Time Traveler
It is the spring of 1872 according to the dial on my device. I am somewhere in metropolitan London. There are crowds streaming into a large stadium nearby. I ask a man heading there what's going on.
"Are you daft, man? The football cup. There in The Oval.. You been livin' in a time warp or sumpin'?"
"Oh, right-o. Of course. I forgot."
"Blimey, a Yank." He walks off with a disgusting look on his face.
Why am I at a soccer, or, I should say, football match? Why would they need a cryptographer here? I follow the crowd toward the entrance. As I near the gate, I see three bobbies pummeling a scrawny, unarmed man. The man is trying to shield his head from the blows. I run over to them, shouting. "I say there. Leave the man alone!"
A burly policeman grabs me with one hand and sticks his truncheon in my ribs, hard, with the other. "This 'ere's police business. Move on if you don't want some of the same."
"Can't you see he's harmless?" I reply.
"Oh, yer a Yank, eh?" He says, recognizing my accent. He releases his grip as he looks me over, probably confused by my unusual attire. "This bloke's 'armless, is he? 'E's a nihilist and he just set a bomb to go off in the crowd. That's how 'armless he is. It was lucky we got it out in time or dozens of people would be blown to bits, they would." He points to another of the officers who is holding something in his hand as he kicks the man. I recognize it as a bomb with a fuse that is burned most of the way to the explosive. In his other hand he is holding a piece of paper. Now i understand why I am here.
"I can help you," I say. "I know about codes and ciphers and how to break them. You have one there, don't you?"
"Eh? 'ow'd you know that? You one of 'em?"
"No, no. Everyone knows that the Russian Nihilists are trying to spread violence and anarchy throughout Europe, to overthrow monarchies. I've been sent by my government to learn about about them so that the threat does not spread to America. I have seen some of their secret writing and understand how it works. I saw the paper in that officer's hand. I've seen that kind of writing before, with all the letters in groups of five."
I'm not sure he believes me. He pokes me in the ribs again and tells me to leave. As I try to argue with him, he raises his truncheon as though to strike me on the head.
"Hold on there, officer," a man's voice says. The truncheon is brought down. A distinguished-looking gentleman in a suit and sporting a trim mustache is standing there.
"Yes, Inspector," the bobby replies.
"Now then," the Inspector continues. "What's going on here? Is this the bomber?"
"Aye, sir, that it is. We caught 'im lightin' the fuse and then runnin' away. We've been tryin' to get 'im to tell us where the rest of his cell is, but 'e's not talkin'."
"Are you daft, man? The football cup. There in The Oval.. You been livin' in a time warp or sumpin'?"
"Oh, right-o. Of course. I forgot."
"Blimey, a Yank." He walks off with a disgusting look on his face.
Why am I at a soccer, or, I should say, football match? Why would they need a cryptographer here? I follow the crowd toward the entrance. As I near the gate, I see three bobbies pummeling a scrawny, unarmed man. The man is trying to shield his head from the blows. I run over to them, shouting. "I say there. Leave the man alone!"
A burly policeman grabs me with one hand and sticks his truncheon in my ribs, hard, with the other. "This 'ere's police business. Move on if you don't want some of the same."
"Can't you see he's harmless?" I reply.
"Oh, yer a Yank, eh?" He says, recognizing my accent. He releases his grip as he looks me over, probably confused by my unusual attire. "This bloke's 'armless, is he? 'E's a nihilist and he just set a bomb to go off in the crowd. That's how 'armless he is. It was lucky we got it out in time or dozens of people would be blown to bits, they would." He points to another of the officers who is holding something in his hand as he kicks the man. I recognize it as a bomb with a fuse that is burned most of the way to the explosive. In his other hand he is holding a piece of paper. Now i understand why I am here.
"I can help you," I say. "I know about codes and ciphers and how to break them. You have one there, don't you?"
"Eh? 'ow'd you know that? You one of 'em?"
"No, no. Everyone knows that the Russian Nihilists are trying to spread violence and anarchy throughout Europe, to overthrow monarchies. I've been sent by my government to learn about about them so that the threat does not spread to America. I have seen some of their secret writing and understand how it works. I saw the paper in that officer's hand. I've seen that kind of writing before, with all the letters in groups of five."
I'm not sure he believes me. He pokes me in the ribs again and tells me to leave. As I try to argue with him, he raises his truncheon as though to strike me on the head.
"Hold on there, officer," a man's voice says. The truncheon is brought down. A distinguished-looking gentleman in a suit and sporting a trim mustache is standing there.
"Yes, Inspector," the bobby replies.
"Now then," the Inspector continues. "What's going on here? Is this the bomber?"
"Aye, sir, that it is. We caught 'im lightin' the fuse and then runnin' away. We've been tryin' to get 'im to tell us where the rest of his cell is, but 'e's not talkin'."