. Underneath this shelf
was a large wicker hamper. The rest of the space under the shelves was
taken up by the grey metal facings of computer equipment and containers
of some sort.
The end wall, opposite the door, was also covered in shelves,
although in this case they were book shelves. Ruth eyed them with
interest. In front of the other long wall ran a wide cushioned bench.
All in all it seemed a very pleasant litle room. But was that all it
was?
“But what is this place?” Adam asked. Ruth shrugged. Patrick closed
the door behind them and wandered over to the bookshelves.
“Whoever it was that gave you the instructions evidently wanted us to
come here,” Tom said. He sat down on a wooden chair in front of the
computer bank. “We just need to find out why.” He looked at the
keyboard. There was one button larger than the rest, with the symbol
for On. Tentatively, he pressed it.
Ruth was uneasy. “It feels- I don’t know, wrong somehow. As if it’s some kind of trap.”
“But we’ve got the keys,” Adam said. “Why would they give us the keys if it’s a trap?”
The computer screen flickered into life. “Welcome to the Type 47
Temporal Transportation Capsule,” Tom read. “To start please enter the
passtune on the audio input device.”
“Passtune?” Adam said. “What’s that?”
“Audio input device- that must mean the keyboard,” Tom said.
“Where’s that Quick Start thing you picked up?” Ruth asked. Patrick pulled it out and the others crowded round.
“Here,” Ruth said. “The default passtune is printed below. You are
advised to change your passtune as soon as possible and to keep it
secret to avoid others being able to gain access to your TTC.”
“It looks familiar for some reason,” Patrick said, staring at the lines of music.
“Can you play it, Adam?” Ruth asked. “You’re probably best at that.”
Adam sat down in front of the keyboard with the music in front of
him. Concentrating he began to play. It was only a few lines, but
before he’d played more than a few bars they knew what it was.
“Hail, poetry!” Patrick sang.
“Well, I suppose that makes sense,” Ruth said. “I think I’m begining to understand.”
Before she could explain the screens lit up. One displayed a message saying, “When would you like to go?”
“Doesn’t it mean where?” Adam asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ruth said. She had been flicking through the
Quick Start guide, and now she reached past Tom and entered some
numbers: 14 03 1885.
“What’s that?” Tom asked.
“The date of the first night of The Mikado,” Ruth said. She turned
to the others, her excitement evident. “It’s a time machine!”
The story continues...
No comments:
Post a Comment