What could be nicer than a garden in summer?
And an invitation to a garden party on a sunny morning.
Until it starts raining…
But what would a traditional summer garden party be without torrential rain and thunder!
But two books found a new home.
‘Doctor Chowdry, can you sign this to say you agree to this interview being filmed?’
‘With that tiny thing you call a phone, however many things does it do?’
‘If you claim to be from the future, surely you are acquainted with far more advanced technology than this?’
‘No, no, that’s what I have been trying to tell everyone for the past two months, all gone, everything that you take for granted gone. Where does the power come from for your phone, it’s not plugged in like your kettle and toaster and all those strange things in the kitchen.’
‘Battery… well obviously I plug it in to charge the battery.’
‘Mr Cummings, you seem like a fairly intelligent chap; how would your society work if the power disappeared completely?’
‘Um well, I cycle to work and do a great BBQ…’
‘And do you work in a building, does it have electricity, computers?’
‘Okay, point taken, the best thing you can do is to explain to me and the important people who are going to see this interview, what on earth happened between now and 2099.’
Doctor Chowdry does not wish to reveal his given names. Interviewed by Findlay Cummings, HM’s private office, Saturday 22nd July 2023.
‘Can you tell me your age and describe where you were living in 2099?’
‘In the same place I have lived all my thirty five years, in a large bunker beneath what was London. What I am going to tell you is incomplete, passed down to me by my parents and others by word of mouth. When communication, as you Mr. Cummings know it, has been destroyed, it is hard to know what happened to the city, my country, let alone the rest of the world. But as no one has come to find us except The Hunters, we can presume a world wide civilisation no longer exists.
You are all in a panic about the future, without doing much about it. Is artificial intelligence going to take over, is climate change going to destroy the planet, will wars ever stop? Artificial Intelligence will take over for a while, until the power cuts out, by which time AI has ensured that wars continue. Programmed to send missiles to destroy cities and power hubs it kept seeking out new targets. The planet, Gaia, will be fine, it can look after itself, always has, while humans swarm around in panic like the ants and rats that live in our bunker.
A perfect storm of events occurred. In a city flattened by war or natural disaster and you already have plenty of those, people can’t access clean water or food or medical help. If the whole world was like that, who would send help? Are you getting the picture now?’
‘Yes, yes, but we wouldn’t have let it get like that…’
‘Well apparently you did. Add to that the fires and floods that you already have with regularity, bringing lost food production, we can presume lives were lost in the billions.’
‘But how did your people survive?’
‘My grandparents and others thought it a temporary measure, a wartime situation, shelter in the many underground networks, stock up on food and essentials to tide them over. It evolved into living underground, only creeping out to try and salvage what they could. Nature took over, quicker than they expected. You might think that sounds good, but for us nature is dangerous, certainly the way it developed. As nature encroached so did the animals and following them were the hunters.’
‘I thought no one had survived, how could they, but Lauren Smith has told us about the hunters…’
‘I have seen your so called ‘survival programmes’ and news about wars. Soldiers, mountaineers, people who love trekking around in the wild, those who hunted for fun, criminals as well perhaps; anybody who was tough, used to surviving out in the open, could handle a gun. Those people retreated to the wildest parts, shot animals for food, found abandoned farms, rode abandoned horses, they became the hunters. They were not bothered that they couldn’t read a book, go to the theatre, watch the news on television. Many of these tough ones would still have succumbed to natural disasters, but we know there are networks of hunters across our land. They bring us meat in return for medical help, such as we can offer.’
‘Are you a medical doctor?’
‘I don’t think I would get a job with your NHS. My grandfather was a doctor, a surgeon and I have his precious books, but not the means to carry out most of the procedures. I think of myself more as a scientist, preserving what has been passed down to me, trying my best to gain new knowledge.’
‘I will find medical people who will be very interested to talk to you. But I also want to know why you think nature is so dangerous, with war over why haven’t you moved outside, started growing food?’
‘Talking of food, it’s lunchtime and I’m tired and hungry, perhaps we will talk off record while we eat.’
Interview part one ended for refreshment break.
‘…and the drums did not stop. I can still hear them in my head when I try to sleep. That was how the hunters passed messages safely across the dangerous wild lands; a complex drum language they had created with what means they had. Drums are easy to make with an endless supply of animal skins and pliable green wood from the vast new forests.’
‘Ah, that is interesting, drums have been an important part of many cultures, probably from the very beginnings of social awareness. Actually I play drums, love drumming, I’m in a bhangra band and play the dohl.’
My interviewer certainly seemed to be taking seriously my recounting of my visit to 2099 and he was far from the aloof official I had imagined. Even as he spoke, his fingers were drumming a rhythm on the desk between us.
‘The hunters certainly used them for entertainment as well, but drums also had another important use. A whole group of drummers gathered to escort me back to the bunker. I was put on a horse, clinging on for dear life, but feeling safe surrounded by guards, hunters and drummers. Off we marched, like being in an epic film, the drummers beating to ward off the dangerous animals, the hunters carrying flaming torches, even though it was broad daylight. The drums did not stop and no beast came near us.’
‘It sounds as if you were well cared for by the hunters, even if it was hardly the life style you were used to, so why did they return you to the bunker people?’
‘The leaders were in some sort of negotiation, there is interaction between the two societies. The hunters supply them with fresh meat and what passed as vegetables and fruit. In return I think they got medicines and medical advice … and mushrooms, that was all the bunker people could grow underground. Anyway, Doctor Chowdry needed me for his plan to travel back to 2023 and I agreed, it seemed like my only chance to get back.’
‘Yes I am so excited to be meeting Doctor Chowdry soon and so is my boss.’
‘Can’t you tell me who your boss is?’
‘No, no, protocol and all that. All you need to know is that we both believe your story, or at least we are taking the position that every word is true unless we can prove otherwise. But to be frank, it is going to be nearly impossible to get world leaders and experts to listen to what the doctor has to say, let alone act on it.’
My positive mood evaporated. I liked this chap, even though I had no idea who he was, but it didn’t sound as if he or his boss had much influence in the real world.
Stuck in this beautiful rural hideaway, that apparently belonged to The Boss, we were not prisoners, but nor did we have any means of getting away or accessing the media. We had been here nearly two months with only phone calls with my family. In that time I had learnt a lot about the second half of the 21st century from my time travel companions, Doctor Chowdry and Belinda Billings, but I feared they were not learning much about 2023. They were mesmerised by television and radio; I tried to shield them from programmes that I had previously sneakily enjoyed, but now saw as utter rubbish compared with more important issues.
The doctor had early on realised that time travel was simple compared to the task he had set himself, to persuade people to care for Gaia and live in peace. He could at least understand, from television news and serious documentaries, how countries and their leaders could get so wrapped up in the disasters of the moment and never see the bigger picture. Empty talk he called it, so many summits and meetings, everyone talking and nobody doing anything.
As for me, I had to face the fact that I was as guilty as anyone else of letting humanity sleepwalk to disaster. I had been wrapped in a cosy world of husband, children, work, friends and fun and even when I was able to return to my family it could never be cosy again.
Bored at home – why not go on a trip?
Perhaps something more adventurous…
…or do you prefer comfort?
Careful on deck…
…don’t get left behind.
Perhaps you will be safer on dry land.
Be adventurous, ignore the signs…
This evening’s story follows on from ‘Late Home’, or you can read it as a stand alone tale.
Go and visit her.
Visit her? You want me to go and visit her Sir?
Yes, today and report back to me ASP. If this woman is telling the truth we can’t let her get into the hands of the press… or the government. Show me that letter again… hmm where is she and where are her two er ‘companions’?
At a Salvation Army shelter, treating them all as vulnerable homeless persons apparently, so at least nobody will be in the least bit interested in them.
Good, good and if they do appear to be telling the truth we can slip them away to my place in the country and I will go and visit them personally.
Which place… and if you don’t mind me saying Sir, what if this is all a hoax, or this poor woman has been duped?
Then we make sure they are taken care of.
Isn’t that a bit drastic Sir, I wasn’t suggesting they be disposed of.
I mean cared For… what was your last position?
Mrs Smith, Mrs Lauren Smith?
Yes and this is Belinda Billings… and Doctor Chowdry.
Cummings, I have come on behalf of one of the people to whom you addressed your letter; I cannot disclose who until I have verified your story.
Fair enough, but how are we supposed to trust you if we have no idea who you are?
Do you know who you can trust?
No, no, even my own husband does not believe me, he just wants a rational explanation as to why or how I went missing for eighteen days, the worst eighteen days of his life. I can’t say I blame him, he was in a terrible state; at least now he’s not suspected of murder. He has managed to fend off the press saying the family need privacy at this difficult time, they are hiding out at his aunt’s in Devon. The Salvation Army have been very kind, but I think they are just humouring us, trying to find Belinda and the doctor on their missing persons data base, no luck for them with that ha ha.
Let me tell the story from our point of view Mr. Cummings. Lauren appeared in our bunker during one of our security alerts and was in a very confused state. She was not registered with us and in her strange outfit we had no idea where she could have come from, she certainly didn’t look like a hunter. Her ID, if it was real, indicated she had come from the 2020s. As the year is 2099, that seemed impossible until I recalled the legend of Lauren of London, who will come to take us back to the past so we can mend the future…. And she did and here we are.
Well Miss Billings I can certainly see why no one believes any of you. What do you have to say Doctor Chowdry?
If no one of importance listens to us our mission will have failed. Gaia saved herself, but she had no reason to care about humans. It was up to us to work out how to live in harmony with Mother Earth and we didn’t. So now we grovel underground, trapped like rats, rats with the minds of gods.
I believe them Sir, or at least it’s worth bringing in every expert you can muster to investigate their claims.
Tonight’s tale follows on from last week’s or you can read as a stand alone story.
The book had been locked away again; I had only read the opening lines of Door To The Future, published 2028, but enough to know the narrator shared my name and had also been propelled into the future. There must be many Lauren Smiths around, this book need not have anything to do with me, just a coincidence, though how many others of my namesake had gone through the wrong door?
How did it come to be written and if it was about me, was it reassuring proof that I returned to my own time? It was unlikely I had written it, I had no imagination, as my English teacher was always telling me. Before we had the children I worked in an office and wrote reports, dealt with finances. I liked that world of precision and writing a romantic fantasy novel would never have occurred to me. Someone else could have written it, but I knew no writers to tell my story to.
‘Lauren, Miss Smith, did you hear what I said dear, you must be tired, we must let you sleep.’
I had been so deep in thought I had lost track of what my rescuer and his mother were talking about.
‘No, I can’t sleep, I need to find out how this happened to me and how I can get back.’
‘No hurry dear, your time will stay the same, that’s what the book says.’
As they tried to explain their world I realised I could understand their past and my future better than they possibly could. I surmised Billings in the bunker had a better grasp of what had happened; my stomach churned as I wondered if she had made it safely back to the bunker or had she been eaten? I asked my rescuer what creature it was that attacked me.
‘A great cat, he wouldn’t eat you, got plenty of venison and beef out there, they just like to play with the weaker humans.’
The creature I glimpsed was a lot bigger than mythical black panthers spotted in the west country, it didn’t make sense.
As if she read my thoughts the mother spoke.
‘My mother told me strange creatures they had never seen escaped from the borytrees when everything stopped. Signtists made them from gentic earing. They mixed with other animals that went to the wild…’
It made sense, if normal society broke down the creatures we kept for our entertainment or experiment would escape, not just domestic dogs and cats, but wolf packs lovingly supervised in Scotland, animals in the zoo and wild boars that were already roaming some woodlands. I recalled Billings’ words that farm animals were much better at survival than humans, then there were large deer populations breeding happily with no natural predators.
‘How did everything stop?’
‘Pewters ran the world, then they turned off the cities.’
A simplistic explanation, but with no books and only stories passed down it must be hard for them to understand. When I worked in the office I was efficient, liked everything to be precise. If I had worked in pre computer days I would have kept immaculate ledger books and orderly filing cabinets; unless the office burnt down all that information would be safe and nothing would hold up our work. If the computers ‘went down’ in our office, or worse, the whole company’s computers were down it was a disaster, we were helpless and expected the tech people to sort it out. I Lauren Smith could not fix a computer let alone make them. If power started failing there would be no basic services or computers; society would grind to a halt.
‘But survivors, hunters… our people knew how to get food’ said my rescuer.
I would have been a bunker person, so would my friends. It was obvious who would survive, anyone who had been in the armed forces, knew how to use a gun, survive under tough conditions. Even those people we look down on who go out shooting grouse or culling deer and enjoying the stalking, they had the last laugh. Farmers, they deserved to survive, presumably they knew more about animals than the rest of us and probably had a shot gun handy and could kill a sheep or cow if need be. I knew little about life outside the city and now it seemed my lifestyle was pathetic when it came to awful disasters. But still there was a big question.
‘I don’t understand how the cities in my time could crumble, we have huge buildings everywhere, tall buildings, ancient stone buildings, where did they all go?’
‘There were wars, then the big destruction came. Weapons flew by themselves, even when the wars stopped. Weapons dropped out of the sky and flattened cities, my mother remembers even from the countryside where they had escaped they could see the fire and smoke on the far horizon. The city people who survived were hiding underground.’
In my cosy little world of the family and my teaching assistant job we watched the news, but still felt removed from all the awful events. Syria, Ukraine, it was possible for cities to be flattened under relentless attack and unmanned drones were a reality.
Even if I took the hunters and bunker people back to my time right now it was probably too late to unravel events already set in motion. I looked down at the uncomfortable rough cloth I was wrapped in and at the rough clothes of the man and his mother. Even if we could get back to 2023, who on earth would listen to us and our tale?
Today’s story follows on from this tiny tale, or you can read it as a stand alone story.
I should have been in the theatre with my husband watching that new comedy drama. Instead I was trapped in a drama that was not funny.
‘Madam, you are not registered with any sector in this bunker. Which bunker are you registered at?’
How had a trip to the Ladies at a Wetherspoon pub turned into a dystopian nightmare? I must have opened the wrong door…
‘Please tell me where I am and who you are, then I will tell you who I am.’
I was now in a strangely lit smaller room with half a dozen men and women all in the same uniform, all glaring at me.
‘Name and date of birth Madam.’
‘Lauren Smith, 8th February, 1983.’
There was a sharp intake of breath and mutterings.
‘You are just making things difficult for yourself, please show us you ID and current status.’
Shakily I opened my handbag and fumbled for my driver’s licence.
‘Very funny, what do you call this piece of historic plastic?’
Suddenly a woman pushed past the others to stand close to me.
‘It’s her, it must be, the prophecy…’
‘Billings, you are on duty, this is not the time for your ridiculous fantasies, have you taken your medication today?’
‘Please Sir, just let me talk to her, I mean look at what she’s wearing… Lauren, it’s okay, we don’t mean any harm, we’re just not used to strangers turning up here. What is the date today?’
‘Tuesday 18th April.’
‘…and the year?’
‘2023 of course.’
‘It is her Sir, come to take us back to change things.’
‘For God’s sake Billings, the dawn of the 22nd century and you still believe in time travel and benevolent forces coming to save us.’
Some of my questions were being answered, but not the answers I wanted. Best case scenario I was being tricked and filmed for some ridiculous reality television show, but who would have arranged such a thing? Jay did not have the imagination and all he wanted was a romantic night away with me while his sister looked after the kids. And if this was real… the children. How would Jay explain to them I had gone missing, the last person to see me, they always suspect the husbands…’
‘Lauren, are you feeling okay, come with me to the calm zone and have a drink, you’re in shock.’
Mutterings among the others got louder and scarier.
‘She’s in trouble, not shock. Obviously a spy… or a total nut case.’
Despite my terror I wondered how politically incorrect language had survived.
‘Billings, you are dismissed from duty, report to headquarters in the morning.’
I was about to lose my only hope.
‘No, please, I am not a spy and I do not have mental health issues, just let Billings show me the way I came in so I can leave.’
‘No one leaves the bunker till the all clear.’
A green light flashed on the wall.
‘All clear’ said Billings triumphantly ‘permission to escort the prisoner to the custody suite while you supervise the security checks.’
‘Ten minutes then report back to me.’
My new friend ushered me out of the room and into a dark corridor. Was she a friend or was worse to come?
‘I have to get back, my husband will be wondering where on earth I am.’
‘You are not how I always imagined, but then the prophecy says only a few will recognise her and to think it is me you have chosen to be your disciple.’
‘But I am just an ordinary person who hasn’t a clue what’s going on.’
‘But you will, that’s what the writings say and it’s my privilege to help you. Once I take you outside you will understand.’
‘Yes, outside, lets go before your boss changes his mind.’
A door, a door with chinks of light, she pulled a lever and it opened; but not onto a busy London street at twilight.
I closed my eyes against the brightness, a wonderful scent came to me, fresh air, air even fresher than during the Covid lockdown. The ground felt soft underfoot. I opened my eyes. I was surrounded by green; fields and trees as far as I could see. If I had time travelled I was surely in the past, unless I had died.
‘Is this real, it’s wonderful, where are we?’
‘In North London ward, April 18th 2099.’
‘But it can’t be. If we are really in the future it means the planet was saved.’
I ran through the luxuriant grass like a child, hugged a tree.
‘Wait Lauren, it’s not safe, you must stay with me till you understand.’
‘Do you know how I can get back to 2023?’
‘No, you need to tell us how to get back so we can change things.’
‘But how and why, it’s beautiful, nature has reclaimed part of the city, how much is like this?’
‘All of it.’
‘Impossible, all of London?’
‘All of the world.’
‘How wonderful.’
‘Wonderful for the world and other creatures, but not for humans. It started in your time, most of you didn’t realise. I thought you would know all this as the wise woman who knew the past and the future.’
I was beginning to wonder if Billings should have taken her medication.
‘You don’t get it do you? I expect you have a lot to learn before you can help us. You turned everything off, no more polluting power stations and vehicles, no more exploiting the earth and the oceans. It didn’t happen overnight, but you weren’t prepared. People couldn’t get to work and many jobs ceased to exist. Food couldn’t get to shops, then food wasn’t being grown or caught. Only the ‘organics’ as they were called managed to support themselves, but they weren’t so smug if they got ill and realised hospitals could not function without power and medicine could not be manufactured.’
I couldn’t believe what she was saying, but wanted to defend my times.
‘But we all learned to live off the land eventually?’
‘The minority who were left in safe pockets.’
‘But you still have wars, the bunkers…’
‘No war, not on any scale. The bunkers are where we live most of the time. The outside is dangerous, most people did not know how to hunt, or at least hunt without being killed first. Farm animals left to their own devices turned out to be better than us at survival and provided good food for the carnivores to thrive.’
‘But if you could you go back how would you change things?’
‘That is for you to explain. You are a scientist as well as a seer…’
I was a teaching assistant in primary school, I didn’t even do A Level science or maths and certainly knew nothing about time travel. I clung to the tree with its spring leaves budding, it felt so solid and alive and real. I looked up at a host of birds calling and singing. Was this paradise? Suddenly all the birds took off from the branches in terror. I looked down to see a large creature slinking through the long grass. Billings’ voice and the sirens seemed faint as I heard my heart thumping.
‘Don’t be long, we’ll have to leave for the theatre in a few moments.’
‘Hmm, looks like the Ladies is downstairs, send out a search party if I’m not back in five ha ha.’
I was not surprised to find a choice of narrow corridors and dark doors at the bottom of the rickety stairs. We were in one of those large Wetherspoons in an old interesting rescued building, with cosy nooks and different levels. More fun than the minimalist, exorbitant restaurant Jay had wanted to try, even if the food was exactly the same as our local Wetherspoons back home. One of my hobbies was clocking up new Wetherspoons on our holidays and mid week breaks, especially if they had interesting toilets.
I ventured down the most likely corridor, past a kitchen, a door to a yard and several staff only signs. The very last door looked hopeful and I was not disappointed; a huge circular space with higgledy piggledy cubicles, sofas, vanity benches and fairy tale mirrors. There was no one else around so I sneaked out my phone and took a few pictures for my blog. I could also put some on that new blog, Tuesday Toilets.
It was the mirrors that confused me as I was blasted by the gothic hot air drier. Where was the door out? Where was the door I had come in? I opened the cleaner’s cupboard and baby changing. I looked at my watch and wondered if Jay would send down a search party.
Now I was beginning to panic. I tried to calm down and work my way round logically trying every door and all the mirrors. I hoped Jay would send a search party.
I nearly fell through a mirror, it must have swivelled. Thank goodness. But as it closed behind me I realised it was the wrong door. This was not the corridor I had come down, no sign of the stairs back up. This corridor sloped down, but at least if I followed it I would either end up in another kitchen and apologise or go out of the fire exit. I should phone Jay to tell him what was going on.
There was no signal on my phone. Then I heard a man’s voice.
‘Come on Luv, hurry up, we’ve got to get down to the bunker, didn’t you hear the sirens?’
A man in a strange uniform with a large torch appeared at my side and pushed me through a door I had not noticed. I was blinded by the light; a vast space that didn’t make sense. A new modern tube station, but there weren’t any new tube lines in this part of London.
‘Which sector Madam?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t know where I am. Is this the underground station?’
‘We should be so lucky, wouldn’t we all like a train out of here… happy days eh? Now tell me which sector you are registered with so we can get you swiped in. We need to make sure everyone is accounted for after what happened last week.’
It’s never a good idea to wander through a writer’s mind, especially on a Monday.
Do you rush round cleaning and tidying when the in laws are coming, are you nervous when important visitors are expected? Spare a thought for President Macron who had to cancel the visit of King Charles III as the place was in too much of a mess…
Most of us worry about the cost of running our homes. This is nothing new. We are reading Jude the Obscure for our book club. Jude and Sue are going for a very long walk on the wild heathlands of Wessex and with no coffee shops in sight and poor Sue getting weary, they call at the only cottage for miles around. They end up sharing the mother and son’s dinner and staying the night. In conversation the cottager complained she will never get her roof fixed because the price of thatch has gone up so much.
Yes, I’ve been to the Giant gallery again.
I’ll leave readers to comment… while I take a wander down to the beach.
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 