one hundred and eleven years long, and that the point at which the beginning and the end would cross would occur at midnight on the thirty-first of May 2025 and at a quarter
past
midnight in the very early morning of the first of June 1914. I’m sure all of you can see the reason for the fifteen-minute time lag.’
Stanton couldn’t see it, nor did he imagine that many other people in the room could either. Professor Sengupta had the self-satisfied habit common to many academics of pretending an intellectual equality with his audience in order to happily demonstrate his own superiority.
‘It is, of course, because, as I have explained, gravity is not
even
or
symmetrical
. As each loop of space and time progresses, space and time are
gained
, just as in the case of leap years. And so although the two moments of departure and arrival are
simultaneous
, our time traveller will in effect arrive fifteen minutes
after
he leaves. And of course one hundred and eleven years
before
. Ha ha.’
Sengupta grinned broadly as if he’d made a great joke. There was a sycophantic murmur of forced mirth in reply, in which Sengupta allowed himself to bask for a moment before continuing.
‘The contact of these two separate moments in time will be minimal and fleeting. It will last for less than a second in time, and the
spatial
juxtaposition will be, to employ Newton’s own delightfully colourful phrase, “no bigger than a sentry box outside St James’s Palace”. Any person
standing
in that imaginary sentry box in 2025 would
also
be standing in it in 1914,
instantly
wiping out the previous reality and beginning the creation of an entirely new one. The whole one-hundred-and-eleven-year loop will be begun again. And the
location
where that notional sentry box will stand, the spatial coordinates where the twisted Slinky of space–time will cross itself, occurs in Istanbul.’
‘Constantinople!’ McCluskey shouted, unable to resist jumping up. ‘In
Europe
! I mean,
come on
! Is that fate or what? The place is barely seven hundred miles from Sarajevo! Fifteen hundred from Berlin! Newton’s coordinates could have dumped our man anywhere: the summit of Everest, the middle of the South China Sea—’
‘The burning superheated core of the planet,’ Sengupta interjected. ‘Space–time is no respecter of physical mass.’
‘Exactly,’ McCluskey went on exultantly. ‘Instead it’s “Who’s for a cup of Turkish coffee and a bit of belly dancing?” This is divine intervention, I tell you – it’s got to be. God gives us one shot at changing history and puts it exactly where it’s needed most.’
‘Let us be clear, Professor McCluskey,’ Sengupta said sternly, ‘whatever may be your religious beliefs, this is
all about science
. Newton, as I say, did the maths. He places his junction in space and time in Istanbul and his coordinates are fantastically specific. The crucial point occurs in the cellar of an old residential palace in the dockland area of the city. Newton secretly arranged for the purchase of the building, endowing that a hospital be established in it and ordering that the cellar henceforth remain forever locked.’
‘Bet
that
cost a pretty penny,’ McCluskey observed excitedly. ‘
Now
we know what the sly old bugger was doing at the Royal Mint all those years.’
‘Yes, well, be that as it may,’ Sengupta said firmly, clearly irritated at McCluskey’s constant interruptions. ‘The great man’s hope was that the cellar would still be locked in 2025, thus enabling a traveller from that time to enter the sentry box unimpeded. It was a long shot given the turbulence of history but in fact he nearly made it. It was only in the chaos that followed the Great War that Newton’s hospital finally was closed. Thus in 1914 the cellar was still locked under the terms of Newton’s endowment.’
‘But the cellar’s still there!’ McCluskey cried out.
‘Yes, yes, Professor McCluskey.’ Sengupta positively
past
midnight in the very early morning of the first of June 1914. I’m sure all of you can see the reason for the fifteen-minute time lag.’
Stanton couldn’t see it, nor did he imagine that many other people in the room could either. Professor Sengupta had the self-satisfied habit common to many academics of pretending an intellectual equality with his audience in order to happily demonstrate his own superiority.
‘It is, of course, because, as I have explained, gravity is not
even
or
symmetrical
. As each loop of space and time progresses, space and time are
gained
, just as in the case of leap years. And so although the two moments of departure and arrival are
simultaneous
, our time traveller will in effect arrive fifteen minutes
after
he leaves. And of course one hundred and eleven years
before
. Ha ha.’
Sengupta grinned broadly as if he’d made a great joke. There was a sycophantic murmur of forced mirth in reply, in which Sengupta allowed himself to bask for a moment before continuing.
‘The contact of these two separate moments in time will be minimal and fleeting. It will last for less than a second in time, and the
spatial
juxtaposition will be, to employ Newton’s own delightfully colourful phrase, “no bigger than a sentry box outside St James’s Palace”. Any person
standing
in that imaginary sentry box in 2025 would
also
be standing in it in 1914,
instantly
wiping out the previous reality and beginning the creation of an entirely new one. The whole one-hundred-and-eleven-year loop will be begun again. And the
location
where that notional sentry box will stand, the spatial coordinates where the twisted Slinky of space–time will cross itself, occurs in Istanbul.’
‘Constantinople!’ McCluskey shouted, unable to resist jumping up. ‘In
Europe
! I mean,
come on
! Is that fate or what? The place is barely seven hundred miles from Sarajevo! Fifteen hundred from Berlin! Newton’s coordinates could have dumped our man anywhere: the summit of Everest, the middle of the South China Sea—’
‘The burning superheated core of the planet,’ Sengupta interjected. ‘Space–time is no respecter of physical mass.’
‘Exactly,’ McCluskey went on exultantly. ‘Instead it’s “Who’s for a cup of Turkish coffee and a bit of belly dancing?” This is divine intervention, I tell you – it’s got to be. God gives us one shot at changing history and puts it exactly where it’s needed most.’
‘Let us be clear, Professor McCluskey,’ Sengupta said sternly, ‘whatever may be your religious beliefs, this is
all about science
. Newton, as I say, did the maths. He places his junction in space and time in Istanbul and his coordinates are fantastically specific. The crucial point occurs in the cellar of an old residential palace in the dockland area of the city. Newton secretly arranged for the purchase of the building, endowing that a hospital be established in it and ordering that the cellar henceforth remain forever locked.’
‘Bet
that
cost a pretty penny,’ McCluskey observed excitedly. ‘
Now
we know what the sly old bugger was doing at the Royal Mint all those years.’
‘Yes, well, be that as it may,’ Sengupta said firmly, clearly irritated at McCluskey’s constant interruptions. ‘The great man’s hope was that the cellar would still be locked in 2025, thus enabling a traveller from that time to enter the sentry box unimpeded. It was a long shot given the turbulence of history but in fact he nearly made it. It was only in the chaos that followed the Great War that Newton’s hospital finally was closed. Thus in 1914 the cellar was still locked under the terms of Newton’s endowment.’
‘But the cellar’s still there!’ McCluskey cried out.
‘Yes, yes, Professor McCluskey.’ Sengupta positively
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