MethSoc Story - Phase V

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Phase V

Dateline - 2005, January 29
Methsoc Revue, Upper Room

"And now, are you Quite Interesting? Our panellists certainly think so. Please welcome Steven Cooper, Ed Cooke, Rachel Howcroft and Martin Harker!"

Raucous applause greeted the contestants as they picked their way to the front and sat down at their places. Tim continued: "The rules are very simple. You don't have to be right or wrong, just be interesting. You gain points for keeping us entertained, but you lose points for giving us the obvious answer." He paused for more polite applause. "Your buzzer sounds however you will have to make up for yourself - any ideas?"

They looked at each other. "I've got an idea," said Steven. "How about I make a noise rather like a small passenger train packed with melons, dynamite and a small fluffy toastrack running over the Archbishop of Canterbury?"

There was a general murmur of incredulous laughter through the audience. "What does that sound like then?"

Steven then contorted his face and blew a half-raspberry, quarter beep, quarter moo, followed by a 'ping' and a click of the tongue.

"That sounds like you've researched it well, Steven... What do they let you do in the Church of England?" asked Tim, one eyebrow sharply raised. "Anyone else?"

"Yes, I have one," said Martin. He drew in his breath.

"Room for one more?"

"That's amazing!" remarked Mikie. "He sounded just like Dave!"

"That's because it was!" came the disembodied voice. "Oh, sporran, did I forget to readjust the temporal settings again? Oh well, can happen with this form of transport. Just a mo..." The tall figure suddenly materialised atop the piano as people sat agog in their seats. "Sorry to butt in, but there's a slight problem and we need your help."

"How... Why..." started the questions from all sides of the Upper Room. "Dave," said Janet, "I thought you said you weren't coming to this."

"Well, I wasn't. I'm not really here anyway; I haven't come from this point of linear time from within my timeline, if you get what I mean... Ah, you don't. OK, well, I've just come from the 18th century from November 2003, after the last Revue. Glad to hear I'm still going to be alive in 2005 though!"

More silence and open mouths. "So what exactly is going on? And how did you do the invisible trick?"

Dave clambered down, landing on a stray bit of spaghetti from Mikie and Steve's bridge. Steve looked slightly put out, but Mikie gave a shrug as if to say that it didn't work anyway. "Ah yes, that. Well, there's a new form of time travel I'm working on involving just moving the body, but it seems that by moving in the fifth and sixth dimensions, it sometimes requires a lot of tweaking to rephase with the ordinary four. The voice, for some reason, is there, but the body is still hiding behind a seven dimensional wall in four-space. Anyone getting me?"

Blank faces.

"No, thought not. Anyway, I'm here because of something I first noticed in the Revue a couple of days or years ago, depending on your temporal perspective. There we did a play about the beginning of this denomination, but someone or something has altered the course of established history. The founder of Methodism was John Wesley, with his brother Charles."

"But that's crazy! We all know who the founder of Methodicalism was!" put in Rachel.

"Ah, no you don't. You only think you do because you're in the divergent timestream and as such don't know any different. And it's Methodism, not Methodicalism. Anyway, John Wesley felt his heart 'Strangely warmed' on the 24th May, 1738 and from there spread the message of Methodism. You'll be able to find out all about it from here -" he tossed Tim a small calculator-like object, with the words 'Don't Panic Yet' written in large, wary letters on the cover "- and that'll show you how time should pan out. I'll also provide you with my psychoprobe - for checking for time ripples - and TDF, so that you can travel through time."

"Wait, wait," said Tim, flustered from this barrage of information. "How should we believe you? And you're letting us travel through time unprotected? Surely you're coming with us?"

"No, I'm leaving this one to you lot. I'm staying well clear of this adventure. I've got far to much to do trying to negotiate galactic politics and hold down some little jobs before taking a holiday. No, this one's for you guys. The TDF, or Temporal Displacement Field vortex creator (although I call it a Slider device) is very simple - just punch in the date and push the Enter button. There's only one though, so be careful not to lose it, or let anyone run off with it, else you might find yourselves taking the long way round. I suggest for now though that you go forward a few days, pick up Chris, Kim and the rest and set on your way to the 1730s. You'll have to find out what's wrong and reinstall the rightful founder to his place. And as for what's wrong with this reality - I'll answer that by asking you what the name of this church is." He looked pointedly at Steven.

"Why, it's Walrush Methodicalist Church, of course."

"I suggest you look him up in the Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Planet and get going." Dave punched a few buttons on his watch and disappeared.

From the Book of Methodicalism (Rubber Lemon Press, 1869):
Chapter The First - The Prophet Bob Speaks

Oyez, oyez! The Walrush age has come
When man shall live in harmony with man.
His three parts - body, mind and acumen -
No longer wrangle for supremacy;
The acumen enthroned in mastery
Rules wisely all that passeth 'neath the sun.
No more must man seek comfort in some church
Whose stony bosoms choke him where he creeps
Beneath the wrath of some unfathomed God.
He's mastered all within - he looks without
To justice, mercy he himself has made.
No longer he lies wakeful in his bed
But finds his quittance in the potting shed.

And who were they the dear dead century
Threw up to rival Walrush for our love?
The apostate Wesleys, telling tales of warmth
Strange even unto them, for it was none.
Praise Walrush, who delivered us from this!
Who showed us all the truths we'll ever need!
(His magnifying glass our comfort still -
His logic makes us in safe pastures lie)
Praise Silas, who incarcerated John
And overtook his budding society
And moulded for himself our willing clay.
Lord Walrush lives, bethank his time machine
As good as evermore, and guides his flock
To great detective heights. Praise Lady Carmen
His eternal bride, and Prophet Bob
Be blessed for evermore. Amen, amen!

Two familiar figures were sitting in the sunshine on Jesus Green. Or, to be accurate, one was sitting in the sunshine, while the other, sitting on the same rug and enjoying the same picnic, had found some shade in the form of a tree, and was enjoying that.

The woman paused from drinking her wine. "I thought you'd left the story."

"I had, but if you will insist on dragging me back into it, then there isn't exactly much that I can do about it." He sounded peeved, as usual.

She grinned. "Ah. I'd say I was sorry, but I'm not. So what's been going on then..."

"I abandoned them, with the TARDIS and the means to travel through space and time and told them that they were on their own for this section of the story." He paused, took a bite out of his bacon and brie sandwich and continued. "However, this being the end of little test season, and the beginnings of May Week, anything can happen, and it probably will. As you are no doubt aware, given the fact that the pair of us have just re-entered the story, when we're both not supposed to be here..."

"We are supposed to be here. You're meeting Janet later, and I'm meeting a Carys. You do realise that I will have had a full month with nothing to do since returning from Santiago..."

"Details, Details. Why let the facts get in the way of a good joke or a good story?"

"Well, actually..."

"I'm not listening."

"You remember when..."

"I'm not listening."

"You started the whole story..."

"I'm still not listening."

"You took a jump to the left..."

"That was politics."

"And then a step to the right..."

"That was to avoid Eleanor, if I remember rightly. Look. Why are you doing a pathetic attempt to bring the lyrics of the Time Warp into this conversation. Just because you want to imagine me in gold boxer shorts..."

"No. But that does beg the question...."

"Just stop it, OK. Stop it. Stop it right there. I don't want to know where your brain is taking you, OK?"

"But I do. Or rather, I want to know where the story is taking us to. Because I'm rather worried about the fact we're here, which suggests that they're playing with Space and Time again. And the coming month could be rather more interesting than I expected."

"You can say that again..."

"But I..."

"I didn't mean it literally. Look, over there."

"If you're trying to distract me..."

He tried to look innocent. "Would I do a thing like that?"

"Yes."

"True." He pointed at the small group of bemused figures coming towards them. "Quick, hide the wine..."

"It's empty anyway."

"Oh damn."

Tim and a number of others sauntered towards the pair, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, Well, Well..." he said....

"What have you done?" asked Dave in an exasperated tone. "Have you fixed the problem with Silas Walrush?"

"Well, not quite. We decided to come back here and retake any of the exams we didn't do well in. We've all got firsts!"

Dave was livid. "What an amoral set of actions! Honestly, I give you a time machine and you just use it for your own ends. Disgusting."

"It's not like you don't use it just to make yourself look good in front of everyone else..." put in Will.

At this point, the sky wobbled slightly and started to go black. "Never annoy a weather God," muttered Martin.

"Oh no," said Dave with dread. "What exactly did you do back in the 19th century?"

"Well, that's what we've been trying to say. We left Curon in charge -"

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Dave was on his feet in a flash, fire in his eyes and a look of horror on his face. It really was getting quite dark now. Beyond them the trees and the river started to dissolve into the backwash of blackness. Whether they were there or not is impossible to say.

"Well, we thought that it may not be the best idea, but he said he knew what he was doing..." Tim stood there guiltily.

"Quick everyone, into the tree!" shouted Dave as a wind of nothingness tugged at their clothes. They dashed in through a door and it disappeared.

Above them, one by one the stars were going out.

***

"Hey, you've changed this place since we were last in!" said Will, nodding with approval.

Dave ignored the compliment. "Outside, you see the Axis of Insanity. A place where dead-end timelines are swallowed up and destroyed. By leaving Curon with a time machine, you've allowed him to go anywhere and change anything!"

"But you change things all the time!" moaned Janet. "Why's he different?"

"Look, time is a web. You can use the knife to cut the threads just as long as you know how to put it back together. What happens when we give knives to Curon, people? Anyone on the catering team care to enlighten us?"

Guilty looks were exchanged.

"Exactly," continued Dave, "you know what happens. And now your reality is coming apart at the seams. We have to go back and thread it all together again. I just hope it's not too late." He pushed several buttons on the console and looked at the readout. "It appears that the first significant deviation happened in 1815, and it's all gone downhill ever since. Computers as we know them were invented in the early 20th century, making the semiconductor and transistor revolutions happen years before their time! I've got to move us sideways into the new timestream."

***

Dateline - 2005, March 1st Divergent reality, Palace of St Lintux, Cardiff

The holobanners through Cardiff screamed the good news: "Happy New Year of the Leek!" The crowds were ecstatic at their New Year celebrations, and daffodils and leeks were being handed around everywhere. The houses with their Linux-powered windows relayed to those inside the up-to-date news of what was happening to those too busy preparing the Barabrith to be out enjoying the celebrations.

The TARDIS materialised next to a large dragon by the Blaidd Drwg Project and out stepped Dave, Janet, Tim, Will, Ruth and Martin. Their faces dropped as they looked around at the sea of yellow and green. "It's not right," said Janet.

"Not right?! NOT RIGHT?! Welcome to your new capital city of the United Kingdom of Greater Wales, Anglia, Scotland and Ireland. After the Welsh uprising of 1815, once the English army had been depleted at Waterloo, the Welsh took over and transferred the capital to Cardiff, took most of Staffordshire, Cheshire, the West Midlands, Worcestershire, Devon, Cornwall and others to form Greater Wales. The year was updated to start on St David's Day, and each year has a name. This is the Year of the Leek, last year was the Year of the Sheep and next year is the Year of the Disgruntled Mining Village." Dave put away his electronic book. "I suggest you find Curon and sort this out. I'm going back to 1815 to stop the uprising. You see what you can do here."

He turned and looked at the TARDIS. "I need to smash that chameleon circuit. I should never have fixed it." He ran into the giant daffodil and disappeared.

A look of confused panic beset the faces of the abandoned Methsoc members in Cardiff. "Right" demanded Janet, "Form yourselves into pairs, and make an orderly crocodile, we're going to look for Curon. With all these leeks around he can't be far away."

With lots of giggles and moaning about sweaty hands they obeyed - after all it was never wise to cross Janet. "I think we look a bit out of place here" worried Ruth and headed towards the nearest flowerbed in search of daffodils to wear. Flowers in hand, she turned back to Methsoc, only to find them cowering in terror, as the gates of St Lintux Palace opened and the royal Welsh dragons descended, breathing fire on those who dared to pick the sacred flower of Wales.

Will cried out "head for the hills" and everyone turned and fled. The dragons followed in hot pursuit. "No, no - this is very silly - we need water to put out the fire, (and we might get to see some ducks) - to the river" shouted Martin.

As they approached the river Taff, an unearthly warbling filled the air and a lanky figure drifted into view. Soon, they realised that the eerie sound was in fact coming from Curon himself as he punted towards them, and the dragons, falling under his spell, were being lulled into a dreamy sleep. Clambering aboard, Methsoc collapsed as if in a stupor, shocked by Curon's newfound eptitude. Awakened from this trance by terrible screams, they found Steven Cooper wielding a punt pole as small boys commandeered the vessel and towed it towards the bank. "You fools, we were winning", and he brandished his punt pole menacingly at the disappearing figure of the Pope further up the river. "Methsoc always wins Punt Race, you really have distorted time Curon".

A loud roaring sound interrupted Steven's rant and Methsoc gasped in horror as they realised that they were about to disappear over the edge of a gigantic waterfall...

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