1997…
Jacob awoke with a start.
His half-opened eyes struggled to see much in the gloom of his unlit bedroom, the vaguely familiar shapes blurred in the middle distance. He could make out his clock, more by sound than by sight, gently ticking away on the wall at the other end of the room. He strained to make out the hands, but the darkness was too much.
He slid out of bed, rubbing his eyes to try and coax a little more sharpness out of his vision, then remembered himself. He picked up his glasses from the bedside table, and saw that the time was 12:32AM. He’d just had his first eye test the day previously, and was just getting used to the glasses. He removed them and placed them back on the bedside table, alongside his current issue of The Amazing Spider-Man.
Jacob tried to remember what had woken him up. This is a difficult enough task to perform for anyone, let alone a small boy who can sleep more deeply than the Mariana Trench. He could vaguely remember something that sounded like a tapping, though he doubted that something so mild and gentle would be able to wake him up. Jacob was fairly confident in his ability to sleep even through a hurricane.
Taking the logical cognitive route, he decided that it must have been because he needed the toilet. He performed a mental pat-down of his bladder and colon, and surmised that urination was in order. Throwing on his Spider-Man dressing gown and abandoning his glasses on the bedside, he ambled towards his bedroom door and opened it.
The hallway was bathed in pale moonlight. Dead trees beyond the windows left jagged, bone-like shadows across the various surfaces of the house. Mixed in with the moonlight was the artificial, yellow glow of streetlights. Jacob tiptoed across the landing, passing his parents’ room and the airing cupboard, along with a particularly gaudy family photo, depicting the Harlans in an extravagantly decorated hall. While the Harlan family was a wealthy one, wealth certainly didn’t account for taste, and nor could it substitute for it.
The bathroom door stood ajar, as if inviting Jacob inside. Jacob knew that this kind of thought was ridiculous; the bathroom door was always left ajar. The only time the bathroom door was ever closed was when the bathroom was occupied, such was the unwritten rule of the bathroom door. However, house rules considered, the four-inch gap, coupled with the pale moonlight, thirded by the skeletal shadows and furthermore enhanced by the fact that the bathroom light was on…
Jacob gasped, his hand slowly reaching toward his mouth. He realised what it was that had woken him up…
The toilet flushed. Jacob knew it couldn’t be his mother, because she always made sure to shut the door behind her, and his father was away for the weekend with some friends, likely conducting business of some sort.. It occurred to him briefly, as it had done many times throughout his life (and would continue to puzzle him), that he hadn’t a clue what his father did for a living. All he knew was that he came home around six in the afternoon every weekday, vaguely simmering about something or other, vaguely poured himself a small glass of scotch, and retired to the armchair in front of the television to browse fervently, if vaguely, through the channels for a suitable source of background chatter in order to dissuade the family from interrupting his vague thoughts.
“You don’t have to be scared, Jacob,” a frighteningly pleasant voice assured him from the bathroom, “I’m not here to hurt you, or anyone for that matter.” The sound of water sloshing emanated from the room. “You can come in you know, I don’t bite.”
Jacob entered. A tall, albeit hunched-over man was washing his hands in the sink. He pointed to the toilet, “Hope you don’t mind. It was a long drive down here. Well, compared to the kind of journeys I’m used to.” His brow furrowed for a moment and added, “what with Abswyth being so small and all.” The dishevelled man began drying his hands on the fluffy red towel beside the sink, and finished the job on his trousers. Patches of stubble were forming on his face, though it was hard to make out the exact colour. A large tuque covered his hair, and the front was pulled down to his eyebrows. He seemed to be generally in good shape, though his body was hidden by a large turtle-neck jumper and even larger coat, and he wore jeans, the legs of which had diameters like industrial pipes. The only possible identifiers this man had were his eyes, which carried with them the weight of great knowledge, knowledge that Jacob suspected was about to be imparted to him.
“So I don’t suppose you’re gonna tell me your name?” Jacob asked politely. The man turned around to face him, surprise registering on his face for a moment, which faded to a look of mild wistfulness, almost nostalgic.
“You’re a natural at this kind of thing, aren’t you?” The stranger grinned, “you always were.” He sighed with relief, “which I suppose will make this all the easier.”
‘What do you mean?’ Jacob asked, “make what easier?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet? I’m here to give you some advice. Some life tips, that sort of thing. Thing is, everyone needs a little guidance now and then, and right now I’m here to set you on the right path. Make sure things turn out the way they’re supposed to. You following me?”
Jacob nodded. “So… Like a fairy God… Father?” The stranger grinned again. It was a pleasant enough grin, all the teeth were there, and sufficiently white as to be comforting.
“Yeah. You could put it like that. In fact, I couldn’t think of a better way to put it myself, you’ve got me there.”
Jacob suddenly thought, what about mum, but then recalled that his mother liked to take a couple of sleeping pills right before bedtime to get her money’s worth out of a good night’s sleep, on the basis that time = money, so therefore getting the most possible out of every passing moment was time – ergo money – well spent.
“So, Fairy… What is it you’ve come to tell me?” Jacob inquired honestly. The Fairy bent down on one knee to look more closely at Jacob’s face.
“Well, first, why don’t you tell me more about yourself? What is it you wanna be when you grow up, little Jake?”
Jacob gave this some thought. He hadn’t considered his future any more than a box of biscuits had considered its nutritional value. “I don’t know. I’m only seven.”
“Ah-ah…” The Fairy tapped his watch. “Do you know what day it is?”
“It’s Sunday, right?” Jacob looked unsure. His teacher often presented him with trick questions, and he was already beginning to feel the shame of getting such a question wrong. The Fairy showed him the watch face.
“It’s Monday, by about 40 minutes. Monday the 12th of May. You know what that means, lad?”
Jacob looked excited and almost screamed. “It’s my birthday!” Jacob whisper-screamed, “But how did you know that?”
“Well, it’s part of the… Fairy God-fathering, you see.” He stood back up hesitantly and walked towards the window. He peered out while still addressing Jacob, “we have to know these things. And, of course,” he looked back to Jacob with excitement on his face, “that means you’re not seven, you’re eight, now!” He beamed at Jacob, an unmistakable hint of pride in his expression. “So tell me, Jake. Have you ever wondered about the world? About how things work?”
“What do you mean, Fairy?”
“I get the feeling that you’ve got the kind of mind that wants to know things. The kind of mind that needs to understand. Am I right?”
“Well, I guess… Sometimes I look at a Swiss roll and wonder how the jam got inside, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, no,” the Fairy laughed, “not that sort of thing. What I’m talking about is… Well…” He looked into Jacob’s eyes with passion, “science. You know, laser guns, robots, flying cars…” The man’s face became serious, though somewhere hidden in his expression was the hint of adventure, even deeper lay the foundation of truth, or even more dangerous… Experience. He squatted down a few feet, bringing his face down to the same x axis as Jacob’s. “Time travel?” He half-whispered to Jacob, his eyes almost looking through him.
Jacob stared back, glassy-eyed, a whisper of a smile on his face threatened to turn into a full grin but was quickly defeated by the lullaby of doubt. “Well… I’ve seen that sort of stuff in films. But it isn’t real! We won’t have any of… That stuff… Until the future.”
The Fairy’s stare strengthened, but his mouth split into a conspiratorial smirk. “Lad, you have no idea how close the future really is. And if you’re as smart as I think you are, you can even make some of the future yourself, with science. You like science, don’t you?”
“Well, in school we do some really cool experiments with water and chemicals and things.”
The Fairy looked affronted by this, scoffing and waving his hand dismissively, and stood up. “That? That’s just chemistry, that is. That’s not what you want. Physics. Remember that word. Hold on to it, because that’s where the interesting things happen. And never stop thinking. Always think, always question. Keep your mind on the goal.” He paced around the bathroom in thought but, Jacob noticed, did so quietly.
“The goal? What do you mean?” Jacob asked innocently.
The Fairy stopped pacing, looked Jacob in the eyes, and knelt in front of him. “The goal, Jake…” He began, and pulled back his left sleeve, revealing a dazzling platinum watch. The face was completely black, apart from the Roman numerals set around in the typical watch fashion. Neither the second nor minute or hour hands made any sound as they crept around the watch face, turning inexorably clockwise. He unclasped the strap from his wrist, and removed the watch from his arm. He then took Jacob’s left hand and hooked the watch onto his wrist, securing it in place. He released his grip on Jacob’s wrist and looked deeply into his eyes. He grinned. “The goal, Jake… Is to save Time.” Jacob stared at the watch clasped to his wrist, then humourlessly looked back at the Fairy’s paternal smile, which was waiting earnestly for a response. He sighed.
“Very funny, Fairy. Nice play on words.” The Fairy’s smile did not abate as he stood up, and looked absent-mindedly at his wrist. He shut his eyes and thrust his palm violently into contact with his forehead. He looked at Jacob shamefully.
“What time is it?” He asked Jacob, current owner of the only watch in the room.
“Uh… It’s quarter to one.” Jacob replied with some difficulty. His glasses were back in his bedroom.
“Well, Jakey. Looks like it’s time for me to get lost. I’m sure you’ve had enough of me, and you probably want the toilet anyway. Just remember what I said, okay? Your life belongs to science. It’s in your blood, and in your head,” said the Fairy, walking towards the bathroom door.
“How do you know?” Jacob asked, eyeing the porcelain longingly.
“You already know.” Jacob turned back to the door and saw that the stranger, the Fairy, the apparition – whatever he was, he had vanished. Not being the urgent type, he decided to urinate first, ask questions later.
After a quick vacation of the bladder and an even hastier attempt at personal hygiene which left the bathroom sink covered in soap and suds, Jacob stealthily – as stealthy as an eight-year-old can be, at any rate – descended the stairs. Ornaments and other miscellaneous furniture cast interesting and ornate shadows across the steps, accompanied by the twisting and beckoning shapes of the trees. Even in the gloom, Jacob wasn’t nervous. This was because Jacob had a unique kind of luck; he could stumble himself into all sorts of trouble, but in every case could find an even more unlikely way stumble back out. This unusual quirk had left Jacob with a strange, optimistically stilted sense of danger, that is, without one altogether.
To many children (and indeed many parents), the prospect of a strange man entering your home to offer life advice, use your toilet, give you an exceptionally shiny watch and then bugger off, is undeniably strange and certainly suspicious. To Jacob, this was merely a curiously eventful night.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and walked to the front door. He tried the handle, and found that it was still locked. In normal circumstances, this would be, well… Normal. But the man had to have gotten in somehow, if he was expecting to find a way back out. Jacob turned and headed through the living room, and over to the dining and kitchen area. The conservatory door was also locked, upon closer inspection. Jacob peered through the window, where he saw, out in the garden, one of the swings gently rocking to and fro…
The Sub-Time Continuity 