Content Warnings: Implied police violence, loss of bodily control
Miriam stood with her arms crossed, her hip to one side. She let out an exaggerated yawn and went to pull her Holo from her pocket before remembering she was in a different body.
A crowd had formed some 20 feet away from her. Bustling around the banks of the river. They huddled in the cold early morning, in their grey, dew bitten rags. They whispered and pointed, leaning into one another to smirk, laughing at the young girl at the edge of the pier.
Miriam rocked her head to one side and frowned. Why this young girl was chosen, she had no idea. She looked rather plain. Though they all looked the same to her.
The girl was crying. Every so often she would sniffle pathetically, and try to rub the tears from her eyes before remembering her hands were bound. She spent a good hour screaming before this point. It seemed she’d accepted her fate now. Shame really. There’s no point if she doesn’t struggle.
A man stood a few paces behind her, in dark robes and a wide hat. His teeth were yellow and bared.
“Susana Hastings..."
“Please, no-"
“On today, the 12th of May, in the year of our Lord 1692..."
“God, please-"
“You are sentenced to trial by water..."
“Don’t do this-"
“For the sin of witchcraft..."
“Our Father who art in Heaven-"
“and conspiracy with the Devil...”
“Hallowed be thy name- “
“If thou art innocent..."
“Thy Kingdom come-"
“Let the waters claim thee.”
“Thy will be done on earth”
As the man fell to silence, he stepped forward. The young girl turned, bloodless and weeping. But before she could utter another word, the man stretched out a hand and pushed her into the swirling river.
For a moment her head rose above the water, her hands thrashing against the pull, but soon the pressure got the most of the helpless maid and pulled her below.
Miriam clicked her tongue and looked around. Peering her head through the crowd and back at the town. As the wind picked up, she rolled her eyes, and tapped the back of wrist twice.
In an instant, the dreary countryside around her faded and a mash of colour coalesced to form a room. The walls were a smooth dark metal, that on occasion, would flash with silhouettes. The ground was a projection of some sort. It was different in each exhibition. This one was rough, compacted, dirt.
Before her lay the exhibit she had just stepped out of. Flickering in a 5 second loop, she saw the young girl again, huddled in a booth in her town’s tiny courthouse. The animation showed her bringing a handkerchief up to her cheek and back down to her lap. Over and over.
“You’re back quite quickly, Lady Carroll. Was the scene not to your liking?” The young woman beside her leaned forward inquisitively. She wore the standard silver and blue uniform of The Interactive Museum of Interspatial History. Her white blonde curls were pulled back in a bun. She’d almost be beautiful, if it weren’t for that dreadful mole.
“It was not. I asked for classical entertainment, and you give me witch trials? Far too political.” Miriam folded her arms and glared up at the woman.
“Of course, Mam. Would you prefer something more cultured?” She asked with a clean smile.
“Yes, obviously. What else would I come to boring museum for?”
The woman bowed her head and began to lead Miriam out of the room.
The Museum was an elaborate complex of rooms. The primary facility followed a wheel-like layout, with a bar/restaurant/giftshop in the center. From there, corridors lead out into Eight main theatres, each dedicated to one of the primary Predators that dominated the systems. These rooms were a dazzling display of each worlds past, with conquered solar systems projected onto the ceiling, traditional architecture and inventions prepared for guest interaction, and of course, clones of famous historical figures attending to a guests every need.
But lying off the main theatres, were the true exhibits. Rooms that wove their way through the timeline of each world. Each important event. The assassination of Earth presidents, the consumption of Manlox treespawn, the decay of the Barocnol treaty, and the many executions of Sir Tirifold Win.
The woman lead Miriam through the winding corridors. The ground beneath her feet slowly shifted from dirt to cobblestone. Silhouettes of forgotten peoples danced along the smoothed metal walls. Speckled lights littered the ceilings of the hallways. They marked the constellations of the deep galaxies. In real time. Miriam watched one of the lights blink out.
Eventually the woman stopped at a large exhibit, that already had a small crowd milling around it, enough that she couldn’t see the display.
“Lady Carroll. This here is one of our most popular displays in the Infant period of Earth History. This is the-“
“Stop, stop,’ Miriam said, shutting the woman up with a snap of her fingers, ‘I told you already, I want it to be a surprise.”
The woman nodded. “Very well, Mam.”
“Will the vessel at least be a little more appealing this time, the last one had the most hideous nose.”
Without faltering her smile, the woman removed a thin tablet from a pocket and lightly input the updated request.
“Yes, Mam. I have adjusted the vessel selection to have a more tasteful nose.’ She nodded. “Before you depart, I would like to reiterate the base rules of exhibit interaction.”
Miriam, groaned. “Ugh, please don’t”
“Please maintain immersive behaviour while within the exhibit at all times. Your appearance and voice will be modified to suit the environment, but your vocal intention will not be altered.”
“Please stop.”
“Any intentional activity that may lead to timeline alteration will result in immediate exhibit and museum expulsion and may cause harm or past interference to yourself or others.”
“I’m serious, stop.”
“Exiting the exhibit boundaries will result in immediate exhibit and museum expulsion and may cause harm or past interference to yourself or others.
“I will sue the ass off you if you don’t shut up.”
“Please enjoy your interaction”
The woman stood still with a plastered smile, staring straight through Miriam.
“No wonder this place has such low ratings,” Miriam muttered, and tapped the back of her wrist twice.
She stepped out onto the cobblestone street, real cobblestones. It was bustling. People wore muted colours and layers upon layers of elaborate dress. Or some of them did. Others wore the shambled indication of clothing. Wherever she was, it seemed the poor and wealthy were willing to mix to be there.
As a shout sounded down the street, Miriam was pushed out of the way of a horse and carriage, that trotted to stop just past her. As she turned to shout an elaborate obscenity at the incompetent driver, she saw all at once that she stood in the shadow of a mighty amphitheater. It was bathed in beautiful lantern light and it seemed the last few people were entering for a performance that was just about to begin.
She scoffed, and picked up her skirts, following the crowd inside.
The orange glow had began to fade from the audience as she entered. She craned her head to try and spy a staircase to the upper seats but was pulled into the standing room as the crowd carried her forward. Miriam pulled her arms to her chest and wrinkled her nose. The people around her smelt as poorly as they looked and looked so bad she was quite certain one of them was a donkey in a coat. She tried to turn, to wade back to the entrance, but as she did so, a man stepped out on stage.
The moment the lantern light touched his face, the crowd erupted in cheers. Before a word left his mouth flowers were thrown to him. He hadn’t yet bowed but the audience called his name.
“Really?’ she snarled. ‘Shakespeare?”
The man on stage grinned and bowed.
“’Tis I, my friends!”
And they cheered again.
Miriam glowered so fervently; she could practically hear that stupid attendant weeping. Shakespeare? Really? Every grub and their dog has seen, read, and heard Shakespeare. This is what she calls culture? A sellout alcoholic who’s plots are so thin they couldn’t stop Alpha radiation. Miriam smirked as she began writing her complaint report in her head.
As the crowd dulled down, she turned to leave. But she paused. A man brushed past her, heading for the exit. An ordinary man. In a moth eaten coat. With oily hair.
She stared at where he had been, his silhouette fading in the doorway. It was Tom.
Staring, unblinking, she began to wade through the crowd. Disgruntled voices pushed against her, but she barely understood a word. They all suddenly seemed quite foreign. The cold night air greeted her as she pulled herself out onto the street, almost empty now. Rolling, eloquent speeches now emanated from inside the theatre, but she strained and heard footsteps fading off to her right.
She walked, heels clacking on the cobblestones. She saw a glimpse of the man turn down another lane, hands tucked in his pockets. She followed.
He wandered through the streets. Right and then left, and then right again. He was as tall as Tom had been too, much taller than her. He strolled, and she fought to keep up, and eventually she did something unthinkable. She ran.
Her heeled boots kicked up dirt. The hem of her dress gathered mud. She felt the harsh grasp of cigarettes in her lungs. But eventually she turned a sharp right corner, and he was there. Waiting for her.
She pulled to an abrupt stop as she almost ran right into him. His stance was wide, and he towered over her. Suddenly, standing beside him, in a dark street, light years away, and real years ago, she remembered how intimidating he could be.
“What’re’ya following me for?” he grunted, glowering down at her.
She almost laughed, and straightened herself.
“Tom? It’s, I don’t-.”
“My name’s not Tom, Lady.’ His voice was graveled and bitter. ‘You got a problem or something?”
Something in his voice dropped a stone in her stomach. And she felt sick. Looking up at him. At a face she hadn’t seen for seven years.
“Tom, please,’ she said weakly. Without noticing, she began to raise a hand, wanting to touch his face one more time.
“I told you,’ he said, ‘I’m not Tom.”
Before he could continue, he was interrupted by the approach of two men. In the dark street, she could only just make out their deep blue uniforms.
“Do we have any trouble here, Sir?” One asked, hand resting on a baton at his side.
“This mad woman followed me from the theatre, reckon she knows me or something.” Tom took a step back, keeping his eyes on the policeman.
“Have a bit too much to drink at the show tonight, Miss?” The other laughed.
“I think it’s best we take you home now, don’t you think?” said the first.
Miriam stepped back frowning as she looked back and forth between the men.
“Pardon me? I was only having a polite conversation with this gentleman. You have no right to interrupt me.”
The officers stepped towards her as she raised her hands.
“Don’t fight us, Mam. You will come with us.”
Miriam scoffed.
“I most certainly will not! You have no grasp on the reality of this situation, I assure you.”
One of the officers swiped forward, missing her wrist as she dodged out of the way. She laughed as he stumbled, before running square into the chest of the other. He looked down at her with a grin and pulled her hands tightly behind her back.
She squirmed, trying to free herself. The officer’s hands were clamped tightly over her wrists, as he began to push her towards a side street.
She caught only a glimpse of Tom, as he retreated down an alley.
The officers walked her down a narrow street and out onto a larger road. A few children sat in a nearby gutter but scampered through doors and windows when they saw the three of them approaching.
“I swear to you, I’ll make sure you were never born if you don’t unhand me this instant.” She hissed, beating her shoulder against the man holding her.
The officer in front laughed.
“Very funny, Mam.”
They turned left down another alley and as shadow was cast over them again, she swung a leg forward and kicked the officer between the legs. She twisted her arms over her shoulder, and freeing her hands, tapped twice on her wrist.
She tapped again.
Again.
Again.
Nothing shifted but the steam on her breath.
“What? I don’t understand.”
“You have violated the primary guidelines of exhibit interaction.” The officer in front of her turned, and in wave of twisting flesh, shifted his face. A lock of white blonde hair fell from beneath her cap. And a mole materialized above her lip.
“You?! What in the void are you doing here?”
“Evidence follows.”
Miriam jumped back as the officer behind her spoke. She turned to see the same face, blonde and smiling.
“Active interaction with a non-participant with non-immersive intent. Violation of speech regulation. Attempt at timeline interference.”
Miriam pressed her back to the dirty alley wall.
“What? No, I wasn’t interfering with the timeline.’ She argued, ‘That was Thomas, I have a right to speak with him.”
“Character profile, incorrect.” Stated one of the attendants. “Consequences will now be activated.”
“Woah, woah, woah, woah,’ Miriam said, ducking out of the way of the woman’s swipe. ‘Consequences? What does that mean?”
The two woman stared at her with the same face. They spoke in unison.
“Your interaction has shifted the timestream and so efforts must begin to revert your influence.”
“Efforts? Like, uh, you want me to pay for timeline repairs. I can do that.’ She began to feel around in her outfit for her Holo, before remembering she was in a different body. ‘How much do you want?”
“The Interactive Museum of Interspatial History is renowned for its effective and efficient destabilization techniques. Payments made will serve as repair costs and behavioral correction.”
“No, no, no,’ Miriam started, ‘that won’t be necessary. I promise you I can afford any maintenance fee you charge.”
One attendant extended a hand and the chips in Miriam’s wrists began to glow. After a moment they snapped together, binding her hands.
“What’re you doing?” Miriam cried, as her ankles followed suit, and she toppled to the ground.
“Your vessel will be reclaimed so it may perform the reformative procedure, and you will remain inside to power it till its work is concluded.”
Miriam began to struggle, trying to pull herself to her knees.
“Power it?! Are you insane? Matter harvesting was criminalized eons ago!”
“In instances of laundering, yes. This is a matter of compensation. We can assure you this is completely legal.” The women smiled and hummed in unison.
They bent down and, one by one, activated a series of joints running along Miriam's spine. As they began to glow, she felt control leech from her body, oozing from her like blood from an open wound. She lay on the dirty cobblestones till she couldn’t even will her eyes to blink.
And without her moving a muscle, she rose. She stood on her feet. She straightened her back. She offered greeting to the two women while trying to scream. She turned and walked back towards the street.
Written September 2020
Cover image by Nathan Duck
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