Door Handle.
A sparkling river winds its way through distant fields. It occurs to you that while the inside of your capsule is transparent, the metal sheen of its outer shell will attract attention from afar. There is shade a few yards away. Perhaps rolling this thing out of the sun might buy some time to work out how to open it up. But your cylindrical prison is heavy. It would take too much time, and anyway the movement might also attract unwanted attention. Better to try and learn how the door handle and this capsule works right now.
The door handle glints as you turn it over in your hand. The robed figures carved into its lever are reminiscent of pictures of fairies and elves. It is strange that the stuff of childhood stories should be associated with a contraption as bizarre as this. But magic it cannot be. Nobody believes in witchcraft any more.
There must be some part of this invisible interior that the door handle will react to. Lying on your back in the cramped confines of the cylinder you knock at the walls in different places but gain nothing but bruised knuckles for your effort.
But wait... When the cylinder had been standing upright in the pub, there was a panel of raised bumps, next to where the entrance hatch had been. It had been level with your shoulder. With your feet firmly placed at one end it should be easy to find...
You shuffle into position and search with your hands. But the wall feels completely smooth. Surely the panel hasn't disappeared?
Of course - try the other end! Swivelling on your back until your feet face the opposite direction you wriggle down until they touch the other end.
A grid of blunt spikes and deep holes presses into your shoulder blade. It's underneath you you'll need to roll the cylinder to free the hatch from the ground...
You stand, stooping to avoid cracking your head again, and counting to three, you hurl yourself forward. The impact jars your shoulder but the cylinder rolls just enough, the grass flattening underneath. Good! Now to see if the door handle will work.
Kneeling down, you push the base of the handle into the panel. Nothing happens. How did the girl get through the hatch before she disappeared?
Think. Think! The girl had opened the hatch with her door handle. No - wait - the hatch opened on its own then she climbed in - backwards. It slammed shut after she placed the egg in the panel... It changed into a door handle by itself, and then she wound the handle's lever and disappeared.
How could the hatch swing open by itself? How could the door handle change shape on its own? There was something very odd with the way everything had been behaving at the pub. Rubble jumping up from the floor. Blood running upwards instead of down. People walking backwards...
"Backwards!" Your voice sounds muted inside this small space. "She wound the lever. Then before that it changed into an egg..."
Grasping the base of the door handle with one hand and the lever with the other, you follow her example. The lever ticks as it winds in a circle. Without warning it retracts into the base of its pivot, hinges snapping into place. The metal tendrils radiating from the base fold back and trap your finger. You pull it free, tearing the skin over your knuckle. Sucking the blood away from the small wound you watch the handle fold back into its original egg-shape.
"Before the egg turned into a door handle, she felt for the panel." You place your hand on the panel. "Before that, the egg went in here..."
It slots onto the panel of spikes with a satisfying click. The hatch flies open and bangs your head. But the sound of the wind in the trees, the smell of meadowland and the fresh air on your face overpowers the pain. You are free!
The hatch looks strange, a rectangle of shining metal, hanging from nothing. As you poke your head outside, the grey surface of the cylinder shines in the sunlight.
There is a sudden commotion in the nearby bushes, and several pigeons take flight. Were they startled at you? Or someone else?
You withdraw inside the cylinder and push the hatch shut above your head. The egg drops out of the panel and lands on the hard interior next to you. All at once it unfolds back into a door handle, and begins to tick.
Outside a white haired man materialises from nowhere, his back turned to you. An embroidered pattern of writhing serpents glistens at the hem of his full length robe, their heads reaching up towards his collar. He looks over his shoulder but takes no notice of your capsule. His robe ripples gently in the wind as he removes the scroll from its oilskin bag.
The door handle clicks and winds itself at your side. The world shimmers like a heat haze and a wave of nausea washes over you. Another cylinder appears right next to yours, almost blocking your view of the man and the scroll. Yet another capsule appears a few yards away on the other side, rolling slowly towards the shade of the trees.
What is happening? Where have these capsules come from? You stare from one to the next, and back up at the white haired man.
He holds the unravelled scroll at arm's length, reading it. Then he turns, his eyes bright, yet he does not seem to notice your capsule or the one next to you. What is he looking at? You follow the line of his gaze. No it cannot be
The third capsule, the one that rolled into the shade, is now open. Your other 'self' stands in front of it. He walks towards the robed man, and he utters one word. Although you cannot hear him, you know he has just given your name.
What of the old man? He looks confused. They begin to talk, but you cannot follow them, for the world has begun to spin like a wheel again.
You curl up around the door handle as you did before, hoping that this time you will go home.
"It's him! He made it! It's Alfie!"
"Alfie! Did you manage to break the seal?"
"Seal? What seal?" The hatch hangs open and you squint up at the two figures standing over you. A white-hot rod hangs from the ceiling over their heads, as bright at the sun. Squares of coloured light flicker by the walls. A perpetual buzz permeates your ears and your mind. The air... the air has a faint smell like molten tar.
"Come on Alfie don't fool around! You did get to the Elven stronghold, didn't you?"
You stagger to your feet. Your capsule is upright, held in place with shiny white hoops made from something that is neither metal nor wood.
"What place is this?"
The two young men look at each other. The tall one with spectacles scratches his head. "Oh no. Wrong version."
"What?" His shorter, long haired companion shrugs.
"Alf," The tall one looks at you. "Tell me truthfully, have you ever seen us before?"
These people are mad.
"He hasn't." Long-haired man slaps his own forehead with his palm. "Idiot! You can't talk to this version, you'll start a time-loop!"
"Its too bloody late for that, he's here, isn't he? We've no choice but to send him back. We can't use him twice!"
"Alright, alright. Let's check this out. I got a theory." Long-haired man pushes his face into your capsule. "Alf, how did you get that?" He points at the door handle in your hand.
"A lady gave it to me..."
"What lady? Describe her."
"A lady. She had shiny black hair. Her blouse it was too short. It showed her navel. She wore breaches that came down to her feet. They were blue... and made of the same cloth as yours. Her shoes were of purest white... with..."
"...red stripes... It's Lizzy." Spectacles looks at Long-haired man. "Or at least it will be Lizzy if she chooses to do so. This isn't a time-loop. This is first contact." He pulls a short black wand from his pocket and a section of it bursts into light in his hand. He cups it in his hand and places it to his ear. His eyes stare blankly for a moment as if in some magical trance. "Yeah, Lizzy? Get down to the lab! Now!"
Long-haired man frowns. "What are you calling her here for?"
"This could be a branching point in our strategy. We all need to be here for this." Spectacles looks at you. "Out. Out!" He beckons to you. "Well come on, you don't want to stay in there for ever!"
You step out of the capsule and look back at its shiny exterior. It looks somehow so in keeping with this bizarre room of lights and noises yet the door handle looks as if it belongs to the old man in the woods with the serpents on his robe.
There is a swishing sound and the door to this strange room slides open. There is the girl with the red and white shoes. Your heart begins to pound. She looks as beautiful as ever. She's alive... but... how?
"So what's the big deal this time? I..." she stops and stares at you. "Alfie..."
"Alf..." Long-haired man corrects her. "This is his first visit here. From his perspective, of course. Although from what he tells us, you two will have met earlier for him than this."
Lizzie runs both hands through her hair, grasping at her scalp, her brow furrowed as if she cannot understand why you are standing there. "You have seen me before? How do you know it was me?"
"It is you who gave me this." You hold out the door handle to her. "You told me to keep it safe, when... "
"Enough. She must not hear it." The man with the spectacles raises his hand.
That was uncalled for. He may look to be of a higher class but she'd only asked a question.
"I am not telling her fortune. Who am I to know why the lady does not know it? I am not mistaken. She is the one who gave me this and she told me to keep it safe. And here it is."
Lizzie's eyes soften. Their dark beauty is enough to make the strongest man feel weak all over. She smiles. "Sandeep is right, my friend. In a sense you are telling me my fortune, and just like the law of the place where you live, here, fortune-telling is forbidden."
The man with the long hair shakes his head. "Lizzie, you don't have a chance. He'll never understand."
"Of course he will!" Lizzie flashes him a fierce look. "He's Eighteenth Century, not Neanderthal Man! You just need to pitch it right..."
It is time to defend this young woman. It is not right that she should argue for herself. "The lady speaks sense. Make me understand the things of which you speak. What goes on here? Tell me who you are. You call me Alfie and behave as if you know me, yet I have not seen you before."
"Alfie... Alf..." Lizzie corrects herself. "We can't say how we know you because that would be... fortune-telling. Andy, Sandeep and I will gladly help with all your other questions, but not right now. You're probably tired. A ride in the Time Pod is enough to wear anyone out. And you're covered in muck. You look as if a house has fallen down around you."
Some of her words are difficult to follow, but the last part is clear. She doesn't know how accurate she is.
"There are living quarters here. I'll show you where you can freshen up and I will find you something clean to wear."
The door handle glints as you turn it over in your hand. The robed figures carved into its lever are reminiscent of pictures of fairies and elves. It is strange that the stuff of childhood stories should be associated with a contraption as bizarre as this. But magic it cannot be. Nobody believes in witchcraft any more.
There must be some part of this invisible interior that the door handle will react to. Lying on your back in the cramped confines of the cylinder you knock at the walls in different places but gain nothing but bruised knuckles for your effort.
But wait... When the cylinder had been standing upright in the pub, there was a panel of raised bumps, next to where the entrance hatch had been. It had been level with your shoulder. With your feet firmly placed at one end it should be easy to find...
You shuffle into position and search with your hands. But the wall feels completely smooth. Surely the panel hasn't disappeared?
Of course - try the other end! Swivelling on your back until your feet face the opposite direction you wriggle down until they touch the other end.
A grid of blunt spikes and deep holes presses into your shoulder blade. It's underneath you you'll need to roll the cylinder to free the hatch from the ground...
You stand, stooping to avoid cracking your head again, and counting to three, you hurl yourself forward. The impact jars your shoulder but the cylinder rolls just enough, the grass flattening underneath. Good! Now to see if the door handle will work.
Kneeling down, you push the base of the handle into the panel. Nothing happens. How did the girl get through the hatch before she disappeared?
Think. Think! The girl had opened the hatch with her door handle. No - wait - the hatch opened on its own then she climbed in - backwards. It slammed shut after she placed the egg in the panel... It changed into a door handle by itself, and then she wound the handle's lever and disappeared.
How could the hatch swing open by itself? How could the door handle change shape on its own? There was something very odd with the way everything had been behaving at the pub. Rubble jumping up from the floor. Blood running upwards instead of down. People walking backwards...
"Backwards!" Your voice sounds muted inside this small space. "She wound the lever. Then before that it changed into an egg..."
Grasping the base of the door handle with one hand and the lever with the other, you follow her example. The lever ticks as it winds in a circle. Without warning it retracts into the base of its pivot, hinges snapping into place. The metal tendrils radiating from the base fold back and trap your finger. You pull it free, tearing the skin over your knuckle. Sucking the blood away from the small wound you watch the handle fold back into its original egg-shape.
"Before the egg turned into a door handle, she felt for the panel." You place your hand on the panel. "Before that, the egg went in here..."
It slots onto the panel of spikes with a satisfying click. The hatch flies open and bangs your head. But the sound of the wind in the trees, the smell of meadowland and the fresh air on your face overpowers the pain. You are free!
The hatch looks strange, a rectangle of shining metal, hanging from nothing. As you poke your head outside, the grey surface of the cylinder shines in the sunlight.
There is a sudden commotion in the nearby bushes, and several pigeons take flight. Were they startled at you? Or someone else?
You withdraw inside the cylinder and push the hatch shut above your head. The egg drops out of the panel and lands on the hard interior next to you. All at once it unfolds back into a door handle, and begins to tick.
Outside a white haired man materialises from nowhere, his back turned to you. An embroidered pattern of writhing serpents glistens at the hem of his full length robe, their heads reaching up towards his collar. He looks over his shoulder but takes no notice of your capsule. His robe ripples gently in the wind as he removes the scroll from its oilskin bag.
The door handle clicks and winds itself at your side. The world shimmers like a heat haze and a wave of nausea washes over you. Another cylinder appears right next to yours, almost blocking your view of the man and the scroll. Yet another capsule appears a few yards away on the other side, rolling slowly towards the shade of the trees.
What is happening? Where have these capsules come from? You stare from one to the next, and back up at the white haired man.
He holds the unravelled scroll at arm's length, reading it. Then he turns, his eyes bright, yet he does not seem to notice your capsule or the one next to you. What is he looking at? You follow the line of his gaze. No it cannot be
The third capsule, the one that rolled into the shade, is now open. Your other 'self' stands in front of it. He walks towards the robed man, and he utters one word. Although you cannot hear him, you know he has just given your name.
What of the old man? He looks confused. They begin to talk, but you cannot follow them, for the world has begun to spin like a wheel again.
You curl up around the door handle as you did before, hoping that this time you will go home.
"It's him! He made it! It's Alfie!"
"Alfie! Did you manage to break the seal?"
"Seal? What seal?" The hatch hangs open and you squint up at the two figures standing over you. A white-hot rod hangs from the ceiling over their heads, as bright at the sun. Squares of coloured light flicker by the walls. A perpetual buzz permeates your ears and your mind. The air... the air has a faint smell like molten tar.
"Come on Alfie don't fool around! You did get to the Elven stronghold, didn't you?"
You stagger to your feet. Your capsule is upright, held in place with shiny white hoops made from something that is neither metal nor wood.
"What place is this?"
The two young men look at each other. The tall one with spectacles scratches his head. "Oh no. Wrong version."
"What?" His shorter, long haired companion shrugs.
"Alf," The tall one looks at you. "Tell me truthfully, have you ever seen us before?"
These people are mad.
"He hasn't." Long-haired man slaps his own forehead with his palm. "Idiot! You can't talk to this version, you'll start a time-loop!"
"Its too bloody late for that, he's here, isn't he? We've no choice but to send him back. We can't use him twice!"
"Alright, alright. Let's check this out. I got a theory." Long-haired man pushes his face into your capsule. "Alf, how did you get that?" He points at the door handle in your hand.
"A lady gave it to me..."
"What lady? Describe her."
"A lady. She had shiny black hair. Her blouse it was too short. It showed her navel. She wore breaches that came down to her feet. They were blue... and made of the same cloth as yours. Her shoes were of purest white... with..."
"...red stripes... It's Lizzy." Spectacles looks at Long-haired man. "Or at least it will be Lizzy if she chooses to do so. This isn't a time-loop. This is first contact." He pulls a short black wand from his pocket and a section of it bursts into light in his hand. He cups it in his hand and places it to his ear. His eyes stare blankly for a moment as if in some magical trance. "Yeah, Lizzy? Get down to the lab! Now!"
Long-haired man frowns. "What are you calling her here for?"
"This could be a branching point in our strategy. We all need to be here for this." Spectacles looks at you. "Out. Out!" He beckons to you. "Well come on, you don't want to stay in there for ever!"
You step out of the capsule and look back at its shiny exterior. It looks somehow so in keeping with this bizarre room of lights and noises yet the door handle looks as if it belongs to the old man in the woods with the serpents on his robe.
There is a swishing sound and the door to this strange room slides open. There is the girl with the red and white shoes. Your heart begins to pound. She looks as beautiful as ever. She's alive... but... how?
"So what's the big deal this time? I..." she stops and stares at you. "Alfie..."
"Alf..." Long-haired man corrects her. "This is his first visit here. From his perspective, of course. Although from what he tells us, you two will have met earlier for him than this."
Lizzie runs both hands through her hair, grasping at her scalp, her brow furrowed as if she cannot understand why you are standing there. "You have seen me before? How do you know it was me?"
"It is you who gave me this." You hold out the door handle to her. "You told me to keep it safe, when... "
"Enough. She must not hear it." The man with the spectacles raises his hand.
That was uncalled for. He may look to be of a higher class but she'd only asked a question.
"I am not telling her fortune. Who am I to know why the lady does not know it? I am not mistaken. She is the one who gave me this and she told me to keep it safe. And here it is."
Lizzie's eyes soften. Their dark beauty is enough to make the strongest man feel weak all over. She smiles. "Sandeep is right, my friend. In a sense you are telling me my fortune, and just like the law of the place where you live, here, fortune-telling is forbidden."
The man with the long hair shakes his head. "Lizzie, you don't have a chance. He'll never understand."
"Of course he will!" Lizzie flashes him a fierce look. "He's Eighteenth Century, not Neanderthal Man! You just need to pitch it right..."
It is time to defend this young woman. It is not right that she should argue for herself. "The lady speaks sense. Make me understand the things of which you speak. What goes on here? Tell me who you are. You call me Alfie and behave as if you know me, yet I have not seen you before."
"Alfie... Alf..." Lizzie corrects herself. "We can't say how we know you because that would be... fortune-telling. Andy, Sandeep and I will gladly help with all your other questions, but not right now. You're probably tired. A ride in the Time Pod is enough to wear anyone out. And you're covered in muck. You look as if a house has fallen down around you."
Some of her words are difficult to follow, but the last part is clear. She doesn't know how accurate she is.
"There are living quarters here. I'll show you where you can freshen up and I will find you something clean to wear."