The Gaming Outpost

He was clad in a red linen shirt, and a rich brown trousers made of flax, with a floppy black hat, and he walked across a glossy white marble floor toward the Control Room on the far side of the expansive volume.  The floor was inscribed with a crossed hourglass and telescope in gold, each seventy-two feet long in honor of 2072, or Day One of Sidestepping.  But he did not stand out, as he passed an Aztec murder priest, a Bavarian beer maid, two men in black, and a host of others in odd clothing to the schoolchildren clumped in a group on the far side doing a field day from 2114, Present Day.

Holmes let himself in, and nodded at Doris, the secretary as he passed her.  She smiled faintly back.  Grade One Field Agents had their privileges. Inside the octagon of the Control Room, which did not directly control anything, the grey-clad soldier rose.

“H.” He said holding out a hand in glad greeting.

“Robert.” The other said. “My visit to #43 Early American Cluster was successful.”

The Controller’s face tightened into a frown.

“Robert.” The man said as patiently as he could. “We’ve talked about this, gamed it every way but loose.  The only way the Constitution takes hold is if the some sort of slave compromise is included.”

“But, #18,” Robert said, and sighed. “No, its still inexplicable. The frontiersmen, the Scot-Irish manage to out maneuver the Yankees and the Planters, and create the Auria America.”

“But we have Sidestepping.” A young voice from the corner of the room spoke up, and then the fellow blushed as the two senior men glanced at him.

“My new assistant, Isaac.” Robert said. “This is H. He’s been doing this for thirty years now.”

Holmes shrugged. “Forty years sir.  Isaac, we may have practical cross-temporal control, but predicting the results of adding new variables to an equation is still a matter of art rather than science.”

“But I was told that we had practically learned everything there was to know about science and the human cond…” Isaac began, and only stopped when the two other men could not contain their smiles, and burst out laughing so hard tears came to their eyes.

Isaac drew himself up, and spoke coldly.

“I shall leave then.”

“Please, please, Isaac. I…” Holmes considered. “I heard much the same thing from some of my teachers in the wake of the first burst of knowledge from Pan-Temporal Theory.”

Isaac paused at the door.

“I heard men say as much when I came here, and in my first world.” Robert said.

“Your first world, sir?  But they didn’t even have brain-computer interlinks.”  Isaac seemed incredulous.

“Steam engines were the big thing, back then.” Robert said.

Isaac almost asked what that was, but wisely he kept his mouth shout.

“Come over here, Isaac.” Holmes said in a friendly tone with a casual wave of his arm as he walked toward window three while lighting his pipe, in the octagonal shaped room.  This view, through the twisting of spatial topography was over the Launch Room while also being five hundred feet away.

Isaac breathed in with excitement as he saw the Mulitlarity, a light sparkling with potential, Chaos barely bound in form.  Step through it, and you were elsewhen. 

It was then that Holmes decided he would like the kid.  Any good agent loved the Multilarity.  The three of them watched people and equipment walk down the World Path, with each stairstep inscribed with the name of an agent who had died, and vanish into some other world.  Others came back.  The work of the Temporal Patrol went on, although calling them such was really a wrong name.

They travelled sideways, not forward or backward.

“Um, sir.” Isaac began, just a bit tentatively, as the three of them stared out the window.

“Look to your left, Isaac, see the Timestone.”

“There is a pile of boxes ready for….”

“Greenland, back when it was green.” Robert said. “Up further, lad.”

“The white rose on the wall facade.”

“It symbolizes surrender to the will of the Maker of the timelines. But behind the facade is a huge black…” Holmes said.

“I see it, but I thought the Timestone was in the Main Hall.”

“Its in every hall and room, Isaac.” Robert said. “Its what holds this place together.”

There was a gasp as the two older men expected.

“Sir, there is a crack in it, like a slash, perhaps four feet long.” Isaac explained.

“Can’t be.” Robert said, and turned away as did Holmes.

“But there is.” Isaac stayed by the window and insisted.

“Then I suggest you get your eyes checked, boy. What is the definition of Temporal Granite?”  Robert’s voice came out flat and harsh, and suddenly you believed that he had commanded armies, and out-fought superior forces for years.

“Temporal Granite is formed by extruding energy from the cosmic foam, and then locking it into stasis after its initial cooling period of two minutes and fourteen seconds.  It is unbreakable.” Isaac quoted from his textbooks.

“So, what does unbreakable mean?” Holmes said with the most cutting tone he could manage.

Isaac was quiet for a long moment, and both older men began praying for him, and for the Patrol.

Then he slammed a foot on the floor, and in great agitation spoke.

“Sirs, there is damage to the Timestone, a slash in it, and I demand you institute a Level One Alarm now!”

Both men turned toward Isaac, and began applauding softly.  He frowned, looked perplexed, and then thoughtful.

“All field agents have to pass some sort of similar test, Isaac. I’d apologize, but I don’t think I mistreated you.” Robert said in his most gracious manner.

“You’re also showing me that my textbooks are wrong.” Isaac added, for despite his limitations, he was a very bright man.

“How?” He added.

The other two shrugged.

“Three years ago, we met a fellow who called himself a ‘verser’.  We told him to ‘cease and desist’ from his actions.  He threw his axe at the Timestone, and nearly cut it in half.” H. said, for he had been there.

“B-but that’s impossible.” Isaac protested.  His need for certainty still rising back up for a second.

“You’re telling me, brother.”

“So that’s why, sir, whenever you get a ‘verser’ report you want to hear it immediately?” Isaac Asimov surmised to his superior, Robert E. Lee.

“Quite so.”

“And I’ve got such news as well. But this time, I managed to get a picture of one of them.  A female.  I did not let her know I was on to her.”

“Well done.” Robert said to H.

“So, do you have any theories or guesses about the Timestone damage?” Isaac asked H.

“When the impossible is discarded, you must take the last, no matter how improbable.” Sherlock Holmes said. “I think it was magic.”