the plughole of time - UWS ResearchDirect

Transcription

THE PLUGHOLE OF TIME
By
Steve Perrin B.A. (V.A.) Hons.
A thesis
presented to the
University of Western Sydney
in partial fulfilment of the requirements
for the degree of
Master of Arts (Honours) Creative Arts
August 2003
“The Plughole of Time” © S. J. Perrin 2002
All written material © S. J. Perrin 2003
I would like to dedicate this postgraduate project to three people.
Without their help, inspiration, love, support and encouragement, it would never have
come to fruition.
For Mum, Dad and my friend, Kerry Walsh.
Acknowledgements
There are certain people that need to be acknowledged for their assistance in the
creation of this project. First and foremost perhaps are my two trusty supervisors,
Michael Keighery and Pam James. I think that I probably worried them on more than
one occasion, especially when I failed to meet deadlines and both the word count and
the size of my exhibition seemed to be blowing out beyond all extremes! I hope that
in the cold light of day, I didn’t let you both down though and I thank you for all of
your input, time, faith and kindness.
I would also like to thank both Suzanne Treister and Professor Graham Crowley for
their assistance via e-mail and telephone. I think that on all of the occasions in which
we were in contact, I probably sounded extremely vague and asked some very strange
questions. I guess though, that in retrospect, this is the type of thing a genuine time
traveller does! It was truly magnificent to receive correspondence from such
renowned and accomplished artists and I have to say that I am extremely honoured.
There are many others that have helped me with oral presentations, the setting up of
exhibitions and forums associated with the project, the collation of my ideas for the
story, propping me up psychologically when I needed it, being kind enough to loan
me books and basically listening to my demented ramblings and although there is
only one page allowed for acknowledgements in a thesis, I wanted to mention
everybody. I apologise to all concerned for not outlaying their individual contribution,
but the full list is below. You are all extremely decent people and no matter where I
am in time, I will never forget your assistance.
In no particular order, they are:
Professor Jane Goodall, Dr. Gaye Gleeson, Graham Marchant, Dr. Barry Gazzard, Dr.
Marilyn Walters, Dr. Denis Whitfield, Dave Cubby, Kate Orman, Bill Congreve,
Robert Hood, Leah and Stuart McKeown, Rick Lunn, Adrian Chin, Robert Carlino,
Lionel Wishart, Monica Mcmahon, Dave Spillane, Lucy Lay, Louisa Chircop,
Richard Steele of Art Matrix, The crowd at Oz Frames, The crew at the Liverpool
branch of Kwik Kopy, Susan Channells, Michael Bryant, all of my own students from
the last two years…. and of course, Benjy!
A bstract:
Figure 1. Interstitial Time – Both Sides of the Spectrum 2002
Digital Print. 30cm x 30cm
i
“Time travel is the most potent of creative vehicles. To imagine another time, which is
visually, politically and socially the construction of the perpetrator/ artist, is perhaps the
ultimate creative leap.” 1
1
M. Walters, 2002, Time Warps and Teddy Bears, unpublished essay to accompany Steve Perrin’s
University based work- in- progress show. (Direct quote from essay.)
ii
“Time will tell… it always does” – The character of the Doctor
“The Plughole of Time” is comprised of a survey of all the varying influences behind my
art-making. All of my pre-occupations are included; the concepts of childhood memory;
the use of imagination; the ability to comprehend and put together an old fashioned story
in varying forms; as well as considering the notion of blurring historical and actual fact
with personal elements of fantastical fiction. These themes have all been threaded
delicately through the motif of time- travel, my own personal favourite of literary genres.
Rather than to focus on the scientific ideas of this realm though, the initial spark of this
thinking comes from a long- standing obsession with TV shows such as “Doctor Who”,
“Quantum Leap” and “Goodnight Sweetheart”, books in the vain of H.G. Wells’ “The
Time Machine” and movies like “Back to the Future”.
My main aim has been to make an attempt to re-create the feelings that used to come over
me as a child, when absorbed within these kinds of narrative. I wanted to use those
iii
exciting aspects and stories from youth, albeit filtered through my adulthood, to enhance
the final results of my art and work.
Whilst embracing whimsy, the absurd and the time- travel genre, this project hopefully
shows a struggle and is an allegorical comment on me as an artist, who after having lost a
little of his faith in the world and his abilities, becomes seduced by a new focus.
iv
Contents
1.) List of Illustrations
Page
2
2.) Preface
Page
4
4.) Introduction
Paperwork, an infamous comic and then... ZAP!
Page
12
5.) Chapter One
Art, Absurdity, Persistence and Memory
Page
22
6.) Chapter Two
The Start of King’s Highway
Page
55
7.) Chapter Three
Describing Crowley
Page
79
8.) Chapter Four
Who? Doctor Who?
Page
97
9.) Chapter Five
Ode
Page
120
10.) Chapter Six
Attack of the Gascoignes
Page
141
11.) Chapter Seven
The Pioneer of Time
Page
182
12.) Chapter Eight
The Delusional Time Traveller
Page
206
13.) Chapter Nine
Do- Do- Dodgson in Wonderland
Page
218
14.) Conclusion
A New Purpose
Page
252
15.) Epilogue
A Truly Suitable Ending
Page
266
16.) List of Sub- Title Quotes
Page
269
17.) Bibliography
Page
270
1
I llustrations
1.) Interstitial Time – Both Sides of the Spectrum
Page
i
2.) Interstitial Time – Through the Plughole
Page
3
3.) 95,004 B.C. – Ice Age Benjy
Page
4
4.) 2002 A.D. – Menaces Forever (Paperwork and an infamous comic)
Page
12
5.) 2002 A.D. – The Vapourisation Process
Page
21
6.) 1931 A.D. – Art, Absurdity, Persistence and Memory
Page
22
7.) 1960 A.D. – The Start of King’s Highway
Page
55
8.) 1960 A.D. – (A sort of) Premonition
Page
59
9.) 1984 A.D. – Describing Crowley
Page
79
10.) 1963 A.D. – Who? Doctor Who?
Page
97
11.) 1804 A.D. – Ode
Page
120
12.) 1804 A.D. – What Benjy saw (and said)
Page
126
13.) 802,701 A.D. – Attack of the Gascoignes
Page
141
14.) 802,701 A.D. – A Jumbled Mix of Memories
Page
162
15.) 802,701 A.D.– Rage of the Gascoignes
Page
167
16.) 802,701 A.D. – …But as the Leader revelled
Page
171
17.) 802,701 A.D. – Ka- Thooom!
Page
181
18.) 1894 A.D. – The Pioneer of Time
Page
182
19.) 1894 A.D. – A Rather Unfortunate Arrival
Page
184
20.) 2002 A.D. – The Delusional Time Traveller
Page
206
21.) 1862 A.D. – Do- Do- Dodgson in Wonderland
Page
218
22.) 1862 A.D. – Steve and Benjy go underground
Page
238
23.) 1862 A.D. – And then something happened…
Page
251
24.) Interstitial Time – Meeting Time
Page
252
25.) Infinity – The Perpetual State of Childhood
Page
266
26.) 2099 A.D. – Time Affects it all
Page
270
All images created by Steve Perrin between 2002- 2003. All photography was completed by the artist.
2
The P lughole of Time
Figure 2. Interstitial Time – Through the plughole 2002 Digital Print.
30cm x 30cm
3
P reface:
Figure 3. 95,004 B.C. – Ice Age Benjy 2003 Digital Print. 30cm x 30cm
4
“Acceptance… Belief… The power of the mind. I shall go back!” – The character of
Ron Wheatcroft
Taking a starting point from my own childhood fantasies and aspirations, my project
entitled “The Plughole of Time”, is comprised of a research based story and an
exhibition of artwork.
The tale is about the exploits of Steve, a research student who, with his pet dog Benjy,
undertakes a journey through time, via the strange device of a mysterious plughole.
Over the course of their adventures they meet, and influence in a variety of ways, the
bulk of Steve’s heroes and the subjects of his research. The story alludes to notions of
truth in history and how we could allow our childhood fantasies and dreams to have
some relevance in later life.
5
The narrative approach that the “Plughole” takes provided a wealth of opportunity to
address a number of issues that have been completely steadfast in my pre-occupations
and concerns since the beginning of the Masters degree.
Firstly, I wanted to write a document that was original and inventive; something that
was a little different from the norm of university papers. After my first year of
postgraduate study, I had set out to scribe a rather tedious 10,000 word essay based on
why notions of time- travel and the BBC television programme “Doctor Who” have
often influenced my art. On reflection though, I decided that my thesis should not
only encapsulate an artistic journey, but also have the ability to keep the reader
entertained. In hindsight, I know now that the initial idea would perhaps have been a
worthless pursuit as research and in the long run, not as fun or as interesting to fulfill!
Secondly, I needed a method of writing that would justify some of the absurd
elements that I was dealing with. The concepts of childhood and time- travel, by their
very nature, both contain some pretty wacky and off- the- wall ideas. The aforementioned “Doctor Who” is perhaps to most obvious example to illustrate this. Fitting
into both of the core topics (in that the show’s basis is about time- travel and it also
played a large role in my own childhood fantasies and imagination), this television
show is essentially about a shape- shifting man who fights monsters and travels the
universe in a spinning blue police box. To me, it would seem ridiculous to discuss
such a character within a more formal academic context. The story angle allowed such
figures to sit comfortably with other more- realistic areas of research.
6
Thirdly, I wanted the actual document to be just as much as a creative act as the
artwork in the finished exhibition. The two areas, rather than being seen as something
separate, do in fact form a combination or symbiosis. This allowed me to rebound
ideas and imagery between the differing areas of creativity and to encourage an
interplay. The artworks in the final exhibition are not just merely related to or inspired
by the text and neither is the text just a basic link to the artwork; they are both unique
ways of telling the same story and expanding upon it. At differing points in the
project, each area took hold of the overall narrative and determined which way the
characters would go.
Finally, given that most of the people who have inspired me, both within my
individual outlook on life and my artwork, are story tellers, it seemed like a very
natural progression to write a story containing aspects of their lives. The individuals
within this paper, or my “associate researchers” as I like to call them, whether artists,
writers or actors, have all at some stage, entered the scope of my imagination with an
amazing degree of force and power. They have each taken me to places that can only
ever exist in my mind’s eye. I decided to attempt to repay the complement. “The
Plughole of Time” in some respects, is very much about artistic license. It is about
looking back and making a personal nod to those individuals who have influenced me
in my own pursuits. It is about thanking them and making a comment about just how
wonderful their input has been.
So without any further ado, let’s go to a world where literally anything can happen.
Where reality and imagination are intertwined, time is no longer stable and where fact
7
and artistic verve merge in one almighty clash. Let’s go back in time. Let’s allow our
lives to be well and truly sucked down the plughole…
Steve Perrin
November 2003
8
Extract from The Times, London, dated Wednesday 20th July 19322
2
R. Davis, 1981, The Encyclopedia of Horror, Octopus Books, Great Britain, p.185 (In this book’s
filmology, it is clearly stated that the first version of The Mummy, directed by Karl Freund and starring
Boris Karloff as the monster, was indeed released in 1932 by Universal Pictures.)
9
Extract from The Guardian, London, dated Tuesday 18th June 19853
3
F. Franklin, 1977, History Factfinder: Date by Date through World History, Ward Lock Limited,
Great Britain, p.68 (This book shows the original caption of the Bayeux tapestry, describing the events
of the Battle of Hastings in 1066. This of course culminated in the death of King Harold and the
Norman invasion of England.)
10
Extract from The Sydney Morning Herald, Sydney, Australia,
dated Friday 19th September 20034
4
A. Isaacs, 1981, The Macmillan Encyclopedia, Macmillan, Great Britain, p.605 (Under the term “Ice
Age”, it clearly states that the most recent example of this period “was the Pleistocene epoch ending
about 10,000 years ago.” This is only a ball- park figure though and noone can be absolutely certain,
unless of course they were actually there…)
11
I ntroduction:
P aperwork, an infamous comic and then ...ZA P !
Figure 4. 2002 A.D. – Menaces Forever (Paperwork and an infamous comic)
2003 Hand Coloured Linocut. 30cm x 30cm
12
“We all have our time machines don’t we?” – The character of the Uber-Morlock
A Suburban Home,
Sydney, Australia, 3.05pm, Tuesday 8th October 2002
“I simply cannot take this garbage anymore!” Steve was irritable. The pile of paperwork
and books had just toppled over to the floor, filling a quite substantial part of the room.
He swiftly tried to pick everything up and bundle the papers back into some semblance of
order, but the more he attempted, the more everything just oozed back annoyingly to the
top of the haphazard pile at his feet. “I seriously have to get more organised!” he
exclaimed to himself, shaking his head in despair. “I need to get with the programme! I
can’t go on like this for much longer!”
He had been looking for a document, specifically a photocopied essay from a textbook
on the work of Lewis Carroll. The next chapter of his Masters thesis was due and as
usual, those notes that he required to actually fulfill it had just disappeared into the
Bermuda triangle that was his desk. As he had heaved the sheets at the bottom of the pile
(everything that he ever wanted had usually filtered through the various gradients of
paper), he hadn’t even noticed the top starting to collapse and when the inevitable
happened, this led to the usual paroxysms of grief, despondency and self- loathing!
13
“Why does this kind of stuff always have to happen to me?” he exclaimed, conveniently
sweeping aside the fact that firstly, this type of thing was probably an everyday
occurrence in the life of every student, not just him, and secondly, that if he had kept his
papers in a better order in the first place, then an incident of this nature could always be
avoided!
After three more unsuccessful attempts to place everything back onto the desk, he came
to the conclusion that he was going to have to do this job the hard way and so he started
to collate all of the references, notes and sheets of paper in a more orderly fashion. He
couldn’t believe how much he had accumulated since he had begun his Masters. The
pages actually ranged from study notes to bank statements to personal correspondence
and receipts and so he carried out the logical approach of segregation and a separate pile
for each.
It was a boring and time- consuming task, which only added to his bad mood and after
some time, he was on the verge of just leaving the paperwork on the floor where it lay, in
a fit of frustration. Suddenly though, as he placed the umpteenth bank statement down, he
was surprised to come across a copy of an old “Beano” comic that he remembered
purchasing sometime in his youth. He picked it up quickly; beaming at the mischievous
faces of Dennis the Menace and Gnasher on the front cover and began to idly flip through
the dog- eared booklet with a sense of considered interest. There were a whole host of
comic characters within; Roger the Dodger; The Bash Street Kids; and Minnie the Minx.5
They had all had a special place in his affections at one time and as he gazed at the
contents of the comic now, he was overcome by a certain degree of reminiscence and
nostalgia.
It was then however, that he stopped dead in his thoughts and a strange melancholy
washed over his mood. The discovery of these crudely drawn images and badly written
stories had put some of his own present existence into a somewhat negative light. “Why
5
www.beanotown.com.uk (The official Beano comic website), as viewed on 5th May 2003 (The Beano is a
comic, produced in the U.K. by D.C. Publishing. Its first edition was released over fifty years ago and it is
still thriving.)
14
don’t I have any colour in my life anymore?” he complained aloud. “Every day seems to
be part of the same tedious routine. There’s no excitement… nothing new on the
horizon… It’s not what I had always hoped for in my adult life.”
He remembered how he had excitedly run down to the newsagents in order to buy this
comic and frivolously blow some of his hard earned pocket money in the process; he
used to buy an edition of “The Beano” every week in fact and was always there without
fail on the very day of its issue. He could only have been very young, but the thoughts
and feelings that used to churn through his mind on this periodic jaunt were virtually
indescribable. He was excited to add to his collection of comic literature, so much so that
he would get a tingling sensation in his tummy. He was eager to see what the characters
were up to in the upcoming edition, thirsty for new stories and ideas. And of course, he
was secure in the knowledge that he would not be let down, no matter what mad escapade
it turned out to be.
Nowadays, the only excitement he had to contend with was staying up late to write his
thesis, deciding which breakfast cereal he was going to eat the next morning (if he ate
any at all) and watching the music video channel on cable with a faint hope that the Corrs
would be on to ogle at!
“I really enjoyed my childhood,” he muttered to himself. “It was essentially a carefree
existence and fun! No stress at all. I was allowed to indulge in the good things in life. My
youth was spent in excitement and hero worship. Nowadays there don’t seem to be any
heroes left… I often wonder whether it’s me that’s changed, or perhaps the world?” He
continued to ponder thoughtfully on his memories of yesteryear and realised, at that
moment, just how much depth his last statement actually had. When he was a child, he
had had so many aspirations, dreams, fantasies and hopes. The world seemed to be a less
pragmatic place. It offered a chance to see those desires though to fruition. Those
everyday things that are given so much emphasis in adulthood, like love, his career,
money, seriousness and responsibility never seemed to get in the way of simply living
life to the fullest. “Oh, how sometimes I wish I could go back!” he said dreamily. “How
15
easy it would be to start again from scratch! The things I would change in my life… the
things I wouldn’t do… the things that I could… At least I wouldn’t have any reason to
feel so glum anymore. I wish that I could go back to childhood!”
After he finished with the paperwork (which strangely ended up in the same state that he
had found it in earlier: one large pile) and found the essay that he wanted, he decided that
perhaps, given his present state of mind and the fact that he had been researching for
most of the day without a break, it was time to rest, recuperate and have something to eat.
So on collecting his mobile phone from a nearby bookcase, he meandered through the
house toward the kitchen to prepare himself something for a late lunch.
As he walked up the hallway, Steve was greeted by the bounding family Labrador, Benjy,
who was grinning from ear to ear and waggling his tail with excitement. “Hello Benge,”
the young man said making an attempt to smile, whilst simultaneously trying to avoid
being bowled over by the dog’s feisty approach. “You think that I’m going to make some
food don’t you?” Benjy always had a sixth sense in such matters. He would spend most
of his day curled up in a ball asleep, but when there was the possibility of food, the dog
was up, about, alert and active!
“Well, we’d better go and see what we can rustle up!” The young man smiled
affectionately and tickled his canine companion under the ear. As clichéd as it seemed,
Benjy was Steve’s best friend. The young man had never had any inclination to be one of
the lads, to go out and get plastered every week and to be constantly surrounded by
friends; he just needed someone to listen and to be there for him. In that respect, Benjy
literally fulfilled all of the traits of a “best- friend” that were required. The dog always
seemed to lend a sympathetic ear and didn’t talk back in return. He was the perfect
sounding board, even if he did sit next to you drooling, whenever you were trying to eat a
meal!
When they both went into the kitchen, Steve opened up the fridge to see what there was
to eat. There wasn’t much! Half a tin of tuna languished on one shelf, covered clumsily in
16
cling- film and looking as though it had been there for a few months. He quickly disposed
of the can in the rubbish bin under the sink, secretly hoping that he was putting a halt to
someone’s experiments on creating a new breed of life. Half a pack of cheese slices lay in
the fresh- box, but he wasn’t really in the mood for these delicacies, especially given the
fact that this is what he normally ended up with in his sandwiches every other day.
Boring! There was simply nothing else for it. He was going to have to use up the two
remaining eggs.
He looked down at Benjy. “Microwave scrambled eggs! What do you think? We haven’t
had those in a while?” The dog merely blinked a response, but Steve knew from previous
experience that basically there wasn’t anything that Benjy didn’t eat. He probably would
have even tucked into the tuna, mould and all, and thoroughly enjoyed it!
The young man quickly mixed the required ingredients together – the two eggs, a
smidgen of margarine and some milk- in a microwave safe bowl. He was amused to see
that, as he was putting his culinary expertise to work, his pet had followed him around the
kitchen in eager anticipation of the edibles, like a little lost shadow. This was in actual
fact an everyday occurrence, but whereas most people would probably get annoyed, to
Steve, it was little routines like this that made the dog so special. Benjy was what he was;
he had no pretensions at all. He never tried to hide his character and basically lived up to
the nickname that had often been ascribed to Golden Labradors in the past. He was a
lovely and loyal creature, but still the genuine dustbin dog!
Steve clicked open the door of the microwave and placed the bowl of yellow goo within
the electrical device. He liked using what he affectionately termed “the nuke machine”
because it was quick and easy and the fact that you could cook a single meal all on one
plate meant that it was a subsequent labour saving device!
He programmed the memory for three minutes and then set the machine to cook. “Now,
I’ll just put some bread in the toaster and then all we have to do is wait!” As Steve
fumbled to get four pieces of bread out of its wrapping, Benjy sat down in a nearby
17
position underneath the alcove where the microwave was housed, readying himself for
the smells and sights of the cooked food. As the young man glimpsed at his pet sideways,
he really had to force himself from chuckling. The dog was poised underneath the
device’s mechanical whir; his line of vision never veered away from it. It was as if Benjy
were waiting for something remarkable and outstanding to happen, with his face full of
wonder and awe.
The moment though was then rudely distracted by the tiny tinny tone of Beethoven’s
Ninth Symphony coming from Steve’s mobile phone and the young man was suddenly
hoisted back from the distraction of his canine friend. He picked up the phone from the
kitchen bench, where he had placed it earlier, and answered it instantly.
“Hello?” he said delicately. The voice at the other end was Michael, Steve’s Masters
supervisor. It was a call that the young man had been waiting for; Michael was ringing to
arrange their next meeting. “Oh hi Michael, how are you going?”
Just as the lecturer had begun to respond to Steve’s greeting however, the events of the
day started to take an unexpected turn. The microwave behind the young man, normally
one of the most dependable of white goods in the house, began to make the most bizarre
and unusual sounds. The only noises that were usually released from the machine had
consisted of little beeps and pips to let the user know when to either take out food, or turn
over defrosting meat and so forth, but on this occasion, it was now discharging the most
deafening and disturbing drone. It was almost like some sort of klaxon or alarm. The
young man glimpsed around at the din, with his eyes nearly squinting in pain. “Sorry
Michael, can you bear with me for a second? I’ve got something in the microwave and
things seem… a little strange. Yes… it is an irritating noise isn’t it?”
He moved over to the front of the machine and almost trod on Benjy, who had now
adopted a somewhat worried look on his face. The dog was obviously in two minds about
whether or not to sit and wait for the food, or run from the weird alien dirge that now
18
seemed to be getting louder. Steve patted the dog to re-assure him though and he
eventually stayed put, clearly deciding not to miss out on the chance to snack.
“I don’t know what’s wrong here,” Steve said half to Michael down the phone and half to
his pet. “This is a little odd. The light’s still on. The food is still revolving around. It just
seems to be making this terrible racket!” Clenching the phone in between his chin and his
shoulder, the young man made to turn the machine off. This it seems turned out to be a
rather presumptuous mistake!
The microwave started to shudder fiercely, bellowing smoke in every direction and
fizzing at random intervals. Then, as its rumbling slowly began to gain momentum (Steve
thought that it was about to explode), what seemed like a sharp electrical ray began to
emanate from it and reacted directly with the mobile phone. As though being
electrocuted, Steve’s frontal cortex, in some kind of symbiotic and sympathetic
relationship with the spark, suddenly began to jitter and flex and his hair stood up high on
end. His eyes were wide and his facial expressions were a mixture of pain, total surprise
and an almost comic look of animation.
The grumbling started to cause a dull ache in his head and this was accentuated when the
world and its contents began to hum in a rather loud fashion. He was suddenly aware of
everything that was around him, not just through sight, but also through feel and an
intriguing sense that bordered somewhere on the telepathic.6 The microwave, the fridge,
the sink, the workbenches, the cupboards, the entire contents of the kitchen, right down to
the little crack that lay on two of the linoleum floor tiles. For some strange reason, Steve
momentarily felt as though he were a part of it all.
6
P. Davies, 2002, How to build a Time Machine, Great Britain, Penguin Books Limited, Page 4 (I thought
that it was particularly important to focus on the emotions and the feeling aspects of time travel after
reading the following quote from Paul Davies’ book: “True, we might feel time passing differently
according to our moods, but time itself is simply time.” This implies that time is something totally outside
of our human sphere of understanding, but when considering a time traveller, the relationship has to be
different. If Steve is truly about to traverse the temporal voids, then he would feel it within every fibre of
his being and mentality.)
19
There was then an incredibly bright flash of light that seemed to linger in the atmosphere.
This made him feel very giddy and in turn, this persistent flare twisted those feelings of
awareness into a frenzied detachment. He could hear Michael’s voice at the other end of
the phone asking him what was going on, but the more he tried to yell a response (and a
scream for help), the more disjointed the conversation became. Steve clutched at the
mobile and even though he was pressing it directly onto his ear, it sounded as though
Michael’s voice was far away in the distance.
Steve looked down at Benjy, who was still at his feet. It seemed that the dog was in a
similar state as he and began to whine. The Labrador was frightened, or so it appeared
and quite clearly didn’t understand what was happening to them both either. Steve
instinctively attempted to clutch hold of Benjy’s collar, but for some queer reason, given
that he was practically standing right on top of the dog, he couldn’t get a good enough
purchase.
As Steve’s eyesight became blurry, he was overcome by an intensity and speed that he
had never experienced before. The kitchen became a flurried mass; a tornado of
movement, memories and what felt like something from his soul. His close surroundings
and Benjy as well, began to slowly swirl and evaporate and as his own body lurched into
the air, he became violently ill. As the world started to spin, faster and faster and faster
and faster, the young man began to race towards unconsciousness. As the blackness
approached, his last memory was an odd one. In this sort of situation, he had always
envisaged that his lifetime would flash by in a matter of seconds, but this was not the case
at all. As his mind began to rapidly switch off, quite inexplicably, all he could see,
perceive and think of was an immense feeling that both he and his pet were shrinking and
were subsequently plummeting or descending toward the kitchen’s sink…
20
Figure 5. 2002 A.D. – The Vapourisation Process 2003
Drawing/ Digital Print. 30cm x 30cm
21
Chapter One:
A rt, A bsurdity, P ersistence and M emory
Figure 6. 1931 A.D. – Art, Absurdity, Persistence and Memory
Hand Coloured Linocut. 30cm x 30cm
22
“I cannot understand why man should be capable of so little fantasy!” – Salvador Dali
Outside a fisherman’s cottage,
Port Ligat, Cadaqués, Spain7, 8.14pm, Wednesday 11th March 1931
A beach. Its stretch of sand disappears into the nothingness of the night. The
mountainous rocks that stand high in the scene’s backdrop are reminiscent of several
stumpy- headed lumbering ogres, who look down forlornly into an arena, transfixed
by both the calmness of the surrounding trees below and the rigorous crashing of the
waves as they reach the shore.8 A series of lonely footprints trail off along this
coastline wilderness, remnants of someone’s evening walk, trudged perhaps in
contemplation at either the sheer beauty of this location’s ambience9, or in fits of
continuous laughter, manic, hysterical and uproarious in their release.10 As the clouds
7
C. Gregory, 1986, The Great Artists – Their lives, works and inspiration: Issue 73- Dali, Great
Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited, p.2308 (Dali “and his wife Gala, made their home at Port Ligat,
a fishing village overlooking the sea.”)
8
M. Secrest, 1986, Salvador Dali – The Surrealist Jester, Great Britain, George Weidenfeld and
Nicolson Limited, p.30 (Dali apparently “learned the contours of each rock” in Port Ligat “by heart
and observed his surroundings so exactly that he could trace the path of the descending sun and
calculate the precise moment at which, the rest of the landscape being in shadow, the last rays would
bathe a single rock with a shaft of purple light.”)
9
Nicolson Limited, p.30 (“A kilometre or two away, on the other side of Cadaqués, is an even less
appealing bay, Port Ligat, which was to play a pivotal role in Dali’s life.” Here he was truly at peace
and saw this landscape and surround as “miraculously beautiful”.)
10
P. Moorhouse, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press, p.9 (This statement is a reference to
Dali’s earlier spell of “nervous exhaustion (which) threatened to plunge him into madness.” After a trip
to Paris at the end of 1928, “Dali became depressed and succumbed to a bout of angina which confined
23
tumble slowly through the night sky, caressing the stars in their wake and cutting the
full moon in two, like a stropping razor slicing viciously through an eyeball11, the air
is crisp and the atmosphere is tranquil.
A short distance away from the ocean, situated roughly in the vicinity of the beaches’
surround, a single light can be seen coming a fisherman’s cottage.12 It flickers, a
candlelight swaying mystically and randomly in the bracing night air, watching over
the sole inhabitant of the dwelling. This individual, the owner of the aforementioned
footprints, is currently fulfilling none of his trademark habits. He is normally one for
putting on a show13, playing the fool and overexcited and sporadic acts of frenzy14,
but tonight he simply sits staring into space, meditating15 and now seemingly
oblivious to the world outside his home.
him.” He was affected to such an extent that bouts “of hysterical laughter gripped him, rendering him
incapable of speech or movement.”)
11
Nicolson Limited, p.107 (This statement is a nod toward the first of Dali’s Surrealist films entitled Un
Chien Andalou or in English, “The Andalusian Dog”. The film was a co- production with Luis Bu• uel,
who was apparently “so emotionally involved” with the project “that he was ill for several days after
shooting the film’s most ghastly sequence in which he appeared to slice a human eye with a razor.”
The shot was interspersed between images of clouds raking over a full moon.)
12
R. Descharnes and G. Néret, 1998, Dali, K• ln, Taschen, p.54 (“With the proceeds of (his work) ‘The
Old Age of William Tell’, he bought a tumbledown fisherman’s hut in a sheltered bay near Cadaqués,
at Port Ligat (the name means ‘harbour secured with a knot’), and moved there with Gala. For him,
Port Ligat was always to remain ‘one of the most parched places on earth. Mornings there is wild
(sic.), austere happiness, while evenings are often morbid and melancholy.’ This was the landscape
Dali most frequently painted.”)
13
J. Hodge, 1994, Salvador Dali, Great Britain, PRC Publishing, p.6 (Although not so much during the
era when this chapter is set, later Dali did become an individual who “seemed more concerned with
living the life of a celebrity and cultivating his outrageousness than with furthering his art.” Therefore,
it is only natural that an assumption about him could be made in hindsight. “Stories of his self- publicity
are legion. On his first arrival in New York in 1934, he approached waiting journalists waving an
eight- foot- long stick of bread that the ship’s baker had specially prepared for him.” Also, he “once
arrived at the Sorbonne in a Rolls- Royce full of cauliflowers.”)
14
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/speech/surrealazd.shtml (BBCi A-Z of Surrealism - D is for Dali), as
viewed on 29th April 2003 (This website says it all! Dali later became a flamboyant showman and was
“an easy figure to dislike, not only for the slick and vulgar mysteries of his later art - that mainstay of
the shops which provide posters for student lodgings - but for his doubtful politics (he was, for
example, an eager supporter of Franco, and claimed to find Hitler profoundly exciting as a sex object),
for his tiresome exhibitionism, for the money-grubbing of which Breton justly accused him, and for his
all-round meretriciousness.”)
15
R. Descharnes and G. Néret, 1998, Dali, K• ln, Taschen, p.76 (On the specific night in which this
story is set, Dali and Gala were “to go to a moving picture with some friends, but at the last moment”,
Dali decided to stay home, leaving his wife to go without him. He apparently “felt tired and had a
slight headache” They “had topped off (their) meal with a very strong Camembert, and after everyone
had gone (he) remained for a long time seated at the table meditating on the philosophic problems of
‘the super-soft’.”)
24
This scene and the seeming lack of drama within it would, generally, be deemed one
of complete and stark normality. No unsuspecting voyeur would ever consider that
anything strange was about to take place. No- one would ever credit both the beauty
of nature and the private pre-occupations of a man alone in his home as anything
other than the ‘average’. Time though, complete with all of its intricate workings and
theories, has a funny way of turning a situation on its head. The supreme quiet and
harmony that exists here is about to be breached. Very soon, there will be a vast rush
of energy, the hands on all of the world’s clocks will suddenly and temporarily stop
and during an interstitial interval, somewhere between the gap of everyday life and
eternity, an arrival will take place. An arrival that will have some bearing on this
particular chapter in history…
**********
“Steeeeee-eeeve.” A shimmer of consciousness set in immediately.
“Steeeeee-eeeve.” The voice again, stretching his name into two inconvenient
syllables. It was certainly a recognisable voice, undoubtedly friendly, but it still didn’t
tempt him enough to wake from his peaceful slumber. It was serene in this comatose
state and he resented being distracted from it.
“Steeeeee-eeeve.” There it was again. Why didn’t this person leave him alone? He
was safe here and lying on something soft.16 Why should he submerge from the
depths of this contented dreamscape?
“Steeeeee-eeeve. WAKE UP!!!!!!!!!” The voice was now clearly getting agitated. It
showed obvious concerns over the young man’s welfare and this alone gave his
conscience a strong enough jolt to bring him back to the tangible. Steve still felt
exhausted however and his mind was groggy, so he kept his eyes closed and his torso
still. Despite the obvious stresses of fatigue, he felt comfortable, snug and secure and
wanted to prolong these sensations for as long as he could.
16
Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited, p.2319 (A rather apt description of Steve’s cushioning, especially
with what is about to take place later in this chapter! “Dali himself has commented on his obsession
with softness”.)
25
“I had this most amazing dream17,” he slurred. “I dreamt that Benjy and I gained the
power of time- travel. We traversed down a normal kitchen plughole of all things! It
followed us to any time zone we went to and a special number on my mobile phone
initiated it! Whenever I dialled the number, the plughole just sucked us in and pushed
the pair of us onto the next port of call in time!” Steve chuckled a little. His eyes were
still firmly closed and to anyone looking at him, from the dreamy way he was talking,
it would seem as though he was at the far end of intoxication. “It’s funny the things
you dream about! On our adventure, we arrived at the creation of Stonehenge in 1897
B.C. and used my phones’ built in tractor beam to lift the stones to their required
positions.”18 He had no idea who he was talking to; to be honest, he didn’t even have
the faintest inclination to find out, but carried on anyway before the recollection of his
dream dissipated into thin air. “We went to lots of places on our trip actually. We saw
the effects of global meltdown on the Earth some time in the far future. We both
physically stood in an era where humanity had become just an insignificant blot, an
unsubstantiated species within the grand plan of the universe. We met many of
histories’ greatest names, such as Plato19, the entire Tudor family20 and Billy the
17
M. Lloyd, T. Gott and C. Chapman, 1993, Surrealism- Revolution by Night, Canberra, National
Gallery of Australia, p.xi (The basis of Surrealism was essentially “the theories of Sigmund Freud,
which gave new significance to dreams as the source of insight into true feelings and secret desires,
normally censored by the rational mode of thought we adopt in waking.” In this respect, given who he
is about to meet and what he is about to encounter, it seemed entirely logical to open Steve’s first time
travel excursion, in text at least, with the remnants of a dream.)
18
A. Isaacs, 1981, The Macmillan Encyclopedia, Great Britain, Macmillan, p. 1162 (The Macmillan
Encyclopedia dates the construction of Stonehenge, “a famous megalithic structure, the focus of a
cluster of ceremonial sites on Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire (England)”, as between roughly “2500 –
1500 B.C.” Due to the lack of concrete evidence however, I have selected the in- between date of
1897B.C. as Steve and Benjy’s intervention in time.)
19
E. Lawrence, 1970, The Origins and Growth of Modern Education, Great Britain, Penguin Books,
p.26 – 30 (Plato was a Greek philosopher and was born in 429 B.C. In the early stages of this project,
Plato was to have his own chapter, particularly based on his ideas ’s referring to childhood and
education. He once said for instance- as is outlaid in Elizabeth Lawrence’s book- that the “seeds of
human knowledge exist in every human soul and that the function of the teacher is to help the learner
to discover the truth for himself.” We all absorb new information at regular intervals of our daily
existence, but the absolute truth of what makes us individual lies within our biological make-up. I take
this to be a vast signifier as to the origins of our own imagination and sense of fantasy. Our
imaginations are within our psyche and personality already. In Plato’s thought processes, we don’t
learn an imagination, but an awareness of it and how to put it into action. Steve and Benjy would have
helped him to somehow discover this theory. Both time and space made an incredible impact though
and he was reduced to an image reference in the final exhibition!)
20
E. Wright, 1979, The Medieval and Renaissance World, Great Britain, Hamlyn Publishing, p.275
(When creating my images and ideas for the overall project, I became slightly interested in historical
icons and symbols and how they could be affected by the materialisation of the plughole. A lovely
image that presented itself included the official Tudor Seal from the year 1485, which I shamefacedly
appropriated for one work in the final exhibition!)
26
Kid.21 We gave Shakespeare the idea for “Macbeth.”22 We convinced Leonardo Da
Vinci that the construction of a mechanical flying machine was actually possible.23
And we were even witness to the recording sessions of Tom Petty’s ‘Full Moon
Fever’ album in 1989!”24
Steve rolled over onto his side and used his left arm as a pillow to prop up his head.
He still felt extremely done in and had every intention of staying where he was and
enjoying this relaxing moment. As he began to drift back toward the land of nod
however, he was suddenly psychologically jerked away from the trip. In that magical
moment between being half awake and full comprehension, two strange things had
begun to occur to him. The first was that it had suddenly got fairly cold and his body
had started to shiver. He quickly huddled all of his limbs together in a ball to try to
compensate for this temperature drop. The second point was to do with the clarity of
this fantastic dream that had just occupied the inner space of his mind. It might have
only been his over-active imagination, but now that he was aware of the fact that he
was re- entering reality, he couldn’t quite distinguish the point where his dream had
ended and his conscious thought had returned.25 He was starting to question his own
21
http://www.geocities.com/Yosemite/Rapids/9755/BillyKid.html (Website dedicated to Billy the Kid:
1859- 1881), as viewed on 11th June 2003 (Billy the Kid, whose real name was William H. Bonney,
was “one of the most famous killers of the Southwest” in America. According to historical documents,
it “is said that he murdered twenty men” and his story is very famous. He was finally shot in the back
by his friend, the law- man, Sheriff Pat Garrett. The myth has always intrigued me and it seemed like
this gunslinger would be the kind of individual that Steve and Benjy would run into at some point on
their travels!)
22
F.E. Halliday, 1980, A Concise History of England, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson Limited,
p.104- 105 (Another historical figure that I have been interested in since my own childhood- when I
learnt about Macbeth in English class in fact- is William Shakespeare. It seemed a bit of a cliché to
have a full chapter devoted to the bard, but natural to mention him somewhere along the line.)
23
A. Isaacs, 1981, The Macmillan Encyclopedia, Great Britain, Macmillan, p. 716 (Leonardo Da Vinci
was a fifteenth century painter, architect and engineer. He was the first to design a helicopter device
and was always said to have been a man who was centuries before his time.)
24
C. Buffington, 1993, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers- Playback (Accompanying book to CD
collection), USA, MCA records, p.19 (Full Moon Fever was Tom Petty’s first solo album away from
his back- up band, the Heartbreakers, and “was released in the spring of 1989.” It is both my favourite
album and “Petty’s all- time bestseller.”)
25
Gallery of Australia, p.xi (This is an important stage to a Surrealist- the moment between dream and
reality. “Dali painted dream inspired images with clarity and precision, seeking to confer upon these
images the status of facts. Similarly, René Magritte adopted a deadpan naturalistic style to document
his irrational and extraordinary images as matter- of- fact. Neither artists, nor the Surrealists
generally, sought to create a world of fantasy as something parallel or peripheral to real life.”)
27
sanity26; for a split second he had begun to think that those events that he had just
described hadn’t been a dream at all!
“What a ridiculous notion!” he spat to himself. “It must have been a dream! I
remember distinctly having several two- way conversations with Benjy. He could talk
and that’s not only a physical impossibility, it’s also absurd! Isn’t it?”
His eyes instantly sprung open.
**********
Steve sat on the beach thoughtfully twirling his mobile phone over and over in his
hands. He’d received another text message and like its predecessors, it was
completely anonymous. There was no forwarding number attached to it or anything.
Benjy looked over his master’s shoulder and tried to squint at the rapidly circling
LCD screen. “What does it say?” the dog inquired, obviously not being able to read,
even despite the blur of the moving device. Either handicap didn’t stop his canine
inquisitiveness though.
The young man looked at his pet, almost in a daze. He had to be honest with himself;
he was feeling a little bit worse for wear. During their last temporal escapade, they
had found themselves on an African safari in the year 1953. Having spent most of
their time running away from strange animals, wild beasts and big game hunters, it
was little wonder that on finding the plughole and having successfully made their way
through it, the two companions were both feeling a tad shell- shocked. Being human
though and able to think just that little bit more intellectually about their predicament,
Steve was hit just that little bit harder than his four- legged friend. In fact, upon
materialising on this calm and tranquil beach, he had immediately fallen into a
26
C. Maddox, 1983, Dali, West Germany, Benedikt Taschen, p. 18 (A reference to Dali’s early life at
the Academy of Arts in Madrid and his first introduction to Sigmund Freud’s book “The Interpretation
of Dreams”. According to Maddox, on the discovery of this text, the “most casual act was subjected to
agonising self- analysis, and he was to go through tortures trying to decide whether he was really
mad.”)
28
confusing, but well-earned bout of sleep, which apparently at first, Benjy had not been
able to wake him up from.
“It say’s: FIND THE COTTAGE.” Steve shook his head. “I wish that I knew who
was sending these to us.”
“Well,” began the dog’s response, “whoever it is, don’t knock ‘em! They seem to be
helping us out! That advice we’ve got from your little machine there has at times been
our only life- line. Without those words…”
“Yes, we could have ended up dead or something!” Steve completed the obviously
often- rehearsed statement. “You said that the last time we received text of this kind!
It’s just that not knowing the identity of our mystery message writer is driving me insane!”
“But if they are helping us…” Benjy continued to surmise. “Why are you complaining
about it?”
Steve looked at his loquacious pet for a moment and ran that last question through his
mind. “I suppose it’s in my nature to complain.” He smiled, but then as he paused
slightly, his lips straightened into a serious pout, before adding a further sentiment,
“and besides which, these messages might be aiding and abetting our survival, but at
what price? If there is one thing that I have learnt throughout my twenty- seven years
on Earth, nothing ever comes without a cost. There’s always a trade off somewhere in
the end, believe you me!”
“Well I can’t see any problem,” muttered Benjy, who slumped to the ground,
suddenly feeling as though his opinion (no matter how recently he had actually
discovered it) seemed to count for nothing.
“Can’t you?” Steve stood up, suddenly acquiring a burst of energy and flare that his
body, since last traversing through the plughole, had been absolutely drained of.
“Well firstly, if this person at the other end of the phone line is really our friend, then
29
why can’t we message him back? Why doesn’t he leave a number? Why doesn’t he
tell us his name even?”
“Perhaps he’s shy?” Benjy was clearly clutching at straws. Steve dismissed the
remark completely.
“Secondly, doesn’t it strike you as odd that we are even receiving messages at all?”
The young man held the phone up high in the moonlight. “That we can receive
messages at all?”
The dog just blinked and shook his head slowly from side to side, as if mesmerized by
the phone moving in his master’s grip. “I don’t understand…?”
“Well, we’ve been to some pretty varying times in the history of this planet. The
original creation of Stonehenge, the Egyptian tombs some six hundred years before
the birth of Christ, the wild- west? The original telephone machine wasn’t invented
until 1875.27 The mobile followed roughly one hundred and fifteen years later! How
can we receive messages on my mobile phone, when my mobile phone is the ONLY
ONE CURRENTLY IN EXISTENCE?” His words got louder and a little sarcastic as
he reached the end of his question and with such an outburst, it was little wonder why
the dog then delicately stood, placed his bottom and hind legs in the sand and began
to stare thoughtfully into the ocean. Given that time had yet again stopped around
them (Steve had always assumed that this was to allow them to get their bearings in
each new physical location), the waves had an eerie air of static. They seemed
perpetually curled over, as if part of some huge (and incredibly life-like) photograph
and the fact that it was also the dead of night added to this bizarre effect.
The view was probably the furthest thing from the dog’s mind however. “So who do
you think this person is?”
27
A. Isaacs, 1981, The Macmillan Encyclopedia, Great Britain, Macmillan, p.1193 (“The telephone,
which was invented by Alexander Graham Bell in 1875, carries speech in the form of electrical signals
along a wire.”)
30
Steve stared thoughtfully in the same direction as his pet. “I don’t know. An
opportunist, someone who has taken advantage of our ‘accident’ for one reason or
another?”
Benjy’s eyes closed solemnly. “I suddenly feel very frightened.”
Steve wasn’t surprised. He was beginning to scare himself. He looked at the worried
expression on his friend’s face and his temperament began to simmer down. “I’m
sorry Benge, I didn’t mean to get so heated up and aggressive before, or to frighten
you either.” He walked over to the dog, patted his head gently and gave him a hug.
“I’m probably just over-reacting. You know how suspicious I get of people! You
could be right. Perhaps these people are our friends? Perhaps they do just want to help
us? Odd as though it may be… Mind you,” the young man looked again at the
completely still water before them and rolled his eyes, “our whole lives have become
slightly odd these days!”
Steve then walked closer to the shoreline, bent over to pick up a sizeable piece of
shell from the sand and sent it hurling out with speed toward the depths of the black,
sparkling ocean. He suddenly remembered the way he used to play ducks and drakes
in the sea with his father as a young child. He had never been particularly good at it.
The pebbles always used to plop under the water on his first attempt. He used to get
so frustrated, especially when his dad always used to send his offerings shimming
effortlessly across the surface. He wished that his parent could see him now! The shell
that he had just thrown seemed to bounce and skim for ages before finally being
allowed to submerge.
“So what do we do now?” the dog suddenly asked, breaking the quiet of the night’s
atmosphere.
Steve turned around to face him; the short reminiscence had calmed the young man
down completely. “Well, I guess for now, we do what we always do. We do as the
message says; we find the cottage. Who knows? Perhaps the plughole will be there
and we can move on to another location? As you say, these messages haven’t let us
down before have they?”
31
Benjy started to look up and down the stretch of sand, then instantly thrust his nose to
the ground and began to sniff. “Well, if there is a cottage here, I’ll find it!”
“I know you will!” Steve smiled. “Let me know when you’ve got a scent!”
**********
It didn’t take them long to find the quiet little dwelling at the top of the beach, it was
actually only about one hundred yards from where they had initially arrived.28 Benjy
had claimed their rapid discovery as another victory for both the power of his nose
and the skill of doggy- kind, but Steve had put it down, blatantly, to the succession of
footsteps that they had discovered in the sand! They had practically followed them
right up to the cottage’s front door in fact.
Coming to an abrupt halt outside, Steve gazed up at the roof of the small house and
scanned downwards, before swiftly turning one hundred and eighty degrees in a
single continuous motion, to take in the full scope of the beaches’ view. The cover of
darkness ensconced most of what he saw, so it wasn’t easy to make out any
distinguishing features of the building or its surrounds, but there was something about
a cottage on an isolated beach that stuck in his mind. He could swear that he had been
reading about such a place recently; someone in his university research had moved
into a small fisherman’s cottage at one point in the beginning of their career. For now
though (and perhaps this was due to the effects of his recent excursions through the
vortex of time), the exact details of such a place or person totally escaped him.
“Okay,” said the dog. “Any ideas?”
Steve did not reply. He simply ambled up to the dusty window of the cottage and
placing his hands against the glass pane, began to squint through it. The front room,
which was almost adjacent to the beach, was dark and shadowy, but through an open
28
M. Rogerson, 1987, The Dali Scandal, Great Britain, Victor Gollancz Limited, p.20 (Although the
fisherman’s cottage was initially quite small, later “Dali rebuilt and extended the original modest
structure until it became at once a maze, a palace and a piece of Surrealist art.”)
32
doorway at the other side of the space, he thought he could make out a small light of
some kind.
“What can you see?” Benjy was getting quite irritated in that the window was too
high for his reasonably small body to peer into. He tried to jump up two or three times
to place his front paws on the windowsill, but gave up when his feet couldn’t get a
good enough grip and he subsequently plummeted, with a dull THUD, to the ground.
Steve glimpsed down at the dog, ignoring his somewhat undignified position. “Well,
there’s definitely someone home!” He turned his attention back to the window. “We
can’t knock on the door yet obviously. Whoever is in there will be frozen rigid! We’ll
have to wait until the normal flow of time starts up again.”
“I hope that whoever is in there has some food, I am absolutely famished!” Benjy
exclaimed, licking his lips.
“Is that all you ever think about?” muttered Steve. As he spoke, he was still
attempting to make objects out through the darkness of the cottage’s interior.
“Is there anything else?” Benjy picked himself up and moved closer to his friend,
gazing at him mischievously.
Steve once again did his best to ignore the silliness and, trying to maintain a lighthearted frame of mind, made an attempt to change the subject. “Do you know, I think
this front room might be some sort of art studio? There’s an easel and a pile of
canvasses in there.” He narrowed his eyes and looked once more, just to check that he
hadn’t been seeing things in the shadows. “It’s a large space, so I can’t be certain.” He
squinted some more. “But yes, it’s definitely an easel!”
“So what does that mean?” The Labrador’s face was suddenly a mixture of complete
vacancy and eager anticipation of an answer.
33
“Well… nothing, really” said Steve. “I just thought that it was particularly intriguing
that the person who owns this house could be from the same field of expertise as I
am! With the exception of Leonardo, we haven’t met any other artists yet!”29
Benjy’s eyes narrowed in a thoroughly bored expression. “Oh yes, you’re an artist
aren’t you? I was forgetting. How absolutely thrilling!” The dog didn’t even try to
hide the sarcasm in his voice. “Oh goody, you’ll be able to talk shop! Masters student
to past master!”
“Why are you taking that tone?” asked Steve, suddenly taken aback by his pet’s
change in demeanour. He couldn’t understand the display of hostility at all. Since
Benjy’s recent step towards humanism, they had never actually had a great deal of
time to discuss the contents of anything, let alone the logistics of the young man’s
career. Most of their conversations had been about what they were going to do next
and how they were going to cope with the change in temporal environment. As time
had always resumed back to its steady flow and the topic of debate had become of
specialist thought, Benjy had always had that infuriating habit of becoming just a
normal dog once more!
“It’s just that I don’t really like art.” The Labrador cocked his head to one side in
confusion as he spoke. He still hadn’t really got used to the idea of free- thought and
being academic. “Being a dog, it’s not something that I can wholeheartedly
understand!”
“So basically, if you can’t eat it, you’re not interested?” Steve crossed his arms and
shook his head, almost in disgust. This disinterest in creativity and expression was
something that he was going to have to remedy!
“Got it in one!” Benjy smiled enthusiastically.
29
C. Maddox, 1983, Dali, West Germany, Benedikt Taschen, p. 48 (It is more than fortuitous that I
have mentioned Leonardo Da Vinci in this chapter, as there is a definite link between he and Dali.
Leonardo was actually one of the antecedents of Dali’s famous “paranoiac critical method” of painting.
“Dali was undoubtedly familiar with Freud’s study of Leonardo, as well as that artist’s advice to look
at the damp stains on walls in which one might see all kinds of strange and imaginary shapes.”)
34
It was then that their playful bickering was disturbed by another sharp shrieking
bleep, which emitted from Steve’s mobile phone. This was obviously to signify yet
another text message. At first the strange sound made the duo jump. Steve’s stomach
always seemed to lurch whenever he heard his phone anyway (he didn’t actually
receive that many messages in normal life) but in the quiet of this night- time beach,
seemingly miles away from anywhere, the sound seemed completely out of place.
After the initial surprise, the young man instinctively pulled the communications
device off of his little belt clip and glimpsing suspiciously at Benjy (who returned the
exact same look), he pressed the appropriate buttons to retrieve the contents of the
message.
“Well?” Benjy didn’t even attempt to hide his impatience.
Steve’s eyes flicked through the pixelated words on the screen, before turning their
stare fully toward the little yellow dog. “According to this message, the front door of
the cottage should be unlocked and we should just go right in!” In response to this, the
dog nodded once with gusto, rather like a character from an old Laurel and Hardy
short, and then proceeded towards the large wooden entrance of the building. Steve
was immediately shocked and horrified. “Where are you going?”
“Well, I thought we were going in?” The dog’s face was blank with innocence.
“Are you bonkers?” yelled the young man. “We’ll get done for trespassing or
something!” The Labrador’s face remained cool and collected, if vaguely perplexed.
“We don’t know where we are, or even when we are! We don’t know the laws of this
place! The people who live here might be able to shoot trespassers dead with a
blunderbuss or something!”
The dog seemed puzzled. “But why did the message tell us to go in?” At this, Steve
rolled his eyes and looked genuinely anguished. Not being able to come up with an
adequate verbal retort though, he simply shrugged his shoulders and began absently to
follow in his friend’s footsteps toward the door.
**********
35
As it was pushed, the door creaked open and reminded Steve of those old Hammer
horror films, where the lid of Dracula’s coffin slowly but surely came undone. That
sort of sound really did set a rather dismal scene to any predicament; on hearing it,
part of the viewer’s psyche almost expected the following and inevitable screech of
the black cat or the hands grabbing from the shadows. On this occasion however, the
reality of the noise was intensified in a quite different way. Rather than a feeling of
expectation, it was the engulfing darkness and overall weirdness of their journey that
were the contributing factors, which added to the duo’s nerves. The young man could
feel Benjy’s face sidle up against the back of his jean- clad legs. This he could just
about bear, but when he was almost shoved over from behind, he looked down
snappily in irritation. “What is the matter with you?” he hissed.
Benjy was uncontrollably shivering and looked up very slowly at his human
counterpart. “I’m beginning to think that outside, your concerns were right. You’ve
got me worried now!”
Steve quickly rubbed his facial features with both hands in a slapstick exhibit of
dismay. Although he was feeling afraid as well, he felt that he should comfort his dog.
“What is there to be terrified of?”
“Everything!” said the dog succinctly. “Starvation, nasty people, murderers!”
“Who’s going to murder us here?” The young man shook his head, before deciding to
deploy a more logical tack. “Benge, listen. What can you hear?”
The dog cocked his head as though attempting to hear a pin drop from ten paces. It, of
course, never came. “Nothing!” he said finally.
“That’s right. Nothing. No waves of the ocean. No birds singing in the sky. No
rumble of the wind through the trees. Nothing, and the sole reason why you can hear
nothing is because time is still frozen. No- one can get us here! No- one at all! On past
experiences, it is impossible! Now come on!”
36
The two proceeded to walk through the dark space and in spite of Steve’s
confirmation of safety, Benjy still stuck close. Although he had showed signs of
annoyance before, the young man felt bad for chiding his dog the way that he had. He
just put it down to the old maxim; the more familiar you get with someone (or indeed
something) the more trust you ultimately show them and so subsequently, in that sort
of relationship, you let down your guard. When you have a close companion, such as
the likes of Benjy, it is only natural that you would display some of your own flaws as
an individual, sometimes without even thinking about it. He knew that this was no
real excuse though, even if he did try to cloud it with logic and decided that he would
try not to be so short in the future… or the past, or wherever it was they ended up next
of course!
Once fully inside, the most prominent feature that Steve noticed about the house itself
was that it seemed to be comprised of a sensation of varying smells. In the darkness,
there wasn’t really much to look at; the young man couldn’t even see his hand at
arm’s length and so it was quite natural that his nasal abilities would take over. The
smells were slightly odd in fact. One minute Steve noticed the reek of dust, the likes
of which any normal household would contain, then the next he could smell an
unerring waft of what seemed like fish and then the next, the familiar whiff of mineral
turpentine and oil paint. He smiled at this last addition to his senses. “I knew it!” he
said rapidly. “Whoever owns this place is definitely an artist!”
“But how do you account for that fishy smell?” Benjy’s voice floated upwards
towards Steve’s ears, clearly attempting to play devil’s advocate in their current
situation.
“I don’t know, remnants perhaps from the last owner?30 This is a fisherman’s cottage
after all. If it wasn’t, why would it be so close to the beach?”
The two then proceeded through a short hallway, which led to an indistinct junction of
further small corridors, each going off at a tangent through to opposite sides of the
30
R. Gómez de la Serna, 1977, Dali, Spain, Crown Publishers, p. 59 (In 1931, “Gala and Dali (bought)
the fisherman’s cottage, a little way from Cadaqués, (which was) to become their home.” Therefore, at
the beginning of this chapter, they hadn’t been living there for very long!)
37
house. There was a small painted canvas hung up on the wall directly in front of
them.31 Upon this, through the mask of darkness, Steve thought he could make out the
image of a strange looking statue with its hand covering over its face in shame.32 He
couldn’t quite be sure though. There was definitely some sort of figure there, but the
conditions of atmosphere could have been playing tricks on him!
“Which way?” the dog asked.
“Left!” said Steve without any hesitation whatsoever. He had decided to follow both
his earlier line of thinking in regards to the art studio, and the light that he thought he
had seen through the window.
**********
His assumptions had been correct. The front room of the house was, in relation to the
whole of the building at least, a fairly sizeable open- plan space and was set up as an
artist’s studio. The smell of turps and paint was obviously stronger here and now that
he was standing inside, Steve could make out that there was not just one, but several
easels set up at various intervals, each with a canvas sitting steadfastly upon it. The
young man presumed that these were unfinished works and just wished that he had a
flashlight on his person, so that he could see what had been painted!
It was still dark here, but not as much as in the hallway however. The moon lit up the
centre of the room from the window a little, although the dust and sand that lingered
across the outside of the glass obscured much of the glow. Steve could hear a creaking
underneath their feet as the two companions moved and upon looking down, he could
31
R. Hughes, 1980, The Shock of the New, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p.240 (The painting
with which I am referring to, according to Hughes’ book, is actually 16.5 x 10.25 inches)
32
R. Descharnes and G. Néret, 1998, Dali, K• ln, Taschen, p.36- 37 (The picture, of course, is ‘The
Lugubrious Game’ which, “featuring underpants stained with excrement” and masturbating statues,
was painted in 1929. It is considered to be Dali’s first truly Surrealist work. The excrement “was
painted in such sumptuous detail that friends wondered whether Dali had coprophagic tendencies.” A
group of notorious members from the Surrealist group went to visit him in Cadaqués in fact to question
him on both “the sexual and scatological extravagance of his work” and his own sanity. The group
consisted of “René Magritte and his wife, Luis Bu• uel, and Paul Eluard with his wife- Gala.” Gala
ultimately fell in love with Dali and stayed.)
38
just about see that there were bare, but fairly paint spattered, floorboards on the
ground.
“Okay smarty pants,” said Benjy. “Here’s your art studio! Do you think that now we
need to find that light you were talking about before?”
Not really being able to see anything of worth in the darkness anyway, Steve
reluctantly agreed and with the dog in tow, he slowly ambled over towards the open
door at the far end of the room. This led to another short and dark passage, which in
turn opened up into a dining room or parlour. It was here that, for the first time, the
pair were to come into contact with their unknowing host and the owner of this
residence.
The room was delicately lit with a strange effect from a frozen rigid candle that had
been placed at some earlier point of the evening in an old fashioned lamp. At the
exact second when time had stopped to allow their integration with the flow of
existence, the small flame had flickered slightly in one direction. Therefore the back
half of the parlour (which annoyingly did not seem to contain anything of interest)
was illuminated with a bright orange glow, while the rest, although slightly affected
by the small light, was still pretty much in darkness. Even the varying intensity of
these shadows however, did not affect Steve’s recognition of the man who currently
occupied this space.
Sitting at the table, with his chin propped up on crossed arms and staring with wide
unblinking eyes at the empty plate before him, was a rather odd- looking soul with
dark slicked back hair and a short moustache.33 The individual looked slightly in pain,
but also in a sense of deep thought.34 Steve wandered straight up to him and leaned
33
Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited, p.2307 (Under a portrait of Dali in 1929, this publication offers
the following statement. “His neat appearance contrasts sharply with the long hair and bohemian
dress of his student days.” The picture shows short and slicked hair and a delicately trimmed
moustache.)
34
Nicolson Limited, p. 128 (“He had eaten a strong Camembert that evening and while Gala went off to
a movie he sat at the dinner table meditating on the issue of super- softness that the cheese seemed to
exemplify.” During the events, he apparently “had a headache”, which was very uncharacteristic for
him. Perhaps his ailment was down to the extent to which he was thinking about his subject?)
39
slightly inward, to place his own face only centimetres away. It was almost like
looking into the constantly open eyes of an extremely life- like waxworks figure from
Madame Tussaud’s. “Good lord,” he said in an intentionally unspectacular manner. “I
know this individual!”
“Oh yes?” Benjy’s words were a little automatic and forced. He said them, merely
because he assumed he had to. If he was truly interested in the man, he didn’t really
show it. He instead, quite true to form, began to scour the space underneath the table
for unwanted scraps of this fellow’s dinner. “Who is he then?” he asked, suddenly
stumbling over something that tickled his interest.
“It’s Salvador Dali!” Steve stood up straight and placed his hand thoughtfully on his
chin. “He was perhaps one of the most prominent of the Surrealists.35 A lot of people
thought that he was an absolute loon, probably with just cause.36 Turned out to be a
fantastic promoter and showman in the end.37 He was an excellent painter in his day
though.”38
35
http://www.daliweb.tampa.fl.us/biography.htm (Salvador Dali 1904- 1989), as viewed on 29th April
2003 (Although the first Surrealist manifesto was released in 1924, some five years before Dali joined
the movement, it is often considered that he was in fact more prominent in the group than he actually
was. This website for instance claims that “Dali soon became a leader of the Surrealist Movement”,
which is perhaps an over statement, given that he was nearly expelled from the group at a later date.)
36
C. Maddox, 1983, Dali, West Germany, Benedikt Taschen, p. 33 (A lot of the things that Dali did in
his life-time certainly gave the impression that he was a tad… demented. One such incident was when
he met Gala for the first time, which is outlaid in Maddox’s book. “In his usual way he went to
inordinate lengths to attract her. Taking his best shirt he cut it short enough to expose his navel, then
tore it on the shoulder and the chest. The collar was entirely removed, his pants turned inside out.
Shaving his armpits, they were then dyed with laundry blue. Not completely satisfied, he removed the
blue and shaved until his armpits were bloody, then did the same to his knees. For perfume he could
find only Eau de Cologne, which made him sick; so he boiled fish glue and water, adding some goat
manure and a touch of aspic, making a paste which he rubbed all over his body. He was ready to meet
her.” Were these the actions of a mad man? Only the individual can decide!)
37
I. Macmillan (producer) and P. Smith (director), 2000, This is Modern Art – Episode Six: The Shock
of the Now, Great Britain, An Oxford Television Company For Channel Four (“The hard- core modern
artists rejected (Dali). They said he was only a publicity seeker. He was only commercial.”)
38
http://www.mcs.csuhayward.edu/~malek/Dali.html (California State University Website on Dali), as
viewed on 29th April 2003 (“Dalí's paintings are characterized by meticulous draftsmanship and
realistic detail, with brilliant colours heightened by transparent glazes.”)
40
Not entirely listening, Benjy was quite disheartened; he had merely discovered a piece
of discarded paper, which smelled of a rather strong cheese.39 No remnants of the
dairy product that had once existed within it remained however.
Upon glimpsing down at what his pet was up to, Steve just shook his head and then
returned his stare toward the famous artist before him. It was really quite uncanny.
This was not the eccentric Dali who had worn long flowing hair40, foppish facial
accoutrements41 and an outrageously baggy jacket in his later existence. It was not the
Dali who had been a rich and notorious public figure42, lending his talents to
advertisements43 and people like Walt Disney44 and Alfred Hitchcock.45 This was a
more serious, younger and toned down version of the man.
“I wonder what year we’re in.” The time traveller finally said.
Benjy, eventually beginning to ignore the old cheese wrapper (he had torn it to a
series of delicate pieces anyway), edged up to his companion’s side and turned his
attentions to this new addition to their number. “What does it matter?”
“It’s just that Salvador Dali went through a number of phases and changes in his lifetime. I was just wondering what period we were currently in. Also,” he paused to take
a breath. “We are definitely in the nineteen hundreds, this fellow was born in 190446,
39
Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited, p.2319 (Dali “said he had the idea for the watches when he was
eating a ripe Camembert cheese.”)
40
R. Gómez de la Serna, 1977, Dali, Spain, Crown Publishers, p. 214 (In a collection of recent
photographs attached to this book and incorporated interview, Dali’s trademark ‘look’ is clearly shown.
He adorns long flowing hair- although thinning on top- and an upturned moustache.)
41
R. Hughes, 1980, The Shock of the New, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p. 237 (“As a bodily
trademark, his moustache was only rival to van Gogh’s ear and Picasso’s testicles”.)
42
J. Hodge, 1994, Salvador Dali, Great Britain, PRC Publishing, p.6 (“Later in his career he seemed
more concerned with living the life of a celebrity and cultivating his reputation for outrageousness than
with furthering his art.”)
43
of the Now, Great Britain, An Oxford Television Company for Channel Four (In this episode of This is
Modern Art, Dali can be seen in television advertisements for Lanvin chocolate.)
44
R. Descharnes and G. Néret, 1998, Dali, K• ln, Taschen, p.218 (In 1946, Dali apparently sketched
“some cartoons for Walt Disney”.)
45
C. Maddox, 1983, Dali, West Germany, Benedikt Taschen, p.84 (“Hitchcock’s ‘ Spellbound’ and
‘The House of Mr Edwards’ both had dream sequences by Dali.”)
46
P. Moorhouse, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press, p.6 (“At 8:45 on the morning of May
11th 1904, the most significant event in Salvador Dali’s life occurred; he claimed that he suffered ‘the
horrible traumatism of birth’.”)
41
but he died in 198947, so that gives us a fairly lengthy scope of about eighty five years
to decide upon.”
The dog moved closer to the inert artist and attempted to make out more of the details
of his frozen features. “He’s fairly young isn’t he?” He had asked this as a question to
his master and had not intended it to be a statement of fact. He was never one for
working out the age of people; he found it extremely difficult!
Steve nodded. “Yes, about my age I’d say. Twenty- six, twenty- seven perhaps?” It
was then that his memory suddenly clicked into place. It was as though someone had
turned on a switch and the information, like electricity, had begun to flow! He
remembered that he had been studying certain aspects of Dali’s life recently for his
thesis and all of the facts were slowly starting to come back to him. “Of course! When
Dali was twenty five,” he started to do the mathematics in his head, “which would
have been in 1929, he first joined the Surrealists and painted his work ‘The
Lugubrious Game’!”48 His eyes flicked backward toward the hallway in complete
realisation. “He met Gala, his lover and future wife that year and then later, in 1931,
when he had started to sell work, he bought a fisherman’s cottage in Port Ligat.
Benjy, we’re in Spain!”
The dog had clearly not understood a word of what his Master had just burbled out
and told the human so. “Just back up slightly,” he said. “I’m afraid you lost me on the
guy’s age!”
Steve tried to simplify his statement. “From this point in time, approximately two
years ago I’d say (although I can’t be sure of course), Dali joined the Surrealists! He
almost sort of revolutionised the way the Surrealists worked!”49
47
http://www.seven7.demon.co.uk/dali/history.htm (Dali Pages- Dali- Life, History, Art), as viewed on
29th April 2003 (“On January 23, 1989, Salvador Dali died in a hospital in Figueres from heart failure
and respiratory complications.”)
48
http://encarta.msn.com/encnet/refpages/refarticle.aspx?refid=761557348 (Microsoft Encarta Entry
for Salvador Dali), as viewed on 29th April 2003 (“After 1929 he espoused Surrealism”.)
49
R.S. Lubar, 1991, Dali – The Salvador Dali Museum Collection, Canada, Bullfinch Press, p.11
(“Dali objected to Surrealist psychic automatism as a passive state of consciousness in which the artist/
poet is transformed as a kind of medium…Rejecting Surrealist automatism and mimetic painting alike,
Dali defines artistic intervention as the process through which the physical world is framed as
representation.”)
42
Benjy’s face remained blank. “Oooookaaaaaaay!” he said slowly and cautiously.
“First things first: what is a Surrealist?” The dog wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually
know the answer, but whilst in his philosophical and talkative state, for some reason,
always hated to be left in the dark like this and consequently found himself asking the
oddest questions. Also, since embarking on this adventure with the young man, Benjy
had found that Steve had a tendency to run his mouth off at break- neck speed,
especially when he knew something about a particular subject. The dog constantly felt
the need to put a halt to this annoying habit!
“The Surrealists were a group of creative people50 from the nineteen twenties and
thirties.51 They were an art movement founded initially by a man named André Breton
and based their works on images from the subconscious and dreams.”52
Benjy sat up on his hind legs and appeared even more confused than he did when he
had put the question forward. “But what have dreams got to do with a group of
artists?”
Steve stared at his friend and then said a matter- of- factly: “That was their artistic
purpose. To highlight dream- like images, to exemplify,” he corrected himself
quickly, “to bring to light the nature of reality I suppose.53 They wanted, in some
ways, to force their viewer to re-examine the nature of their own everyday
existence.54 They did this by creating a kind of sur- reality, where the tangible and the
50
B. L. Myers and T. Copplestone, 1977, The Macmillan Encyclopedia of Art, Great Britain,
Macmillan, p.267 (“The Surrealist movement was entirely literary at first: Breton did not see how
visual artists could assist his ideas. Nevertheless, painters and sculptors soon found that the ambiguity
inherent in visual communication offered a powerful means of access to the subconscious”.)
51
Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited, p.2308 (“In 1924, the first Surrealist Manifesto was published in
Paris and the movement came into being.”)
52
Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited, p.2308 (André Breton, a “French poet was the founder of the
Surrealist movement. He was anti- rational, believing that the exploration of the unconscious would
reveal new truths.”)
53
Macmillan, p.267 (“The tension produced by the presence of the totally irrational image painted with
meticulous photographic realism has been used by Salvador Dali who has called his paintings ‘handpainted dream images.’ Just as paranoiacs interpret innocent events as threatening, so Dali in his
paintings continually forces the spectator to re- examine the nature of supposed reality.”)
54
Macmillan, p.267 (Surrealism “was firmly based on the ideas of psychoanalysis and its language and
43
fantasy clashed and merged together.”55 He then patted the top of the canine’s head
delicately, who in turn began to assimilate and collate all of the information so far in
his mind.
“Uh- huh,” the Labrador said finally. “Well then what has this bloke got to do with
the Surrealists?” He nudged his face in the direction of the frozen Dali.
“Dali became closely identified with the movement. He sort of restructured their way
of thinking. Before, their artistic creativity relied on something called automatism,
which is a means of allowing the unconscious mind or awareness to take control of
the main thought processes.56 In art terms, it was virtually making a creative mark,
without thinking consciously about it. The problem was, there was only so far you
could go with this technique and as time moved on, the ideas became stale and
stagnant.” He started to pace up and down slightly as though delivering a lecture.
“When Dali came along, he was the spurt the Surrealists needed to continue.”
The young man walked up behind the great artist and made a real show of trying to
examine the plate that commanded Dali’s own attention. There really was nothing on
it, only a few lifeless crumbs. “This fellow,” Steve placed his hand on the man’s
statue like shoulder, “was always a little eccentric, even in youth.57 He was precocious
and spoiled in childhood, but would always display signs of genius.58 In his work, he
symbolism. In particular Surrealists were fascinated by the world of dreams as a gateway to the subconscious and often portrayed dream fantasies in paint.”)
55
Gallery of Australia, p.3 (“The term surrealiste had been invented in 1917 by the poet and art critic
Guillaume Appollinaire… The term had no precise meaning; it was coined as a possible mocking
analogy to Nietzsche’s sur-homme (superman), to indicate a mode indistinct from realism, naturalism
or classicism, and with a strong element of shock and surprise.”)
56
P. Moorhouse, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press, p.15 (“Breton originally identified
automatism as the means of liberating the unconscious mind, by aiming at ‘thought’s dictation, in the
absence of all control exercised by the reason and outside all aesthetic and moral preoccupations’.
However, its almost complete absence from the second Manifesto of Surrealism (1929) demonstrates
that Breton was beginning to recognize that automatism was more an ideal than a practical reality.
Consequently the way was open for more methods.”)
57
Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited, p.2306 (“After two unsuccessful attempts to educate the young
Salvador at the local schools, his bizarre behaviour and his refusal to learn anything suggested to his
teachers that they were dealing with an extraordinary but abnormal personality.”)
58
P. Moorhouse, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press, p.6 (“Three years before Dali’s birth,
his parents had lost their first child, a seven year old boy also called Salvador. The over- protective
love which they bestowed on their second- born encouraged the development of a temperamental and
selfish child.”)
44
shared common goals with the Surrealists and devised a notion called the ‘paranoiaccritical method’ of painting.”59
“And what’s that?” asked Benjy, feeling a little frazzled and brain- drained by all of
his newly acquired facts.
“It’s basically a means of inducing a state of ‘reasoning madness’.60 He would acquire
an image from a dream, subconscious thought or his mind’s eye and then allow his
own cognisance to fill in the gaps and come up with an exciting, weird and unusual
painting.”61
“Cognisance?”
“Conscious or aware thought processes.”62 Steve corrected his own complications
again.
“And this worked?” The dog clearly thought this idea to be ludicrous.
“Oh yes, the paranoiaccritical method resulted in several different types of images.
He was a great allegorist.63 My point of interest was where he used a collection of
59
Nicolson Limited, p.127 (“This method has been most cogently explained by Carlton Lake, one of
Dali’s biographers: ‘Basically, it involved setting down an obsessional idea suggested by the
unconscious mind and then elaborating and reinforcing it by a perverse association of ideas and a
seemingly irrefutable logic until it took on the conviction of inescapable truth.’ In dreams or waking
fantasies, Dali recorded the first image he saw and then filled in the space with the images this
suggested.”)
60
R. Gómez de la Serna, 1977, Dali, Spain, Crown Publishers, p. 12 (“It is easy to call an
extraordinary artist mad, but difficult to prove it, and Dali in any case has an answer to the charge:
‘The only difference between me and a madman is that I am not mad.’ The nearest he comes to
madness is in his imitation of it in his ‘paranoiaccritical’ period which he has described as ‘ a
spontaneous method of irrational knowledge, based on the interpretive- critical association of delirious
phenomona.’”)
61
Nicolson Limited, p.127 (“In dreams or waking fantasies, Dali recorded the first image he saw and
then filled in the space with the images this suggested.”)
62
R.S. Lubar, 1991, Dali – The Salvador Dali Museum Collection, Canada, Bullfinch Press, p.14
(“Dali integrated his theoretical position concerning Modernism, the psychology of vision, and the
relationship between representation and cognition into an extended analysis of what he termed the
‘paranoiaccritical’ process.”)
63
of the Now, Great Britain, An Oxford Television Company for Channel Four (“Dali expressed the
45
strange images or everyday objects as an allegory or metaphor for something else,
something usually more personal to his own pre-occupations.”64 Steve wandered back
over to his dog’s side. “This method worked for Dali extremely well and between the
years 1929 and 1939, he painted his most powerful and exciting imagery ever!”65
It was at this point in his analysis however that Steve suddenly came to an abrupt
stop. With the thought of Dali’s most famous work, one single image seemed to
materialise in his mind and of course, the story behind its production. A further
thought then occurred to him and he turned to face his friend directly. “Benjy, can you
do me a favour?” The Labrador nodded. “Can you walk through that door there and
see if anyone is in the kitchen?”
“Why?” The canine flicked toward the opposite door from which they had entered.
“Just do it!” Steve snapped. “I have an awful suspicion that perhaps we should be
making tracks! In terms of the regulated flow of time, I don’t think we should be
here!” He glanced back towards Dali and quite aside from this individual’s history;
his mind was now wondering when movement and life would recommence.
Benjy walked over to the doorway, stuck his head over the threshold slightly and
confirmed Steve’s reservations. “No, nobody here!”
“Oh dear,” said the young man. “I think this might be a very special night Benge.
Gala’s not home!”
“What? His wife?” The dog about faced and came back wholly into the parlour.
modern world by acting its weirdness. He was an inspired allegorist… He was a priest of art,
preaching timing, genius… money.”)
64
R. Hughes, 1980, The Shock of the New, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p. 238 (“This technique
could make any vision, no matter how outrageous and irrational, seem persuasively real. But it needed
a system of images, and this Dali approached through what he called his ‘paranoiaccritical’ method.
In essence, it meant looking at one thing and seeing another.”)
65
R. Hughes, 1980, The Shock of the New, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p. 237 (“Almost all the
works of art on which Dali’s fame as a serious artist rest were painted before his thirty- fifth birthday,
between 1929 and 1939.”)
46
“Yes!” Steve’s manner had now turned to one of panic and in an instant he lurched
over toward the old lamp, lifted it in one single-handed heave and dashed madly out
of the room toward the direction of the art studio.
**********
Benjy quickly followed his master into the art space and was relieved to find the
young man standing in front of one of the canvasses, holding the lamp up high. The
relief was short- lived however when he saw the sober expression on Steve’s face.
“I don’t believe this!” said the young man. “We need to leave!”
“Why?” Benjy edged around the canvas and looked at the image painted upon it,
which was now illuminated by the static flame of the candle. “Why are you so
worried?”
“It’s this image,” said the young man pointing feverishly towards the canvas. “It’s not
finished yet! This will end up being, quite arguably, Dali’s most famous Surrealist
work. He is currently sitting at the table there in the parlour working out what strange
and mysterious object will go in the forefront.66 Although the exact date is never
mentioned of this event in the books on Dali’s life, it is well documented as to what
specifically takes place! After eating some Camembert cheese,” Benjy looked
backwards toward the parlour and instantly remembered the wrapper, “he comes up
with his theory on the super-soft Camembert of time and space!67 If we disturb this
incident, if he for some reason either does not finish this work, or finishes it
differently, then we risk changing everything about Dali’s existence in the future!”
The painting was of a rather flat landscape, complete with rich blue and yellow sky,
cascading mountains in the background and a vast russet expanse of sand in the fore.
Even though they had only seen it in darkness, it was clear that it was a representation
66
P. Moorhouse, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press, p.49 (This particular work in question is
actually ‘The Persistence of Memory’ and “initially he had no idea how to develop the picture.”)
67
Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited, p.2319 (“In 1935 he wrote that ‘the famous soft clocks are
merely the soft, crazy, lonely paranoiaccritical Camembert of time and space.”)
47
of some area of Port Ligat.68 Dali had started to paint a leafless olive tree to one side,
but even from Benjy’s perception, the picture did look incomplete.
“What do we do?” exclaimed the dog, suddenly beginning to feel the affects of a
wave of anxiety.
“In the absence of any text messages, I suggest that we rapidly make for the beach!”
Steve set down the lamp on a nearby table and the two started to make for the door,
which led back to the front hallway. As they did so however, a combination of three
events began to take place and this made them instantly stop in their tracks. The first
was that a sound could be heard coming from outside of the cottage. Steve knew in
his heart of hearts what this entailed; he realised that the noise was the sea, which had
now begun to crash once more upon the verge of the beach. The second was that the
young man’s mobile un-fortuitously bleeped once more, offering more advice as to
what they should do next. The third was that Salvador Dali, upon being released from
time’s strange-hold, had doubled back through the rest of his house and was now
standing with a look of complete suspicion ahead of them, directly blocking off their
escape route.
A numb feeling overtook the entirety of Steve’s body, as the painter asked in his deep,
guttural and unmistakably foreign accent: “Who are you and why are you in the great
Dali’s studio?”69
**********
As Steve looked directly at the past master and said nothing, his right hand fumbled
furiously to take the mobile phone off of his belt. He hoped that the mysterious text
messages had the answer to get both he and his pet out of this scrape!
68
P. Moorhouse, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press, p.49 (“Dali painted the setting first, a
deserted landscape at Port Ligat”.)
69
of the Now, Great Britain, An Oxford Television Company For Channel Four (This is a description of
Dali’s voice from this television programme.)
48
“Oh, hi… Mr. Dali,” his voice suddenly got quite high with every ounce of
accumulated fear. “How are you?” He really couldn’t think of anything to say and at
once, felt quite feeble and inadequate.
Dali firstly looked him up and down, obviously quite entranced by the young man’s
strange and unworldly clothes and then his eyes flicked over toward Benjy. The dog
had reverted back to his old normal self and stared dopily back at the artist, with his
long tongue hanging out of his panting mouth. “Who are you?” the Spaniard asked
once more, before turning his attention back to the panic- stricken Steve.
The time traveller pressed the required buttons on his mobile to acquire the contents
of this new message and flicked his eyes down to read it before he answered Dali’s
question. It said: “PRETEND TO BE A DREAM. WHEN HE HOLDS UP THE
WATCH, HIT SEND CALL BUTTON!” He glared at the little illuminated screen
quickly and was baffled as to what he had seen upon it. Even so, he had no choice but
to comply.
“Er, Mr. Dali… Salvador… Crazy Sal!” he began, making overt and presenting
gestures with his hand.70 He hoped that he wasn’t overdoing it. “Allow me to
introduce myself! My name is Stefanovich and this is my canine companion,” he
swallowed as his mind rapidly flittered with names, “er… Narcissus!”71 Benjy’s tail
began to wag. He was obviously finding this thespian display quite amusing. “We are
a product of your subconscious! Here to help and coerce you with your latest jaunt
into paranoiac criticism!”72
Dali’s expression, perhaps inevitably, changed from the sinister and sceptical to one
of a mixture of pure curiosity and fear. “Am I… asleep?”
70
R. Hughes, 1980, The Shock of the New, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p. 237 (This is a nickname that Robert Hughes prescribes to the artist: “crazy Sal the Andalusian Dog”.)
71
P. Moorhouse, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press, p.88 (In 1937, Dali produced a painting
called ‘The Metamorphosis of Narcissus’ and it was based on a story from Greek mythology.
“Narcissus was a beautiful youth who fell in love with his own reflection in a fountain; he was drowned
after jumping in the fountain in order to embrace his own image.”)
72
P. Moorhouse, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press, p.49 (“Inspiration came unexpectedly.”)
49
Steve glimpsed down at the dog and crossed his fingers. “As far as you know!” he
said cheekily.
“Why have you come here?” the artist then asked.
“Well Mr. Dali, you have a painting that you don’t quite know how to finish. Isn’t
that what the paranoiaccritical method is for?73 We’re here to give you ideas from
beyond your dreams!” Steve was wondering when, or indeed if, Dali was ever going
to produce a watch. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this deception up!
“And what ideas do you have for me then?” The man was beginning to cotton on to
this elaborate subterfuge, Steve was sure of it!
“Ooh, good question. You could try and do a weird kind of self- portrait where your
face is made up of a strange rubbery substance and placed next to some greasy fast
food,” Steve offered.74
Dali was clearly not impressed. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” the young man had only suggested this idea to give his brain a chance
to catch up with both his own absolute stupidity and the conversation that was
transpiring. “I’m a part of your subconscious after all, does there have to be a
reason?”75 He was getting slightly fed up with this act and decided that he really
needed to do something pro- active, so added rather slyly: “by the way? You don’t
have the time on you, do you?” Down at his side, he held the phone in one hand and
being careful not to depress it, his finger remained poised on the send call button.
73
Gallery of Australia, p.56 (“Dali always stressed the active nature of his method, which he contrasted
with what he saw as the passivity of automatism.”)
74
R. Descharnes and G. Néret, 1998, Dali, K• ln, Taschen, p.141 (The work that Steve is describing
here is Dali’s ‘Soft self- portrait with Fried Bacon’ from 1941, which the artist himself described as
“an anti- psychological self portrait; instead of painting the soul, that is to say what is within, I painted
the exterior, the shell, the glove of myself.”)
75
C. Maddox, 1983, Dali, West Germany, Benedikt Taschen, p.59 (“In Conquest of the Irrational
(Dali) wrote: ‘The fact that I myself, at the moment of painting, do not understand my own pictures
does not mean that these pictures have no meaning; on the contrary, their meaning is so profound,
complex, coherent and involuntary that it escapes the most simple analysis of logical intuition.”)
50
Salvador Dali’s eyebrows creased in confusion, but after a slight suspicious moment,
to Steve’s relief, the celebrity artist produced a gold fob- watch from the front pocket
of his waistcoat. “It is nearly twenty- five to nine!” he said, holding the small clock
up at arm’s length, dangling it on its chain.
Steve immediately took his chance and thrust the antenna of his mobile toward the
clock, pressing the little button in for all it was worth. Dali instantaneously ducked for
cover, obviously shaken by the intruder’s rapid movement and thinking that the
chunky black device was some sort of a weapon. He hurled himself further into the
studio toward them and landed with a crash on the wooden boards below.
No- one of course was more surprised than Steve to find out that in some respects,
Dali’s assumptions had been correct: his phone probably could be used as a weapon!
A stream of electrical rays suddenly shot out from the contraption and, through luck
rather than skill the young man presumed, coincided directly with the falling clock.
The little timepiece flittered slightly in a tiny explosion of colour, but wasn’t entirely
destroyed however.76 It landed in a little liquefied splat on the ground.77
Steve clipped the phone back onto his belt, and then helped Dali to his feet before
both of them joined Benjy in staring at the little gooey mess that the clock had
become. “Sorry about the watch,” the young man apologised to the artist, “but here’s
a great idea! Just remember to keep Camembert cheese in mind!”
**********
After scraping the soft watch onto one of Dali’s paint palettes, Steve did his best to
convince the artist that he really was an aspect from the depths of his own inner mind.
The only way to extinguish both his and the dog’s presence from existence was to go
back to the place where the dream had begun. Salvador needed to take his candlelit
lamp back into the parlour and seat himself once more at the table. When he returned
76
Nicolson Limited, p.128 (“He knew that (the painting which would eventually become ‘The
Persistence of Memory’) was the setting for an idea but he did not know what… Suddenly, in a flash, he
saw the solution.”)
77
R. Descharnes and G. Néret, 1998, Dali, K• ln, Taschen, p.76 (“I ‘saw’ the solution. I saw two soft
watches, one of them hanging lamentably on the branch of the olive tree.”)
51
to his studio later, to cast a final gaze over his unfinished work, Steve confirmed that
both Stefanovich and Narcissus would be gone.78
As the artist stumbled back towards the rear of his house, he turned, thanked them
both for the wonderful picture idea and said that later, when he wakes up, he would
see it through to fruition.79
The second the two companions were alone once more, Steve quickly gathered the
fob watch goo up in both hands and indicated for he and the dog to leave via the
hallway. “Don’t worry!” he said to Benjy. “Dali’s got the idea, he doesn’t need the
evidence of a physical object. It would just confuse the history buffs anyway!”
Then before the great Salvador Dali could discover them once more, they left the
small cottage, closing the front door behind them.
**********
As the pair made their way up the moonlit beach, back to where they had initially
arrived, Steve explained to Benjy the relevance of the soft clock to Dali’s work and
some of the ideas behind his painting ‘The Persistence of Memory’. He wasn’t sure
that the dog had totally understood; in fact, he didn’t even appear to be listening, but
felt that he should bring his friend up to speed anyway.
“So, one fellow claimed that ‘The Persistence of Memory’ actually referred to some
flashback from Dali’s childhood. Apparently the word clock in French has a double
meaning. It has something to do with the tongue (I forget exactly what) hence the
stretched out and dangling soft shape.80 Another interpretation is that the painting
78
Nicolson Limited, p.128 (“Then he went over to look at his work in progress, as he did every night
before bed.”)
79
R. Descharnes and G. Néret, 1998, Dali, K• ln, Taschen, p.76 (“In spite of the fact that my headache
had increased to the point of becoming very painful, I avidly prepared my palette and set to work.”)
80
C. Maddox, 1983, Dali, West Germany, Benedikt Taschen, p.59 (“The word montre (watch) has a
double- meaning: in French, it is the imperative of the verb montrer (to show) and the name of the
apparatus montrant (showing) the time. But there is a very common childhood experience: the doctor
asks the sick child to montrer so langue (show his tongue) which obviously is soft.”)
52
referred to Dali’s unconscious fear of impotence.81 This way, you see, he used a quite
irrelevant object to deal with his own feelings and considerations.” He looked down at
the clock- mess that was still within his grasp. It was starting to harden a little in the
atmosphere. “Dali himself always equated the painting with time and space though.
To me, that seems to be the closest explanation!”
He then walked over to the shoreline and bending down, carefully deposited the watch
into the surf. It fizzed and bubbled slightly before seemingly evaporating into nothing.
“Now,” the young man said, standing up quickly. “We need to find that plughole and
get out of here!”
As if by magic, his mobile phone suddenly rang out once more to notify him of
another mechanical missive. Steve smiled and looked down at the message, which
indicated that the plughole was embedded within the trunk of the nearest olive tree,
next to where they stood.
“You know Benge,” Steve began. “I realise that I have been sceptical of these
messages in the past, but I am starting to think that you’re right. On the whole, they
do seem to be aiding us. Perhaps we couldn’t get along without them?” With this
statement however, he was quite surprised when the bleeping noise emanated once
more. This was the first time ever that they had received two messages within close
proximity of each other.
“Oh,” said the man aloud, when he flicked over this new collection of words. He
looked down at Benjy. “This one says: THIS IS THE LAST MESSAGE THAT YOU
WILL RECEIVE. FROM NOW ON, YOU”RE ON YOUR OWN! GOOD LUCK!”
He patted Benjy on the head and started to walk in the direction away from the water
and toward the nearest cluster of trees. “You’re on your own! Good Luck!” he
exclaimed to his friend. “How are we going to cope?” He looked down and tightening
81
Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited, p.2319 (The “picture has brought forth many interpretations- the
limp watches, for example, have been seen as indicating a fear of impotence.”)
53
his grasp on the mobile phone, he grinned and then added: “I don’t know, but it’s
going to be a blast finding out!”
The young man then began to dial the magical number to initiate their strange time
portal. “Come on,” he laughed to his pet, “the last one through that plughole is a little
lost munchkin!”82
With that, very soon, all that was left of their presence in Port Ligat was a scattered
collection of footprints in the sand.
82
M. Le-Roy (producer) and V. Fleming (director), 1939, The Wizard of Oz, USA, Turner
Entertainment/ MGM United Artists (It is only natural that at every point of reference, Steve would
equate his experiences with something that he was already familiar with. Here of course, he links their
adventure up with the movie version of The Wizard of Oz, which was about a little girl named Dorothy,
who was carried to a new and colourful land. The munchkins were a group of little impish- like folk
who lived there. )
54
Chapter Two:
The Start of K ing’s H ighway
Figure 7. 1960 A.D. – The Start of King’s Highway 2002
55
“Kids by themselves sort of interest me that way; they seem to me to be the place
where you should start to explore wherever people come from”– Stephen King
A field,
Durham, Maine, USA, 10.25pm, Thursday October 13th, 1960
The storm had lurched into a tumultuous frenzy. It had certainly been the worst of its
kind this year. The wind didn’t seem to know which way to turn and the heavy
downpour of rain seemed to form the same type of reckless formation, spattering
violently in all other directions, but the consistent. It had, in actual fact, been raining
hard all day, making everyone’s time in Durham a fairly miserable one. It wasn’t
exactly flood season for the small Maine town, but the citizens there had certainly
seen more than their fair share of millimetres per inch during that last twenty- four
hours, than they had in the whole of the previous six months.
It was in the late evening though, when the worst of it had begun to hail down. For a
while, it actually looked as though the weather was going to let up, but this had been a
rather odd deception that bordered somewhere on the godly; as the saying goes, it had
been the calm before the storm. Whilst the townsfolk huddled within their homes,
attempting to stay warm and vigilant against the now set- in elements, slowly but
surely, through the torrent came an eruption. Over the next few hours, a series of
horrifying lightning bolts and earth shattering thunderclaps raged through the
atmosphere, threatening to damage and destroy everything within their wake. It was
hardly surprising that the emergency services had put an all out warning on the
56
television news earlier that evening. Weather like this was typically ghastly and evil.
It had the potential to annihilate, demolish and kill.
If any of those unsuspecting people who were safe at home though, had the power to
visualise all of the varying dimensions of space and time, then a short glimpse out of
their window, directly through these awful and devastating conditions, would have
awarded them the most peculiar of spectacles. In a field, a short way off from the
main cluster of homes in Durham, two rather unfortunate souls had materialised quite
miraculously out of nowhere.83 To the average person, who was conditioned to the
normal flow of time, the appearance would have seemed almost instantaneous; a flash
of light and the two shadowy shapes would have simply been there. From the
perspective of the two bedraggled figures however, the incident would have been
quite different. If the duo, one a young man and the other a dog, had in fact been fully
aware of their faculties on arrival, then they would have remembered both the
physical conditions of a split second journey through the fourth and fifth dimensions
and the eerie display of rain and lightning literally solidifying in mid- air before their
eyes. The experience of time travel was still way too much to bear though. They stood
for a short while in an almost inebriated manner. The young man clasped his head as
though attempting to stop the pain and even the dog displayed a definite sway in his
posture. The two shared a glimpse indicating that they clearly understood what the
other was going through and then both promptly slumped face down in the mud,
without either of them uttering a single word.
**********
Within the blackness, Steve’s head swam with shapes and visions that veered on the
nightmarish. As he huddled alone on what felt like a hard cold concrete floor, he
attempted to hide his eyes from these ghoulish and provocative entities. The more he
tried to block them out though, to deny their existence, the more they burned
completely through his eyelids into the inner workings of his mind. A clown, holding
a bunch of gleefully coloured balloons, turns into a psychotic man- hating destroyer
83
D. Stewart (producer and director), 2000, Omnibus: Stephen King – Shining in the Dark, Great
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- Production (It is shown in this documentary quite clearly
that Durham is a small village, surrounded by fields and countryside. It says that “Durham was so
small, it didn’t even have a main street.”)
57
with piercing yellow eyes and a definite penchant for flesh.84 An axe- wielding
maniac chases a young boy through a snowdrift maze, firstly yelling false words of
encouragement, before then angrily exclaiming his true nature: a hideous motive of
revulsion and murder.85 A school of unearthly buzzing creatures that literally and
mindlessly eat the confines of time itself.86 A toddler’s hand reaches out from
underneath the stones of an unmarked grave.87 And then, as if to add further fuel to
Steve’s own personal insecurities, a single finger emerges and grows to a stupendous
length from the inner ring of a normal, everyday plughole.88 None of the imagery
made perfect sense; they were clearly Hollywood style pictures that he had been
voluntarily privy to before, but in this circumstance, fragmented together within his
own mind’s eye, they were utterly ghastly and their impact was tremendous.
As his heart heaved in an attempt to cope with the entourage of malevolence, Steve
was then faced with another terrifying and psychological disadvantage. He was alone.
Benjy was no-where to be seen. Had something happened to the dog? Had he gone off
to find a meal? Had he deserted Steve because he had found something, or someone
better?
The young man stood up and began to scrabble through the darkness in order to find
his friend. He couldn’t be alone. He didn’t want to be alone and the fact that he was in
total solitude left him feeling numb, powerless and exposed to attack from outside
84
S. King, 1986, It, USA, New English Library, Hodder and Stoughton, p. 25 (In the story It, the
monster underneath the sewers takes on many forms, but its most predominant is the guise of
Pennywise the clown. This page introduces the character as he maims a little six- year old named
George Denborough. He says of his balloons, that in the sewer, “they float!”)
85
S. Kubrick (producer and director), 1980, Stephen King’s The Shining, USA, Warner Brothers
Pictures (The scene acknowledged here is from the Kubrick movie version of The Shining, rather than
King’s book. In the book, there is no “snowdrift maze”, but a selection of topiary that comes to life.)
86
D. Kappas (producer) and T. Holland (director), 1995, Stephen King’s The Langoliers, USA,
Independent Productions (The television movie entitled The Langoliers was taken from a book of
Stephen King short stories called Four Past Midnight and tells of furry and malevolent creatures that
literally eat the contents of time and existence.)
87
R. P. Rubinstein (producer) and M. Lambert (director), 1989, Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, USA,
Paramount Pictures (The two year old Gage Creed is buried in the old cemetery and comes back to
life…)
88
S. King, 1993, Nightmares and Dreamscapes, Great Britain, Hodder and Stoughton, p. 194 (The
finger growing out of the plughole refers to a Stephen King short story from this collection entitled The
Moving Finger.)
58
Figure 8. 1960 A.D.- (A sort of) Premonition 2002
30cm x 30cm
59
Digital Print.
influences. Benjy was more than just his best friend in the whole wide world; he was
also his trusty back- up. The Golden Labrador was in fact, the only other living being
on Earth that he could trust implicitly and this was marked even more so by the
bizarre experiences that the pair had been through together. If he lost that special
relationship, then he had this distinct feeling that there was literally no point in
carrying on. He kept a single solitary thought in the forefront of his mind: I must find
Benjy! I must find my friend!
He proceeded on a journey that seemed to go on for miles and as he did so, he
continually called out the dog’s name. The canine however never answered. He kept
moving and every so often, he would take a few seconds to glimpse rapidly over his
shoulder into the darkness, although he honestly did not quite know what he expected
to find there. Perhaps he felt as if he were being chased by the visions that had taunted
him earlier, perhaps subconsciously he thought that Benjy was playing a trick and
would come bounding up from behind to surprise him, or perhaps he expected to see
an armed soldier waiting for him to drop below four miles per hour?89 At least, he
thought, in the context of remembering “The Long Walk”, a novel about a group of
teenagers being forced to continually walk or die, a bullet through the back of his
head would put an end to these feelings of terror!
In briefly considering that story and the turmoil and agonies that the characters within
were put through, he decided to stop to take a breath. As he released a steady flow of
carbon dioxide however, he heard a strange snapping noise in the distance and as a
nervous reflex, spun around in a complete three hundred and sixty degree turn,
looking this way and that. All he could see around him though was an encroaching
dark. Starting to become frantic, he began to shake uncontrollably and then, in a fit of
anxiety, manically clutched at the hair on his head, pulling with all his might. His eyes
89
S. King, 1987, The Bachman Books: The Long Walk, USA, New English Library, Hodder and
Stoughton, p. 157 (The Long Walk was actually Stephen King’s second novel in 1967, but was rejected
by Random House publishers when he first tried to submit it. He later published it under the
pseudonym of Richard Bachman in 1979, before it was re-released as part of this story collection in
1987. The Long Walk is a tale about growing up from boy to man and portrays a group of teenagers
who are playing a futuristic game show. They must walk, non- stop, through a gruelling 450- mile
marathon across America. If they slow down under 4mph, then they are given a warning. On their
fourth warning, they are gunned down by a soldier. Only one of them can win the contest…)
60
were wide and streaming with tears and his expression was one of unmistaken
apprehension.
It was then that a rapid moment of calm washed over him and through his postponed
angst, he noticed something a few yards ahead. He cautiously moved toward it, but as
it became possible to see what the large indistinct object was, he came to a sharp halt
and stammered in sheer disbelief. There in front of him, hanging from a single
wooden beam that didn’t seem to be attached to any rigid structure, was the dangling
and mangled corpse of a dog.90 Fortunately, it couldn’t have been Benjy; it was too
large. This dog was either a Doberman, or Alsatian, Steve couldn’t work out which.
As it idly spun on its rope though, seemingly of its own accord, one thing became
predominantly clear: the dog’s face had been ripped clear off of its head.
As blood dribbled ferociously from what used to be the canine’s nose cavity, Steve
almost wretched as he noticed that the torso’s eyeballs had been replaced by two tiny
fob watches. He stood momentarily rigid, glued completely to the spot, before
screaming frantically for all his life was worth.
**********
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Sweat poured down Steve’s face as the top half of his body quickly raised itself from
the bed sheets that he had become entangled in. THWACK! His moment of panic
though was very short lived as before he had time to work out where he was, he
smacked his head with some force into the slopes of an angled wooden ceiling beam
above him.91 Feeling that further sensation of intense pain on his forehead, other than
the obvious repercussions of his latest temporal jaunt of course, he slumped rapidly
and lazily back down onto the bed.
90
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (This imagery was based on a short clip from
the movie Needful Things.)
91
S. King, 2000, On Writing – A Memoir of the Craft, Great Britain, New English Library, p. 33 (King
describes his own bedroom: “My room in our Durham house was upstairs, under the eaves. At night I
could lie in bed beneath one of these eaves – if I sat up suddenly, I was apt to whack my head a good
one…”)
61
At first, his vision was blurry, but as it adjusted to the attic in which he was currently
situated, he began to realise that, rather than finding himself within a prison cell or
hospital wing, the space was in fact someone’s private bedroom. He shook his head
quickly, as if to wake himself up and then narrowly avoiding the slope of the ceiling,
made to stand up on the wooden boards of the floor. Remaining still for a moment, as
if to recover from recent events, he mused at the extremely large pair of striped
pyjamas that he had been dressed in, before falling into instant relief to see Benjy
curled up in a ball on a small mat next to the bed. The dog was fast asleep and from
the way he groaned slightly, Steve could tell that he was dreaming. Pulling back his
over- long sleeve, the young man stroked the top of the Labrador’s head delicately to
comfort him. “It’s okay Benge,” he whispered.
Steve then began to scan around the room looking for clues as to where they may
have arrived on this occasion. To one side was a large bookcase, which was totally
filled with a vast array of dog- eared paperbacks.92 He casually wandered over to it
and furtively fingered through some of the titles, which were mainly gothic horror
novels, science fiction and mystery.93 He smiled when he came across a copy of H.G.
Wells’ “The Time Machine.”94 The rest of the space was laid out pretty much the
same, as one would expect to find an ordinary bedroom. A wardrobe resided over in
one corner, next to a small chest of draws. A small cabinet stood in between the single
size bed and the door and on top of that was an alarm clock, a small gooseneck lamp
and another paperback book all placed rather neatly and meticulously.95
What was quite unique however was the old desk that had been pushed underneath the
room’s only window. On this, stood rather ambiguously, a small, antiquated
92
P. Boyle (producer and director), 1999, Biography – Stephen King: Fear, Fame and Fortune, USA,
CBS News Productions in association with the History Channel (King would apparently “line the walls
of his room with paperbacks.”)
93
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (King’s childhood friend, Dean Hall, states
that “he read a lot, horror classics, comics, strange mysteries and you’d always see him walk around
with a paperback in the back of his jeans.”)
94
A. Keyishian and M. Keyishian, 1996, Pop Culture Legends: Stephen King, USA, Chelsea House
publishers, p. 24 (This book tells of King’s youth and how his mother, Ruth, used to read to him. “Her
favourites – and Stephen’s – were the more frightening stories, such as H.G. Wells’ ‘The Time
Machine’ and ‘War of the Worlds’.”)
95
apparently used to “read by the light of a gooseneck lamp that put an amusing boa constrictor of
shadow on the ceiling.”)
62
typewriter, a pad of blank foolscap paper, and a tin cup that was filled with a selection
of pens and obviously used (and chewed) pencils.96 Looking around to make sure that
he was alone, Steve mischievously picked up a piece of paper from the top of the pile
and threaded it through the machine. He knew how to use a typewriter; his family had
owned one a few years ago, before it became affordable to buy a computer. He pulled
out a pine chair that was tucked underneath the desk, sat down in it and after briefly
glancing over at the collection of paperbacks, promptly began to type.
REDRUM.
MURDER.
REDRUM.
MURDER.97
The click clack of the typewriter woke Benjy up. The canine stood slowly and
subsequently began to stretch every bone in his body. Steve flinched and realising that
his friend had now resurfaced, spent a momentary giggle at his own foolishness on the
word machine, before turning around to face the dog.
“Benjy can you talk?” he asked. The Labrador just grinned, making no attempt to
reply whatsoever. “Obviously not!” Steve answered his own question aloud. He
moved over to perch himself on the edge of the bed and started to tickle his pet under
the ear. “Okay, so we’ve passed the initial period of re- entry. Time has obviously
resumed once more. I wonder how long we’ve been here?”
As if on cue to answer his inquiry, there was then a timid knock on the hard wooden
door. Steve was a little startled, but looked up abruptly and said, “come in” without
thinking. The door gingerly opened inwards and from behind it came a fairly large
96
publishers, p. 40 (In between 1959 and 1960, David King, Stephen’s brother, “had acquired an old
Underwood typewriter and a mimeograph machine that had to be cranked by hand.” Later in 1963,
according to page 43 of this book, King and his childhood friend, Chris Chesley, would put together a
pamphlet of short stories called “‘People, Places and Things’ using the (same) typewriter and
mimeograph machine.” Presumably Stephen used the machinery more so than his brother!)
97
S. King, 1977, The Shining, Great Britain, New English Library, p. 287 (In the novel, the young boy,
Danny Torrance, has the power of second sight and all of the way through the book keeps seeing one
word in his mind’s eye – “REDRUM”. It is of course a child-like and misconstrued premonition of the
forthcoming events of the novel. In reverse, the one word says it all- “MURDER”.)
63
teenage boy shuffling awkwardly with a tray of refreshments, followed closely by a
middle- aged woman.98 Steve stood up quickly, nearly smacking his head on the slope
of the roof once more.
“That roof’s a doozy!” said the boy. “It nearly gets me every time!”
Steve smiled embarrassingly. “Well that’s twice today, I have to admit!” He rubbed
his head softly and then taking particular note of the youngster’s accent, added:
“you’re American?”
“Well, then I’m in the right place mister!” The boy walked over to the desk, and set
the tray down next to the typewriter. He glimpsed at the words that Steve had tapped
out before. “You’re a writer sir?”
Steve stood guiltily, literally having been caught in the act. “Er, no, actually I’m not! I
was just… fooling around! Sorry!” He smiled and turned to the lady, who despite
having the carefree air and movements of a very open, considerate and humorous
individual was eyeing him, suspiciously.99
“You had everyone worried sir,” she said, also in a strong American twang. “When
the local police sergeant brought you and your dog in last night, everyone thought that
you were both goners!”
Steve looked over at the window, it was pouring down ferociously. He remembered
the storm in an instant. “The field, of course!” He rubbed his forehead. “Why did they
bring me here? Why wasn’t I taken to hospital or something?”
98
CBS News Productions in association with the History Channel (The announcer claims that at the age
of eleven, Stephen King “was well over six feet tall – awkward, uncoordinated and severely myopic.”)
99
CBS News Productions in association with the History Channel (The announcer states that despite the
families’ hardships and poverty, Ruth King “dealt with their circumstances with a sense of humour and
the instincts of a storyteller.”)
64
“There ain’t no hospital in Durham sir! You were even lucky that there was a cop in
town last night.100 He was on traffic duty on account of the storms yesterday. He was
on his way home when he spotted you face down in the middle of that field over
yonder. He scooped you and your mutt up and brought you here. I have a reputation
for looking after people, my folk’s have been ill for a while. They knew that I’d take
good care of you.”
“Thankyou” said Steve. “I don’t actually remember what happened out there, but- ”
“There ain’t any need to thank me sir, I only did what any Christian woman would
have done! Anyway if you really do want to thank someone, it’s my son. He gave up
his room for you and slept downstairs on the sofa.” She proffered her hand for Steve
to take hold of and shake. She had sized him up and was obviously willing to take him
on face value. “The name’s Ruth King101 by the way and that’s my son,” she
acknowledged the boy, “Stevie.”
“Stevie… King?” asked Steve, before swallowing hard and awareness finally set in.
His eyes moved directly to the words he had typed, before rolling toward the heavens.
Oh well, that was another of the all time greats that he could lay claim to! He moved
to shake the boy’s hand and motioned toward his pet. “That’s Benjy and my name is-”
He thought briefly, but something within his stomach held him back from giving his
own name. He considered the nightmare that he had just had and a worthy pseudonym
rapidly presented itself. “Garraty, Ray Garraty.”102 Steve crossed his fingers behind
his back and he was relieved to see that the Golden Labrador at his feet, thankfully,
never even bat an eyelid.
100
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (Description of the area of Maine, and in
particular Durham, states that “it was a sparsely populated region close to the Canadian border”, so
the obvious conclusion to come to would be that there were no real amenities there and law
enforcement would come from a neighbouring town, village or parish.)
101
www.stephenking.com (The Official Stephen King Web Presence), as viewed on 6th January 2003
(King’s mother’s full name was Nellie Ruth Pillsbury King, but later in the description and indeed all
other literature and documentation covered for this project, she is referred to as simply “Ruth”.)
102
S. King, 1987, The Bachman Books: The Long Walk, USA, New English Library, Hodder and
Stoughton, p. 158 (The name of the main character in The Long Walk is Ray Garraty.)
65
“Well Mr. Garraty-,” began Ruth King. “I’ve washed all of your clothes and laid them
out nicely downstairs. Take some time, eat your breakfast before it gets cold, then
have a scrub.” She started to make for the door. “I won’t be around all day; I’ve got to
get over to my folks place, but Stevie here will keep you company. He’s having the
day off from school today to look after you; he doesn’t like it much anyway!103 My
other son Dave will be home this afternoon and I’ll see you this evening.” With that
she beamed brightly and a little while after she was through the doorway, her feet
could be heard clunking delicately down the staircase outside.
Steve moved over to the tray and lifted up a slice of hot buttered toast. Breaking it in
half, he took a large bite out of one piece and threw the other at Benjy, who caught it
directly between his teeth. He turned to the teenager, Stephen King and smiled. “Well
Stevie, this is going to be interesting!”
**********
As Steve and Benjy sat eating the contents of their breakfast, the duo struck up quite a
rapport with the young Stephen King. It was obvious that the teenager (apparently he
had had his thirteenth birthday last month104) was a highly intelligent and thoughtful
child, who cared very deeply about his family. The King’s were not well off and had
had a rough time in the past105, but due to Ruth’s never-ending love, affection and
support, they were reasonably happy.106
103
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (King states “I hated school!”)
104
CBS News Productions in association with the History Channel (According to this documentary,
Stephen King was born on the 14th of September 1947 in “Maine General Hospital.”)
105
CBS News Productions in association with the History Channel (After being “abandoned” by her
husband in 1951, Ruth King and her two boys spent nine years travelling around the country. They
stayed with both members of her and her husband’s family, whilst she looked for work. “Sometimes,
she would take two or three jobs just to stay afloat.” In 1958 though, “Ruth moved back to Durham,
Maine and struck a bargain with her family. She would tend to her ailing parents and her sister gave
her a house. Ruth was then paid in goods, groceries and clothing and took part time jobs to make some
extra cash.”)
106
S. King, 2000, On Writing – A Memoir of the Craft, Great Britain, New English Library, p. 17
(There were a few instances in which King recalls his mother’s never ending faith and support, most
notably in this section of On writing, where she was in fact one of the main driving influences for him
beginning to write his own stories. His first attempts at writing arose when he used to copy out stories
from “‘Combat Casey’ comics” where he “sometimes added (his) own descriptions where they seemed
appropriate.” On showing his mother one of these, she was initially impressed, “as if she was unable to
66
“Apparently my father went out to buy a pack of cigarettes when I was two years old
and none of us have seen him since.”107 The boy was fairly chunky in build with thick
black- rimmed glasses and dark wavy hair.108 Steve thought, that in terms of facial
features, the young writer reminded him a lot of himself when he was at that age.
“That must have been rough on your mother” Steve sympathised. “Do you remember
him?” He politely put the final scoopful of scrambled eggs into his mouth and
swished it around, savouring the taste as he listened.
“No, I don’t have a single memory of the guy in my head.109 Dave does though. He’s
just that little bit older than me.” He attempted with success to remove a speck of dust
from the inside of his glasses. “One thing I do know however, is that if that bastard
had hung around, life wouldn’t have been as hard as it has been for us!”110
Benjy laid his head conveniently on Steve’s knee, begging for scraps. The young man
showed sympathy toward the animal’s desires and lifted up the empty plate that had
previously held the main part of the meal. The dog instantly licked it clean of crumbs
and melted margarine.
“Perhaps, you’re better off without him?” Steve put the totally polished off plate back
onto the tray.
believe that a kid of hers could be so smart”, but later when she found out where the story had come
from, she dismissed it as “junk” and said “I bet you could do better. Write one of your own.”)
107
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (Direct statement from Stephen King referring
to this early childhood incident.)
108
(King’s description is given here in a section entitled “The Man.” Apparently, he “has worn glasses
since he was a child.”)
109
publishers, p. 38 (According to this book, in around 1960, both King and his brother would discover a
number of boxes hidden in their “aunt and uncle’s garage”, which were “filled with possessions their
father had left behind.” In amongst those possessions were “memorabilia… scrapbooks, manuals, (a)
maritime uniform… a treasure trove of paperback books – horror tales… (and some) rejection slips.”
Apparently, Donald King had written a number of stories and then “tried to have them published.” This
was a link between the young teenager and his father. Also in the box was some “Super 8 movie reels”
which contained “colour footage of Donald King standing on the deck of a ship waving.” This was the
first and last glimpse that King remembered of his father.)
110
publishers, p. 38 (“Both David and Stephen have said that they feel some anger toward their absent
father…”)
67
“Maybe. I guess that it would be kind of nice to know where I come from though.” He
slipped into a passing snippet of contemplation, before continuing. “Mom’s always
been there. She wants me to be the best person in life that I can be!”
Steve stared at the boy for a second and knew that if he didn’t turn the subject around
and ask the question that was practically drooping off the tip of his tongue, he would
kick himself for the rest of space and time. “So what about your writing? Do you get
to do much of it?”
Stephen King stared at the young man inquisitively. “How did you know I wanted to
be a writer?”
“Well… a hunch, I suppose,” his eyes flicked up at the antique machinery on the
desk. “You have a typewriter! If you weren’t a writer, why would you have a
typewriter?”
King looked at him naively and then conceded.111 “Yeah, I guess you caught me out
there!” He grinned. “I like to write. I’ve been writing stories since I was seven years
old.112 Don’t know where it comes from. It’s really what I want to do with my life!
I’ve even tried to get a few things published.”113
“Any successes?” Steve asked. Of course, deep down he knew when King’s main
accomplishments had been. He remembered, for instance, the story behind the origins
111
S. King, 1993, Nightmares and Dreamscapes, Great Britain, Hodder and Stoughton, p. 3 (In the
introduction to this book of short stories- entitled “Myth, Belief, Faith, and Ripley’s Believe It or Not!”King discusses his belief systems as a child. His first words state that when he was a child, he “believed
everything (he) was told.” He then gives certain specifics of his own naivety throughout life. He credits
this to his “own overheated imagination.”)
112
publishers, p. 29 (“He began by copying some of the stories that he read, and then he became
motivated to write his own… One of the earliest was about dinosaurs taking over the world, which was
much like the simplistic adventure stories he was reading at the time. A scientist discovers that the
dinosaurs are allergic to leather (an idea that has no basis in fact, but bear in mind, King was only
seven years old at the time)…”)
113
T. Underwood and C. Miller (Editors), 1988, Bare Bones – Conversations on terror with Stephen
King, USA, New English Library, p.28 (King discusses in a public event called “An Evening at the
Billerica Library” his first attempts at submitting to publishers: “ I started to submit when I was
twelve”. He says of those stories that “obviously at the time they weren’t good enough, and I suppose in
my heart of hearts, I knew it.”)
68
of the writer’s first book, “Carrie”, but he remained conscious of the fact that he
didn’t want to let it slip that he was a time traveller from forty- two years in the future
and that he actually knew the outcomes of this individual’s life!114
“No, not really. I wrote a story called ‘Happy Stamps’ once.115 It was my first real
worthy idea for literature and was about a guy who found a way of forging those
green stamps; you know the ones that you stick in the coupon book and send off for
stuff?” Steve nodded that he understood what the young King was talking about.
“Well, I sent it off to the ‘Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine’ to be published. It was
rejected though.116 I’ve still got the return letter on my nail.”117 He pointed to a rusty
nail that he had beaten rather crudely, but forcefully into the wall. It had several
pieces of paper stabbed onto it; the type on each looked pretty official.
“Are those all of your rejection letters?” Steve asked in a bewildered tone. Despite
knowing the eventual outcome of King’s success, he was still a little amazed to know
that firstly the writer had had so many knock backs early on in his career, and
secondly that he had made so many attempts to publish at such a young age.118
“Yeah, I don’t see them as something negative though!” He reached across from
where he was seated and plucked the pages of paper off of the nail. He began to sift
114
(“In the spring of 1973, Doubleday & Co. accepted the novel Carrie for publication”, but that was only
after Tabitha King, Stephen’s wife, had retrieved the first part of it from a trashcan and pressed him
into finishing it. The writer had initially written the story off as garbage that noone would want to
read! Carrie went onto becoming a best selling novel and started King off on a multi-million dollar
career.)
115
S. King, 2000, On Writing – A Memoir of the Craft, Great Britain, New English Library, p. 30 – 32
(King illustrates the coming about of his first real story idea.)
116
S. King, 2000, On Writing – A Memoir of the Craft, Great Britain, New English Library, p. 32
(King states that “I sent ‘Happy Stamps’ off to ‘Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine.’ It came back
three weeks later with a form rejection slip attached. The slip bore Alfred Hitchcock’s unmistakable
profile in red ink and wished me luck with my story.”)
117
S. King, 2000, On Writing – A Memoir of the Craft, Great Britain, New English Library, p. 33- 34
(“When I got the rejection slip from AHMM, I pounded a nail onto the wall above the Webcor, wrote
‘Happy Stamps’ on the rejection slip and poked it onto the nail.”)
118
S. King, 2000, On Writing – A Memoir of the Craft, Great Britain, New English Library, p. 34 (“By
the time I was fourteen… the nail in my wall would no longer support the weight of the rejection slips
impaled upon it.”)
69
through them on an empty space of the desk. “Each one reminds me that I have never
stopped trying! They help me to try just that little bit harder in fact!”119
Steve considered all that the young writer had told him. Something didn’t quite add
up though and so he decided to air his opinions. “The story you wrote, ‘Happy
Stamps.’ I hope you don’t mind me saying, but it doesn’t really seem like, well…” He
looked for the right words. “Well, something that you’d write?”
It was now the boy’s turn to seem suspicious. “What do you mean?”
The time traveller turned to the paperbacks lining the bookshelf and pointed at them
absently. “Well, you’re quite clearly into all of this mystery, science fiction and
horror. The idea of ‘Happy Stamps’, from what you’ve implied anyway, doesn’t seem
to fit into any of these genres.” He stopped and moved his face a little closer to the
young King. “Is it really the type of story that you want to write about?”
The youth grinned slightly and in a conspiratorial manner, stood up and rapidly
moved over to his bed. Plunging quickly down to his knees, he stuck his arm
underneath the large piece of furniture and pulled out a scrapbook that had been
hidden there.
“What’s this?” Steve asked, as he was handed the book.
“Take a look!” said King, almost smiling with excitement.
Steve flipped the pages open and within, found a number of newspaper clippings on
the antics of a real- life serial killer named Charles Starkweather.120 He was horrified
to read that in January 1958, Starkweather and his girlfriend went on a killing spree
119
publishers, p. 43 (“He was proud of his collection of rejections; it showed he was trying, anyway, and
paying his dues.”)
120
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (Whole section of documentary devoted to the
“Charles Starkweather scrapbook.”)
70
across Nebraska and Wyoming.121 From what he could ascertain, as he quickly flitted
through the text, was that the nature of the murders were gruesome and quite sadistic
and it was one of the first occasions where a crime of this nature was spread across
the pages of the mass media.122 If it had been anyone else’s scrapbook, he probably
would have been fairly shocked at the content of this little collection. As the collector
in question though was Stephen King, the master of horror, it actually made a kind of
weird sense!
“Mom doesn’t like me reading stuff like this,” said the boy finally. “She’d hate it if
she knew that I collected the clippings! She’d think I was unnatural or seriously
deranged!123 She hates anything of a grisly nature. She doesn’t even like me going to
see horror flicks at the movies!”124
Steve raised his eyebrows. “Well I can see how she might take that attitude.”
“By making this collection though, I’m not honouring the things that Starkweather
did! Far from it! The man actually disturbs me!”125 Steve stared at Starkweather’s
black and white photograph on the currently opened page, as the boy continued. “I’ve
been collecting this stuff for nearly three years now! Look at that face. Within that
psychological make-up there’s a total double zero!126 That’s the kind of stuff that I
want to write about!”
121
publishers, p. 41 (King “kept a scrapbook documenting the murders committed in cold blood by
Charles Starkweather in January 1958.”)
122
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (“In the fifties, that sort of thing didn’t
happen.”)
123
King, USA, New English Library, p.68- 69 (King states that when his “mother found (his) scrapbook
with pictures of Charles Starkweather, she said ‘Good God, you’re warped.’”)
124
states that “Horror movies… this was the stuff that turned my dials up to ten.”)
125
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (On the subject of Starkweather, King states
that if he “sort of committed, not just his face, but also his M.O. to memory, then (he) could avoid
people like that.”)
126
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (Direct quote from Stephen King.)
71
“That fine line between good and evil,” Steve said cautiously and for some reason his
mind momentarily drifted off to the dream that he had had earlier.127 He still really
couldn’t get use to the fact that here he was discussing the initial ideas of someone,
who, in his own mind, was literally the creator of nightmares.
“Exactly! Even three years ago, deep down I knew it. I’m going to spend my life
writing about this kind of evil and so this,” he pointed to the scrapbook, “is the
starting line!”128
“Well, sometimes there’s certainly a hot circuit somewhere inside of yourself that
even at a young age, lets you know of the potential that you are going to be!129 I
always used to be obsessed in science fiction as a kid, tales of time travel mostly.
Look at me now!”
Stephen King seemed confused. “What do you mean?”
Steve felt himself blushing. He must remember not to keep making so many obvious
faux- pas! “Well,” he stuttered. “I would really like to go back to childhood and start
all over again! I wouldn’t make so many mistakes next time around.” He was relieved
to see that the writer was nodding as if he understood Steve’s plight. His roundabout
deception had clearly worked!
King then took the scrapbook off of the young man gently and went to put it back in
its original hiding place. “Do you think that this little ‘hobby’ of mine is deranged Mr.
Garraty?”
127
King, USA, New English Library, p.68- 69 (In an interview with critic Edwin Pouncey, King is asked
whether or not his fans “prefer the uglies to the victims” in his books. He answers with the following
statement: “we’re fascinated with evil, we’re human beings, that’s all. I used to have a scrapbook as a
kid with a picture of a famous mass murderer in it…I just wanted to figure out what we was up to… I
wanted to understand it if I could. Of course there’s a morbid side to it, and why shouldn’t there be?”)
128
129
72
Steve smiled at the thought of his little pseudonym and then answered the question
with another question. “Do you?”
The boy stood up and thought for a second. “Well, my mother does and I guess that
worries me a little!”
“Well, to be totally blunt Stevie, I personally think that you have to worry about what
goes on in your own mind and noone else’s.” The time traveller made to stand up
and started to slowly collect all of the cutlery and breakfast utensils onto his tray. “If
writing mystery and horror feels right to you and you have a distinct gut feeling about
it, then run with it. If you don’t, then later in life, you’re always going to be
wondering why you didn’t!” He picked up the tray and passed it straight to the wouldbe horror novelist. “When you write though, here’s a suggestion that might help to
bridge the gap between your mother’s apprehensions and the truly frightening, edge
of your seat result that your after. Think about the little threatening things of everyday
life!130 Use your own experiences and think about them in terms of story- telling.
Think sensitively about them! Ground your writing in the real world.131 You’ve
already started this line of thinking with “Happy Stamps” I’m sure! See it through to
the end. Write gruesome stories, but really think about what you are writing!”
“Thanks Mr. Garraty, for some strange reason, I feel like our discussion has really
made a difference today! It’s almost as though my future had something to do with
it!”
“No problem! I have this feeling Master King that ultimately, you’ll be a tremendous
success!” With that, Steve turned to walk out of the room. “I’m going to get washed!”
**********
130
131
Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- production (Extract from a statement by the actor Tom
Hanks)
73
Steve walked across the landing and entered the door, which he presumed was most
likely to be the bathroom. He was rather taken aback however to see another
bedroom. It probably belonged to Stephen’s brother, David. Perplexed somewhat, he
wandered back out and stood at the top of the house’s staircase.
“Mr. Garraty,” King walked out from his own room, carrying the tray of breakfast
utensils. “I’m just going to collect some kindling from the wood shed. There’s a
pitcher of water downstairs ready for you to have a wash. I’ll be a little while, so
you’ll have some privacy to get dressed.” He smiled and began his descent
downstairs.
The time traveller stood for a second and pondered his predicament. “Pitcher of
water?” he questioned aloud.
He began to follow in Stephen’s footsteps and once he’d made his way down the
staircase, was just in time to see the boy shut the main door of the house behind him.
For a short while, Steve followed King’s movements, looking through the rain
spattered glass window- pane of the front door. The weather was still atrocious.
He turned his attentions back to the warmth of the house’s interior and had to admit
that he was rather surprised at the lack of amenities. Instead of the standard shower,
bath- tub, sink and toilet that he was used to in his own era, in this Durham household
in 1960, he had to make do with a long wooden bench set out to one side of a large
farm-style family area in front of a welcoming open fire. Ruth King had set out
everything that Steve would need for a wash on the table’s surface. There was a
sizeable ceramic bowl, a fairly large metallic pitcher of water and a new, unwrapped
bar of soap. He dipped his fingers slightly into the clear liquid. The water wasn’t cold,
just a little tepid. For some reason, he felt as though he should make sure that he
wasn’t about to wash with someone’s overnight specimen, so waving his nose
delicately over the top of the pitcher, he smelt the contents. It was in situations like
this when he wished that someone had released a survival guide for existing in
different time zones! How was he to know that firstly, the King household did not
have any indoor plumbing or secondly, when you do not have any indoor plumbing,
74
your daily personal hygiene routines are quite different?132 Suffice to say, the water
seemed clean, so he tipped a generous amount into the bowl, unwrapped the soap
from its packaging and, after finally unbuttoning the over- sized pyjamas, started to
wash.
When he had finished, he found that much to his relief, his clothes were indeed as
Ruth had described earlier. They had been cleaned and pressed and were draped
neatly over the back of an uncomfortable looking chair. He quickly dressed, realising
that sooner or later, he and Benjy would have to go to find the plughole and move
onto their next destination. As much as Steve liked the young persona of Stephen
King, both he and the dog did not belong in this time zone and if they stayed for much
longer, their presence could be detrimental to the normal flow of events.
It was then however, that he sensed that something was not quite right. Not for the
first time that day, he felt a horrific pang of panic within the pits of his stomach. Their
current predicament had certainly been a varied mixture of mini- ordeals and these
had certainly impacted upon Steve’s fragile nerves. Nothing however could beat the
flush of emotion that was now surging through both his mind and body. On looking
down at the belt that was threaded through the top of his trousers, he realised that the
mobile phone was nowhere to be seen.
He looked around the floor hurriedly, but somehow he knew that the communications
device would not be there. Trying to cast his mind back, he frantically raced through
the chain of recent events to attempt to find out where it was that he last saw the
phone. In an absolute fluster though, all he could remember of it was when he had
dialled the number to activate the plughole back in 1931.
He sat down on the chair, feeling quite anaesthetized. Without that telephone, he and
Benjy were trapped in a time and place where they most definitely did not belong.
**********
132
CBS News Productions in association with the History Channel (“Their house had no indoor plumbing
and in the cold winter, Stephen and his brother walked to their aunt’s house for a hot bath.”)
75
Steve found the rain outside to be quite hard on his face and as he and Benjy made
their way out toward the woodshed in the garden, they both got soaked to the skin.
They found King inside the small and battered structure, loading up soggy pieces of
wood from a large pile into a makeshift wheelbarrow.
“What are you doing out here?” the boy exclaimed. “You’re supposed to be taking it
easy after what you’ve been through!”
The time traveller’s face was grave. “Stevie, I need to get back to that field where the
cop found me last night. I’ve lost something of importance. If I don’t get it back, I
could be in serious trouble!”
“What’s going on Mr. Garraty?” Stephen King seemed genuinely concerned.
“I can’t tell you!” Steve really did feel like a heel, especially after the family’s such
kind hospitality. “It’s better that you don’t know!”
“Well, let me get my coat and we’ll be off!” King started to make his way through the
drizzle toward the house, but Steve stopped him in his tracks.
“I’m sorry Stevie, but no! You can’t come with me. Benjy and I must go alone. I just
need directions!”
“Are you coming back?”
Steve looked the boy right between the eyes and then closed his own, feeling quite
disheartened. “No. I’m afraid that we’ll probably never meet again. Anyway, when
you’re a superstar, you won’t want to know people like me at all!” For a second,
although he had made the last statement as a joke, Steve realised that ironically, it was
actually more than that. It was the plain and honest truth! He stood staring at his
young host and just as he thought that the youth would not tell him what he wanted to
know, he was second- guessed.
76
“It’s about a five minute walk down this road. The field is on your left. On a clear
day, you can actually see it from here.”
Steve walked a little bit closer to the adolescent and shook his hand. “Thank- you
Stevie and thank your mother for me as well!” He then turned to walk away hastily
with Benjy in tow.
**********
As the duo trudged rapidly through the cold rain, Steve’s mind began to think about
all of the worst- case scenarios that could possibly occur. What if he didn’t find the
phone? What if they couldn’t find the plughole? Or even worse, what would happen if
someone else had found both before them? His imagination started to play tricks on
him. He suddenly had a vision in his head of a sixty- nine year old Steve watching his
earlier self and Benjy depart through the first plughole in 2002. He shuddered. Age: it
was a frightening experience!
When they reached the field, he told Benjy to scatter and to alert him if the dog had
found either of the time travelling tools. As the Labrador started his own
investigations, he then ambled delicately through the mud and rain, glancing around
for the objects, but also making sure that he didn’t slip and fall flat on his face. A
further doubt then hit him. What if the phone wasn’t actually in the field? He had
been so sure, but now that they were actually here, he started to think about all of the
other places the piece of equipment could be; the back of the police car that delivered
him to the King’s; anywhere in the entirety of Durham; or even worse, perhaps the
phone was dropped in between time zones, in that interstitial period somewhere in the
middle of existence and infinity. Just as he was about to give up hope though, Benjy
started to bark in an excitable frenzy.
Steve made his way over to his pet, as quickly as the slippery surface would allow
him. When he finally got there, the dog quietened down and pointed his nose at an
object, which was sticking out of the mud in front of him. Surrounded by a strange,
circular and almost electrical safety field was the mobile phone. As the young man
77
admired the hi- technology of the built in protection mechanism, he felt relief swell
over him.
He bent down, picked up the device and then looked at the dog. “If the plughole is in
this field, then all I need to do is dial the number and once we vapourise, we should be
sucked into it!” He paused for a second. “Of course, if it’s not in the field, then I
suppose anything can happen! I wonder what atomisation feels like? Oh well, here
goes…”
He pressed the number quickly, without too much further thought, and as the now
familiar and buzzing sensation took over, he looked up for a last glimpse of the town
of Durham. He was suddenly shocked to see in the distance however, the familiar
form of the young Stephen King. The boy’s curiosity had obviously got the better of
him and he had followed the pair! It was a little too late however. As all of the
molecules that made up Steve and Benjy’s bodies began to disperse, amalgamate and
flush around toward the plughole on the far side of the field, all the two travellers
could do is watch the young writer’s shocked, confused and stunned expression, quite
helpless and at the mercy of time itself once more.
78
Chapter Three:
D escribing Crowley
Figure 9. 1984 A.D.- Describing Crowley 2003
30cm x 30cm
79
Linocut/ Oils.
“In terms of time-travel, you liberate aspects of childhood to become empathetic with
your children. I’ve always tried to engage with a broader public history… history is
constantly moving and changing.” – Professor Graham Crowley
A private attic- based art studio,133
London134, Great Britain, 2.12pm, Friday, March 3rd 1984
“It’s another art studio,” said Steve succinctly, as they reformed and the plughole
shifted itself into the spatial requirements of its new location. The usual spasms of the
time jump journey began to set in instantly; the young man was quivering a little and
felt the same effects, if not a little more strenuous and immediate, as someone who
had just travelled from one side of the world to the other by plane. Even through these
negative twinges however, Steve was still alert enough to feel a strange and very
conscious feeling of glumness.
Benjy looked up at his master and upon noticing the young man’s sudden and
melancholy temperament, put aside his own feelings of wooziness and decided to
address the reason why. “I know what you’re thinking,” said the canine delicately.
“He was definitely on the other side of the field.”
133
E-mail interview held with Professor Graham Crowley on the 31st of March 2003 (Crowley stated
that the bulk of his work for this exhibition was produced in “a personal studio”, which was “located in
(his) home.”)
134
http://www.beauxartslondon.co.uk/GC-biblio.html (Website of the Beaux Art Gallery in London), as
viewed on 27th March 2003 (According to Crowley’s Curriculum Vitae, during 1983- 1986, he “lived
and worked in London.”)
80
Steve nodded slowly but didn’t say a word. He had only spent an hour or so (if that)
in the company of the teenage Stephen King, but for some strange reason, an
affiliation had definitely been forged. He remembered the look of horror (perhaps a
rather apt one in hindsight?) on the thirteen-year-old boy’s face as both he and Benjy
had ventured once more into the time and space void and as a subsequence, suddenly
felt even lower. He wasn’t really sure why he was feeling this way; he certainly
hadn’t developed such a connection with Salvador Dali in 1931 or during any of the
other temporal pit- stops that they had made before that. And there had certainly been
a few!
He pondered for a second on his immediate mix of emotions and coming to no
adequate conclusion, decided to put his feelings down merely to the kindness that had
been shown by both the young Stephen and his mother. So far in their travels through
time, the King’s had been the two most exceptional people that Steve and Benjy had
come across. They virtually had nothing, but were willing to give all to help a
complete stranger and his pet out of difficulty.
The young time traveller briefly remembered an article that he had read once about
Stephen King and his childhood memories. He recalled something vague about how,
as a boy, King had actually witnessed his own best friend’s death on a railway track.
When he was subsequently questioned about it though, he had no memories
whatsoever of the incident, his mind had simply blocked it out.135 Steve supposed that
this is what must have happened when the would-be writer had seen the duo vanish
through time. King had claimed in the past that he did not believe in the
supernatural136 and that nothing of this nature had ever happened to him in his lifetime
and there had never been (as far as Steve knew, of course) any mention of this
135
publishers, p. 25 (“According to his mother, when Stephen was four years old, he went out to play with
a friend but returned sooner than expected, looking pale and shocked. Ruth asked him why he was
home so soon, but he would not- or could not speak for the rest of the day. Later that day, she found out
that his friend had been run over by a freight train, possibly in Stephen’s presence. Yet King has
absolutely no memory of this incident.”)
136
King, USA, New English Library, p.100 (In an interview with critic Abe Peck for Rolling Stone
Magazine, King states that, in reality, he “does not believe in the (supernatural) powers” that he bases
his imaginary work upon.)
81
specific incident since.137 Good old Stevie! Both Steve and Benjy would miss him and
the young man supposed that that was the real big drawback to aimless temporal
travel such as this. The more places you go and the more people you meet, the more
you eventually have to say goodbye to.
As the two slowly began to return to some degree of bodily normality, they took a
while to wander around the obvious attic space, which was dominated by a sloping
ceiling and a crude creamy white hue painted on the walls. The space was fairly large,
but its dimensions were betrayed with a sprawled clutter of artifacts, which were all
tinted in a way that only an artist could recognise, from the light that shone from the
room’s lone, but fairly substantial window. Amongst other things scattered around,
there were huge (and presumably half used, judging by their condition) tins of varying
coloured oil paints, several brushes and a can of mineral turpentine dotted around on
tables. These were interspersed with half open and strewn packets of pencils, charcoal
and chalk. In one of the far corners was a metal drying rack, which contained a
number of scrupulously placed pieces of paper, which had been clearly drawn on in a
vibrant and detailed manner 138 and next to this was a random and unsystematic
collection of leaning canvases.139
The opposite far corner was indeed the most interesting feature of this room though.
Fraught with an odd assortment of carefully arranged still life objects, stacked upon a
slight step from the ground, this was the area that promoted some concern and an
immediate response from Benjy. “Oh no!” exclaimed the dog, with a degree of almost
comic trepidation. “Not that Salvador Dali again, please! I don’t think I could take it
if we had to pretend to be from a dream again!”
Steve’s eyes met with the mass of objects and he moved quickly to pacify his pet’s
apprehensions. “Well,” he began. “This isn’t the same art studio as before. It’s not
137
King, USA, New English Library, p.77 (In an interview with Joyce Lynch Dewes Moore, when King
was asked if he or someone in his acquaintance had had any psychic experiences, he says: “Not in my
immediate family. You hear stories. Because I’m in the business that I am, people bring their ghost
stories to me. But I have never had what I would call a genuine psychic experience.”)
138
G. Crowley, 1998, The Flower Show, Great Britain, The Lamont Gallery Exhibition Catalogue, p. 3
(“Much of Crowley’s practice is in the overlap between painting and drawing.”)
139
G. Crowley, 1987, In Living Memory, Great Britain, Orchard Gallery Exhibition Catalogue (Within
this catalogue, every painting on canvas is made up of differing dimensions.)
82
even similar! For one thing, it’s a lot more modern. Look it’s got electrical light
fittings! I’d say that it probably belongs to another artist!”
“What about this lot?” Benjy moved closer to the odd collection of bits and pieces,
which was made up of kitchen utensils, toys and an array of old furniture, all at right
angles to each other140 and placed meticulously, but haphazardly in collation.141 “I
thought that it was Dali who used everyday objects within his work? Didn’t you say
in 1931 that he presented images of them from his dreams?”
“Well, yes he did… theoretically,” responded the young man, with a devious twinkle
in his eye. “But he wasn’t the only one to work with these themes! No artist has ever
worked exclusively, in a vacuum!” He pondered for a second, before deciding to
verbally substantiate his point. “Many artists have used the portrayal of everyday
objects in their work. There was Claes Oldernberg from the realm of pop art for
instance.142 He used to make huge edifices and sculptures out of household items.143
Michael Craig Martin144 was a bit more contemporary, especially with his usage of
small electrical components and the like.145 I mean, if you really do want to split hairs,
140
G. Crowley, 1987, In Living Memory, Great Britain, Orchard Gallery Exhibition Catalogue, p. 16-17
(Crowley’s painting here, entitled ‘In Living Memory: All of a sudden’ is typical of his work from this
era. It displays a room containing a cluttered and haphazard collation of poignant objects, including a
television, a shattering light bulb and broken pieces of lego men.)
141
E-mail interview held with Professor Graham Crowley on the 31st of March, 2003 (Crowley stated
in his e-mail that when working on this series, he “drew things from a mixture of observation and
memory” and that “this mix is important.” Therefore, in terms of the story, I have assumed that he
would have set some of these objects up as still life arrangements.)
142
R. Hughes, 1980, The Shock of the New, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p.357 (Hughes
discusses the basic themes and imagery of Oldernberg’s Pop Art work, stating that his art had “its roots
in mess, the same ground of junk and assemblage that had inspired Rauschenberg”. Then a quote from
Oldenberg himself is given, which perfectly sums this concept up: “I am for the art of things lost or
thrown away… I am for the art of teddy-bears and guns and decapitated rabbits, exploded umbrellas,
raped beds… I am for the art of abandoned boxes, tied like pharaohs…”)
143
R. Hughes, 1980, The Shock of the New, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p. 361 (A perfect
example of Oldenberg’s work is represented within this book and was entitled ‘Clothespin,
Philadelphia’ (1976). This was a 540- inch high monument made out of a clothesline peg, which
makes you see an object that you are overly familiar with from every-day existence, in an entirely
novel way.)
144
www.british-dgtip.de/Messen/mcm.htm (Inter-net interview between Michael Craig- Martin and
interviewer Katja Blomberg), as viewed on 23rd March 2000 (Michael- Craig Martin states here that
“all of the images that (he) draw(s) are familiar, man- made, manufactured objects.” He draws an
image, scans it into his computer and re-uses that same drawing in a multitude of different ways to
emanate “the same character as the mass product that they represent.”)
145
http://home.uleth.calsfa-gal/collections/Britain/Cmartin.bulbhtml (British Art collection, specifically
the Michael Craig- Martin work entitled “Light Bulb”(1983)), as viewed on 29th August 2000 (A very
basic image of Craig- Martin’s, but one which emphasises just how ordinary his everyday objects can
83
you could group Marcel Duchamp and the Dada’s in with this category, although they
weren’t strictly behind the representation of everyday objects… I think on most
occasions, they actually used the real thing in a novel and interesting kind of way to
attempt to debunk aspects of the establishment…”146 Steve began to trail off as he
realised that Benjy was staring at him, completely lost in his explanations. The young
man could have sworn that if the dog were able (and fully equipped with the right
bodily appendages), in his completely uninformed and uninterested way, he would
have been standing tall, tapping his foot aggressively, with his hands on his hips!
“Oh well,” muttered Steve. “You just can’t beat education…”
The two then began to nose around more intimately within the studio, one on either
side of the room. There was an unspoken rule between them that ransacking their way
through the confines of each new physical space was about their only real hope of
finding out the intricacies of each upcoming predicament. In the past, they had
delicately balanced their own investigation techniques with information sent through
the anonymous text messages, but since they had received their last before leaving
Spain in 1931, they could now only rely on their own initiative. After each trip
through the plughole, they of course, needed to find out what the current date was, in
whose company they were about to enter and where their gateway to the next port of
call had finally ended up. These scraps of information were incredibly important on
some occasions, especially if the duo, after their initial period of time stoppage, were
to at least make an attempt to fit in with the flow of normal existence. Then of course,
there was always the distinct possibility that they would never need to traverse
through the plughole again. With the right combination of information, time travel
would not be a necessity in order to get home. Even though they might not have
arrived in their own spatial vicinity, there was a distinct possibility that they could
have turned up in the correct temporal one!
be! This image of an over-sized light bulb has been scanned into a computer and given the feel of
pixelation for further artistic treatment.)
146
M. Lloyd, T. Gott and C. Chapman, 1993, Surrealism – Revolution by Night, Canberra, National
Gallery of Australia, p.6 (In a bid to de-bunk the art world, Marcel Duchamp and other members of the
Dada movement, began to reduce “the level of artistic intervention to the minimum by simply selecting
a manufactured household object… and apparently, signing it.” Many objects were also created with a
combination of varying everyday artifacts, such as the ‘Bicycle Wheel’ (1913), which is an upside
down bicycle wheel mounted upon a “sculptor’s stool or support”. This process became known as “the
ready-made.”)
84
Steve stood, glancing around the space and scratching the back of his head. “There
must be something here that will give us a clue as to what time we’ve arrived in,” he
said softly to himself and after taking two miraculous steps forward, to his surprise, he
quickly found a magazine laying idly on the edge of a large wooden desk. He picked
it up and read the title aloud with a zing of reminiscence. “The Radio Times!”147
Benjy, on the other hand had found something of particular interest in his own sphere
of investigations. Sitting on the top of a plastic milk crate (obviously used normally as
some sort of stand for paints and a palette) was a plate consisting of a half eaten ham
sandwich! Quite conveniently forgetting their immediate quest for the moment, the
dog looked around at his master shamefacedly just to make sure that he wasn’t being
watched, before instantly gobbling down the food, practically in one mouthful. This
turned out to be a rather terrible mistake however as the sandwich, for some bizarre
reason, tasted absolutely rancid! The Labrador wretched the half digested morsel out
to the floor instantly! “Yeeuch!” he screeched. “That was foul!”
Steve looked up from the pages of the magazine and over toward his pet, instantly
working out what it was that Benjy had been up to. He rolled his eyes towards the
ceiling. “Well that will serve you right for thinking of nothing but your stomach!”
Benjy simply blinked in his own defence. “I don’t understand,” he exclaimed. “It
looked so good. It didn’t seem mouldy at all, but that was the worst thing that I have
ever put in my mouth!”
The young man looked over at the remains of the food on the ground and curiously
shook his head. “I saw a film once where a group of people got caught in an
interstitial pocket of time. Whenever they ate, there was no taste to the food and the
fizzy pop was totally flat. Anything normally edible was disgusting in fact; the food, I
remember, had a terrible aftertaste to the characters.148 Perhaps that sandwich is a
147
The Radio Times is one of England’s famous television guides, originally owned and for the
convenience of the British Broadcasting Corporation and its channels. Since this time, it now
apparently features information on every television station within the British Isles.
148
D. Kappas (producer) and T. Holland (director), 1995, Stephen King’s The Langoliers, USA,
Independent Productions (Within this movie, which was based on Stephen King’s short story, when the
characters are caught in an interstitial pocket of time, they realise just how much danger they are in.
Not only are the dreaded ‘Langoliers’ coming to get them, they cannot eat anything either. It is tasteless
85
little like this? Time hasn’t started up again yet and so many of the physical laws of
the planet do not naturally apply.”
“I don’t know,” Benjy complained. “But one thing’s for sure- this is a very peculiar
feeling! I’m still hungry, but I am never going to get rid of that taste!”
Steve couldn’t understand this sentiment at all, especially given the amount of times
that he had seen the dog lick his own crotch. That couldn’t have tasted too good
either! “Just get on and find something that will help us!” Steve snapped. “We can’t
have long left! Things will start to move soon, I’m sure of it!” With that, the young
man went back to his own line of exploration and began to flip through the pages of
the magazine once more.
He quickly established the fact that if this was a recent issue of “The Radio Times”,
then they were currently in a time period either at the end of February, or the
beginning of March in 1984. Given that the top corner of the page denoting Friday the
3rd of March’s entertainment highlights had been slightly folded over however, Steve
felt that this was a pretty sure bet as to what the correct date was. “Mmm, I wonder,”
he thought to himself aloud. “I wonder if he’s on tonight!”
As he swiftly thumbed through the text, paying particular attention to the details for
the evening’s viewing on the BBC1 channel, he finally found the reference to the one
particular television show that he was seeking and his heart leapt. On this date, in
Steve’s own natural lifespan, he had only been seven years old (nearly eight) and he
distinctly remembered how important this show had been to him at this time in his
life. When he read over the little caption though, indicating title, time-slot, cast listing
and blurb, it was evident that there was something not quite right. The information
was clearly there, but it seemed wrong or distorted in some way. He silently read the
words over and over again, pointing delicately at each one with his index finger on
every occasion, but he had definitely not been mistaken. He looked down sideways at
and disgusting. The flavour only responds to the taste buds it seems in the natural flow of time.
Therefore food and drink are worthless.)
86
the ground in confusion. “But that’s crazy! Short lived?” he exclaimed. “March, 1984.
It’s supposed to be Peter Davison… or at least Colin Baker!149 Who’s Leslie French?”
Suddenly though, Steve’s confusion was interrupted by Benjy, who was standing with
his tail pointed out straight and his nose plunged in between two of the leaning
canvases, in an attempt to separate them and to see what was painted on each.
“Steve!” the dog yelled out. “I’ve found something! Look here!”
The young man cautiously dropped the magazine back onto the desk and turned
around in a semi- circle to see what it was that had got the dog so excited. As he
began to move over to his pet though, he briefly glimpsed back at the magazine and
scrunched up his eyebrows, still a little bewildered. What he had read must have been
a misprint. It was either that or they somehow weren’t in the correct realm of
existence, or their own natural dimension of time… Something seemed very amiss
indeed.
“What have you found?” he queried the dog, abstractly putting aside his qualms for
now.
“These paintings are finished!” Benjy said as a matter of factly. “I thought that you
might be able to tell who did them!”
Steve leaned in past the dog and lifted the first of the two canvases up, gripping it in
both hands. The painting was actually quite large, about eighty inches by sixty he
estimated, but was light enough in weight for the young man to hold at arm’s
149
D. J. Howe and S.J. Walker, 1999, Doctor Who- The Television Companion, Great Britain, BBC
Books, p.458 (According to this book, Peter Davison’s last ever television appearance as the character
of the Doctor took place on March the 3rd, 1984. At the end of part four of the story The Caves of
Androzani, the Doctor regenerates into Colin Baker. As a child, I was devastated. Peter Davison had
always been my Doctor and when Baker took over, I was horrified and refused to watch the show for
approximately three years. Now of course, as an adult, I understand that Baker was just as good as the
rest!)
87
length.150 It was a fairly vibrant work, full of texture and deep colour and depicted an
urban landscape; a mass of houses, chimney- stacks and television aerials.151
After taking in every square inch of the image, he delicately propped it up against the
drying rack, facing it outwards so that he could see the work from any angle in the
room and made to take the second painting. This piece of art was of a similar scene,
but the mass of man-made constructions here was dominated by the image of an open
window, clearly outlaying the interior of a room. Inside the painted space, was a crude
collection of furniture, seemingly all fighting with each other and juxtaposed within a
position of movement, in spite of a conspicuous lack of human intervention.152
“These pictures are familiar to me,” Steve affirmed with a small degree of realisation
in his tones. “Well, at least their style is!” He placed the second image down next to
the first and took a few paces back, in order to gaze at them from afar. “I’ve seen
some quite similar images in fact, but they weren’t paintings, they were both charcoal
on paper.”
Benjy’s back legs seemed to bounce up and down, one at a time, in a kind of excited
frustration. “Well don’t keep me in suspense!” he complained. “Who painted them?”
The dog was not an art lover at all (he himself had made this painfully clear of course,
back in 1931), but like his human counterpart, he really did like to know where he
was in time.
“They were painted by a fellow named Graham Crowley. In our time, he’s the head
professor of painting at the Royal College of the Arts in London. These works, I can
only presume were some of the abandoned ones from his ‘In Living Memory’
150
G. Crowley, 1987, In Living Memory, Great Britain, Orchard Gallery Exhibition Catalogue, p.15
(Crowley doesn’t seem to work to any fixed size of painting, but the painting represented here, entitled
‘In Living Memory: What did the walls answer…?’ is sixty four by eighty inches.)
151
(The work represented here, entitled ‘The Sprawl No.3’, is actually a work that is created as a charcoal
drawing on paper. If any similar painting existed, then it is not included within this catalogue.)
152
(This work also was one that is depicted within the catalogue as a charcoal on paper. It is entitled
‘Reflections No. 7.’)
88
exhibition of 1987.”153 Steve had been, quite co-incidentally, researching the work of
Graham Crowley recently and so was a little surprised to be, apparently, standing
within the individual’s studio. He had found over their adventure so far, that time
travel seemed to be like that; it had the uncanny knack of springing incredible
surprises on the traveller!
“Is that the year at this moment?” the dog asked.
“No, I think we’re actually a couple of years earlier. According to that TV guide over
there, I’d say it’s about 1984. Crowley worked on this series for a while though. The
earliest entry within the exhibition was created in 1983 as I recall.”154 The time
traveller stared at the two pieces of art in front of him. “His paintings really did
change a little over time.”
“In what way?” The dog was really neither interested in nor enamoured with anything
currently surrounding him, but felt that he should ask the question to speed things
along a little. It was clear that Steve was in that kind of mood where he wanted to
spout forth about his artistic knowledge and the Labrador, not being able to think of
any other excuse to either ignore his friend or shut him up, could only stand and
listen!
“Well, in some of the later works of this series I think, the objects started to take
prominence. There were quite large paintings of blatant interior spaces, the kind of
which you see the beginnings of here.” He pointed toward the second painting that he
had picked up. “Light-bulbs shattered in mid- air155, electrical devices turned
themselves on at the dead of night of their own accord and children’s toys were
153
Telephone interview with Professor Graham Crowley held on the 19th of June 2002 (In this
telephone interview that was held between Professor Crowley and this writer, the artist stated that
many works of this period “did not actually make it into the final show” and so therefore, it is possible
that these drawing studies were actually turned into more painterly versions that were never shown.)
154
(‘The Sprawl No. 3’ seems to have been the earliest work in this collection, dated at 1983.)
155
G. Crowley, 1987, In Living Memory, Great Britain, Orchard Gallery Exhibition Catalogue, p. 9 (A
similar description is given of Crowley’s work in the introduction to the In Living Memory exhibition
catalogue: “There is a defenceless toothbrush in (the work) ‘Light Fiction’ at that moment when the
light bulb shatters but its reflection in the mirror shines on.”)
89
scattered haphazardly around.156 This was the type of imagery and treatment that
influenced my own art- making at one stage in my studies.”157
Benjy rolled his eyes. “Sounds like another loony- tune! Doesn’t seem like much of
an artistic purpose if you ask me.” It was clear that the dog was attempting to learn
from past experiences, albeit incredibly facetiously of course!
“No, no, no!” Steve disagreed. “Crowley’s works are always incredibly powerful and
moving to the viewer. He paints for the sheer love of it158; he always wanted to make
work about what it was like to be alive159, a rather personal stance, but in the process
he has always had a profound affect on his viewer.160 He sets up a kind of narrative
and dialogue that you can’t help, as an onlooker, but to enter into. For instance,”
Steve pointed closely toward the two works on display, “if you look at these works in
a certain way, they could be perceived as quite disturbing.”
Benjy nodded his head a little, mouth wide open, but without uttering a word. It was
obvious that internally the Labrador was trying to understand what his master was
telling him, but being basically of canine stock, was having more than a few
problems.
Steve continued anyway. He was after all, on a roll and considered that it wasn’t often
that a dog had obtained the power of speech and some degree of intellect. He was
going to take full advantage of this freak of nature! He had made a subconscious pact
156
G. Crowley, 1987, In Living Memory, Great Britain, Orchard Gallery Exhibition Catalogue, p. 8- 9
(The introduction also states that “To a child all objects have their own vitality” and it is clear that
Crowley is quite playful with this type of imagery and thinking. The paintings in this collection are
fraught with “planes strung overhead”, all “Airfix types… heading for home” and “bits of Lego- as
variables to swap around when accumulating a composition.”)
157
S. Perrin, 2000, Artistic Interferences, unpublished Honours thesis, University of Western Sydney
(During my Honours year, as a direct result of seeing Crowley’s work, my own prints began to take on
the form of clustered objects, all seemingly with a mind of their own!)
158
G. Crowley, 1998, The Flower Show, Great Britain, The Lamont Gallery Exhibition Catalogue, p. 4
(On talking about Crowley’s recent work for this show in 1998, Andrew Lambirth, in his introduction,
states that there “is a profound love for the medium.”)
159
Telephone interview with Professor Graham Crowley held on the 19th of June 2002 (Crowley stated
that he wants “to paint paintings of what it’s like to be alive, not what it’s like to make art.”)
160
G. Crowley, 1987, In Living Memory, Great Britain, Orchard Gallery Exhibition Catalogue, p. 9
(“Each painting is a dramatisation; each one has its special effects.” This implies that by their very
nature, each of Crowley’s work is about pulling a viewer in to a story or narrative.)
90
with himself in fact, that he would be Henry Higgins to Benjy’s Eliza Doolittle!161
“There is not only a disconcerting sense of anthropomorphism162 and a Walt Disney
type animation where everything was ‘exaggeratedly true to form’163, but also a
genuine sense of mystery thrown in for good measure! There are no human beings in
the room or in the urban landscape, but the presence of humanity is still there.164 The
objects after all are quite man- made. Therefore two questions that should
immediately be on your mind are where are the people and because they aren’t there,
why does every object seem to take on a life of its own?”
Benjy cocked his head. Steve liked to think that as the dog found out more about
Graham Crowley’s work he was, albeit rather steadily and slowly, becoming more
and more intrigued. In some respects, the Labrador was like a child, who having
previously had struggled with his sums, had now finally seen the light and discovered
the elusive theory behind algebra. He was keen to know more and to show off his own
talents in the area. “Did he always paint houses and interior spaces?” the dog
suddenly asked.
Steve looked down at his friend, almost in shock, at such an intelligent and thoughtful
question. He quickly hid this expression though, not wanting to hurt Benjy’s feelings!
“No, he went on to paint a series of still life flowers.165 These were a fairly modern
and vibrant approach actually. And then I think his latest endeavours, due to be
exhibited the year after we got zapped, are based on traditional landscapes and his
161
G. Bernard Shaw, 1914 (reprinted 2000), Pygmalion, Great Britain, Penguin Classics (In Bernard
Shaw’s legendary play, Henry Higgins, an educated soul, takes it upon himself and as a wager with a
friend, to turn Eliza Doolittle, a lower class citizen, into a lady.)
162
to me that he didn’t use “the animation motif because it’s charming, but because it’s threatening. What
the likes of Walt Disney present to children and aim at children, I find to be problematic. I like to use
the anthropomorphism… to imbue objects with human attributes in this way.”)
163
G. Crowley, 1987, In Living Memory, Great Britain, Orchard Gallery Exhibition Catalogue, p. 7
(Direct quote from the introduction of this exhibition catalogue.)
164
G. Crowley, 1998, The Flower Show, Great Britain, The Lamont Gallery Exhibition Catalogue, p.3
(On speaking of Crowley’s flower paintings, the author Andrew Lambirth could be speaking of any
number of the artist’s work. It is stated that the “human element in the landscape is restricted but
nearly always present.”)
165
G. Crowley, 1998, The Flower Show, Great Britain, The Lamont Gallery Exhibition Catalogue
91
affiliation with the town of Rineen in Ireland. I think the upcoming exhibition was to
be called ‘Familiar Ground’ or something.”166
The dog did clearly not understand one point however and as he looked back and
forth between the mass of objects in the corner that had first attracted his attention and
the two paintings, he suddenly realised what it was and decided to press a point. “But
I don’t understand why these objects are stacked up the way they are. What does this
mass have to do with his paintings?”
Steve smiled. “Well, he’s set up a kind of still life, a series of objects placed in such a
way for no other reason than to draw, paint or represent them.”
“But why all of these different objects? We’ve got kitchen utensils, toys and furniture.
There’s even a toothbrush over there!167 What does it all mean?” Benjy seemed to be
getting quite irritated by his lack of understanding and was rapidly reaching a point
where he would just throw in the towel and begin to urge his master into finding the
plughole, in order to move on.
“I suppose, each set of objects has their own definition and pre-occupation behind
them. I guess that they’re being used as symbols for a distinct and specific message.
The kitchen utensils and furniture, one can suppose, might refer to the fact that
Crowley at this time had just become a house- husband. He wanted to create pictures
based on the male domain clashing with a domestic environment.168 The architectural
structures in his work represented the fears and anxieties of living in London during
his lifetime. These were inspired by the writings of people like Charles Dickens and
George Orwell.169 Crowley will go on to create drawings of huge buildings, with their
166
www.beauxartslondon.co.uk/GC-biblio.html (Official website of Beaux Art Galleries in London), as
viewed on 27th March 2003 (Crowley’s latest exhibition, according to his on-line curriculum vitae here,
is the show Familiar Ground in 2003.)
167
G. Crowley, 1987, In Living Memory, Great Britain, Orchard Gallery Exhibition catalogue, p.20 (In
the work ‘Light Fiction’ here, there is a large ‘wisdom’ toothbrush in the foreground.)
168
Telephone interview with Professor Graham Crowley held on the 19th of June 2002 (This is all
information based on Crowley’s own comments. He states “I wanted to paint paintings that were an
extended form of maleness- I wanted to create a male domain in a domestic environment.”)
169
E. Lucie- Smith, C. Cohen and J. Higgins, 1988, The New British Painting, Great Britain, Phaidon
Press Limited, p. 70 (“Crowley’s urban psychodramas are anything but comforting. The chaotic and
squalid claustrophobia endured by city dwellers recalls the documentary and moralist tone of Charles
Dickens, and the chilling prescience of George Orwell.”)
92
walls stripped away, exposing the innards.170 His houses veer away from the ‘safe
haven’ that we associate with such dwellings and become ‘the visual equivalents of a
nightmarish state of anxiety and despair.’171 As for the toys,” Steve stopped to catch
his breath. “Well, there is a kind of double meaning going on with them.”
“What do you mean?” the dog asked.
“On the one hand, there is a link to childhood. Crowley had just become a parent and
so was in a state where he was re-appraising the way he looked at the world.172
Apparently when you have kids, ‘you start to identify with the world through’ their
eyes.173 Also, the toys represent a ‘social comment.’174 In some of the later works, he
will start to portray playthings; little Lego figures mostly, that are all ‘broken,
mutilated and unrepairable.’175 This is to offer a critique on some major conflict going
on at around this time.176 I think that it is a very clever and novel metaphor.”
“Whoops!” Benjy looked down at where he was standing and saw that he had just
trodden on one of these little toy Lego figurines, breaking it totally into the little
pieces that connected the entire ensemble together. He swiftly kicked it away with one
foot, hoping that his master hadn’t noticed! The little plastic shards clumsily flicked
over the distance toward the room’s closed doorway and landed in a chaotic scatter.
170
(One such work of this nature is ‘Shadow Play’ in the In Living Memory collection.)
171
E. Lucie- Smith, C. Cohen and J. Higgins, 1988, The New British Painting, Great Britain, Phaidon
Press Limited, p. 70 (Direct quote from this book.)
172
in this interview that he “had just become a parent. As soon as you have children, there is a trigger, be
it sub-consciously, for a re- appraisal.”)
173
that you “start to identify with the world through the eyes of your children. One example is that aspects
of our language changes. What was always a dog, now becomes doggy.”)
174
Telephone interview with Professor Graham Crowley held on the 19th of June 2002 (Direct quote
from Professor Crowley.)
175
Telephone interview with Professor Graham Crowley held on the 19th of June 2002 (Direct quote
from Professor Crowley.)
176
on the subject of the broken toys that “there was a given focus, in that there was some major conflict
going on at the time.” The In Living Memory catalogue suggests, on page 8, however that this type of
imagery was spurred on by his eldest son’s reaction “to the news that another little boy, John
Shorthouse, had been accidentally shot dead by a policeman searching a room. The officer had thought
that what was lying on the bed was just a heap of rags.”)
93
Steve hadn’t seen this little display on the behalf of his friend, but on hearing the
dog’s voice, quickly turned his attention away from both the artwork and his critique.
“I’m sorry Benjy, did you say something?”
Inevitably perhaps, instead of replying to Steve’s question, the dog simply sat down
on his hind legs and remained both mute and imprudent once more. Had the halt on
time continued then Benjy would no doubt have come up with either some cocky
excuse as to his exclamation or a profuse apology. As things turned out however, it
seemed that he didn’t have the power to do either. The normal run of time had started
again and the Labrador was now firmly returned back to the condition of a normal
everyday household animal. Realising what had taken place from the dog’s reaction
(there were no other visible or moving signifiers on this occasion), Steve simply
patted his friend on the head in acknowledgement.
“Here we go again!” the young man joked to himself. “I suppose that I had better go
and find Professor Crowley and apologise for gate-crashing his studio.” He walked
over to the door, veering around Benjy as he did so, but it was when he had his hand
firmly on the handle however, that he stopped abruptly. Firstly the door, for some odd
reason, was locked. There was no way out of the room. Secondly, he suddenly
realised just what a predicament they were currently in.
If someone did open the door to find them ensconced within this space, then how
would it look? They would either have to offer some pretty sticky explanations as to
their presence there, risk once more what had happened to Stephen King previously
and vanish through time before prying eyes or hazard the possibility of being run in to
the nearest police station for break and entry, faster than Steve could say “Great
Scott!”177 He spun around quickly and leant on the door with both wild and wide eyes.
As Benjy stared back at him with a dopey expression, the young man realised that
they had to make a fast decision. As much as Steve wanted to meet the up and coming
British artist, Graham Crowley, he supposed that their utmost priority should be to
177
B. Gale (producer) and R. Zemeckis (director), 1985, Back to the Future, USA, Amblin
Entertainment (“Great Scott!” was the exclamation used by the character of Doc. Brown in this time
travelling epic.)
94
find the plughole and basically get out of this time zone as fast as the vortex would
carry them!
Ignoring the dog, who had now re-discovered the half-eaten sandwich and was
tucking in greedily and obviously enjoying the taste (it’s funny the relevant
information you can get in movies sometimes!), Steve started to rapidly search for the
plughole. “Please don’t let it be somewhere else in this building!” he whimpered.
“Please let it be in this room!”
It seemed that fate and the odds were against him on this occasion however, as if the
sheer panic of not finding the plughole wasn’t enough, he suddenly heard a noise
outside of the door. He looked around with a glare of absolute horror as the distinct
tap of footsteps became clearer to his ears.
His search became faster. He realised that he and Benjy probably had mere seconds
before they were discovered. He began to feel the brick walls around the room,
hoping that somehow the plughole had appeared in some odd position. His heart
started to pound quicker and he shook feverishly. He checked over the bulk of the
furniture; the tops; the sides; and even on the underside of the large wooden desk.
This was to no avail however! A shadow was suddenly cast underneath the crack in
the doorway and Steve heard a jangle of keys. Whoever it was outside, Professor
Crowley probably, was searching for the right one in the bunch to unlock the door.
The young time traveller looked around quickly in despair. If he was ever going to
find the plughole, it needed to be now!
The keys landed in a chink on the floor. They had been dropped. This gave the two
companions the valuable time they needed however. Steve hoisted the mobile phone
off of his belt and readied himself to dial the magic number. It had to be another hit
and miss time jump he presumed. His mind flicked back to that field in Durham,
Maine and the feeling he got at that last second when he thought that they would be
atomised. Surely he and Benjy wouldn’t have to go through that again!
95
The keys were picked up, scraped from the floor into the hands of the person outside.
He pressed the relevant buttons, followed quickly by send call. He heard the keys
jangle again, but this time one was inserted into the lock.
As he and Benjy started to fade from existence, he noticed two things. The first was
the door starting to open rather slowly. The second was out of the corner of his hastily
dematerialising eye. Right dead centre in the middle of one of the charcoal drawings
that lay on the drying rack was the object of their desire: the plughole, and it was
getting larger, about to engulf the pair once more…
96
Chapter Four:
W ho? D octor W ho?
Figure 10. 1963 A.D.- Who? Doctor Who? 2002 Hand Coloured Linocut.
30cm x 30cm
97
“Have you ever wondered what its like to be a wanderer in the fourth dimension?” –
The character of the Doctor
BBC Lime Grove Studios, Studio D178
Ealing, London, 11.06am, Friday 27th September 1963
“Doctor Who” – “The Tribe of Gum”179 – Episode One: “An
Unearthly Child”
Serial (A)
To be filmed at Lime Grove Studios, Studio D on 27.09.63
SCENE 9.
INT. EVENING/ DUSK. THE INSIDE OF THE “TARDIS”/ SPACE AND
TIME SHIP/ POLICE BOX
Barbara pushes her way through the double doors of the
police box. As she crosses the threshold, she is greeted
with a powerful bright light. She stands rigid and agog
at the sight in front of her. Ian follows and stops
abruptly, reacting in the same manner. The police box is
bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.
Susan stands at what appears to be a strange mushroom
like console bench, but turns quickly when she realises
that there are other people within her presence. She then
178
P. Griffiths, 17th January 1996, Maiden Voyage, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 234, Great Britain,
Marvel Comics, p. 8 (Verity Lambert, the first Doctor Who producer in 1963, states that the first story
was shot in studio D at the BBC Lime Grove block and that “it was the worst studio they could” have
been given!)
179
D.J. Howe, M. Stammers and S.J. Walker, 1992, Doctor Who – The Sixties, Great Britain, Virgin
Publishing, p. 11 (The original Doctor Who story was in fact called 100,000 B.C., yet on early BBC
documentation, it is referred to as: The Tribe of Gum.)
98
seems visually tense as her grandfather, the Doctor,
follows the two schoolteachers through the door. He
rather rudely and arrogantly, barges his way in between
them.
THE DOCTOR
These people are known to you I believe?
SUSAN
(To the schoolteachers) What are you doing
here? (Then she turns her attention back
to her ancestor) They’re two of my
schoolteachers.
THE DOCTOR
Is that your excuse for this unwarrantable
intrusion? You had no right to invite them
here! I blame you for this Susan, you
would insist on going to that ridiculous
school!
SUSAN
But grandfather, I don’t…
BARBARA
Is this really where you live Susan?
SUSAN
Yes.
THE DOCTOR
And what’s wrong with it?
IAN
It was just a box!
THE DOCTOR
Perhaps?
BARBARA
But it can’t be…?
Ian spins around and takes in the strange white room,
which is complete with roundels placed in vertical lines
up the walls, the strange control bench and a collection
of anachronistic antique furniture.
IAN
It was, I saw it!
99
THE DOCTOR
(Returning his attention to Susan) You
see? I knew this sort of thing would
happen you stupid child!
BARBARA
Maybe we should leave now?
IAN
Just a minute… Now that we are here, I’d
just like to… I know this is absurd, but I
walked all around it!
THE DOCTOR
Don’t expect any answers from me! You
wouldn’t understand anyway!
IAN
But you saw me Barbara?
BARBARA
Yes.
THE DOCTOR
(Back to Susan, ignoring the teachers) You
see, I warned you. You see what you’ve
done?
SUSAN
(To Ian and Barbara) You shouldn’t have
come here!
IAN
It’s a trick!
THE DOCTOR
This is no trick young man. You both
forced your way into the ship. I didn’t
invite you. I see no reason why I should
explain anything!
IAN
Ship?
THE DOCTOR
I use your own outdated terminology for
any craft, which does not roll on wheels.
100
BARBARA
You mean it moves?
SUSAN
The TARDIS can go anywhere!
BARBARA
TARDIS? I don’t know what you mean Susan.
SUSAN
I made up TARDIS from the initials, Time
And Relative Dimensions In Space. I
thought you’d both realise when you came
in and saw the different dimensions from
the outside?
IAN
Just let me get this right Susan. A thing
that looks like a police box, standing in
a junkyard. It can go anywhere in time and
space?
SUSAN
Yes!
IAN
Oh Susan, don’t be so ridiculous!
THE DOCTOR
They’ll never understand my child.
SUSAN
(Almost pleading) Why won’t you believe
us?
BARBARA
We just want you to tell us the truth!
THE DOCTOR
You have heard the truth. We are not of
this race. We are not of this Earth. We
are wand-
As the pair reconstituted themselves together once more, time around them stopped in
what now seemed like the customary manner after such a journey. Before fully taking
in their surroundings however, Steve looked down at Benjy and aggressively shook
himself all over.
101
“I tell you Benge,” said the young man, checking himself down and making sure that
he still had the mobile phone attached to his belt, “ I don’t think that I will ever get
used to this time travelling business! All of this dematerialisation of molecules cannot
be good for you in the long run you know!”
The dog looked up at him and smiled. “Oh stop your whining! I think that we’re
getting the hang of it! The last transition seemed a great deal easier than on the
previous occasions.”
“Well I hope you’re right! We’ve still got to get home. I’m enjoying the adventure
immensely, but I don’t know if I want a non- stop trip through the ages! Speaking of
which, I wonder where we are now?” He stopped for the first instant since their influx
to find out where they were.
“I don’t know”, replied the dog apparently mimicking his counterpart, “It seems like a
very strange place indeed! It’s not like anywhere else we’ve visited so far is it? It
seems a bit more, well… space-age!”
Steve ignored the canine’s questioning and slowly began to scan the contents of the
odd room that they were now standing in. A television studio… it had to be. He had
never been in one before, but quite paradoxically, knew what this place was because
he had seen pictures of them on the television. On one side of the cramped
surroundings, there were lines of cameras (with frozen stiff cameramen mounted on
them in various action poses) and a vast number of cables, wires and electrical
machinery scattered across the floor.180 With the exception of the cameramen, there
were numerous other motionless people that (within the normal realms of time and
space) were obviously fulfilling some role in the current production: studio assistants,
make-up artists, special effects entrepreneurs, designers, stagehands and even a
hugely stereotypical tea lady complete with a caddy, headscarf and curlers! Directly
to his left, Steve noticed a rather angry looking young man sitting with his legs
180
J. Carney, 1996, Who’s There? The Life and Career of William Hartnell, Great Britain, Virgin
Publishing Limited, p. 150 (Jessica Carney describes the Lime Grove studio D as “the worst facilities
in the BBC” and goes onto say that it “was amazing they didn’t trip over cables all the time they were
so cramped.”)
102
crossed in a canvas chair. He had a pair of chunky stereo headphones around his neck
tucked almost uncomfortably underneath his chin and a clipboard with a copy of the
script, with a few pages flipped over, pivoting on his kneecap. This man was
obviously important, perhaps, the director or producer maybe?
On the other side of the room, was a large bright white set piece, which was obviously
made up to look like the inside of some sort of futuristic space craft. It was this area
of the room, which intrigued the young time traveller the most. Complete with
roundels in the walls, a strange and anachronistic assortment of antique furniture and
the incongruous shape of what appeared to be a large mechanical mushroom (which
was covered with an array of lights that seemed to be flickering, despite the fact that
they were currently frozen in time), this theatrical vision seemed vaguely familiar. He
had definitely never physically been in this location before… but it almost felt as if he
had.
Memories of his childhood swamped his thoughts and in particular, the ritual of cold
Saturday nights in winter. He and his family would have their dinner fairly early
(usually something like fish and chips) and then they would all huddle together in the
living room in front of their little electric fire and the evening’s television line up.
Despite migrating to Australia when he was sixteen, Steve had spent his formative
years in England and so had been brought up on a BBC mentality, attitude and way of
thinking.181 This was the channel that always offered the best entertainment and was
seldom switched off on a Saturday, especially at around half past five, when Steve’s
ultimate hero was regularly scheduled…
As he reminisced, his gaze then turned to the familiar frozen features of an elderly
gentleman, who sat perched on the edge of a large ornate wooden chair. With long
flowing white hair seeping out from under a black astrakhan hat and dressed in a
pristine suit, this individual had his right hand clutching proudly at his lapel. A young
pretty girl with a short cropped brunette bob and slightly outrageous attire, stood
slightly to his left, while a middle aged man and woman, dressed in fashionable (but
181
http://www.dfm.dircon.co.uk/tvhist1.htm (Who invented Television?), as viewed on 10th September
2002 (The British Broadcasting Corporation established in 1936 the world’s “first regular high
resolution… television service.”)
103
conservative) sixties clothing stood slightly away, rigid and confused, facing inward
toward an obviously cut short conversation.
“The TARDIS!” Steve whispered to himself, before smiling inanely and obviously
swelling with apparent glee! If he could go anywhere and anywhen within the entire
realms of space and time, then this place, he quickly rationalised, would definitely be
it. For a brief second, he could not believe their luck; he and Benjy were about to
meet a television legend!
Just as quickly as happiness had spread over his face however, it suddenly vanished in
an instant. It was now Steve’s turn to be dreadfully confused. Benjy noticed his
friend’s negative disposition and began to quiz him on the sudden change of outlook.
“What’s wrong? Do you know this place? You seemed so happy a second ago?”
“Something’s rather odd Benge… I… I”, scratching the top of his head, he struggled
to find the words that were clearly on the tip of his tongue. “I don’t understand!”
“You seemed to recognise this place a few moments ago!” The dog’s eyes narrowed
with worry as he internally summed up Steve’s erratic mix of emotions.
“Oh I do know where we are!” Steve walked absently up to the old man, and then
turned rapidly on one foot as though regaining composure a little. “We’re in the
TARDIS!” He spread his arms widespread like the wings of an eagle. “Remember
that old television show, ‘Doctor Who’, that I used to watch quite a lot on video?”
The dog couldn’t. He had never understood the concept of television; it seemed to be
another pointless human exercise. He humoured his companion nevertheless and
shook his head up and down. Benjy actually did remember sitting next to Steve on
many occasions, whilst the human stared at a box of flickering shapes, but he quite
honestly could never see the point in it all.
“Well,” Steve continued, “we’re here in one of the studios where ‘Doctor Who’ was
originally recorded.”
104
“So what’s so disconcerting about that?” The dog wandered around looking up at the
various cast members on the set, thinking about bodily urges and how very much like
lampposts, these rigid people seemed. “I would have thought that you would have
been over the moon to turn up here! Every time you bought a new ‘Doctor Who’
video home, you used to ram it in my face as though I should be impressed! I even
waggled my tail to seem excited!”
“No, it’s not that Benjy. It’s just that I cannot get my mind away from that television
guide that I picked up and read in 1984.” Steve started to stare thoughtfully at the old
man. “It said that they were screening, on BBC television that night, a re-run of the
short- lived 1960’s science fiction drama called ‘Doctor Who’ starring, and I quote
directly here, the irrepressible Leslie French.”
The dog couldn’t understand the punch line, if there was supposed to be one of
course! “So what’s the problem?”
“Well three things really. Number one, Leslie French never appeared in ‘Doctor
Who’, well, not until 1988 and even then, it was a minor cameo role and practically a
non- speaking part at that.182 Number two, this man,” he jabbed his thumb in mid air
toward the elderly gentleman, “isn’t Leslie French. It’s William Hartnell, the
individual that I have always associated with the original lead character of the series.
And number three I know for a fact that in 1984 the show was celebrating its sixth
incumbent of the series’ lead character.183 It was never short lived! It was the world’s
longest running science fiction television drama! ‘Doctor Who’ lasted for twenty- six
years, until it was axed in 1989.”184
182
D.J. Howe and S.J. Walker, 1999, Doctor Who – The Television Companion, Great Britain, BBC
Books, p. 520 (“…Leslie French, one of the actors considered for the role of the first Doctor in 1963.”)
183
J. Nathan- Turner (producer) and G. Harper (director), 1984, Doctor Who – The Caves of
Androzani, Great Britain, BBC Video (Colin Baker’s nine story tenure began in 1984.)
184
J. Nathan- Turner (producer) and A. Wareing (director), 1989, Doctor Who- Survival, Great Britain,
BBC Television (This adventure was the last to be made and transmitted solely by the BBC in
December, 1989. Later, a television movie length version was initiated in 1996 by the Fox Network in
the United States.)
105
Benjy was utterly gob-smacked, not quite knowing where to even make a start with
all of this information. He shook his head rapidly as if attempting to clear it. “So what
are you saying here?”
Steve was totally succinct. “What I’m saying is that quite clearly, something is
dreadfully wrong with time!”
**********
“But how can it be?” Benjy started to walk around the mushroom shaped TARDIS
console casually flicking his tail as he went. “As far as you’re concerned, William
Hartnell was…”
“…The first Doctor!” Steve continued.
“Exactly! He is here at this very moment. So as long as we don’t interfere, technically
nothing in time should change! Hartnell will always have been in this television
series!”
“Mmm.” Steve didn’t quite know how to respond to Benjy’s analysis of the specific
temporals of this situation. “I think that there is a little bit more to it than that!”
In an instant, he suddenly grabbed the Labrador’s collar and started to drag him over
to a large wicker hamper, which was quite clearly used to store costumes and props.
“Quickly Benjy, get inside!”
“Why?” the dog whimpered as he clambered into the container.
“Because time is starting up again and if we’re caught here in the studio, we’ll be in
serious trouble! For now, at least, I don’t want to affect anything that will transpire
here. Let’s play this situation by ear!” Steve followed his pet rapidly into the hamper,
before pulling its lid back down on top of them. He then turned around clumsily and
pushed the cover up a little, leaving a crack small enough for them to observe the
goings on in the studio, without being noticed.
106
As time fizzled back into motion and the people around the studio became animated, a
further insight suddenly dawned on Steve. During Hartnell’s reign in this series, his
costume had been that of an elderly Edwardian gentleman, complete with a cravat and
often complemented by a long cape. At present, he was wearing a nineteen sixties
suit.185 This in itself was enough information to give away a rough date of their
present location and the specific episode of the programme that was currently being
shot.
Steve turned to Benjy, who was watching the events unfolding before his eyes with a
thoroughly bored expression on his face. “This time I think that I know the year we’ve
landed in.” Benjy hardly bat an eyelid in response.
“We must be in nineteen sixty- three!” Steve almost burbled with delight. “I think that
this is ‘Doctor Who’s’ first ever recording! During the pilot episode, for the only time
during his era of the show, Hartnell was seen to wear normal everyday clothes! This is
truly a momentous occasion! I have seen this episode on tape! I have always wished
that I could have seen the original airing, but to actually be here…” He had watched
“Doctor Who” for as long as he could remember and although the first episode had
been made and screened nearly twelve years before he was born, Steve had caught up
with the earlier escapades of the character on video. “Doctor Who” was a distinct
embodiment of his own childhood and being and it had always left a special mark
upon him. The Doctor, a traveller in time and space, a genuine Time-lord, had always
been the heroic model upon which Steve had based his own existence and no matter
which actor was playing the character, it was a figure that had always remained
special to him.186
185
During the show’s pilot episode, the Doctor is seen to wear a nineteen sixties suit, signifying that at
the time of the show’s first shoot, it hadn’t fully been realised about what sort of eccentric character the
Doctor actually was.
186
I. Lloyd (producer) and D. Martinus (director), 1966, Doctor Who – The Tenth Planet, Great Britain,
BBC Video (Between 1963 and 2002 -the current time of writing this chapter- eight quite different
actors had taken on the role of the Doctor. When one person wanted to leave, another would simply be
inserted into the narrative and the character was seen to transmogrify on screen. The theory given was
that the Doctor’s race, the Time- lords, actually had thirteen lives and when one body died the being
would simply regenerate into another. The first occasion took place in 1966 at the end of this story The
Tenth Planet when William Hartnell’s first Doctor regenerated into Patrick Troughton’s second
incarnation.)
107
Steve and Benjy both then began to watch as history started to slowly unfold.
**********
“-erers in the fourth dimension…….” William Hartnell then began to shake his head
and immediately dropped out of character. “I’m sorry… this just isn’t right!” He stood
up and wandered over toward the TARDIS console prop, staring dramatically away
from all of the other people in his current proximity.
The director, Waris Hussein, wearily rose from his canvas chair and shouted out to the
rest of his production crew: “Cut!” He then dropped his clipboard to the ground at his
side and started to trudge slowly over onto the set to converse quietly with his leading
man. “What’s up this time William?”
This had so far been the best take of the whole day. There had been no line fluffs, the
acting was of the highest calibre and those stage hands behind the large TARDIS
double doors had even got their act together and shut them properly without any
problems whatsoever.187 Therefore, Hussein was understandably a little irritated at
Hartnell’s halting of the proceedings. He had had to put up with what seemed like an
innumerable number of interruptions this morning already and he was very slowly
getting to the end of his tether.188
“I’m sorry Waris, but this just doesn’t feel right! The man’s too crotchety! This isn’t
working!” Hartnell raised his hand up to his astrakhan hat and pulled it down off of
his head. A single bead of sweat poured over the top of his thinning scalp and he
quickly took out a crisp handkerchief from his trouser pocket and mopped up the
187
Books, p.7 (It is now notorious that, as a result of low a budget, during the filming of the pilot episode
“the doors in the TARDIS control room refused to close properly”)
188
D.J. Howe, M. Stammers and S.J. Walker, 1992, Doctor Who – The Sixties, Great Britain, Virgin
Publishing, p. 11 (There are a few reasons why the director wouldn’t have been particularly happy on
this shoot. In the first place, according to his direct quote in this book, Waris Hussein hadn’t really
wanted to work on this show at all. He says “I thought at the time, rather arrogantly perhaps that I was
meant for bigger and better things.” In the second, he and his producer, Verity Lambert, were “facing
some hostilities from others in the BBC” who felt that his team were stealing their thunder a little by
making Doctor Who. It was after all a children’s programme being made by the kosher drama
department.)
108
evidence. “The man’s not very nice is he? I’m really not going to endear myself to
people am I?189 Do I really have to be as cantankerous in my portrayal?”190
“Yes William.” Hussein said a matter of factly. “That’s the way that this narrative is
scripted and this is how we decided that you were going to play the role in dress
rehearsal remember?” Waris tried desperately to keep the tone of his voice calm and
collected. Dress rehearsal had only taken place a few days ago; surely the old fellow
couldn’t have forgotten the characterisation so soon, could he? His eyes flicked
around toward the other cast members, William Russell, Jacqueline Hill and Carole
Ann Ford, who were just standing in a huddle watching the ongoing conversation with
considered interest. William Russell was actually attempting to hide, rather
unsuccessfully, a degree of mirth at the situation.191
“Waris, you know the reservations that I have about this character.192 I cannot
continue unless I know my exact motivation and I am absolutely one hundred percent
behind this Doctor person! You and Verity gave me the hard sell on this series and
yes, you won me over, but the quality of these scripts leave me feeling a little…
awkward to say the least!”193
189
Author Unknown, 30th June 1999, The Time Team, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 279, Great Britain,
Marvel Comics, p. 33 (“In the first episode… there is absolutely no indication that the Doctor will
become the hero of the series.”)
190
D.J. Howe, M. Stammers and S.J. Walker, 1994, Doctor Who – The Handbook: The First Doctor –
The William Hartnell Years: 1963- 1966, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing, p. 23 (Hartnell says on
being cast as the Doctor “I didn’t like the initial script and I told them so. It made the old man too bad
tempered”)
191
Publishing Limited, p. 151 (William Russell was a bit of a joker on set. The author Jessica Carney
discusses William Russell’s opinions of the late William Hartnell and says “Bill used the rehearsals to
work out the minutiae… whilst Russell would often be fooling about, not taking it so seriously.”)
192
There seems to be some confusion, depending on which texts you read, as to Hartnell’s original
approach to the programme. Peter Haining’s book The Nine Lives of Doctor Who will have you believe
that the actor totally embraced the part from the beginning. Most other references however (in
particular the Waris Hussein interview entitled My God, how did we get away with this? in Doctor Who
Magazine Issue 272) state that he was initially sceptical about the character and such an exhaustive
television role and learned to embrace the part later, as he settled into it. In terms of artistic license and
my story, I have obviously taken the latter view.
193
P. Griffiths, 17th January 1996, Maiden Voyage, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 234, Great Britain,
Marvel Comics, p. 8 (“Verity” refers to Doctor Who’s first producer, Verity Lambert, who was
instrumental in commissioning William Hartnell into the role. She describes this process in detail
within the article.)
109
Waris looked behind him toward his head cameraman, Robert Sleigh.194 It had been a
long morning’s hard slog and he felt both physically and mentally drained. He noticed
that Sleigh wasn’t looking too sharp either. Turning his attentions back to Hartnell, he
made a snap decision. “Let’s take a break!”
He turned around so that he could face more or less every single person within the
studio and spoke a little louder so that they could all hear. “I know that this is slightly
odd, but we’re going to take a short break. It’s been a long morning; we’ve been here
for what, nearly seven hours already. Let’s take a break and come back at- ” he
glimpsed at his wristwatch, “let’s say twelve thirty after a spot of lunch!”
**********
Steve and Benjy watched as the entirety of the group moved out of the large double
doors at one end of the studio floor. When the last person had gone they pushed back
the lid of the hamper and climbed out of their confined hiding place.
As Benjy made a characteristic slump to the ground and started to lick his own
bottom, Steve stood momentarily looking at the whole of the TARDIS set with a
sense of overwhelming dread. “Well, now we know!” he announced to his dog.
“Hartnell’s going to quit isn’t he? When we get back to our own time, a whole part of
my history will have been wiped. I wonder what life would have been like if I hadn’t
spent so much time on a television programme?” Benjy’s eyes flicked up, but the dog
continued with his caressing. “‘Doctor Who’ in its own small way was the basis of my
art-making, my sense of imagination and in later life, my personality. I wonder how
different I would have been without it?”
Steve then slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand in a flash of what he
considered to be brilliance! “Of course! I’m such a fool!” He started to pace
frantically up and down, two or three steps at a time. “Perhaps that’s why we’ve been
brought here!”
194
According to all documentation, Robert Sleigh was indeed the head cameraman on the shoot.
110
He took a slightly longer walk over to the console and stood exactly where Hartnell
had done so only minutes before. “Maybe that’s the way time works. Many
possibilities are played out and depending upon people, or circumstances, everyday
existences could swing one way or the other? This could be potentially dangerous!”
He scratched the back of his head in utter confusion. “On the one hand, in our own
time-line or reality, Hartnell was always the first ‘Doctor Who’. Due to his
involvement, it became a success! You and I Benjy-”, he glimpsed at the dog, “were
always supposed to go on this time journey and make that happen. Once that voyage
had begun though, nothing was set in concrete. In 1984, the time-line could have been
quite possibly… unstable? It was Leslie French who was the first Doctor and the
programme flopped, but that’s because we hadn’t arrived in the 1963 zone yet to stop
Hartnell from walking off of the production…”
Steve was totally baffled and his pet, now quite firmly reduced to the silent Benjy
once more, was of no help at all. The idea started to wrestle in his mind. He needed to
air it verbally to himself in order to make a tiny grasp at understanding though. “But,
in terms of linear time, we must have been here to help shape events, as in our
contemporary time zone, the fact that Hartnell was in the show is given as read…” He
paused to take a breath. “On the other hand, I could be the clincher as to why Hartnell
finally does walk away from the series… and that’s why they call upon Leslie French
to replace him. That’s the trouble with time travel, one never really knows the best
path of action to take!”195
He sat down on the hard cold ground next to his dog and placed his face in his hands.
He had been quite clearly tying himself in knots! Then another idea materialised
though in his line of thought. “Maybe, the time line is only unstable, while we are on
the journey!” He shook his head gloomily. “Even so, I can’t just sit here and do
nothing!” He stood up abruptly. “I’m going to go and find William Hartnell and have
a chat! I know some of the secrets of time after all, surely I can let a few slip?”
195
Harper, Graeme (Director) and Nathan- Turner, John (Producer), 1984, Doctor Who - The Caves of
Androzani, Great Britain, BBC Television (The Doctor says in this story “That’s the trouble with time
travel… one never really seems to find the time!”)
111
He looked down at Benjy, who was now sitting up on his hind legs and eager to
move. “Listen Benge, I don’t think that it’s a good idea that you come with me! What
I’d like you to do is remain inconspicuous in the studio and have a sniff around to see
if you can find the plughole, just in case we need to make a hasty retreat.” Benjy
stared almost vacantly at Steve, but the young man somehow knew that his canine
friend had understood.
With that, Steve was out of the studio doors in search of the star’s dressing rooms.
**********
A little while after Steve had left the studio, Benjy started to sniff around the space,
complying with his master’s wishes in searching for their point of time- travel
departure. After a few minutes however, even to the brain capacity and attention span
of a normal everyday Golden Labrador, it became abundantly clear that the plughole
was not in the room. He sat still for a second and scratched his stomach rapidly with
his rear leg.
All of a sudden, Benjy’s nostrils began to fill with a rather delicious smell: FOOD! It
was coming from the direction of the large doors that Steve had just left through. The
dog looked around in all directions sheepishly and then slowly trotted over to the exit.
He peered into the corridor outside and when he found noone there, decided greedily
to follow his nose…
**********
Steve had found the dressing rooms rather quickly. On leaving the studio, he had
acquired for himself a clipboard and a set of headphones, which were just lying on a
seat in the corridor outside. The young time traveller had presumed that these artifacts
were the property of Waris Hussein. He’d obviously left them there on the way to his
office, when he’d toddled off for his break. Steve was consciously aware that he may
be discovered as a total stranger within the building, but after he had placed the
hearing equipment around his own neck and the clipboard under his arm however, any
person he came into contact with, didn’t even question his identity. The two items
112
seemed, rather oddly, to give him the aura of authenticity. He had smiled to himself.
It’s funny how the best disguises are the simplest ones!
He was now here, standing outside a room with a big silver star on the door, once
more about to meet destiny in the face. He read the nametag on arrival, which indeed
confirmed that it was William Hartnell’s special room. It was crudely taped over the
top of the VIP logo and scrawled in rough biro.
“No wonder the guy wants to leave!” Steve muttered as he ran his finger over the
words, then took a deep breath and wrapped his knuckle three times hard on the
wooden surface of the door.
It immediately lurched open and there, standing in the threshold of the room, was the
elderly looking Hartnell. “Who the devil are you?” asked the actor, whilst almost
frowning. Even though he had removed his suit jacket, the man was still wearing his
Astrakhan hat. “We’re not due back on set yet are we?” He stuck his head outside of
the door so that his chin rested at an awkward angle on the frame and looked left, then
right, in an attempt to see if the rest of the cast were waiting for him.
Steve stood for a second, feeling like a prize idiot, almost not knowing quite what to
say. He had seen this man on video over a hundred times in glorious black and white,
but never in his wildest dreams did he ever think however that he would be standing
in front him in anticipation of a conversation. In the normal course of events, Hartnell
had died in April 1975 of a strain of arteriosclerosis, about four months prior to Steve
being born.196 Therefore, this was a bizarre experience that consciously defied the
boundaries of life and death! “Mr. Hartnell… William… Sir, you don’t know me…”
“Yes?” Hartnell said abruptly in an inquiring tone, as though Steve was wasting
precious time.
“I seriously need to talk to you. It is incredibly important. This sounds unbelievably
melodramatic, but the fabric of time and space depends upon it… probably!”
196
D. J. Howe, 1993, Doctor Who – Timeframe, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing, p. 52 (Newspaper
clipping entitled “The dotty doctor, hero of 15 million” referring to Hartnell’s death at 67.)
113
William Hartnell sized the individual up before taking one step back and beckoning
him to enter the room. “I suppose you had better come in then young man.”
**********
After Steve had entered, Hartnell shut the door behind them and indicated for the
young man to take a seat in one of two plush armchairs that were facing each other at
one end of the narrow room. Once Steve had sat down, the actor placed himself in the
opposite chair. He crossed the fingers of both hands and then eyed his guest with a
degree of suspicion and thought.
“So who are you? A fan? Are you after an autograph, or a job maybe?”
Steve’s face felt as though it were burning. It was obviously glowing red. “Look, as
much as I would like a copy of your autograph,” it would be worth an absolute mint
back in 2002, he thought to himself. “I really need to talk to you on a matter of some
importance…”
“Yes you said that when you were outside the door, but could you be more specific? I
do not suffer gibbering fools gladly you know!”197 Steve didn’t quite know how to
respond to Hartnell’s bluntness, but before he could, the first thespian to ever play the
character of “Doctor Who” actually started to apologise. “I’m sorry my dear fellow. I
didn’t mean to be so rude. It hasn’t been a terrific day on set and I am a little irritable
to say the least!”
Steve then saw his chance and seized it. “Well, look that’s kind of what I wanted to
talk to you about!”
Hartnell’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
197
The William Hartnell Years: 1963- 1966, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing, p. 33 (Verity Lambert states
that Hartnell “was a hard taskmaster, and he wasn’t always very patient.”, whilst on the same page, the
director Douglas Camfield states that Hartnell “never suffered fools gladly.”)
114
“Yes. I was actually on set during the last take and I heard what you said about having
your doubts about this character that you’re playing.”
“Mmm. It was a little un- professional of me… but entirely called for. I cannot
continue with a role that I do not believe in.”198 Hartnell began to stroke his chin
thoughtfully as his mind momentarily drifted off.
“Well, I just wanted to tell you not to give in! I know that you think that this character
is a little eccentric199 and, particularly in the pilot episode that you are currently
shooting, a little too nasty, but if you stick with it, things will get better. I promise.”
Steve said the words with utter conviction, as he looked the older man straight in the
eyes.
Hartnell frowned, but didn’t say a word in response. Steve continued.
“Everything will work out okay and the Doctor will become, quite literally, a
television icon! A huge success! You won’t believe the respect, trust and love that
you will ultimately receive from audiences!”
“I’ve always wanted to play an old man200, but there doesn’t seem to be much
difference between the role of the Doctor and the part of the tough army sergeants that
have littered the rest of my C.V.!201 He’s gruff, self centred and rude. A very
cantankerous individual! I can’t see how any audience would grow to like him.”
Hartnell seemed to be placing his trust in Steve implicitly, even though he had no
reason to do so whatsoever. It was peculiar though, in that he didn’t even ask for
198
Publishing Limited, p. 148 (Carney describes Hartnell’s initial attitude toward the character: “from
Bill’s point of view it was a huge departure from anything he had done before and was a big risk.”)
199
The William Hartnell Years: 1963- 1966, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing, p. 37 (Director Waris
Hussein commented that by “asking him to play the part of an eccentric, (they) were implying that
(Hartnell) was an eccentric himself.”)
200
The William Hartnell Years: 1963- 1966, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing, p.22 (Hartnell stated in a
1965 interview that all his life, he “wanted to play an older character part”)
201
The William Hartnell Years: 1963- 1966, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing, p.30 (Hartnell stated in a
1968 interview that he was notable for the role of the Doctor and “a bad tempered sergeant major.”)
115
Steve’s name and how he had come to know so much about this new science fiction
drama.
“Yes, the Doctor is an anti- hero at the moment, but over time, you need to find a
certain balance! He’s old but he’s also young. He’s rude and obnoxious, but he also
cares very deeply about his friends and granddaughter. He is wise, but childish… Find
the balance Mr. Hartnell! Embrace the part!”
“I can sort of see what you are getting at young man, but the quality of the scripts…”
“Will change according to the way that you ultimately portray the character!”
“You know, my dear fellow, I never quite saw that much potential in the Doctor
before!”202
“Just think of yourself as…” Steve struggled to find the right poetic balance of words
within his mind. Then one of the all- time great analogies festered. “As a cross
between the Wizard of Oz and Father Christmas!203 Allow yourself to be
hypnotised!204 Make this part your own, develop it into the role that you want to play
and no matter what happens… you’ll be loved and adored for decades!”
**********
Designer, Ray Cusick sat with his associate, Barry Newbery, in the BBC canteen,
looking very depressed. He was slumped, leaning on one arm staring mournfully into
a half drunk mug of steaming hot coffee.
202
Publishing Limited, p. 149 (Hartnell was clearly in two minds about the initial characterisation of the
Doctor, but over time he began to become entranced. The producer Verity Lambert recalls here that
firstly “he loved the slightly Edwardian feel which helped the sense of ‘other worldliness’” – a trait of
the first Doctor that was installed after the pilot episode- and secondly, that “he absolutely loved the
part- he was endearingly proprietorial about it, and he simply became the Doctor.”)
203
P. Haining, 1999, The Nine Lives of Doctor Who, Great Britain, Headline Book Publishing, p. 27
(This was a quote that Hartnell himself had delivered to the press.)
204
Publishing Limited, p. 149 (“Bill said in various interviews that he allowed the character to ‘hypnotise’
him. The stories were so fantastical that it was the only way he could believe in them, and that, he
thought, was vital to the success of the programme.”)
116
“So you still haven’t thought of any ideas for the design then?” Newbery asked as he
continued to devour a plate of sausage, chips and beans.
“No. I just want something unique, you know? The scripts say that these characters
are nothing like humanity and glide along the floor. I thought about using some sort of
tricycle rig-up for the actors, but I just cannot think of an appropriate shape to build
around it!”205 Ray picked up the teaspoon from the sugar bowl that was on the table in
front of him and after sighing rather loudly, mixed into his drink another mound of
white powder.
“What are these things called again? ‘Dayliks’ or something?” Newbery thought
momentarily about the whole series that they were both currently working on and then
the smile that was on his face turned into a feint chuckle.
“Close. There actually called Da-.” Before he could finish though, a Labrador dog
suddenly just ambled through the main entrance to the canteen, sniffing with its nose
high in the air, on the scent no doubt, of scraps of food. The two designers looked at
the animal briefly, but after the moment’s distraction, simply ignored the creature.
They had seen much weirder things walking around the BBC studios than a mere dog!
They then started to resume their conversation.
“That’s right, I remember!” said Newbery holding a whole sausage on his fork in mid
air. “The word is supposed to mean ‘far and distant thing’ in Serbo-croat206 isn’t it?”
He then took a huge bite from the meat and began to chew.
“Yeah something like that! So anyway, I am just fresh out of ideas. The story that
these designs are required for, “The Survivors” or “The Mutants”, I forget the name of
it-”207
205
Books, p.15 (Discusses Raymond P. Cusick’s design for the Daleks in some detail.)
206
J. Bush (producer) and K. Davies (Director), 1993, Doctor Who - More than 30 years in the
TARDIS, Great Britain, BBC Video (Quote from actor Nicholas Courtney giving the ‘essential
information’ on the Daleks.)
207
The William Hartnell Years: 1963- 1966, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing, p. 60 (According to this
117
“It was written by the same fellow who used to write for Hancock wasn’t it?”208
“Yeah, I think so! Anyway, its coming into production next month and I haven’t got
the slightest of handles. Boy, am I in trouble!”
“So what are you going to do?” Newbery dropped the rest of the sausage and stared
briefly at his half eaten meal. Feeling rather full up, he put down his knife and fork
onto the plate with a clink and pushed it to the far end of their table.
“I don’t know! If I don’t come up with something fast, I am going to be out on my
ear, that’s for sure!”
Suddenly without warning, the dog jumped up and leaned its two paws on the edge of
the table. Its target was obvious; it wanted the remnants of Newbery’s meal! As it
started to greedily gorge on the half eaten food however, the dog’s act of gluttony
turned out to be quite lucky. Whether it was by design, or the simplest act of fate, the
dog’s paw, in an attempt to keep its grip, accidentally nudged the pepper- pot that
stood amongst an assortment of other condiment containers on their table. As Ray and
Barry watched with sheer disbelief, the small object slid in a perfect line across the
glossy and slippery surface. It came to a halt just before Ray’s coffee cup.
Raymond P. Cusick’s eyes widened and he stood up, knocking his chair ferociously
backwards in the process. He gingerly picked up the pepper- pot and held it aloft his
head, as though it were some precious relic.209
book, the working title for Doctor Who’s second story was The Survivors. This was subsequently
changed to The Mutants, but the story is now more commonly referred to as The Daleks.)
208
M. Wiggins, 4th June 1997, dalek, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 252, Great Britain, Marvel Comics,
p.11 (Terry Nation, the writer of the original Dalek story, was a former writer for the TV comedian
Tony Hancock and pulled his “ATV series back from disaster with four successful scripts.”)
209
The William Hartnell Years: 1963- 1966, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing, p. 62 (Quote from Raymond
P. Cusick stating that it was actually “untrue” that he “based the Dalek shape on a pepper pot. Having
decided that the Dalek operator should be seated, (he) began by doing a sketch of a man in a chair.
(He) then drew an outline around the sketch.” He goes on to say however that he did use “a pepper
pot… purely to demonstrate to someone how the Daleks would move.” I have incorporated this and
used artistic license and a little bit of fun at the subject’s expense!)
118
“Yes! That’s it!” He smiled as though he had just won the lottery. “The shape! It’s
strange, unusual and can slide! I can see this thing in my head so clearly now!” He
momentarily glimpsed back to where the dog had been scoffing, but after a double
take, realised that rather strangely the canine had completely turned on its heels. All
Ray saw briefly was the Labrador’s tail as it careered rapidly out of the doors from
which it had first entered.
The two designers simply stared at each other with absolute surprise. “We’ve got to
get that dog on the pay- roll!” said Ray, beaming from ear to ear.
**********
After Steve had said farewell to his hero, hoping that his words had made some
difference, he made his way back down the corridor toward the direction of the
camera studios. Before he had even got there however, he was surprised to run head
on into Benjy.
“What have you been up to?” asked the young man as he ogled his pet with a degree
of distrust. The dog just smiled dopily and waggled his tail to show that he was happy
to see his friend.
“You missed a bit of the baked beans!” Steve pointed to the end of Benjy’s snout and
laughed. “Come on my dear fellow. It’s time to leave! Let’s find that plughole! We
need to get ‘Back to the Future’!” Steve was certain that if Benjy could have talked at
that instant, the dog would surely have groaned!
119
Chapter Five:
Ode
Figure 11. 1804 A.D.- Ode 2002 Hand Coloured Linocut.
30cm x 30cm
120
“To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought
relief…” – William Wordsworth
A meadow in the Shire of Grasmere,
The Lake District, England, 1.24pm, Monday 28th May 1804210
Ode: I ntimationsof I mmortality fromRecollectionsof Early childhood
I
THERE was a timewhen meadow, grove, and stream,
Theearth, and every common sight,
To medid seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
Theglory and thefreshness of a dream.
I t is not now as it hath been of yore;-Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day,
Thethings which I haveseen I now can seeno more.
210
There seems to be some dispute over when the Immortality Ode was completed. One website
(http://www.bartleby.com/145/ww331.html - Great Books on-line, as viewed on the 12th April 2003)
claimed that it wasn’t until 1806. Margaret Drabble states on page 12 of her book entitled Literature in
Perspective: Wordsworth that Wordsworth began to “decline as poet” and that some critics are “bold
enough to say that he wrote hardly anything that was worth writing after 1805.” She then goes onto
say, on page 123 that this specific Ode “for Wordsworth… is something of a swan song.” From her
perspective, this was clearly seen upon as his last work of any real merit. I have taken the quite literal
viewpoint of two books. The first is Kenneth R. Johnston’s The Hidden Wordsworth- Poet- LoverRebel- Spy and the second, Stephen Gill’s William Wordsworth- A Life. Both claim at one point or
another that he finished the poem, two years after he started it, in 1804.
121
II
TheRainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is theRose,
TheMoon doth with delight
Look round her when theheavens arebare,
Waters on a starry night
Arebeautiful and fair;
Thesunshineis a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where’er I go,
That therehath past away a glory fromtheearth.
III
Now, whilethebirds thus sing a joyous song,
And whiletheyoung lambs bound
As to thetabor’s sound,
To mealonetherecamea thought of grief:
A timely utterancegavethat thought relief,
And I again amstrong:
Thecataracts blow their trumpets fromthesteep;
No moreshall grief of minetheseason wrong;
I hear theEchoes through themountains throng,
TheWinds cometo mefromthefields of sleep,
And all theearth is gay;
Land and sea
Givethemselves up to jollity,
And with theheart of May
Doth every Beast keep holiday;-Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let mehear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!
IV
Yeblessed Creatures, I haveheard thecall
Yeto each other make; I see
Theheavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
Thefullness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.
Oh evil day! I f I weresullen
WhileEarth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning,
And theChildren areculling
On every side,
I n a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; whilethesun shines warm,
And theBabeleaps up on his Mother’s arm:-I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
122
--But there’s a Tree, of many, one,
A singleField which I havelooked upon,
Both of themspeak of something that is gone:
ThePansy at my feet
Doth thesametalerepeat:
Whither is fled thevisionary gleam?
Whereis it now, theglory and thedream?
-
Extract from the poem by William Wordsworth, 1802.211
I
As Steve alone did sit amidst a vast meadow fretting,
His thoughts were frantic within this idyllic setting.
Where was Benjy? He’d vanished without trace.
Without his features, the world seemed a different place.
A lost and lonely barren husk,
That was scattered across with clouds of dust,
That sculpted the beauty of the surrounding sight.
To tease and remind him of his solitary plight.
II
The last time the dog’s features had been visible in fact,
When Steve attempted to remember back,
Was in that moment betwixt real- life and fantasy
When from the sixties time-zone they did flee
The young man looked around agog,
Searching the landscape for his friend, the dog.
Had the plughole, that ring of lasers and light,
Deposited Benjy somewhere out of sight?
In another field, or country lane?
Somewhere else in this strange temporal plain?
211
S. Gill, 1989, William Wordsworth- A Life, Great Britain, Oxford University Press, p.228 (When
talking of Wordsworth’s poem Ode- Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood,
it is clearly stated in all texts that in “March 1802 Wordsworth had written the first four stanzas.” The
rest of the eleven stanzas to follow were, of course, completed at a later date…)
123
III
He wondered is this but a dream?
For similar events in Maine he’d seen.
It was clear that his friend was neither near nor far.
Yet due to the lack of darkness and attacks of the bizarre,
And no savaged dog or other images of gore
Steve couldn’t equate now with what had gone on before.
Here his body at least felt calm; it was a tranquil time.
The afternoon sun shone brightly and the birds all sang in rhyme.
This was no nightmare; there was simply nothing here to fear.
This world was one of nature, it all seemed quite sincere.
IV
This revelation though was no comfort; Benjy was still not there.
Had he gone forever? Life did not seem fair.
Had he been lost to the echoes of time, atomised or fried?
Steve had no idea whether his friend had lived or died.
It was on this morbid concept that Steve languished in grief.
And with that he lost all hope and optimistic belief.
So far the journey overall had been an exciting thrill,
But now that excitement was tainted by death’s ever- growing chill.
He missed his pet completely; he needed him to be near.
He couldn’t face the adventure without him and this thought filled him with fear.
V
Had he lost his friend fore’er? His companion loyal and true?
He faced the sky in hatred and stared into the blue.
He goaded the heavens to devour him whole.
To take him out of time completely, to savage his soul.
But the sky had other things in mind; it too was tranquil and slow.
A single cloud fluttered above and the wind did not blow.
With this, Steve felt a rapport and became utterly transfixed.
His emotions ran fast and together they all mixed.
124
How lonely the cloud looked in its seclusion and as it danced in the sky.212
And how easy Steve could empathise, thinking of his friend’s life passing by.
VI
It was then that events took an unexpected turn.
The real fate of Benjy, Steve was soon to learn.
As the young man had resigned himself to the worst,
It seemed that time travel was fast becoming a curse.
But when his mobile phone rang out with its annoying tinny tune,
Steve gingerly answered and quickly began to swoon,
When Benjy the dog replied with a shout:
“I’m in a weird place and I can’t get out!”
Steve was impressed with his pet, able to make a private call.
With his power of speech and training, this dog was no fool!
VII
“Where are you?” asked Steve, glimpsing around for his friend.
“Are you okay? I’m going right round the bend!”
The Labrador was clearly confused and afraid.
After saving “Doctor Who”, they both thought they’d had it made.
To go on to the next date, to help time’s muddle once more.
But as the plughole opened, something weird had happened before.
Benjy had been snatched and placed alone in a room,
A digital night- scape; a place truly of gloom.
Where there existed a mirror image of everything he knew,
Where his scope was pixelated and stripped completely of all hue.
VIII
“I wish that I could see your face!” Steve said, still looking around.
He’d scanned the surrounding views completely; the sky; horizon; and ground.
“Well that’s strange,” said Benjy loudly. His words were bold and true.
212
http://www.bartleby.com/145/ww260.html (Bartleby Great Books on Line, which contains every
single one of Wordsworth’s great poems), as viewed on 23rd April 2003. (Wordsworth wrote a poem in
1804 called “I wandered lonely as a cloud” and my intention, to set the scene and draw Steve closer to
nature, was that this stanza should be about a similar thematic device.)
125
Figure 12. 1804 A.D.- What Benjy saw (and said) 2003 Digital Print.
30cm x 30cm
126
“On a screen before me, I can see a vast picture of you!”
This intrigued the young man, whose mind began to race,
Of all the theories that he knew of travelling through time and space.
“Just tell me what I’m doing,” said Steve putting an idea to the test.
He then pulled the phone right from his ear and placed it against his chest.
Benjy sat in darkness and no longer could see Steve’s features.
But he knew what the man was up to; he was simply one of the cleverest creatures.
IX
“I’m inside the telephone”, the dog yelled out, almost with a curse.
“You’re stuck inside a time eddy”, Steve agreed, “a micro- universe!”213
Benjy began to panic, thinking that he will never be set free.
And in a fit of solid fear, added: “Will you please help me?”
Steve prodded at buttons upon his communications device,
But the more nothing happened, the more he had to think twice,
‘Bout finding the plughole’s location in this very time zone
And moving on to the next, to release his pet from the phone.
“I think for now,” he said, “you’re going to have to stay right there”
He apologised profusely, but lay his entire plan out bare.
X
“I’ll find the plughole!” Steve said with conviction.
“Things will work out I’m sure, I’ve had an odd premonition!
I’ll leave this place, all bright, sunny and clear.
I’ll come to your rescue, I’ll be right there!”
He told the dog to hang up and at least to try,
To attempt an escape from the eddy’s other side.
If Benjy needed him, felt lonely or wanted a chat,
The dog only had to remember that,
213
J. Nathan- Turner (producer) and P. Moffatt (director), 1983, Doctor Who – The Five Doctors, Great
Britain, BBC Television (To explain the fact that the fourth Doctor, Tom Baker, refused to appear in
this twentieth anniversary special of Doctor Who, when he was snatched out of existence, this
incarnation was trapped in a time eddy for the duration of the adventure! This seemed like a great plot
device in order to give Steve a solo outing and Benjy a bit of a breather!)
127
Steve was but a single phone call away
And their partnership in time would live to fight another day!
XI
With that, Steve went for a wander into the picturesque countryside.
He hoped his words to Benjy were true; he hoped he hadn’t lied.
He would try his utmost to save his dog and pull him from the void,
After all, he knew that if he left him there, Benjy would certainly get annoyed!
He walked right up to the top of a hill and gazed at the view below.
It was an utterly gorgeous sight, this little valley and green meadow,
Completed with a stream b’neath a stone bridge, quite quaint and old.
The surrounding trees shimmered and the sun seemed to paint them with gold.
He walked absently over the bridge, whistling and watching as he went.
He couldn’t remember such an afternoon as the one that was currently being spent.
XII
He sat upon the stone bridge and dangled his legs, quite free.
When he suddenly spotted the plughole in the water, almost absently.
He was about to dial the number, to make a hasty retreat.
When from out of nowhere, suddenly came a stranger, a young man for him to meet.
He had thought it rather odd that noone seemed to be around,
No footsteps of another had fallen recently upon this ground.
Yet this man’s sense of timing was definitely obtuse
Especially when Steve frustratingly could think up no excuse
To avoid all conversation; to avoid all chat and talk
With this mysterious stranger who was out for an afternoon’s walk.214
214
http://www.sparknotes.com/poetry/wordsworth/analysis.html (Spark Notes from Barnes and Noble:
William Wordsworth Analysis), as viewed on 12th April 2003 (There are many references to
Wordsworth’s rambles and walks throughout places of both natural beauty and interest. One for
example is the fact that he went on a walking holiday of France in 1790. Another, as described more
specifically here is that as he grew up, he “spent a great deal of time playing outdoors, in what he
would later remember as a pure communion with nature.” I don’t think that that sort of communion
would come to an end and that he would keep up such interaction- especially living in the Lake
District- in later life.)
128
XIII
“How do?” said the light-haired man, in an accent from the north.215
“Hello” replied Steve, being polite of course.
“Lovely day,” the man continued, leaning next to him on the wall.
Steve suddenly felt quite uncomfortable and attempted not to fall,
Right into the water, as it glimmered in the sun,
This man wasn’t leaving, but Steve knew he couldn’t run.
Not with the plughole in all its glory, right there in front of him.
So he started up discussion, he went out on a limb.
He had to distract the man’s attention, away from the strange wormhole
And as soon as he started talking, he began to achieve his goal.
XIV
This person was clearly a gentleman; he was clad in garments fine,
A frock coat, frilled shirt and pantaloons complete with clipped hairline.216
His face was gaunt and quaint looking, features distinctive and queer,217
His mouth, slightly upturned at the edges, with his face did not adhere.
His eyes conveyed a steady solemn, his forehead narrow and high,218
His demeanour would describe a fierceness to any unknowing passer- by.219
Yet when he began discussion, when he spoke as natural as can be,
There was a deep caring individual there, Steve could obviously see.220
215
H. Darbishire, 1953, Wordsworth, Great Britain, Longmans, Green and Co. Limited, p.6 (William
Hazlitt, a portrait artist called upon to paint the poet, once gave a description of Wordsworth in 1798
stating that his speech was “a mixture of clear, gushing accents in his voice, a deep guttural intonation,
and a strong tincture of the northern burr, like the crust on wine.” This Northern English burr would of
course, be a strong indication to Steve as to what country he was in at least!)
216
H. Darbishire, 1953, Wordsworth, Great Britain, Longmans, Green and Co. Limited, p.6 (Hazlitt’s
description also gave an elaboration on the style of Wordsworth’s clothing. “He was quaintly dressed
(according to the costume of that unconstrained period) in a brown fustian jacket and striped
pantaloons.” Paintings and images from other texts clearly show Wordsworth wearing a frock coat and
frills.)
217
H. Darbishire, 1953, Wordsworth, Great Britain, Longmans, Green and Co. Limited, p.7 (This
description of Wordsworth is a direct quote from Darbishire’s book.)
218
H. Darbishire, 1953, Wordsworth, Great Britain, Longmans, Green and Co. Limited, p.7 (Hazlitt
commented that Wordsworth had “an intense, high narrow forehead.”)
219
K. R. Johnston, 1998, The Hidden Wordsworth – Poet- Lover- Rebel-Spy, United States of America,
W.W. Norton and Company Inc., p.3 (Hazlitt’s description is also given in this biography, in this
instance noting that Wordsworth had “a convulsive inclination to laughter about the mouth” which was
“a good deal at variance with the stately solemn expression of the rest of his face”.)
220
H. Darbishire, 1953, Wordsworth, Great Britain, Longmans, Green and Co. Limited, p.8 (“There
was a quality of sternness, toughness, and austerity in his character which yet kept company with a
passionate tenderness for friends and family.”)
129
He spoke of nature221, he spoke of art, and he spoke of being free.222
He spoke of breaking with tradition in his beloved poetry.223
XV
“You’re a poet?” asked Steve, spinning his head around bemused.
“Are you really famous?” But the man just looked confused.
“I’ve had a few things published,” he said in his northern voice.224
“But I’m a human first and poet second and that’s always been my choice.225
Granted, I do try to fuse the two together, blending nature, my soul and words.226
221
http://www.online-literature.com/wordsworth/ (On line literature), as viewed on 11th April 2003 (In
this brief biography of William Wordsworth, it states that the “magnificent landscape” of Cumberland
in the Lake District- where the poet was born- “deeply affected (his) imagination and gave him a love
of nature.” This affair affected most, if not all, of his work in the future.)
222
http://members.aol.com/wordspage/bio.htm (The William Wordsworth page), as viewed on 12th
April 2003 (It seems from all references and research, that everything Wordsworth did in his life
revolved around a certain love of freedom. This was perhaps influenced by his surrogate mother, Anne
Tyson “the woman with whom Wordsworth boarded for the duration of his time” at Hawkshead school,
as he was growing up. “She allowed him the freedom to explore at will the natural beauty of the Lake
District”; under her guidance, he was allowed to indulge in his love of nature and exploration.)
223
M. Drabble, 1966, Literature in Perspective: Wordsworth, Great Britain, Evans Brothers Limited, p.
13 (In her book, Margaret Drabble opens with a précis of two differing viewpoints of Wordsworth by
his critics through time. The first is that he is often seen as “an elderly man who wrote Odes of
thanksgiving about Waterloo, sonnets on the wickedness of bringing railways into the Lake District,
and dreary blank verse reflections about parsons in country churchyards.” She goes onto say though,
“we have to make an effort to forget the old man before we can look straight at the young one.” The
young Wordsworth “was in every sense a rebel and a revolutionary. In politics, in literature, in his
emotional life he reacted against the conventions of his age; he made his own way.” The Wordsworth
seen in this story is perhaps a mixture of both. He is on the verge between the young existence and the
old, so therefore he still discusses his early ideas, even though perhaps he is starting not to believe in
them so much.)
224
S. Gill, 1989, William Wordsworth – A Life, Great Britain, Oxford University press, p.68
(According to Gill’s book, on “21 January 1793 Louis XVI was guillotined in Paris. Eight days later
two poems were published in London, An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches, ‘By W.
Wordsworth, B.A. of St John’s, Cambridge’. Wordsworth had also published, in collaboration with his
friend, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, a book of poetry entitled “Lyrical Ballads.” According to page 165 of
Gill’s biography, this was first produced within the public sphere as early as October 1798, although a
few re-writes- for various reasons- did follow over the subsequent two years.)
225
J. Beer, 1979, Wordsworth in Time, Great Britain, Faber and Faber Limited, p.15 (According to
Beer’s book- essentially a modern guide to understanding Wordsworth’s ideas and poetry- in one of his
early notebooks, the poet wrote the words “Shall I ever have a name?” Beer goes onto say that this
statement’s “eighteenth- century sense is quite clear: shall I ever achieve an eminence which will
secure wide respect, and so justify my existence? But even by Wordsworth’s time the desire for a name
in that sense is also beginning to acquire more desperate overtones. Shall I ever have a name rather
than a label? Will it ever be possible for someone hearing of me to think not merely of the pictured face
or reported behaviour, but of the self which I myself know but cannot normally express?” This implies
that Wordsworth was considerate of the fact that he wanted to be remembered as a fully rounded
human being, at one with nature, rather than just one of a large string of poets throughout time.)
226
http://www.top-biography.com/9102-William%20Wordsworth/ (Top Biography on William
Wordsworth), as viewed on 11th April 2003. (A slightly cryptic reference here to a comment in this
website biography. According to this piece, in a section called “Biography: At a Glance”,
Wordsworth’s “contribution to literature was threefold. Firstly (he) formulated a new attitude towards
nature. Secondly, he probed deeply into his own sensibility, and during his time poetry was central to
130
But to completely ignore my humanity would be utterly absurd!”227
With these enigmatic statements, Steve’s head and mind did dwell.
As the two just stared at the landscape, a comfortable silence upon them fell.
Who was this man, this eccentric, well educated through and through?228
Steve could feel familiarity; he thought this face he knew!
XVI
He decided not to question too much of this man’s identity.
After all of his earlier adventures he knew that subtlety was the key.
If he played the situation by ear and kept digging for crafty clues,
He knew this man would be forthcoming and that he, of course, would choose
To elaborate a little further on who he was, is and might be,
To signify his place in time, to mark this point in history.
With this, Steve suddenly realised, in a state of mild doubt
That in this temporal location, he’d forgotten all about
The nature of his journey and the earlier incidents in which he’d been involved.
He’d changed the course of time and its muddles, he’d resolved.
XVII
As they sat in total quiet, with the sun still beaming down,
From the distance in the meadow came a cacophony of sound.
A flock of sheep, a Collie dog and two shepherd boys so young.
Taking full advantage of the weather, both working and having fun.
The children were quite merry, they laughed and showed off their skills,
It was clear from their gay conduct that they had no pains or ills.
They considered themselves part of nature, with the landscape they did attune
They were thoroughly enjoying their labour and that pleasant afternoon.229
human experience. In his own words it is nothing less than ‘the first and last of all human knowledge. It
is as immortal as the heart of man.’”)
227
J. Beer, 1979, Wordsworth in Time, Great Britain, Faber and Faber Limited, p.16 (In a discreet
summary of Wordsworth’s work as a whole, Beer comments that “it involved a genuine approach to
the world of (the poet’s) contemporaries which yet masked a preoccupation with the role of the human
consciousness itself.”)
228
Sir P. Harvey, 1967, The Oxford Companion to English Literature, Great Britain, Oxford Press,
p.898 (According to this ‘who’s who’ of literature, Wordsworth “was educated at the grammar school
of Hawkshead and St. John’s College, Cambridge”, although he did leave the university “without
distinction”!)
131
It was when they’d moved into the distance though, that the poet at once did say
That that had been an awesome sight that had come right passed their way.
XVIII
Steve made a substantial comment about the wonderment of being so young,
But was surprised to see the poet looking totally glum.
The boys had reminded him of a poem that he’d yet to complete.
He’d started it some years ago, but had given it up in defeat,
To put further ink to paper, to conclude this series of verse.
Had every time been a struggle and had ended with a curse!
He’d set himself up a question that he couldn’t answer true.230
The fact that this overwhelmed him so was making him feel blue.231
“If I explain the basic theory,” he asked. “I wonder if you couldHelp me with this poem. You see it’s based on childhood!”232
XIX
Steve gave the poet a curious look and then raised his eyebrows high.
“When talking all about childhood, you’ve picked the perfect guy,
To share in conversation, to rebound heaps of ideas.
I’ve been trying to perfect eternal youth through all of my adult years!”
229
single one of Wordsworth’s great poems), as viewed on 12th April 2003. (There is a similar scene
within Wordsworth’s poem Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.
After outlaying the theme of lost childhood vision in stanzas 1-2, in the next he describes a momentary
‘mind jogger’ of a young shepherd boy playing and laughing within nature. He exclaims as stanza three
concludes: “Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy!” Thus to give this
mysterious un-named poet a chance to discuss the importance of his specific work, it seems logical that
a similar scene should occur. This subsequently reminds him of a dilemma…)
230
http://www.todayinliterature.com/stories.asp?Event_Date=3/27/1802 (Today in Literature), as
viewed on the 11th April 2003 (When discussing the ‘Immortality Ode’, this website states that “in
1802 Wordsworth broke off after the first four stanzas… He did not return to the poem for several
years, some critics reasonably concluding that he had asked a question for which he had no adequate
answer at the time, or answer which intimated considerably less than immortality.”)
231
K. R. Johnston, 1998, The Hidden Wordsworth- Poet- Lover- Rebel- Spy, United States of America,
W.W. Norton and Company Inc., p.777 (“He did not know, what we always already know from literary
history when we sit down to read this poem… that he would finish the poem two years later with seven
somber (sic.) stanzas, based on the ancient myth of the pre-existence of the soul, that manage to take
comfort from the sheer fact of loss. That is, he did not lay the first four stanzas aside saying to himself,
I’ll finish this later with a more upbeat ending. No, he abandoned them in despair.”)
232
A. King, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone Press, p.104 (Alec
King’s book, in my opinion, gives the best summary of the Immortality Ode stating that the “heart of
the poem is a double vision of childhood, the childhood that we see being busily lived through by
children and which we ourselves lived through, and the childhood which we carry within us like a
memory, and which while grounded in our earliest years stays with us into adult life for good or evil.”)
132
The man frowned rather quaintly, but offered no smile at this cryptic joke,
This dilemma of his was of utmost importance.233 That much was clear as he spoke.
He outlaid a special time in life when everything was full of sheen.
He discussed a moment in childhood, which bordered on visionary gleam.234
But he went onto describe a time when these feelings actually die.
A time when every adult must to this wonderment say goodbye.235
XX
The poet looked perplexed and placed his hand dramatically on his brow.
“How do I reconcile those earlier emotions with those I experience now?”
He then further explained his problems, his creative angst and despair.
“How do I finish this poem, showing thoughtfulness and care?
It is one that has truly haunted me now for an awfully long time,
And it’s really not that complicated in its structure and its rhyme.236
It started out as a comment on mortality, my life and youth,237
But when I came to these questions, I was suddenly uncertain of the truth.
There’s definitely something more to life than simply growing old
And it’s through this finished poem that I want such observations told!”
233
127 (“There is no mistaking the note of deep depression in these lines; custom clearly is oppressing
Wordsworth in reality.”)
234
J. Beer, 1979, Wordsworth in Time, Great Britain, Faber and Faber Limited, p.111 (In the fourth
stanza of the actual poem, Wordsworth poses the question “Whither is fled the visionary gleam?” Beer
offers a fantastic deconstruction of this theme and culminating line in his text. The poem, he states,
“offers itself to the reader first as a narrative meditation upon the loss of a visionary power which was
experienced overwhelmingly in childhood.”)
235
W. W. Norton and Company Inc., p.777 (Johnston also sums up the conclusion of these first four
stanzas rather well: “Nor are these stanzas fragmentary; they make a complete statement that begins
very much like the other lyrics of this spring. But they end where none of the rest dared to tread, with
the sense of imaginative death”.)
236
123 (The poem clearly from the beginning is not as straightforward in its rhyme and structure as
Wordsworth here makes out! In its conclusion, it would go on to become more complex, as Drabble
states: “It is wholly irregular in stanza form and rhyme scheme, and its language jumps without
warning from the simple to the conventionally poetic to the philosophical, and back again. Its very title
is enough to warn the reader that it is hardly the most straightforward of poems, and its meanings have
been the source of endless discussion.”)
237
W.W. Norton and Company Inc., p.777 (Johnston here places the Immortality Ode in some context,
showing that over the time, Wordsworth’s goals for writing the piece shifted, for one reason or another,
quite significantly. “In 1802 it was Wordsworth’s ode to mortality, not immortality, like Coleridge’s
companion crisis poem, ‘Dejection’, and it arose from the same source: recollections of early
childhood which Wordsworth realized he had irrevocably lost.”)
133
XXI
“In childhood there is an imagination that is quite compelling,
Those unobtrusive vital forces that in hindsight, seem very fulfilling.238
There was a time when everything was bathed in celestial light.239
Where all of God’s palette and creations were a wonderful and glorious sight.
Gradually, over time though, these feelings are steadily lost
And I’ve arrived at the conclusion that this is at our detrimental cost.240
Now that I am quite older, that glory has diminished so,
I need to understand and of this process, I must know.241
Is it completely natural for these feelings to disappear?
And if they do, how do we cope? Where do we go from here?”
XXII
The poet slumped upon the bridge’s side, with his face nearly buried in his arms,
He let out an intense sigh and hoped that Steve had understood his qualms.
“Do you know what I’m talking ‘bout? Have I made it clear to you?
Do you have any suggestions that you might give me as a clue?”
Steve looked at the poet thoughtfully, with his mind going round and around.
He opened his mouth slightly, but for a moment, made no sound.
This was actually one of his pet subjects, one that he often thought about.
It was hard for him not to let his opinions at once all blurt right out!
He cautiously thought of what the poet had said and agreed with it all true,
But he didn’t want to start a line of thinking that he couldn’t carry through.
238
J. Beer, 1979, Wordsworth in Time, Great Britain, Faber and Faber Limited, p.111 (In the first four
stanzas of the poem, Beer comments that Wordsworth is “paying his tribute to those unobtrusive vital
forces in nature which keep alive the spirit of joy in the human observer.”)
239
single one of Wordsworth’s great poems), as viewed on 12th April 2003. (This is a direct quote from
the first stanza of Wordsworth’s poem. He comments: “There was a time when meadow, grove and
stream,/ The earth, and every common sight,/To me did seem/ Apparelled in celestial light,/ The glory
and freshness of a dream.”)
240
127 (Wordsworth’s ‘cost’ is obvious: “His natural joy is freezing up; he is losing his moments of
vision, and with them his poetic genius, and he knows it.”)
241
125 (“The middle section of the Ode… gives Wordsworth’s philosophy of childhood; here, more than
anywhere else in his works, he tried to reduce his scattered impressions and convictions into an orderly
system.” Perhaps this signifies why he has entered a state of seeming confusion?)
134
XXIII
Steve wanted to air his own opinions, but he thought it would be of no aid.
The poet wanted a constructive answer through which his philosophy could be made.
So he continued precisely the way other adults in his life would expect,
He told the unhappy poet, that those feelings he should neglect.
When an adult doth get older and move on from childhood,
They must put away all of those childish things and, of course, they really should
Look forward to the future and look sensibly toward today.242
They should think of looking at the world in an entirely adult way.
Those far off and waning feelings of youth, those distant memories of the past
Have seriously gone forever. He should seriously forget them fast.243
XXIV
The poet looked even more miserable, with these feelings he couldn’t relate.
He knew there was something more to this and so Steve he did berate.
“I don’t agree,” he officiously snapped, thinking the time traveller’s words untrue.
“And from your earlier comment of the shepherd boys, I think that neither do you.”244
Steve shook his head quite solemnly; it was true he’d been caught out.
He’d tried the quick fix option and it had failed without a doubt.
“Well dear sir, you’ve asked for it and my true opinion I will give,
I think that when you grow out of childhood, you quickly forget to live!
I often remember my own, t’was a precious time so sweet.
It was about the only time in my life when I truly felt complete!”
242
The Holy Bible, King James Version, 1st Corinthians, Chapter 13, Verse 11 (In this verse of the
bible, it states that “When I became a man, I put away childish things…”)
243
126- 127 (I included this stanza in my chapter, as a reference to the last section of the poem, where, as
Drabble states: “having explained his theory of childhood, Wordsworth is left with the task of telling us
how to carry on when we are no longer children. If, as he says, all life is a continual decline and the
process of ageing is a process of inevitable decay, from birth onwards, what are we supposed to do
about it? We cannot remain children forever, like Peter Pan, nor can we just sit down and resign
ourselves to growing older and sadder. It is a very real problem.” Most ‘adults’ that I know would tell
me, in a similar circumstance, that I have to grow up. It’s a means to an end, an answer that there is no
logical dispute to, no matter how emotional you are attached to the subject.)
244
H. Darbishire, 1953, Wordsworth, Great Britain, Longmans, Green and Co. Limited, p.7
(Wordsworth apparently had a tendency for “saying what he thinks bluntly and naturally”, so would
have no qualms about pulling Steve up for insincerity!)
135
XXV
“I’ve always often wondered if I could go back to those youthful days,
Those times they seemed so brilliant, they were full of a gleeful and heroic haze.
I did not know any of the dangers of a broken heart,
I knew not of lonely misery, or of the infamous false start.
My life now as it stands seems like a door with a broken latch.
Sometimes I don’t know what I’d give to start again from scratch.
To experience those times of imagination, that era of living free
That period where nothing whatsoever was ever expected of me.245
Yes, I saw the world in an entirely different way,
And that of course is quite at odds with the way I see it today!”
XXVI
“I’m sorry for the earlier deception, I said what I thought you wanted to hear.
I assure you though my subsequent thoughts are mightily sincere.
But as I stand here apologising, a further thought has flickered across my mind,
It is one that plays devil’s advocate about the state that is left behind.
After all of childhood has gone, should we cope at all?
Perhaps the scope of our discussion, at present, is incredibly tiny and small.
Perhaps we should entertain notions of a wider existence and dimension,
Perhaps we should step into a realm that in the everyday, we tend not to mention?
Your summations of this dreadful loss are as true as they can be.
But what we speak of is not just the end of childhood, but of true immortality!”246
XXVII
“What if our soul lives forever, moving from host to host?
Could it be eternal, immortal, an undying thing, similar to the Holy Ghost?
245
J. Beer, 1979, Wordsworth in Time, Great Britain, Faber and Faber Limited, p.111 (Beer comments
that within the Ode, “Wordsworth is moving back behind the passionate youthful relationship to nature
or of the earlier ‘glad animal movements’ of his boyhood in that poem, behind the earliest experiences
described in The Prelude (another of his poems), even, to the time of a self-identification with nature
which was unforced and totally unchallenged.” I felt that I needed to remark on this in some way. )
246
A. King, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone Press, p.106
(Wordsworth’s poem in his subsequent stanzas, relate growing up and childhood to “a statement of
belief in pre-existence. It is the account of our universal human experience, in terms of myth… Man
does not choose his darksome house, he is born into it.” In the later stanzas, “Wordsworth is presenting
to us the dilemma of all human incarnation, that the gift of life is perplexed by the living form and
materials of its incarnation.”)
136
In life we presume that these feelings you describe are just part of the natural flow.247
Our childhood emotions are something that are bound to surely go,
Deep into oblivion, to be lost beneath the mire,
We forget about the clouds of glory and everlasting fire.248
Then we try to reconsider, why we’re left in a state unfulfill’d.249
Why we no more look with wonder at all the beauty of the natural world.
In the universe of infinity though, where we exist forever and more
Could there be a greater, more wondrous meaning; a greater, more impacting law?”
XXVIII
The poet seemed to consider and entertain all that he had heard.
He must have been an open soul; others would have thought these ideas absurd.
“But now I see my true dilemma,” he said. “I’ve been sitting on the fence!
What you speak of is not simply life, but of never-ending pre-existence!”250
But clearly, the more he pondered, the more he did agree
He then started to shudder and shake and smile frantically.
“Of course!” he exclaimed, waving his hands theatrically in the air
“That explains why, when in childhood, of this process we have no care!
In our youths, our time of grace, that time that has long gone,
We long for adulthood and wisdom and commonsense we gradually will on.”251
247
J. Beer, 1979, Wordsworth in Time, Great Britain, Faber and Faber Limited, p.112 (“There is,
indeed, a certain brilliance in the fact that while childhood vision is equated with something that
human reason has discovered for itself… the vision of the youth as travelling daily further from the
East relies upon an illusion… which is compelling only to the untutored mind. The ‘commonsense’
view of the world is thus disturbed and distanced.”)
248
single one of Wordsworth’s great poems), as viewed on 12th April 2003. (This is a direct quote from
stanza V of Wordsworth’s poem. He states that “But trailing clouds of glory do we come/ From God,
who is our home”, remarking on the fact that our souls come from the Heavens and an eternal place.)
249
126 (“Eventually”, as Drabble states, the child does grow up and “forget, though (they go) through a
period when he still has rare glimpses of memory and vision, though unable to keep in constant contact
with (their) sense of glory.”)
250
A. King, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone Press, p.105 (“It is
for the sake of grasping the mysterious nature of invisible childhood that Wordsworth ‘invented’ the
myth of pre-existence.”)
251
A. King, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone Press, p.106
(Wordsworth knew that, as children, we almost look forward to the days of adulthood and maturity and
Alec King confirms this, when he states: “Only the compelling need to grow into human maturity
narrows and shadows this divine largeness. We grow into the prison of our days, as we grow up; and
the fresh transfiguring light of the dawn of human life revealing all things to our awakened senses is
gradually changed by us into a common light that illuminates mere objects.”)
137
XXIX
“Our delicate life as a pigmy child cannot move on soon enough,252
We want to be treated with respect; we want to be seen as tough!253
But due to the fact that we are newly born and our minds are still a blank page,
Means that we are still tainted from heaven without a worldly rage.
We still have some of that vision left from our Un-Earthly soul,254
But become so short-sighted and experienced, that we set another goal.”255
Steve nodded in agreement; he couldn’t have put it in any other way,
“You see that’s why we forget about certain things, of fantasy, stories and play.
As we grow more independent, further away from our mother’s caress,256
We are just playing out a simple function, a wholly universal process.”
XXX
With that the poet stood up, right at the pinnacle of his height
He had to get home rather quickly, he had to go and write.
He knew now how to finish his poem, although he must admit,
That of these earlier feelings from life, it seemed a shame he had to quit.257
They still seemed so attractive, so blatantly full of awe,
He hadn’t considered before that he was simply following an unworldly law.258
252
single one of Wordsworth’s great poems), as viewed on 12th April 2003. (Another direct quote from
Wordsworth’s poem. He states in stanza VII of a “Six Years’ Darling of a pigmy size!”)
253
126 (“Earth does her best to make him forget this other place, and its glories, and the child himself
(sic.) tries (unwisely) to hurry on this process of forgetfulness, longing to be grown up, playing at being
a grown- up, imitating adults in his games.”)
254
A. King, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone Press, p.105 (“The
soul enters human life from our birth as an episode in its immortal life. It is exiled for a time from its
divine home, but in its first years it does not forget its home or the divine light which is its source.”)
255
A. King, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone Press, p.106 (“The
very ‘juice and joy’ of that springtime innocence and purity which is our birthright, is itself the energy
which compels us away from the heaven of the invisible childhood. The youth must travel.”)
256
A. King, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone Press, p.109 (King
states that, according to Wordsworth, “the weakness and dependence of the ‘child’ is his (sic.) strength,
since it is part of his willingness to be cared for by whatever fulfills him in life; and it is this weakness
and dependence which we try to struggle out of as quickly as possible, since we wish to stand on our
own feet.”)
257
J. Beer, 1979, Wordsworth in Time, Great Britain, Faber and Faber Limited, p.110 (It is clear that
the end result of this poem is slightly ambiguous, or possibly even confused. Beer comments on this:
“Despite the powerfulness of its language… this is an enigmatic poem. One of the inherent puzzles
comes into view as soon as one poses the elementary question appropriate to an ode: who or what is
being invoked?”)
258
A. King, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone Press, p.109 (King
attempted to make some excuse for Wordsworth’s subsequent confusion in his poem: “it is
138
“Well that’s because, like me, you possess a rather sensitive glow,
We analyse the stages in life and all there is to know!”
Steve smiled at his own words, for he knew them to be true.
“I’ll never let go of my childhood though, but the question is: will you?”259
XXXI
“The truth is,” continued Steve wisely, “you simply have a choice.
You can go on and follow the rules, or in those emotions you can rejoice!260
You don’t have to let go of the past; you can keep it here, inside.261
No matter what face you wear in public, or mask behind which you hide.
You have to find some way to happily reconcile the two,
Don’t forget about those aspirations; don’t wholeheartedly leap at the blue.
Keep that wider vision alive in your poetry, your work and your words.262
After all, to forget about your humanity would be utterly absurd!”
The poet smiled at the prospect of having his own words bandied back,
This weirdly dressed stranger, of guile certainly had no lack!
Wordsworth’s deep wisdom that he saw how we must remember our invisible childhood as we grow
older, since we cannot preserve it; and that the mystery of childhood is that we do not know the
blessedness we were born into until we remember it after it has been lost, and in remembering it we
remake our inner lives, we re-create ourselves through imagination and memory; knowing invisible
childhood, in fact, not in itself, but as a glimpse of divine maturity.”)
259
11 (Strangely enough, Wordsworth didn’t subsequently hold onto those childhood thoughts, feelings
and visions. He “became a pious and respectable old man”, even though he “did not begin that way.
His later writings and life have unfortunately managed to cast a huge backward shadow over all his
early work and intentions.” The conclusion of his internal struggle on childhood and immortality
seemed to mark an end to his true creativity. Perhaps he wholeheartedly resigned himself to the
dichotomy that he had set up in the Immortality Ode. We are destined to forget everything and simply
die and so why should he fight it? In a weird kind of way, in this story, Steve helps him to finish off his
poem, but simultaneously aids him to conclude his artistic streak and height of his career.)
260
http://www.online-literature.com/wordsworth/ (On- Line Literature), as viewed on 11th April 2003
(Wordsworth ultimately decided to play by the rules. He “abandoned his radical faith and became a
patriotic, conservative public man… Later the philosopher Bertrand Russell summed up the poet’s
career: ‘In his youth Wordsworth sympathized with the French Revolution, went to France, wrote good
poetry, and had a natural daughter. At this period he was called a ‘bad’ man. Then he became ‘good’,
abandoned his daughter, adopted correct principles, and wrote bad poetry.’”)
261
A. King, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone Press, p.108 (“How
to hold a ‘child’ within oneself, to remember it as an always potentially present state of being, as our
own real immortality- to hold this within ourselves even while we are hauling and pushing our visible
childhood with the help and the examples of our elders into the prescribed patterns of adult life? – this
is what the poem asks and asks.”)
262
J. Beer, 1979, Wordsworth in Time, Great Britain, Faber and Faber Limited, p.116 (“In building his
final stanza on the firmer basis of human sympathy nevertheless, Wordsworth has still left room for the
continued working of a visionary consciousness.”)
139
XXXII
The poet thanked Steve for all of his words and made to leave once more,
He now had a new objective; these ideas had opened a door
To continue with that poem that had filled him so with grief.
He now had a new a perspective; he now had a new belief.
As he walked away from him, Steve swore he heard the poet say
“I can’t wait to get quill to paper; I can’t wait to get home today!
I’ll formulate the structure on the way to my abode!
I’ve even thought of a title, I’ll call it ‘The Immortality Ode’!”
The poet disappeared over a far hill, Steve never saw him again,
But he’d always remember that at one time, William Wordsworth was his friend!
XXXIII
After all of the discussion, Steve had forgotten about Benjy.
He really needed to think about setting his poor dog free.
But as he reached for his mobile, which was still attached to his belt,
He realised from his blistering hands that oddly, he’d started to melt!
He fell right to the dusty floor in excruciating pain,
He suddenly had a vision that he would never see his friend again
And as his skin recoiled and felt like it was about to fry,
He realised just what a state he was in and let out an almighty cry!
His final line of vision was of that solitary cloud,
Then as he completely vanished, into oblivion he was devoured…
140
Chapter Six:
A ttack of the G ascoignes
Figure 13. 802,701 A.D.- Attack of the Gascoignes 2003
141
“The future. It was all true. There would be a war. And millions would die.”
Randall Frakes
Gascoigne Star Cruiser, docked within the Earth’s orbit,
Nine algorithms against Zero, The 25th Day of the Verbal Equinox, 802,701
With as much speed as it had dissolved from the realms of existence, Steve’s body,
now feeling painfully in tact, hovered slightly in mid air, before plunging a substantial
distance to a dark, dank and oddly, metallic floor. Given the ferocity of the experience
that he had just been exposed to, he was quite surprised that he was still all in one
piece. This was not to say that he didn’t have any physiological side effects though.
All of the bones in his body felt as though they were screaming at him for submission
and his head throbbed in agony, so much so that he lay, feeling slightly bewildered
and groggy, for some time in this dismal place.263
With his eyes closed, his mind raced with a collation of theories as to what could have
happened at the end of his brief visit to England in the early eighteen hundreds. The
recent occurrence had all of the hallmarks of another time and space jump, but given
its involuntary nature and the fact that he was not an expert in such matters, he of
course, could not be certain. In spite of this, he still attempted to provide himself with
263
R. Caffey (producer) and D. Haller (director), 1978, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Volume One Awakening, USA, Universal Pictures (After Buck’s initial journey, he is also in a similar state; he is
confused and bleary and lays perfectly still. Although Steve is now seemingly used to time- travel, I
wanted to render him incapacitated, exploring the idea of time travel via different methods and means.)
142
some loose collection of answers. Being an individual of research, knowledge and
understanding, he felt that if he at least made some attempt to work out what had
happened to him, he would be doing something a great deal more constructive for his
present circumstances and state of mind, rather than just laying here in the dark,
feeling stupid. He therefore began to step logically and laterally through the facts that
he did know, attempting to build up a bigger framework of directly preceding events.
Firstly, he clearly once more, did not have the faintest idea as to where he was, but
was fairly confident that he was no longer in the near spatial, or perhaps temporal,
vicinity of William Wordsworth. The huge expanse of metal underneath him, which
was flat, polished and well treated, was one of many immediate clues to signify this.
In Wordsworth’s time, such a metal would not have been so delicate and
technologically advanced. Secondly, on this occasion he knew without a shadow of a
doubt that he had not specifically dialled the magic number on the mobile or in turn
advertently or inadvertently initiated the plughole in another way. How could he? As
far as he was concerned, it was impossible to do so. Within the realms of his
perception, the phone and the plughole were a linked combination that needed each
other to function. Thirdly, the bodily feelings that he had undergone through this
recent occurrence were incredibly similar to those that he had felt when going through
the time travelling experience for the first time. Perhaps it was always like this, when
you traversed the voids via a different method?
Unfortunately though, as he quickly ran out of absolute certainties, his faith in the
good old- fashioned fact considerably lapsed. Steve surmised that all of these tit bits
of information were quite circumstantial and were clearly not tantamount to the
definite conclusion that he had longed for at all. In linking all of these details up
together, he just became more confused and anxious; no matter what evidence he
presented to himself, he couldn’t equate with the notion that he could just go through
such a transgression like time travel willy nilly and seemingly without any direct
physical means.
All in all, when it came down to it, the only real and tangible deduction that he could
come up with was the interference somewhere down the line of his faithful canine
companion. Benjy must have done something silly, during his attempts to release
143
himself from the telephones micro- universe and this obviously affected both of their
stabilities in the time continuum. What other possible explanation could there be?
With the thought of his Golden Labrador’s welfare, Steve’s eyes sprung open and he
gradually began to ease himself up off of the floor. When he had made it to full
stance, after some considerable difficulty, he instinctively clambered and clutched at
the mobile, yanked it rapidly off of his belt and placed it to his ear in order to try to
converse with his friend. “Benge, are you still there? Are you still in the time eddy?”
There was no reply however, not even the familiar squeak of radio transmissions or
dialling tone and when he prodded absently at the device’s buttons, he was horrified
to find that the phone was completely dead.
Rather frustrated, Steve then took more time out to further ponder the fate of his
friend and to work out what he was going to do next. If he himself had been sent on
alone to another time zone, then there were any number of possibilities as to what
could have actually happened to the dog. Benjy might have been released and trapped
forever in the nineteenth century for example. He could have been sent back to their
natural era in 2002. Or, of course, he could have been totally atomised at the point
when Steve was sent plummeting on to pastures foreign. With this last line of thought,
the young man shook his head aggressively as though attempting to clear it of
something vile. He didn’t want to believe what his own mind was capable of
conjuring up and decided from that point on to try to be more positive. Wherever
Benjy was, there was nothing that either of them could do to help the other at this very
moment and so logically, for now, Steve could only consider his own interests.
So uneasily and temporarily putting aside the concerns of his friend, the young man
continued with decisive action; he needed to find some sort of light source to help him
begin to work out where and when he was. The darkness in this space was thick and
black like tar and engulfed within its gloom, he was decidedly disorientated in every
way. He gingerly started to plod forward with his hands held out in front of him and
in only a few steps, he was surprised to have quickly found a wall. It felt cold to touch
144
and like the floor, was constructed of some sort of smooth metal.264 He explored with
the flat of his hands around the surface carefully looking for some sort of light switch,
but after making his way around four fairly tight corners, he came to the summary that
there were none. It was when he realised that there didn’t even seem to be a door out
of this room though that a queasy feeling welled up within his bladder. Strangely, it
was almost as though he was in some sort of prison cell.265
“What is this place?” he asked aloud, but noone, of course, answered his query.
Not for the first time during this adventure, Steve was alone in the dark, both literally
and metaphorically. It was all starting to become an everyday experience; just par for
the course, but this did not stop him from feeling the pangs of anxiety that anyone
would go through in such a dilemma. If he was gaining anything over this journey
however, it was definitely patience and so, trying to put his emotions aside, he sat
down on the floor, cross- legged and tucked his hands in underneath his chin.
It was then however, that he suddenly felt a slight tremble all around him and with
this came the somewhat odd inclination to drink lots of alcohol266, eat peanuts267 and
place a towel underneath his feet.268 None of these were everyday habits and he really
couldn’t work out why he was suddenly even thinking about them. It was just that this
situation reminded him of something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on…
264
J. Haigh- Ellery (producer) and G. Russell (director), 2002, Doctor Who – Neverland, Great Britain,
Big Finish productions (In this audio adventure, the Eighth Doctor is imprisoned on his home planet of
Gallifrey, in a room fashioned from a special metal. It is a “triple bonded polysian with titanium
relief.”)
265
C. Roven (producer) & T. Gilliam (director), 1995, Twelve Monkeys, USA, Universal pictures (In
“Twelve Monkeys”, after James Cole has time- travelled for the first time, he is arrested, placed in a
prison cell and then sent to a mental institution. He unfortunately made the mistake of discussing his
temporal mission of gathering information about a plague that will wipe out humanity in the near
future…)
266
D. Adams, 1979, The Hitch-hiker’s guide to the Galaxy, Great Britain, Pan books, p 22 (In this
book, the characters Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent consume “three pints of lager” to act as a “muscle
relaxant” to allow them to ‘hitch-hike’ easier from one space to another.)
267
D. Adams, 1979, The Hitch-hiker’s guide to the Galaxy, Great Britain, Pan books, p41 (After ‘hitchhiking’, which seems to be a process where the two beings travel from one side of a light beam to
another, Ford offers Arthur some peanuts and the explanation that if he had “never been through a
matter transference beam before”, then he has “probably lost some protein.” The salt on the peanuts
revives their body and gives it some of the nutrients it needs to survive.)
268
D. Adams, 1979, The Hitch-hiker’s guide to the Galaxy, Great Britain, Pan books, p. 25 (According
to The Hitch- hiker’s guide, a towel “has immense psychological value”, it has a whole host of uses but
most importantly can be placed under a hitch-hiker’s feet during hyperspace travel, to cut out all
negative space interference.)
145
All he could do for now though was wait. With the mobile phone out of action, a lack
of illumination and no sign whatsoever of either Benjy or the plughole, he was
trapped and at this moment, there seemed to be no possible chance of release.269
**********
Steve knew that whatever happened in his life after this point, he would never forget
the time he spent in the pitch- black confinement of this metal cell. The experience
was one of a mental anguish that he never wanted to face again. He had sat in the
same position for what literally felt like hours. He couldn’t sleep because he was so
anxious and frightened. He couldn’t concentrate and focus his thoughts because of the
dizzying stretch of dark before his struggling eyes and he felt a lingering sense of
trepidation, continually coming to the paranoid conclusion that someone or perhaps
something was watching him from the other side of the room.270
At a point though when he had just about given up hope, his body had become
decidedly lethargic and his eyelids started to feel light lead weights, a voice suddenly
shuddered all around him. “Do not fall into slumber young humanoid.” The harsh
tones echoed around the metal room with a strange omnipresence and the young man,
although initially a little shaken by the voice, still tried to rationally work out from
where it had come.
Steve blinked into the darkness. “W-w-what?” He hadn’t used his own vocals for a
little while now and his throat felt crackly and dry.
269
J. Blum and K. Orman, 1998, Doctor Who – Seeing I, Great Britain, BBC Books, p.131- 142
(Chapter Nine: “No Monsters Here”) (The cell where there are no doors is a direct reference to this
“Doctor Who” new adventure novel. The Eighth incarnation of the Doctor becomes trapped in a prison
cell that he cannot escape from. This is both disturbing and harrowing for the character and becomes an
interesting story plot to utilise.)
270
J. Lloyd (producer) and M. Shardlow (director), 1981, The Black Adder: The Black Seal, Great
Britain, BBC Television (Rather strangely, this reference is one from a comedy episode of the Rowan
Atkinson series, The Blackadder. Prince Edmund has been locked in a dungeon with only snails to eat
and he suddenly senses that someone is in the darkness across from him. It is a character called Mad
Gerald, as played by Rik Mayall!)
146
“Are you the dweller in time known simply as Steve?” Steve’s surroundings seemed to
tremor as the question was put forward and he really didn’t know whether to quake in
his shoes or feel relieved that he hadn’t been forgotten in this rather strange place. As
he quickly decided how he was going to respond, a thought suddenly played on his
mind. The voice had an odd lilt to it that seemed slightly animalistic. The young man
considered this to be rather strange and he recalled, with an increasing sense of
uneasiness, the movie entitled “The Island of Doctor Moreau”, which had starred
Marlon Brando and was about genetics and the merging of animal and human
tissue.271
Despite his qualms however, he ultimately decided to go for the valiant hard man
approach that he had often admired from many of the heroes of his youth.272 “Who
wants to know?” he asked with a complete smokescreen of self- importance. It was
after the event however, when he had actually put the question forward that internally
he seemed to worry about the devastating quandary that he was in!
“I will ask the question again and this time, do not be so insolent.” There was then a
brief silence before the voice continued. It was as though the faceless protagonist was
summoning up every scrap of patience that he had within the fibre of his being, just to
continue. “Are you the dweller in time known simply as Steve?”
Steve stood up, as if trying to get closer to the sound somehow. “Yes, I am,” he said
meekly, but then just to give the impression that he was the kind of guy who wasn’t to
be messed with, added once more with passion: “who wants to know?” He kept his
tones sounding as loud and as unintimidated as he could, even though in the dark,
behind the façade of course, he was positively terrified!
271
E.R. Pressman (producer) and J. (director), 1996, The Island of Dr. Moreau, United States, New
Line Cinema/ Roadshow Entertainment Frankenheimer (This movie was based on the novel by H.G.
Wells, but was updated for the 1990’s, showing the horrific and grisly results of Moreau’s experiments
in full glorious colour.)
272
M. Saxby, 1989, The Great Deeds of Superheroes, Newtown, Millennium, p. 6- 7 (Steve perhaps
was mimicking the heroes of old, an age-old figure in literature and popular culture, who originated in
the days of the Greek poets and “represent the active- even aggressive- side of all successful people.”
As a little boy growing up, I was certainly encouraged to believe in heroes. In Saxby’s text, he attempts
to give the reasoning behind this: “In everyday life we all need leaders or stars to act as models, to
admire and copy, to encourage and inspire us to greater achievements.”)
147
The voice showed an obvious flippancy and ignored the young man’s question. “You
are required in the presence of our leader.”
“Leader?” questioned the young man. “Leader of what? Where am I?”
“You are required in the presence of the Gascoigne leader.”
Steve had never heard of the Gascoigne, whether it was an army, faction, company or
what, but for some odd reason, this didn’t stop his stomach from suddenly feeling
incredibly heavy, so much so in fact that he thought that he was going to wretch. He
did everything he could to quell the feeling, getting ready to swallow back any vomit
that would try to force its way out of his mouth. Thankfully none actually came.
“What is a Gascoigne?”
The voice was succinct in its reply. “We are the Gascoigne. We are one.”273
This was the point when Steve was starting to lose his patience. “That’s all well and
good. It’s very nice for you.” He knew that sarcasm wasn’t his strong point, but
simply couldn’t help his growing irritation and tetchiness.274 If there was one thing
that he couldn’t stand in life, it was definitely being treated like a fool and he
distinctly felt that this was one of those situations. “Once more though,” he continued
apathetically. “What is a Gascoigne?”
The voice however wasn’t rising to the bait. It simply repeated its last statement. “We
are the Gascoigne. We are one.”
“Okay” was Steve’s response. He carefully delivered both syllables of the word as
slowly and as facetiously as he could. “All right, so you’re not going to tell me who or
273
J. Richards and A. Martin, 1997, Doctor Who – The Book of Lists, Great Britain, BBC Books, p.162
–164 (It is remarkably funny that in a long running series, such as Doctor Who, there are many
catchphrases and punch-lines given. I just wanted to create my own!)
274
J. Nathan- Turner (producer) and P. Moffatt (director), 1982, Doctor Who – The Visitation, Great
Britain, BBC Television (My favourite Doctor from youth was Peter Davison, the fifth incarnation and
one of his trademark traits was that he used to often get tetchy and cranky when in a difficult situation.
In the story, “The Visitation”, this is shown a number of times. I wanted Steve the character to suffer
from a similar bad temper, echoing his- and my- hero!)
148
what you are, so let’s move swiftly on with something a bit more… productive shall
we? When do I meet the leader?”
“You are required in the leader’s presence now.”
“Oh.” The young time traveller actually felt a little taken aback. He had been left here
to rot for what seemed like an age and now that this leader fellow had simply clicked
his fingers, he was being moved on. It was then that he made a huge realisation.
Something didn’t quite add up, but whereas normally he would be left with a
lingering doubt and nothing more, on this occasion it didn’t take him long at all to
work out what was bugging him. How did this person know both his name and the
basic rudiments of his current (and overall) predicament? No matter where he and
Benjy had gone in the past, in some respects they were always faceless, two
anonymous shadows that moved in and out of people’s lives, seemingly on a whim.
There was no way that anyone could know about his identity or abilities to time travel
and the fact that someone had shown some obvious fore-knowledge made him feel
uneasy. He suddenly felt like going to the toilet, his stomach was swishing around
violently like the liquefied contents of a boiling saucepan. He had this unwavering
and grisly sense that somehow he was part of a vast story plot that only he didn’t
know the climax of. “How do I get out of this cell? There’s no door, no light switch.
No nothing. It’s almost as though I’ve been completely sealed in here.”275
“You are in a psychic cell. You were placed within until you were needed. There is
only one means of exit. You must step into the light orb when it appears. This will take
you directly to the leader’s state room.”
As if on cue, a bright flash suddenly appeared in the centre of the room, illuminating
all that was once total shade. Steve had to close his eyes momentarily to protect them
from permanent blindness, but once he had got used to the intensity, he gradually
opened them again to take in the sights of the previously unseen space. He was
surprised to find that the cell he had been confined in was actually and simply a metal
box with no means of entry whatsoever. Its only remarkable feature was some sort of
275
J. Blum and K. Orman, 1998, Doctor Who – Seeing I, Great Britain, BBC Books (Once more,
another reference to Blum and Orman’s seemingly impenetrable prison.)
149
weird ventilation panel on the top of one wall, which clearly provided the room’s
‘occupant’ with oxygen.
The light orb was vast.276 It was large enough for Steve to actually stand within in
fact, but as he had seen nothing quite like it before in his life, he was hesitant to go
anywhere near it. The electrical forces that circulated this light mass looked like
something hot and painful and in turn, subsequently reminded him of the rays that had
stemmed from the microwave, just as he was zapped into the plughole for the first
time.
“I guess one thing is for certain,” he muttered to himself. “At least I know that I’m in
the future. There’s absolutely nothing like this in my time!”
“Do not be afraid,” said the voice. “Just close your eyes and walk into the direction of
the orb.277 It will continue the discharge process itself.”
“Are you kidding me?” yelled Steve with an obvious sense of distrust in his words.
“I’ll get fried alive! I’m not going anywhere near that thing!”278
There was another brief silence, but then the voice offered a very knowing statement.
“I assure you time dweller. You are not in any danger… yet.”
The young man was very conscious of the voice’s words, especially the very last one,
but finally rationalising that he didn’t really want to spend the rest of his days in an
over- sized metal coffin, he scrunched his eyelids together and walked with some
276
B. Letts (producer) and L. Mayne (director), 1970, Doctor Who - The Three Doctors, Great Britain,
BBC Television (The villain in this “Doctor Who” story, known as Omega, sends the Doctor’s
companions back to Earth from his world, through a special gateway made of light and steam.)
277
C. Konrad (producer) and J. Mangold (director), 2002, Kate and Leopold, USA, Miramax Films
(This one is a very deep and abstract reference. The voice asks Steve to step forward and suspend all
disbelief in order for him to be released from the cell. At the climax of “Kate and Leopold”, Kate must
suspend all disbelief in order to time- travel. Here, the only way to do it is to jump from a great height,
but a choice is clearly presented. She has to jump and plunge headfirst into fantasy to reap rewards
other than a simple, mundane existence.)
278
B. Letts (producer) and L. Mayne (director), 1970, Doctor Who - The Three Doctors, Great Britain,
BBC Television (The Doctor’s companions are initially, and understandably, hesitant to step through
the gateway.)
150
haste straight into the middle of the orb. From that point on, everything within the
confines of his head instantly turned white.279
**********
Stepping into the orb was not in itself unlike traversing through the plughole. As the
light swallowed him up, Steve’s body seemed to momentarily turn into some
substance that bordered on vapour, before rematerialising in a space outside of the
metal ‘psychic cell.’ The orb didn’t seem to have either the temporal range or the
sophistication of the plughole though; it was only intended as a sort of technological
gateway leading from one ‘space’ to another, a sort of matter transporter in some
respects. He had heard in “Doctor Who” once that going through a matter transporter
was a little bit like being processed in a food mixer and he couldn’t believe how
truthful this statement actually was!280 His head spun with utter giddiness and as he
stepped from the orb to the floor, he nearly felt his legs collapse from underneath him.
Both had gone completely numb and he needed to briefly pummel some life back into
them before he could stand upright. As the light ball, with its single task now
complete, instantly faded into non- existence, Steve contemplated how much he had
actually gotten used to the process of the plughole now. He didn’t seem to be affected
by its manipulation at all.281 It was as though his body had become utterly attuned to
its frequencies or something.282 For a split second, as he regarded the quite dismal
place where he now stood, he realised just how much he missed this fairly new icon in
his life and also how he longed to traverse down it once more!
279
A. Barnes and P. Ware, 12th March 1997, To be Continued…, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 249,
Great Britain, Marvel Comics p.6- 13 (I was very conscious about the cliff hangers used in this chapter,
especially given the fact that this chapter is as close as I come to my own version of a “Doctor Who”
story. This article lists all of the different types of cliff- hangers and I hope that I have included as
many of these as possible!)
280
J. Nathan- Turner (producer) and P. Moffatt (director), 1983, Doctor Who - Mawdryn Undead,
Great Britain, BBC Television (The Doctor’s companion, Tegan, clearly states that she hates “those
transmat things. Like travelling in a food mixer and just as dangerous.”)
281
C. Ruppenthal (producer) & J. Napolitano (director), 1991, Quantum Leap - The Leap Home, USA,
Bellasarius Productions (It is clear from the beginning of Quantum Leap’s third series that Sam has
now adjusted to the time travel process and ordinarily has no side affects whatsoever.)
282
M. Harris, 1983, The Doctor Who Technical Manual, Great Britain, Sphere Books Limited, p.10
(On a section discussing the Doctor’s TARDIS- his means of time travel- this book states “the TARDIS
may be said to be semi- sentient- that is to say, it is almost a living, thinking entity. It is attuned to the
Doctor’s thought patterns and it is telepathically linked to him.”)
151
The orb had deposited him within another metal room, which was much larger than
the cell and dominated by a massive circular table, thirteen accompanying chairs and
a sequence of what resembled ten large shields, which hung, half and half, on the
walls on his right and left. At the far end of the room, about ten yards on from the
assortment of furniture, was a fairly large raised platform, which contained what
seemed to be a single throne- like chair, placed exactly at its centre.
The young man slowly began to walk around the table and as he did so, he realised
that it had an enormous picture etched into its surface. He looked at it curiously,
trying to make out what the depiction actually was and then on following the lines of
the image around with his index finger, realised that it was some sort of a face, a
strange and distorted parody of a human being.
Wandering up to the throne, he absently made to sit down upon its green coloured
cushion, before coming to the conclusion that the individual who would normally
occupy this chair would have been of a gigantic build. It was a bit of an effort for
Steve to sit down; the throne looked deceptively smaller on first glance. He had to
pull his buttocks up some centimetres to meet the embrace of the soft material and his
legs ultimately dangled from quite a distance. “They breed ‘em big round ‘ere” he
quipped, before consciously realising that noone was around to appreciate the joke.
It was then that an odd comparison rankled itself within his line of thought. As Steve
gazed around the room, he realised that its whole set-up, for some odd reason,
reminded him of the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the round- table. It
wasn’t through any medieval connotations however, or even the link of furniture type.
It was just that this space seemed like the kind of area where a council of war might
be held.283 He pictured a rabble of knights around the table, all violent, beastly and
thirsty for a rumble and this made him quiver a little, especially when he equated this
image with the unemotional intents of the voice that he had conversed with earlier.
The linking of war and an emotionally void individual seemed to spell nothing but
283
www.kingarthursknights.com (King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table), as viewed on 15th
March 2003 (I have only ever considered the legends of King Arthur to be directly from the realms of
story-telling and so his inclusion seems appropriately mentioned within my own work. This web-site
claims that his existence cannot be truly substantiated either, but states that if he did exist, then he was
“a military leader, the dux bellorum.” He was the “designer of an order of the best knights in the
world.”)
152
disaster! As his mind, in turn, began to churn out images of all of the dictators and
tyrants, potential or confirmed, from his own era, a further abstract thought then
abruptly struck him. Perhaps in hindsight, he considered, the room more resembled
something like one of the planning or operation rooms from one of the “Star Wars”
films, particularly in the scene where the rebellion were plotting to destroy the
dreaded Death star284. He realised that this was a rather odd association to make…
“You’re right,” said a voice suddenly from the direction of the room’s entrance. “This
is my state room, it would look very ‘space-age’ to you and this is where we discuss
the progress of battle.”
Steve looked up and as his line of vision fell upon the one who had spoken to him, his
heart nearly leapt out of his chest. With its lumbering and overly muscular eight- foot
tall body, mouldy green and yellowed skin and long cascading flash of greasy and
brutish black hair, the owner of the voice was clearly not a human being.285 In many
respects, it actually seemed human. Steve could obviously understand its language.
The thing’s shape and form was very similar to his own, be it a rather stretched,
gangly and twisted version and judging by the complexity of its lodgings and
surroundings it obviously had some degree of intellect. Even with these evident links
however, Steve was not prepared for such a spectacle. Darting between varying time
zones was one thing, but never in his entire life did he expect to meet such a being as
strange and as unearthly as this! The young man gibbered slightly, looked into the
creature’s reddened eyes and then noticed that its two arms, which protruded from a
bright green (and oddly human-like) tunic, were nearly scraping on the floor. At the
end of each hand were five normal digits, but these were emphasized by dirty and
razor-sharp claws that only Freddy Krueger would be proud of.286 The thing showed
no emotion whatsoever. It simply stood watching the frightened expressions on the
young man’s face, blank, impassive and clearly waiting for him to speak.
284
H. Kanzanjian (producer) and R. Marquand (director), 1983, Star Wars: Episode VI – The Return of
the Jedi, USA, 20th Century Fox (There are many scenes set in operations and briefing rooms in the
Star Wars trilogy, but the one that has always stood clearest in my mind is from Episode VI, where
Admiral Ackbar is bringing the re-building of the dreaded Death Star to the attention of the heroes.)
285
K. Davies (producer and director), 1994, Doctor Who – More than Thirty Years in the TARDIS,
Great Britain, BBC Home Video (In this documentary, one- time script editor and writer on the series,
Terrance Dicks, claims that the aliens always seem to be predominantly green in hue!)
286
R. Shaye (producer) and W. Craven (director), 1984, A Nightmare on Elm Street, USA, New Line
Cinema (Freddy Krueger is the knife clad killer from this eighties’ horror film.)
153
“How did you know what I was thinking?” the young time traveller queried, standing
quickly from the throne and almost shrinking back, in spite of the fact that this weird
and hideous being was at the opposing end of the room.
“My people have some… telepathic talents.287 W e can project this special talent onto
others.” The monstrous being then stopped abruptly, cocked his head to one side
slightly like a confused puppy, and continued with a re-think of his last line of
discussion. “We can project this special talent onto lesser species.”
Steve, by this point, was shaking uncontrollably and didn’t quite know how to stop.
“Are you the Leader?” he gulped.
The creature nodded. “I am… and I have been awaiting this confrontation.” His
words seemed cold and emotionless.
“I don’t understand.” Steve was genuinely confused and once again felt like he was in
yet another situation where he only had half the information to go on, but was still
expected to keep up and survive. Was he in danger? Was he in some era of the future?
Was he in some weird parallel dimension where the human race didn’t exist? He
couldn’t even begin to guess.
“You are the traveller in time. We have been watching you and waiting. Don’t fret my
little human soul. All of your enquiries will be answered. You will be enlightened
soon. But first, sit down at the table with me and let us share refreshments. I would
like you to experience our hospitality.”
“What if I don’t want to accept it?” Steve asked, still quivering but slowly making his
way to the table nevertheless.
287
K. Pedler, 1981, Mind Over Matter, Great Britain, Fakenham Press Limited, p.53- 65 (Telepathy is
a common trait that is often used within science fiction; there have been numerous occasions where
alien races have used it within examples of Doctor Who, Star Trek and Buck Rogers in the 25th
Century. I added the concept into the story however after reading factual information on the subject
within this book by scientist Kit Pedler. There is a whole chapter devoted to it called Mind Talk.)
154
“Oh you will,” said the Leader. “If you don’t, much fun will be had when I, of course,
do unspeakable things to your corpse.” He then gave a weird distortion of a smile,
bearing a random collation of rotting teeth, before gesturing fiercely for the time
traveller to sit.
Steve pulled out a chair and did as he was told. He didn’t really have much choice,
but to do anything else. If he decided to be deliberately obstructive, then this thing,
now sitting at the table across from him, would probably get mad, lunge forward and
tear his comparatively small frame limb from limb. As a bizarre looking banquet
materialised from nowhere in front of him, the young man suddenly pondered his fate
and future, realising that at this precise moment, all might not be as it seems.
**********
Steve looked down at the plate in front of him and not for the first time that day,
nearly heaved up the contents of his stomach. The meal he had been served was
reminiscent of the one that Indiana Jones had been given on his way to the temple of
doom288. Whereas Jones had had the luxury of knowing that he was eating monkey
brains though, the creature’s head that lay before Steve, with the top of its scalp
viciously removed, was quite indistinguishable. It resembled some sort of cross
between an over- sized cockroach and the back end of a skunk. Of course, what made
things slightly worse was that the brain, still obviously inside the decapitated head,
pulsed and twitched slightly as if it was still alive, or at the very least had been not so
long ago.
“Do you not like our cuisine?” asked the Leader, greedily lapping his own up with a
protruding dog- like tongue, his cheeks smeared with purple blood.
“I’m not really hungry,” Steve lied. “I’m sorry.”
288
R. Watts (producer) and S. Spielberg (director), 1984, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom,
USA, Lucasfilm pictures (Indiana Jones is treated to a hideous meal consisting of monkey brains, soup
containing whole eye balls and fully cooked insects.)
155
“There is no need to make excuses; you forget that I can read your mind. The wharfot
creature repulses you. That’s understandable really. You are a human and humans
have no taste.” The brutish individual then lifted his ‘wharfot’ head up completely,
with two hands clasped either side, and drained the remaining brain fluid from it in
one foul dribble. Steve closed his eyes and turned away in utter repulsion. “The inner
flesh of the wharfot is succulent. It is one of the most sought after dishes in the
galaxy.”
Ignoring the culinary critique and attempting to put the grotesque display to one side,
the young man hastily jumped upon another rapid observation. “So human beings
exist then?” He began to slowly rule out the parallel dimension theory.
“Of course they do!” exclaimed the Gascoigne. “Where do you think our race evolved
from?”
“Evolved?”289 Steve averted his eyes downward from the gaze of the Leader in
contemplation, but then glimpsed back up again rapidly when they had found the
grotesque sight of the wharfot once more. “What year is it?”
“According to the Earth’s calendar, the year is 802,701.290 It is a while after your
time I think?” The Leader then started to rub off the blood from his face with the back
of his enormous right arm.
“Yes it is,” the young man agreed. He was still a little troubled about the Gascoignes
knowing everything about him, but rationalised that this was simply down to their
psychic abilities. If they could read his mind, then they had the potential of knowing
289
A. P. Jacobs (producer) and F. J. Schaffner (director), 1968, Planet of the Apes, USA, Paramount
Pictures (The idea of reverse evolution has been discussed in many contemporary science fiction
stories. The most notable examples are this film, Planet of the Apes, which was in turn taken from a
novel by Pierre Boulle, and H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine. Where these evolutionary acts took place
quite naturally though, I wanted to consider the idea that this process could in fact be brought about
with genetics and science. In some respects, it is an extension of Well’s other classic The Island of
Doctor Moreau and what would happen if his experiments had been allowed to continue.)
290
H.G. Wells, 2002, The Time Machine, Great Britain, Everyman’s Library, p.22 (802,701 was the
supposed year that the time traveller was actually launched forward to in Well’s pioneering novel. The
character states here, after meeting some of the Eloi for the first time, that he had “anticipated that the
people of the year Eight Hundred and Two Thousand odd would be incredibly in front of us in
knowledge, art, everything.”)
156
his innermost thoughts, feelings, memories and desires. With power like that over
someone, it is no wonder that they would of course, know every hidden secret. In
some respects, this rational explanation gave him a little relief. He glimpsed around
the room, making a real show of doing so, before then firing a question right back at
his captor. “So… um, where are we exactly?”
“We are aboard the main vessel in a spearhead of attack ships, currently docked
within the orbit of Earth.” The creature continued with his next course, hoisting a
large bowl of some sort of gruel- like substance from his right, seemingly unmoved
by his guest’s questions or lack of inclination to eat.
Steve continued. It was after all the only way he was going to find anything of value
out. “We’re in space?” He had never been aboard a spacecraft before, well that is of
course, not counting the one at Wonderland, Sydney’s world famous and overly
priced amusement park.291 “We’re on a spacecraft?” Those little niggling suspicions
that he had previously now seemed to make a lot of sense.
The Leader just grunted in response and started to voraciously pour the food
substance down his gullet with an over-sized spatula.
“Are you expecting an alien invasion or something?” Steve wondered that if these
creatures had evolved on Earth by the year 802,701, then could it be possible that
beings from other planets had also presented their credentials over time? Could they
have threatened humanity with their ray guns, their atomic weapons and their P-32
space modulators?292
“What do you mean?” The Gascoigne stopped and stared suspiciously at the young
man.
“Well, you said that we were on an attack fleet. Surely, you’re protecting the Earth
from invasion aren’t you?”
291
The Space Probe 9 amusement ride, housed at Wonderland Sydney, near Rooty Hill.
C. Jones and P. Monroe (directors), 1979, The Bugs Bunny/ Road Runner Movie, USA, Warner
Brothers (Quote from Marvin the Martian. His “P-32 space modulator” is clearly some explosive
device that the little Martian intends to destroy the Earth with.)
292
157
“Don’t be so foolish!” The Leader was still gorging his food, but continued to speak
with his mouth completely full up. “It is the Earth that is to be destroyed.”
Steve looked at the being, with absolute horror. “Why?” was about the only word that
he could push through the barricade of his disbelief.
“Vengeance” said the creature, as a matter of factly, continuing to snack.
“But if you evolved from humanity, then surely the Earth is your home?” Steve was
more than a little appalled and confused at the monster’s total lack of emotion on this
subject. “Why would you need vengeance over it? This makes no sense whatsoever!”
“Three thousand years ago, the humans forced our race to leave their planet. We
originally evolved from their fibre, but you see, it wasn’t a part of natural evolution.”
He placed his now empty bowl to one side, in almost exactly the same spot that he
had picked it up from.
“More like an experiment in genetics or something?” Steve queried.
“Yes, exactly. A Doctor named Maree discovered that he could fuse together human
life with several breeds of animal.293 He was attempting to create a super-race, a
strain of humanity that could cope with any type of atmosphere or natural
element.”294
‘We’re definitely entering sci-fi territory here!’ Steve thought.
293
H. G. Wells, 1962, The Island of Doctor Moreau, Great Britain, Penguin Modern Classics (Doctor
‘Maree’ is intended to be a slight parody on Moreau.)
294
I. Lloyd (producer) and D. Martinus (director), 1966, Doctor Who – The Tenth Planet, Great Britain,
BBC Television (In some respects, the idea of the super- race has been dealt with in earlier aspects of
science fiction, most notably here with the first appearance of the Cybermen in Doctor Who. I wanted
to look at how an organic race could be treated in a similar way. The Cybermen were super humans
and were originally derived from beings similar to us, but they replaced their body parts with robotics
and technology.)
158
“After the process was completed however, the forefathers of our race were formed.
Something had happened you see, a rather strange side affect during that first
fertilisation process. We were a mistake, an accident, a freak of science, but through
that misfortune, a new race of thinking, feeling beings were formed.” He clumsily
wiped the residue of food from his chin once more. “The original Gascoigne people
were not like us, but rapidly over time, we began to merge into the shape and form
that you see before you.”
“How many of you Gascoigne people are there?”
“About thirty thousand in total.”
That didn’t seem like an awful lot to Steve, considering the vast number of human
beings on the Earth during his own time. He didn’t say anything to provoke the
Leader however, especially as he was still aware that thirty thousand of these horrific
and muscle brained beings could still cause a bit of bother. A battle after all, was still
a battle. “But this doesn’t explain why you want revenge?”
“Our people grew in number. We found that, like representatives from our animal
ancestry, we could multiply in a matter of months. We were becoming a species in our
own right, rather than the minute and ethnic result of a scientific test. The only thing
that matched our ugly features though, was our lack of intellect. We disgusted the
humans and as we were so dumb, we allowed them to easily capture us, freeze us in
sturdy blocks of ice for cryogenic animation and eventually herd us all off like beasts
to a vast station sent into deep space.295 They thought that they would never have to
look upon our features again.”
“If you were so stupid though, how did you create a fleet of star cruisers?” Steve
scratched the top of his head in uncertainty. “Were you influenced by aliens?” God,
295
J. Silver and M. Levy (producers) and M. Brambilla (director), 1993, Demolition Man, USA,
Warner Brothers (The idea of keeping someone, prisoners committed of atrocious crimes mostly, alive
in a block of ice and cryogenics is discussed and explored in this film.)
159
he was beginning to sound just like Rimmer, the hologram, from “Red Dwarf”! He
was always obsessed with the interference of aliens too!296
“Over our period of exile, we extended both our might and our intellect. At the
beginning, it seemed that, in a strange kind of way, Maree’s super- race were indeed
created. We settled on a vacant planet and started to build and develop in every way.
Because of our size and ability to cope in varying degrees of atmosphere, we were far
stronger than humanity could ever have imagined.”
“This doesn’t sound like the end of the story though?” Steve looked the Gascoigne
straight in the face.
“A vast tragedy took place when, roughly fifteen years ago, a serious epidemic
became widespread throughout our civilisation. It didn’t kill us, but left us impotent
and no longer able to secure our future in time. The only thing that kept us going was
the anger and fury that we held against the race that placed us in that predicament in
the first place. Humanity! It is now time for restitution. We have no hope of beating
the Earth people on the ground, there are far too many of them! Their armies and
ground technologies would almost certainly wipe us out. But we can destroy their
planet from space though…”
“Surely they have some sort of detection technology? Won’t they just spot you on
their computers and obliterate your number before you even get the chance of
attack?”
“We have highly advanced cloaking devices.297 We have been in the Earth’s orbit for
four weeks now and I assure you, we haven’t been spotted yet.”
296
E. Bye (producer and director), 1988, Red Dwarf- Waiting for God, Great Britain, BBC Television
(This shows one example when Rimmer, the hologram, displays his obsession with alien beings. A
garbage pod arrives from space and Rimmer puts two and two together to make five. It seems that he
wants to meet beings from another planet, in order for them to help him build a new body.)
297
H. Bennett (producer) and L. Nimoy (director), 1984, Star Trek 3: The Search for Spock, USA,
Paramount Pictures (Although later adopted in the US Doctor Who movie in 1996, the idea of the
cloaking device was actually initiated in the Star Trek series. Within this movie, the Klingon spacecraft has a cloaking device, preventing the Enterprise from spotting them amongst the stars.)
160
The young time traveller stood up and started to walk around the room, gazing
absently at the shields on the wall. He was surprised about how much composure he
had regained since his earlier bout of the willies. Perhaps it was to do with
understanding something about the race that was currently holding him captive.
Where he could sympathise with the plight of the Gascoigne people and all that they
were put through though, he could not tolerate the genocide of his home planet. Sure,
it was a world that was hundreds of thousands of years removed from his own, but it
was still the place of his birth. He had to find a way to stop them.
“You can’t you know” said the Leader.
Steve looked up as though he had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have
been. He would have to find a way of blanking his thoughts also. As if to avoid his
obvious mental treachery however, he decided to attempt to change the subject. “How
do you know so much about me?”
“We have traced you through time. We have followed your exploits since the year date
2002.”
Steve suddenly remembered the day he had spent tidying up the mess of paperwork
before becoming embroiled upon his trip through time. It seemed like an eternity ago.
“Why?” He looked at the creature, baffled and perplexed.
“Because you have something that is of utmost importance to the Gascoigne race.”
“And what is that exactly?” He knew what was coming and the Leader knew that he
had been second- guessed also, but it was clear that the Gascoigne was going to
continue to play their mental game.
“Isn’t it obvious? The power of time travel of course!”298
**********
298
G. Williams (producer) and G. Blake (director), 1978, Doctor Who – The Invasion of Time, Great
Britain, BBC Television (The baddies are always after the explicit secrets of time travel!)
161
Figure 14. 802,701A.D. – A Jumbled Mix of Memories 2003
162
“And what if I won’t give it to you?” Steve had to play for time. He realised that
somehow he must get off of this spacecraft and down to the Earth to warn the
appropriate authorities. The only problem was blocking this thought from his
Gascoigne tormentor though. He attempted to think of a jumble of different things at
once in order to confuse his ungracious host. The creature though was still following
his own line of self- importance.
“Once again, if you don’t, I will simply kill you.” The Leader’s eyes were cold,
ruthless and inexpressive. If it weren’t for his lips moving and his voice echoing
around the state- room, it would have been as if the creature was frozen to the spot.
“And what would you do with the power of time-travel if you had it?” Steve rapidly
kept up the multitude of memories flashing through his head. He needed to think
about his next plan of action, no matter what strain this put him under and so let an
entourage of absurdities attempt to cloud his logic patterns.
“With the power of time- travel, the Gascoigne race would become invincible. We
could go back and change our fate. Instead of being an archaic race that is slowly
dying out, we would become the ultimate people in the galaxy!”
“Oh!” said Steve, attempting to keep calm. He supposed he had to meet at least one
cuckoo on his journey. Even Adolf Hitler had been tamer than this! “I don’t know
much about the Gascoigne race at all, in fact you my dear friend,” he was now getting
both courageous and precocious all at the same time, “are the only one that I have
ever really met. But I tell you one thing, if you’re anything to go by, it is quite clear
that your race haven’t evolved at all. You resort to bully boy tactics and violence and
that’s no way to live!”
The creature snarled. “What about the humans and the evil way that they treated us?”
“Oh, don’t worry, I personally hold you all in the same boat. They haven’t progressed
much either have they? I’m ashamed, in fact, that human beings are still willing to
play God and then not put up with the consequences either! They’ve always been
quite a sadistic race though! Then again, there’s no need whatsoever to imitate them is
163
there?” Steve was now beginning to fill with a fury that he never realised had existed
within his soul and in losing his temper, decided that he had to regain some calm by
standing silent for a moment. He then added more coolly: “It’s funny though isn’t it?
Often you become the thing that you most despise in life?”299
Suddenly the Gascoigne Leader, in a fit of uncontrollable rage, launched his fist down
onto the table before him with all of his might. When he lifted it up again, a very deep
impression had been made on the surface, distorting the image of the face somewhat
and allowing Steve to see just how physically strong this creature actually was. “This
dalliance and banter will now STOP!” the monster roared. “You will tell me what I
want to know, or I will have you executed and placed on an operating table.300
Somewhere within the confines of your meagre corpse, I will find the eternal answer
to the theories of time travel!!! The secret has to be there, either in your brain
patterns or the very fibre of your being!”
“I can’t tell you.” Steve said simply in return. “I don’t know the answer. If you have
seriously traced me through time, then you must know that it is all a very hit and miss
affair. Gaining the ability to time travel was all based on an initial accident that I
cannot fully explain!” He now started to tremble again. The Leader’s anger had
certainly put his current predicament back into some sort of horrifying perspective.
“That cannot be!” The Gascoigne then stood up, clenched his fists at his side and
started to wander slowly around the table in the opposite direction to the way Steve
had gone earlier. “You must know the information that I crave!”
“But I don’t…” Steve began to protest.
299
P. Anghelides and S. Cole, 2000, Doctor Who – The Ancestor Cell, Great Britain, BBC Books,
p.280 (In this book, the Eighth Doctor, always having played the valiant hero in the past, has to make a
decision. It’s either an evil race known as the Faction Paradox, who are content to destroy history and
wreak havoc throughout the universe, or his own planet of Gallifrey. The Doctor “destroyed the edifice,
the Faction, his own planet.” He becomes the thing that he has always most despised; the ultimate
destroyer and this takes him some time within the series to mentally come to terms with.)
300
J. Nathan- Turner (producer) and P. Moffatt (director), 1985, Doctor Who – The Two Doctors, Great
Britain, BBC Television (Within this story, two versions of the Doctor meet. The earliest on this
occasion, the second incarnation, Patrick Troughton, is captured by the Sontarons- an evil race of
clones- who place him on an operating table to remove his symbiotic nuclei. This contains the secret of
the Time Lords, the Doctor’s race, and of course the power of time travel. The sixth Doctor, Colin
Baker, is called upon to rescue… himself!)
164
“SILENCE!” The Leader screamed. “The information is there, locked away in some
cupboard of your mind, it has to be!”
Steve placed his hand on his forehead wearily. Was that kind of thing possible? Could
he merely be a container for some sort of secret of existence? This implied that there
was something greater behind his adventures than merely a freak affect of science…
“Of course,” the Gascoigne continued more serenely. “You consciously know how to
time travel. You simply dial a number on your mobile and disappear down the
mysterious plughole.”
All Steve could do at this point was to look down at the mobile on his belt in utter
disbelief. If this mad tyrant knew how to time travel all along, if he knew the magic
number and the process by which the plughole was called upon, then all that he
needed to do next was to take the communications device and dispose of its one- time
owner in a quick and violent manner! He shuddered at the very thought.
“Don’t be so surprised that I know about the mobile” the Leader cooed. “Who do you
think sent you the text messages in your earlier jaunts, before and during the 1931
zone?”
Steve just stared at his antagonist and he was reminded of the incident with Salvador
Dali in Port Ligat. Now suddenly everything began to fall into place. “It was you…?”
“Of course it was, someone had to initiate you on your travelling. You’re a buffoon,
an imbecile. You wouldn’t have worked it out on your own!”
“But why?” The young man’s mouth was agape and his mind raced with doubts,
suspicions and queries that had been bugging him since the start of his adventures.
“I simply needed to get you to a fixed point in time where we could grab you. I needed
to move you along to a place of zero electrical interference and where there were no
other forms of life in your near vicinity. The only way to do so was to continually keep
you moving on a quest until you actually reached such a point. The year 1804 was
165
perfect. It was such an idyllic time, wasn’t it? When Wordsworth wandered off into
the hills, we truly couldn’t believe our luck!”
The two stood, a few yards apart from each other, the Gascoigne staring straight at
Steve’s face, the young man looking downward solemnly towards the metal stretch of
floor. Steve was wondering why the Leader didn’t simply take the phone and then rip
his head clean off of his shoulders and as if on cue, he was given an answer as
immediately as the thought popped into his head.
“Our scientists have discovered the basic rudiments and theories of time- travel, but
also that a deficiency in our genetic patterns dictate that we cannot achieve this
ability. So you see…” He stopped, as if catching his breath and taking stock of their
discussion. “Even if I did take the phone from you, it would be of little use. You are
the key. There is something in your genetic make- up that we need to replicate or
copy. Either that, or you must aid our cause in a more… hands- on way.”
Steve was a little confused and attempted not to think of the choice of grisly fates that
this creature had just outlaid to him. “If you traced me across my temporal journey
and sent me those messages, then surely you do have some time technology at your
disposal already?”
“We have some limited time-scoping equipment, but this only allows us to observe and
trace a presence moving through different eras. We can also send electrical
communications back through the time and space void. Gascoigne technology, at
present, does not have the power or the abilities to send any of our race physically
through the temporal echoes.” It was clear from the lowering tones in his voice that
he was somewhat irritated by this lack of information and machinery.
“Well,” said Steve, smiling obnoxiously and deciding to instantly play the fool, “it
does rather seem that we have reached a bit of a stalemate. I can’t tell you what you
want to know and I’m certainly not prepared to change time for the worse, so I’d just
better be toddling along and finding somewhere else to deal with my problems…” As
he started to trail off, he began to make hastily for the room’s entrance, not quite
knowing what he would do when he got there.
166
Figure 15. 802,701A.D. – Rage of the Gascoignes 2003
167
With speed however, the Gascoigne Leader leapt over the round table in a single
bound301, came to a large double thud in front of Steve’s path and grabbed him
aggressively by the neck.302 As he was sadistically lifted off of the ground and
dangled in mid- air, the young man nearly gagged, with all of the oxygen being
squeezed out of his windpipe. He tried to splutter, but no sound was released.
“I’ve grown impatient! I think, my dear little friend, that we will revert to my back-up
plan!” The lumbering creature then closed his eyes, as if in intense thought. It was as
if he was sending a telepathic message.
Steve was then thrown some ten feet across the room as though he were the weight
and mass of a tennis ball. He collided forcefully with the opposite metal wall. In
agony, he then attempted to sit up, slightly clasping his neck as he did so, making an
attempt to rub away the pain. “What have you done?” he choked.
The Gascoigne moved over to him quickly, leant downwards and then began to
whisper. “I have sent for my execution squad! This is the fun part! I assure you that
you will be dead within a matter of minutes!”
“Why not just kill me now?” Steve snapped, before realising just what a stupid
question this was. At least where there was life, there was hope!303
Fortunately, the Gascoigne’s philosophy was one of longevity, though it sounded
positively ghastly to actually listen to. “The Execution squad do the maiming,” he
seemed to chuckle. “I simply, like to watch!”
**********
301
W. F. Parkes and D. Valdes (producers) and S. Wells (director), 2002, The Time Machine, USA,
Dreamworks Pictures (The Morlox in the latest movie version of Wells’ tale have the ability to leap
great distances.)
302
G. Kurtz (producer) and G. Lucas (director), 1977, Star Wars- Episode IV- A New Hope, USA, 20th
Century Fox (I wanted this scene, where Steve is dangling in the Leader’s grip to be reminiscent of a
similar one from the first Star Wars movie. Darth Vader holds a rebel guard in his grip, lifts him off the
floor and strangles him to death.)
303
J. Nathan- Turner (producer) and P. Grimwade (director), 1982, Doctor Who – Earthshock, Great
Britain, BBC Television (This is a trademark line from the Doctor’s fifth incarnation, Peter Davison.)
168
As the entourage of the Leader’s cronies made their way into the state- room, Steve
was hoisted rapidly up to his feet with a single grab. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
Standing before him, all in a straight line were twelve Gascoigne creatures, all
looking exactly and identically like the leader in facial characteristics, but each
dressed in a black leather tunic, rather than a green one.304
“A whole band of freaks?” Steve mocked. “You guys are never going to win a good
looks competition are you?” Suddenly one of the Gascoigne executioners stepped
forward and slapped the young man hard across the face with the back of his mighty
hand. Steve reeled in anguish and his cheek stung.
“Insolence will be rewarded,” teased the Leader. Then, turning to the nearest of his
underlings, he put a single finger to his lips as though in subtle consideration. “I think
we’ll go for the laser sword today. Sever his neck completely, but try to keep the head
in tact.”
Steve was suddenly surrounded by a scrum of these creatures and shoved to his knees;
his head was pushed aggressively toward the floor.305 He heard a hum and saw in his
side vision the shards of a bright green- yellow light that must have been the laser
sword powering up. “These guys have obviously been watching too much ‘Star
Wars,’” he muttered to himself.306 “Don’t they know that light sabers are make
believe?”
It was then that the Leader momentarily halted the proceedings. To obviously show
his might and power in front of his soldiers, he knelt down beside the terrified human
and snatched the back of Steve’s hair, yanking it upwards so that they had to look
304
B.Letts (producer) and A. Bromly (director), 1973, Doctor Who – The Time Warrior, Great Britain,
BBC Television (I wanted to imply here that the Gascoignes, because they were a genetically enhanced
race, may actually be clones, rather like the Sontarons from this Jon Pertwee Doctor Who story. Each
Sontaron is identical in appearance, but their clothes signify their rank.)
305
J. Nathan- Turner (producer) and J. Black (director), 1982, Doctor Who – Four to Doomsday, Great
Britain, BBC Television (There is practically an identical scene within this Peter Davison story. I felt
that it was important to use this because it was one of the first Doctor Who episodes that I ever saw as a
child and obviously it made some impact!)
306
G. Kurtz (producer) and G. Lucas (director), 1977, Star Wars- Episode IV- A New Hope, USA, 20th
Century Fox (The light saber, a type of sword made of a single light beam, is the weapon typically used
by a Jedi knight.)
169
directly into each other’s eyes. “Do you believe in heaven and hell?”307 the Gascoigne
asked.
“Not especially,” the human replied.
“Then this is truly the end for you!” The Leader then stood up to full height once
more, cackling almost insanely and nodded to his chief executioner.
“Wait!” screamed Steve and the Gascoigne- in- charge looked down with sheer
contempt on his face. The time traveller glared upwards in an equally vigilant manner.
“Leader, I want you to know something,” he spat. The Leader tilted his head in
response. “No matter what is about to happen, no matter if I have to traverse the
boundaries of life and death, you should know that I’ll be back!”308 This sentiment did
not get the desired response however. The entire Gascoigne crowd suddenly burst into
fits of hysterics and Steve got quite red- faced. This was typical really; even though it
had always worked for Arnold Schwarzenegger, he could hardly be compared to a
tough and aggressive body builder could he?
He then felt the electrical hum move in above the top of his head. He was seconds
away from death. He couldn’t believe that his life was about to end this way and
clenched his eyes and teeth together, praying that he wouldn’t much feel the effects of
the weapon as it connected with his skin.
It was then that the ensuing events took an odd and delightfully unexpected turn.
**********
307
A. Barnes, 17th December 1997, Bad Boys Inc., Doctor Who Magazine Issue 259, Great Britain,
Marvel Comics, p. 13 (In this article, Alan Barnes discusses the type of villains that are portrayed in
Doctor Who. All have quite distinct temperaments and motives for the crimes and acts they do. The
Gascoigne leader is perhaps a mixture of these, but the question he asks about heaven and hell is
perhaps the greatest signifier to the type that interested me the most. That is of course, “The Devil”, “a
fanged fiend whose vileness shines through all that hellfire and brimstone”, the most evil villain of all!)
308
G. A. Hurd (producer) and J. Cameron (director), 1984, The Terminator, USA, Hemdale Pictures
(“I’ll be back!” was typically one of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s punch- lines. It was first coined here
though in the time- travelling fantasy film The Terminator.)
170
Figure 16. 802,701A.D. – …But as the Leader revelled 2003
Drawing/ Digital Print. 30cm x 30cm
171
At the exact moment when the Gascoigne killer was about to bring down the electrical
blade, a bright flash appeared in the centre of the room, nearly knocking them all off
their feet and putting a hold to Steve’s imminent demise. The state- room suddenly
filled with pandemonium and there was much rapid movement and confusion. In spite
of the fact that they were currently on a spacecraft, which was undoubtedly airconditioned and atmosphere controlled, a strange blast of wind began to whoosh
through the interior of the space. The source of which seemed to come directly from
one wall, behind the Leader’s throne. An odd spinning shape began to materialise
there...
The time traveller looked up, completely puzzled and as his hair was pushed back
fiercely by the weird elements, his face showed a mixture of both apprehension and
absolute delight, as the entirety of the Gascoigne crowd had begun to flee from the
growing mass in terror. They clearly had no idea what was taking place. Initially,
Steve didn’t have a clue either, but as a familiar sound began to echo from the everincreasing spiral, a hopeful glow began to fill the contents of the time traveller’s heart.
There appearing in front of him was the plughole and miraculously (and much to
Steve’s absolute relief and delight), plodding absently out from the mass came Benjy
the Golden Labrador. “Hello!” the dog beamed, with his tail waggling with delight.
“Did you miss me?”
The young man stood up in an instant and, putting aside all of the proclamations of
love that he would normally shower his pet with, made to warn his canine friend of
recent events and difficulties. As he glimpsed backwards however, to ensure his own
safety from the mob of threatening beasts, he was quite alarmed to see two rather
strange abnormalities. Firstly, the Gascoignes were all still moving. Time hadn’t
stopped and Benjy could still talk! Secondly, they were all bowing down in front of
the dog and each possessed a gaze of absolute awe.
Steve slowly turned to Benjy and in bewilderment, mumbled, “Is there something that
you want to tell me?”
**********
172
The Leader was the first to step forward and speak. “It is he.” It was as though he
couldn’t believe that Benjy was actually standing before him. “It is the dog who
speaks.”
Steve turned sideways toward the Gascoigne. “Normally he can only speak when time
has been halted.”
Benjy then chipped in. “Yeah, that’s odd. Why can I still speak now?” The two
friends shared a forced and surprised glance.
“Time runs at a different rate within the confines of this ship,” said the Leader. “Our
time- spans have been adjusted to fit in with the words of the deity.” His stare was unyielding from Benjy’s features and he knelt down once more in front of him.
“How do you know me?” asked the dog.
The Leader looked up as though this were a completely ridiculous question, but
indulged him nevertheless. “It is said that the DNA of a speaking dog was used to
enhance the first of the Gascoigne race. Surely you were that original? Surely, you
were present during Dr. Maree’s initial experiments?”
Benjy looked around dumbfounded and it was Steve who answered for him. “So what
does it mean if he was at those experiments?”
The Gascoigne’s reply was to the point. “He is our God.”
Benjy had no knowledge whatsoever of this incident and so shook his head and
smiled. “No, no, no, you’ve spelt it backwards! I’m a dog, not a god!”
“Perhaps this is an incident from our future Benge? Where you are, at least in part,
responsible for a new breed of being.” Steve queried his friend. “Either that, or a case
of definite mistaken identity!”
173
“You are the dog that speaks,” the Leader confirmed. He seemed quite adamant of
this fact and got lower to the floor every time that he conversed with his obvious
figure of worship. “It is fitting that you should be present to witness the final
destruction of Earth.”
Benjy stared up at Steve. “What?” he exclaimed. He had no idea where he was, let
alone the basic logistics of the situation.
The young man moved over to the Labrador’s side in a sober fashion. “Benge, it’s a
long story that I will have to fill you in on later, but they are going to destroy the
Earth… and kill me also. That’s what you interrupted when you arrived.”
“But… why?” Benjy was totally gob-smacked and if Steve had felt completely in the
dark at the beginning of this recent episode of their adventures, then the dog’s
confusion was twofold.
Steve gestured towards the lumbering brute in green and quickly summarised the
whole situation, including the elements of the attack on their planet and why they
wanted his corpse for scientific research.
Benjy then looked down at the leader with sheer anger on his face. “Then I forbid it!”
he snapped.
The Leader looked up dopily. “What?”
Benjy moved closer to the green- coloured being in an attempt at intimidation. “ I
forbid it all! I am your God, am I not?” The Leader just nodded vacantly in response.
“Then you will do as I say!”
Steve’s eyebrows rose. He was clearly impressed. He had never seen Benjy think fast
in a situation before and show this much superiority. The dog however then looked up
at him. “What do we do now?” he whispered. Steve’s admiration flickered from
existence rapidly.
174
The young man turned once more to the Leader. “Is there any way that we can stop
you from carrying out these horrendous and atrocious acts?”
The Gascoigne didn’t speak. He just shook his head silently. Their mission was
clearly important to them and nothing was going to make them stray from it’s
completion, not even the intervention of their religious idol. It was after a moment of
calm thought however, that the Leader started to turn nasty again. He stood and held
up a single finger toward the duo. “I will not stop the invasion and anyway… I
couldn’t even if I wanted to. The orders have already been given to the ship’s bridge
to begin the planet’s destruction. We are now in the final phase!”309
“Well tell them to stop!” Benjy exclaimed.
“I can’t. The orders cannot be countermanded, not even by me.”
Steve, although quite shaken, looked down at the phone. It had miraculously powered
up and was ready for usage. “You do realise Leader that we could just disappear
through time now and leave this incident behind us?”
The Leader stood. “But then you wouldn’t be much of a hero would you?310 And then,
as if to add a further blow to the young man’s insecurities, added: “And of course, you
would always be looking over your shoulder, wondering if I would ever snatch you
out of time again.”
309
B. Gale (producer) & R. Zemeckis (director), 1985, Back to the Future, USA, Amblin entertainment
(Within science fantasy films or television, there is often a scene near the climax where the hero has to
make a mad dash to save the day. This ‘feeling’, although not one concerning the saviour of the planet
or the human race was certainly conveyed in all three of the Back to the Future films. Marty Mcfly, the
main character, always had to rush at break-neck speed to fulfill a task in order to be able to time
travel. This sort of predicament can be initiated by some natural phenomenon, as cited in this movie, or
as a deliberate obstacle set up by the villain.)
310
M. Jones, 10th May 1995, Fluid Links: The Essential Doctor, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 225,
Great Britain, Marvel Comics, p. 39 (In contemplating Steve’s motives as the hero figure, I wanted to
embrace everything that I love about the character of the Doctor. The Doctor, as a character, always
has to act upon what is right. His “great passion for justice and fairness… means that the Doctor can
never compromise; like a child, the universe is divided up into simple binaries of good and evil,
freedom and tyranny, fairness and foul play.” He would never run away from a situation such as the
Gascoigne attack and Steve can’t either, as he is simply and utterly a part of the Doctor.)
175
“Yes, you’re right on both counts of course,” the young man agreed. “That’s the
trouble with you bug- eyed monsters.311 If you’re evil enough, or have much popular
appeal, then you always come back for a sequel.” With this statement, the young man
then realised that he had little option left, but to begin to fight back. If it came down to
a choice between a collection of genetically enhanced mutants and a whole planet of
naturally evolved people, then there was really nothing to decide, even in spite of the
lack of understanding on both of their parts. Without further contemplation, he
wrenched the mobile phone of off his belt, aimed the arial directly at the Leader and
pressed the ‘send call’ button.312 The electrical ray shot out of the phone and the
Gascoigne began to speedily melt out of existence. His screams as he did so were
horrific and Steve closed his eyes. He couldn’t honestly believe that he had had to
resort to murder.313 He remembered when he had used the same technique on
Salvador Dali’s fob- watch in 1931. During that incident however, his ‘victim’ had
been an inanimate object. Here, another being’s life had been forfeit and he suddenly
felt very hollow and empty.
There was much indecisiveness on the part of the remaining Gascoigne members.
Some just fled the room, worried that they would end up to be the phone’s next
victim; one or two, brazenly decided to stand and fight. Steve just held up the device
in their direction however, readying to repeat the annihilating function and they
totally backed off. “Take a walk!” Steve commanded. The Gascoigne guards did so
immediately and vacated the space.
311
The William Hartnell Years: 1963- 1966, London, Virgin Publishing, p. 163 (In Sydney Newman’s
original brief for Doctor Who, it is now notorious that he stated that there were to be no BEM’s, which
stood for Bug Eyed Monsters. When the Daleks were later implemented into the series’ second story,
he was absolutely horrified, but their presence helped to secure the Doctor’s success!)
312
W. F. Parkes and D. Valdes (producers) and S. Wells (director), 2002, The Time Machine, USA,
Dreamworks Pictures (This act is reminiscent of the a scene in the recent Time Machine movie. The
character of Alexander Hartegen realises that the only way humanity can move forward is if he
destroys the Uber- Morlox and his cronies. He therefore uses his own time machine in the creature’s
demise. The Uber- Morlox is disposed of and ages rapidly to death.)
313
P. Leonard, 1999, Doctor Who – Revolution Man, Great Britain, BBC Books, p.243- 245 (At the
climax of this novel, in order to dispose of a ruthless enemy named Ed and to stop the Earth from
facing absolute destruction, the Eighth incarnation of the Doctor takes a pistol and kills the villain
outright. He sacrifices one life for the greater good. Later when he and his companions, Samantha and
Fitz, have escaped in the TARDIS, he is clearly distressed. When Samantha chides him on his actions
however, he screams: “There was no time to do anything else! No time!” He is clearly attempting to
reconcile his intentions of good, with the horrific act that he has committed.)
176
“What do we do now?” asked Benjy, with more than a degree of concern in his voice.
“We need to find a communications room and try to warn Earth!” The time traveller
then made to follow the Gascoignes out of the room.
In hot pursuit though, Benjy continued with his questioning. “But now the Leader is
gone, surely they won’t even attempt to wipe out the planet?”
“Don’t bet on it!” Steve said, covering the empty corridor outside with the end of his
mobile. “These things are fanatical! They’ll stop at nothing to fulfill both their destiny
and their revenge plans!”
**********
They seemed to waste valuable time in looking for a radio room and when they had
just about given up hope, they were lucky enough to run into one of the terrified
Gascoigne executioners. It was the one, Steve was sure, that was about to hack his
head off earlier. Oh how the tables had turned!
“You!” the young man screamed, wielding his weapon in the being’s direction. “I
need you to do me a little favour!”
The creature stood rigid, silently and frightened of the device.
“I need you to take me to the ship’s communications room!” He turned briefly and
winked at his dog.
“Good thinking!” said the Labrador in return.
**********
When they had reached the radio control deck, Steve quickly dismissed all of the
Gascoigne’s working there, with the exception of one of their number, who was
flipping switches at an obvious communications device. “This little dooderwhacky,”
177
the young man explained as he held the phone aloft, “will instantly vapourise you
from existence. It will be as though you’re life had never taken place.314 Do as I say,
or I will use it!”
The Gascoigne engineer made to stand up and argue the point, but Steve instantly shot
an electrical ray at the creature’s chair and it vanished from the confines of time
instantly. The brute turned around and having resorted to standing at his console,
began to do as he was told.
“Right,” said the time traveller. “Find a frequency that Earth’s space authorities can
pick up.” The monster silently twisted a few knobs and dials and within seconds, a
voice came through on a radio transmitter.
“Hello, this is Victor, Belfont, Ninety- nine, niner, come in?”
Steve looked at the Gascoigne. “How do I answer him?” The creature handed him a
microphone and indicated a switch to allow him to send his voice through. Steve
pointed the phone’s arial directly at him. “Thank- you. Now run away and play with
the trains!” The engineer fled instantly.
Steve held up the microphone to his mouth and flicked the switch. “Come in Victor,
Belfont, Ninety- nine, niner! This is,” he looked around absently and his gaze landed
upon Benjy’s features. “Talking puppy dog, er… one, do you read me?”
“Yes, Talking puppy dog one, where are you transmitting from?”
Steve’s eyes flitted thankfully towards the heavens and he began to tell the tale of the
Gascoigne attack.
**********
314
H. B. Jones (Producer) and Grant Naylor (Directors), 1995, Red Dwarf V – The Inquisitor, Great
Britain, BBC Television (The character of the Inquisitor in this episode of Red Dwarf has an intriguing
device, which allows him to remove people from history altogether. This is a device of potential evil,
but Steve obviously equates the qualities of his mobile phone. When describing the phone here, he
gives an exact description of the Inquisitor’s weapon.)
178
Earth control had been very swift in their response; they quickly initiated Steve in the
usage of some of the star ship’s monitoring equipment over the airwaves and he had
worked out that the Gascoigne vessels were in orbit somewhere above Europe. A
number of fighter ships were being deposited immediately to come head on and
protect their planet from the impending assault. As Steve and Benjy made their way
from the communications deck, the young man wondered just how much
technological advancement had taken place since his natural time. If the human race
could so easily deposit spaceships with enough firepower to destroy the Gascoigne
fleet, then they must have simply come on in leaps and bounds!
As they began their journey through an endless path of metal back to the state- room,
it had been fairly quiet, with the exception of a few marauding mutants that they
easily kept under control. The more they moved through the ship however, the closer
the human fighters got to their target and as they reached the outside of the Leader’s
state room, the ground beneath them began to quake. The Gascoigne ships were under
attack!315
“Get that phone ready and let’s get out of here!” screamed Benjy as they leapt through
the doorway, quite relieved to see the plughole at the end of the room. The table now
was in a complete mess, turned over with its half eaten (and disgusting) banquet
spread everywhere and the shields had been blown off of the walls when the time
portal had arrived.
Suddenly the room went black and the ship switched to a red hue of emergency
lighting. When such a thing happened in low budget sci- fi movies, Steve considered,
the ship’s electrics had always been blown out. It was usually only one step away to
total destruction…
“Quick!” screeched the dog. Steve fumbled with the phone and as he dialled the
correct number, the familiar process of traversing time seemed to begin once more.
315
R. Caffey (Producer) and D. Haller (Director), 1978, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Volume One
- Awakening, USA, Universal Pictures (This scene is another that is reminiscent of one in the Buck
Roger’s pilot episode. When Buck and his droid Twinky have sabotaged the pirate ships in the flagship
of a Draconian fleet, the spacecraft is put on red alert and the two have to find a means of escape. They
are being attacked from human star-fighters as they make their way through the twisting corridors.)
179
The two friends began to vapourise slightly and swirl together in the accustomed way,
but for a brief moment, in that last glimmer of consciousness, Steve thought that he
had been too late. The ship was clearly about to be destroyed in that split second, with
the two companions still on board.
As the young time traveller and his dog both heard an almighty ‘Ka-thooom!’ around
them, they both joined in with the most blood- curdling scream.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-”
180
Figure 17. 802,701A.D. – Ka- Thooom! 2002
30cm x 30cm
181
Hand Coloured Linocut.
Chapter Seven:
The P ioneer of Time
Figure 18. 1894 A.D.- The Pioneer of Time 2003 Hand Coloured Linocut.
30cm x 30cm
182
“But now you begin to see the object of my investigations into the geometry of Four
Dimensions. Long ago I had a vague inkling of a machine-” – The un-named time
traveller
The Front Garden of Number 23, Eardley Road,316
Sevenoaks, Kent, Great Britain, 5.37pm, Wednesday, August 15th 1894
“-rrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!” Steve’s yell of pain was immense as both he and
Benjy materialised rather inelegantly, within the direct centre of a shabby hedge,
which lay on the verge of a garden outside a seemingly British semi- detached house.
The leaves on the overgrown plant were indeed prickly and uncomfortable and the
young man felt them stab and scratch rather aggressively at his body, even through
the padded protection of his clothing. He grimaced and was about to offer a random
succession of loud expletives, when the thought of the obvious pain that his canine
companion was going through stopped him in his tracks. Benjy only had a short layer
of fur to protect his body and must be in absolute agony in such an odd position! So
without even uttering any complaint, Steve clambered with haste through the
shrubbery, whilst helping the dog to do the same. As they emerged from the bush,
316
There is much conflicting evidence of research here as to the importance of this address. In Peter
Haining’s book The H.G. Wells Scrapbook for example, it is stated on p. 37 that they spent a fortnight
“on holiday in rented rooms in the semi – detached house at 23, Eardley Road” during August, 1894.
In other books however, such as Michael Foot’s biography H.G. – The Story of Mr. Wells it is said that
he and his current mistress Catherine Ann Robbins actually “moved… to lodgings at Tusculum Villa,
Sevenoaks, in August 1894.” In both instances, a particularly unhelpful and nasty landlady is described,
complaining of the couple’s habits and antics. In this story, H.G. Wells will simply be at the Eardley
Road residence, but due to this clash, no explanation will be given as to what he is specifically doing
there.
183
Figure 19. 1894A.D. – A Rather Unfortunate Arrival 2003
184
both had a rather disgruntled expression on their face, both were quite cheesed off
already at this particular time zone and both collapsed in an undignified manner on a
short pathway, which led to the house’s front door.
As the two sat quite dazed in a dishevelled heap attempting to recover from their short
and swift plummet to the ground, Steve leant across tentatively to pick pieces of twig
and leaves out of the Labrador’s mottled coat. He then repeated the same procedure
on his own attire and head of hair. “Well, at least we didn’t get fried on the Gascoigne
Star Cruiser I suppose!” They both shared a chuckle, which made no attempt
whatsoever to even try to hide their pent up and mixed feelings of exasperation,
despair and sheer relief. It was one of those situations where you had to laugh. If you
didn’t you’d probably burst into tears! They had just escaped from what they
presumed to be the total annihilation of the Gascoigne fleet to the unwelcoming
embrace of a prickly bush. Not everything in life was deemed to go right of course
(often things seldom did), but Steve wished that their temporal arrivals could be a
little less unfortunate sometimes!
He glimpsed at his companion and saw that the little yellow dog was looking slightly
pooped and at that moment, he realised that he completely sympathised with his pet;
he felt physically exhausted also. He flitted through recent events and isolated
adventures in his head and realised that it had been a long time since their last period
of real recuperation and deep sleep. He knew that if they didn’t find somewhere to
rest soon, then both of them were in grave danger of just flaking out due to fatigue.
Benjy lifted his head up wearily toward his master and looked the young man straight
in the eyes. “This trip is getting way too weird, I have to say!” He then started to
scratch his back in a half- hearted manner with his hind right leg.
“I wonder what its all about?” Steve pondered aloud, obviously now in a fairly
dreamy and contemplative mood.
“What do you mean?” The dog was genuinely confused and to be honest, in spite of
the fact that he was in a talkative phase, he wasn’t sure if he could be bothered enough
for highly cerebral deliberation.
185
“You know, all of this time travelling?” The two never reached a verbal conclusion,
they were just both too drained to even comprehend and bring their discussion to a
definite close. As he sat there however, with parts of his body feeling severely like
lead, Steve couldn’t help but to contemplate the familiarity of all of the people and
places with which they had interacted. Looking back, when he put their entire journey
into some sort of perspective, it all just seemed a little too convenient. As a child, he
had always wanted to be an intergalactic hero for instance, who put his own life on a
limb to save humanity and the planet. Surely the most recent events in their adventure
were a little too close to this vision? It was almost as though someone, or perhaps
something, was guiding or manipulating their destiny. This thought and subsequent
revelation (which really did have quite sinister overtones) irked him a little; he liked
to be in charge of his own providence, no matter how exciting or boring that may turn
out to be. Life was to be fulfilled at a rate that he was happy with. It had to be based
on his decision and ways; otherwise it simply wasn’t worth bothering about. For now
though, he realised that, even though he and Benjy may in fact be pawns in a greater
game, they were utterly helpless. All they could do is go with the flow and see how
things pan out.
In an instant, Benjy leapt to his feet. Steve immediately assumed that the dog had had
a sudden flush of positivity and was looking to press on with their escapade, but
subsequently gave an embarrassed grin when he saw his canine friend cock his leg on
the corner of the house that stood next to them. As Benjy’s little stream of yellow
liquid dribbled and steamed down the building’s brickwork and onto the path, the
Labrador smiled. “Come on then clever clogs, where are we this time?”
The young time traveller stood and took two paces forward in order to both avoid the
dog’s bodily function from colliding with his feet and to take stock of their latest
setting. He gazed up slowly toward the dimming blue sky, which was fraught with a
succession of fluffy and dancing white clouds, before then closing his eyes to feel a
cool breeze blow across his face. Then, in that blank and hazy space of his mind’s
eye, his reminiscences, seemingly and entirely of their own accord, fluttered back
slightly to his youth and specifically to August summer nights in England. He
remembered those carefree times, littered with ice- creams, smiles and a lust for
adventure, all in hindsight probably spurred on by the freedom of the school holidays.
186
He would play soccer in the street with some of the other neighbourhood children and
when they weren’t around, during occasions of absolute solitude, he would ride his
bicycle up and down the hill outside his home, as though he were a speed demon.
Summers in England weren’t too hot like the season that he had since grown
accustomed to in Australia and the temperature felt that way at this exact moment; it
was just right and bearable. He was obviously once more standing within a
traditionally English summer. It was funny how the smallest things, he pondered,
could send you back in time momentarily. Perhaps, in actual fact, he had been time
travelling for all of his life in one way or another?
As he stood deep in thought, attempting to work out specifically when and where they
were, three observations miraculously emerged from within the grinding cogs of his
brain. The first was that the street directly outside of the house’s front garden was not
tarmacked like those he was used to in his own era. It was in fact beautifully cobbled,
as though directly taken out of one of those period dramas on television. The second
was that there didn’t seem to be any cars in the street outside. This was surely an
oddity? It may have been an old street, but there was no definite indication to prove
that it wasn’t one from the latter half of the twentieth century? Why weren’t there any
automobiles lying idle at the kerbside? The third was a constant smell of sewerage. At
first, he put this down to Benjy’s little urine puddle, but as he really considered the
whiff, he realised that it had been there all of the time since they had arrived. The
smell of excrement and faeces was not one that you could easily mistake! It wasn’t
overpowering however, but it certainly lingered around the nostrils.
After still drawing a blank (all of the evidence was fairly circumstantial and could
have denoted any number of specific time zones), Steve felt a little odd as a slight
tinge shimmered through the air and sent a shiver up his spine. If he was superstitious,
he would have declared to himself that someone, in the far and distant future (he
hoped), had stepped over his grave, but due to recent events, he was a little unsure as
to where and when in time, this little plot of ground would exist! Given the time of
day though (Steve presumed that it was probably around tea- time), it was more than
likely that this little reaction was just his body adjusting to a shift in temperature.
Before their arrival, the day had almost certainly been hotter, but now the sun was
slowly setting in the distance and the atmosphere was cooling down.
187
For some odd reason, it took Steve a short while to consciously equate the fact that all
of these varying elements meant that time had now ground once more into succession
and as a voice, which was clearly not Benjy’s, began to yell and scream at him, his
eyes sprang open with surprise and he swiftly turned around.
“Excuse me sir? What on Earth do you think you’re doing? Allowing your dog to
complete his toilet in such a prominent and unhygienic position? There are places you
can go for such a function. The local park for one thing!” The voice was definitely a
London accent, cockney even.317 It was almost squeaky and high- pitched, but still
contained an element of authority in its angry inquiry.318 “Come to think of it, who are
you and what are you doing in our garden in the first place?”
Steve looked around flustered. He quite clearly was in a certain amount of trouble
here. If he didn’t say the right thing and this fellow in turn got aggressive enough, the
young man could be on the receiving end of a punch on the nose! Steve hadn’t
actively taken part in a fist- fight since he was in his first year at high school and even
then he lost completely, due to the fact that he had never been a physically strong
individual. He certainly didn’t think much of his chances now, even in spite of the
fact that this figure seemed to be of a slight appearance himself!319 Being a bit of a
pessimist, Steve rationalised that his potential opponent probably had small man
syndrome or something and would no doubt love the chance of giving a young
vagrant from another time, a damn good pasting! Not knowing quite what to say and
seemingly in absolute desperation, his eyes fluttered down toward Benjy, almost
pleading the dog for some sort of assistance, but unfortunately, due to the peculiarities
and constraints of their journeying, the Golden Labrador had reverted back to his old
self. As things turned out however, this wasn’t such a bad thing.
317
M. Foot, 1996, H.G. – The History of Mr. Wells, Great Britain, Black Swan Publishing, p.26 (In a
quote by Frank Harris, a book publisher, he says of the young H.G. that “his accent was that of a
cockney.”)
318
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.6 (In Jack
Williamson’s foreword to this book, he describes H.G.: “Physically, he was a small man with a
squeaky cockney voice.”)
319
M. Coren, 1993, The Invisible Man – The Life and Liberties of H.G. Wells, Great Britain,
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 37 (There is a well written description of Wells during his earlier
years. “He was a little underweight – not a hint of the corpulence of his later years- and had a
scrawny, even cadaverous appearance.”)
188
Steve was quite perplexed and baffled by the ensuing events. Instead of aiding his
master in a great escape plan, or barking loudly and savagely to make their assailant
flee back into his abode in terror, Benjy was now trying to make an acquaintance with
this aggressive individual! His tail wagged speedily, he was grinning from ear to ear
and his face was attempting to muzzle itself in the crotch of the cockney’s trousers.
Steve’s eyes rolled in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, we’re sort of here… by accident!”
he muttered, just about to give up hope and clench his body to absorb the pain that
would be received from this man’s fists.
The young time traveller’s words were all in vain however. As Steve closed his eyes
ready to attempt a meagre effort at battle, he blinked them open again in surprise to
find out that in actual fact, his words of justification had been totally disregarded! He
wasn’t even sure that the individual had heard him at all! The man was too interested
in the attentions of the Golden Labrador! As soon as Benjy started to get friendly, the
feelings and approach were reciprocated. The man’s creased forehead lightened
somewhat and a broad smile appeared underneath his bushy moustache, across the
lower half of his gaunt face.320 “Well, I never!” the man exclaimed. “You are a
handsome beast aren’t you?” He placed both hands (which, Steve thought, looked
slightly feminine) on Benjy’s head and started to tickle behind his ears.321 “Now my
dear little friend…” He looked up at Steve for the first time since his earlier
confrontation. “What’s his name?”
“Benjy,” Steve said, shaking his head slightly, almost gob- smacked.
“Well, come on then Benjy!” the man said in an absurd parody of baby- talk. “Let’s
go inside to see if we can find you something to eat! That will really get Mrs.
Higginbottom’s goat up won’t it? Having a dog in her residence!” With that, the
individual spun around and began to totter back through the front door of the house,
with his new canine friend plodding amiably in tow.
320
H.G. Wells, 1982, The Treasury of World Masterpieces: H.G. Wells, USA, Octopus Books
Incorporated, p. 10 (In the introduction to this book, it gives a description of Wells’ appearance as
“unprepossessing in physical appearance – small, under-weight and strained looking”.)
321
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 37 (“…and he looked at times almost feminine”)
189
Still standing on the pathway and suddenly feeling a bit of an outsider, Steve really
didn’t know whether to follow or not.
**********
When he finally plucked up the courage to follow his pet and the strange little man
into the house, he was surprised to see that inside, the building was in actual fact split
into several different flats or private rooms. He wasn’t quite sure where the two had
gone and after a short dithering period, was relieved to see an open door on the first
floor ahead of him, at the top of a fairly substantial staircase.322 He hoped that he
wasn’t about to intrude on someone’s private business and toddled upward delicately
to peer his face around the corner of the frame to see into the living area.
Thankfully however, there was the moustached individual feeding Benjy a chunk of
bread, complete with a slice of rather luxurious looking cheese. The man, who was
clad in a suit that looked a little too large for him, a white shirt with rounded collars
and a scruffy tie, looked up and beamed.323 “Ah there you are sir! Don’t stand in the
doorway! Come on in and have a cup of tea! The old woman upstairs will complain
even more if you’re seen to be littering up her precious landing!”
Steve looked down at his own clothing and realised that he did look a little worse for
wear. “Thankyou sir” he finally said, entering the room and closing the door behind
him. For some reason, the time traveller felt as though he were conversing with an
individual who was a lot older than he, but found that the man’s bushy facial hair and
overall façade actually belied the truth. His deep blue eyes were the dead give away;
he couldn’t have been much older than Steve himself.324 “Do you get much trouble
with her then?”
322
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.36 (“When
Wells came to write (The Time Machine) in a small, first floor room of the Eardley Road house,
Tusculum Villa, he knew he had to succeed.”)
323
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.36 (There is a
picture here on Wells and his wife just before the world war, where his suit looks a little too large for
him. There are no references to the way Wells used to dress at this time. This is just a personal
observation of a photograph from the author!)
324
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 50 (There is a clash between Wells’ age at the time of writing the
Time Machine. Coren’s book states that: “Wells was twenty eight years old, one of a plethora of
190
“Oh the odd complaint! She doesn’t like me using my night- light325 and I’ve heard
her gossiping about us to the neighbours through the open window.326 I’d normally
just close it up, but it is August after all and it’s been extremely hot!” Mentally, Steve
chalked up a tick for the observational powers he seemed to be acquiring on his
temporal journeying! It was August! He was astounded by the fact that he could apply
his own experiences and memories to places that were technically foreign to him!
As Steve watched Benjy guzzle down the proffered morsel of food, he realised that
his stomach was rumbling rather loudly and looked hopefully at the snack ingredients.
The bread, a traditional uncut loaf, looked fluffy and fresh, whilst the cheese lay in a
half cut block, next to the man on a shoddy looking wooden table. Once the time
traveller had had a good look around, in point of fact, most of the furniture in the
room actually looked quite weathered and battered.327 Amongst other assorted
furnishings, there was a hairy and dishevelled looking chaise lounge, a small chest of
drawers complete with a candlestick on top, a small bookcase filled untidily with
hardback books and papers and what resembled a coffee table that Noah probably
erected on the ark.328 If this fellow had been a time traveller, Steve rationalised, then
the ark would undoubtedly be the place he would have obtained his furniture, but it
would have been after the great floods and not before!
struggling authors.” Others however, such as Michael Foot’s biography clearly state that the author’s
birthday was 21st September 1866. Therefore, he was still twenty- seven and the same age as Steve!)
325
M. Foot, 1996, H.G. – The History of Mr. Wells, Great Britain, Black Swan Publishing, p.29 (“As he
wrote late one summer night by an open window, she grumbled about the excessive use of her lamp.”)
326
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.39
(Apparently Wells’ landlady at Eardley road, on finding “divorce papers from his (previous) wife’s
solicitors” in their lodgings while they were out and that he and Catherine Robbins, his mistress, were
not married, “resorted to verbal innuendo in the form of slanderous complaints to her neighbours
adjoining the house in Eardley road. Her loud remarks, with whining comments on a sinful young
couple who had taken advantage of her innocence, came floating up obtrusively to Wells on hot August
nights”.)
327
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 50 (It was clear that before the official novelisation and publication
of “The Time Machine” in 1895, Wells was not a wealthy man. He had spent time in writing articles for
magazines such as “The Pall Mall Gazette”, but these did not provide him with an overly adequate
income. It says here on page 50 that when he sold The Time Machine for 100 pounds, his “capital
trebled overnight.” Therefore, he wouldn’t have had rich and exotic furniture before this point.)
328
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.39 (At this
point in 1894, Wells in described as an “impoverished young man”.)
191
Given the man’s initial anger and then subsequent lack of interest in him before, Steve
was a little taken aback when they both simply fell wholeheartedly into a
conversation. The man eyed him up and down curiously. “I take it from your
appearance and the fact that you have with you, this fine specimen of an animal, that
you are not the representative from Heinemann?”329
Steve developed a quizzical expression upon his face. “I’m sorry?”
The man rolled his eyes. “Oh it’s okay! The gentleman must have been delayed.
Catherine330 and her mother331 wanted to go for a stroll in the park you see. It is such
a lovely evening after all. Unfortunately however, I had to keep my appointment with
the book publisher. They went on their own.” He paused and arranged two cups and
saucers (both a tad chipped) upon the table. “They don’t normally come out to see
you, you know, the publishers that is, but ever since I left Isabel332, we’ve been quite
scorned in London.333 It’s been rather hard. At such a young age, I have developed
quite a name for myself! My family think that I am a philanderer! They love me, they
really do, but they just don’t understand how I feel sometimes.”334 The man seemed to
be rambling to himself and Steve didn’t really feel that he could get a word in
edgeways, in order to tell him to stop. He didn’t need to know this man’s private life
and business; to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, but as the individual
329
H.G. Wells, 2002, The Time Machine, London, Everyman’s Library, p. li (In all of the references to
H.G. Wells that were studied for this text, it is made clear that William Heinemann was the book
publisher who finally released The Time Machine for public consumption. In the section here, entitled
“Introduction to the Text” and written by a man named John Lawton, it is made clear that the “story
ran in the New Review from January to May 1895. In May The Time Machine finally appeared as a
book, published by Heinemann, who also published the New Review.”)
330
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 47 (Amy Catherine Robbins was the name of his mistress.)
331
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.37 (When
Wells and Catherine set up home they were “accompanied by Mrs. Robbins! – surely an uneasy
chaperone under the odd circumstances…”)
332
H.G. Wells, 1982, The Treasury of World Masterpieces: H.G. Wells, United States of America,
Octopus Books Incorporated, p. 10 (Isabel was the name of Wells’ first wife. “They set up home
together in Wandsworth” in 1891, “but it was soon apparent that… Wells had made a bad mistake. In
reality, Isabel was contented to be a respectable suburban housewife, far removed from the romantic
ideal that Wells had built her up to be in his imagination.”)
333
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 50 (“He was living far from the hub of literary life, in the small
town of Sevenoaks, Kent, where he and Catherine had taken sanctuary from London, past relationships
and gossip.”)
334
M. Foot, 1996, H.G. – The History of Mr. Wells, Great Britain, Black Swan Publishing, p.22 (Wells’
parents “could not quite approve his divorce to Isabel which went through in the first five months of
1895; but they could never doubt the love of such a son.”)
192
continued, it rapidly became apparent that he did need someone to talk to. Perhaps his
initial friendly acquaintance with Benjy had just been, at least in part, a front to lure
them both in here? Steve suddenly thought about all of the urban myths involving
deranged men tying up complete strangers in their basements for their own sordid and
depraved sexual pleasures. For a second, he was almost worried about ending up on
the front cover of next week’s tabloids. He could see the headline clearly: “MAN
WITH NO HISTORY, COCKNEY AND LABRADOR IN PERVY LOVE
TRIANGLE.” As he rapidly drifted back to reality however, he gazed at the man.
Strange as though he was, he also seemed intelligent, thoughtful and timid and it was
upon this assumption that Steve quickly realised that he had not been threatened in the
slightest and nor would he be.335
“He said that he would be here late this evening, but it is getting on a bit. Hmmm.”
The man stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “His train could have been delayed. It’s
funny how much of our lives are dependent on time and timing isn’t it?”
Perhaps it was the last line, but Steve couldn’t help but to stare at the man,
dumbfounded. “What did you say?” he exclaimed, before suddenly worrying about
how rude he must have seemed.
“I just said about time and the effect it has on us.” The man smiled and stood to walk
over to a small kitchen area, which was made up of a number of cupboards, a slight
bench and a huge black stove complete with an over-sized saucepan of bubbling hot
water. As he lifted up the saucepan and tipped some of the clear liquid into a
neighbouring ceramic tea- pot, he glimpsed back at his guest. “My name is Bertie,
well to the people who know me anyway.”336
As Steve said his name in reply, he casually moved closer to the table, eyeing off the
food as he did so.
335
M. Foot, 1996, H.G. – The History of Mr. Wells, Great Britain, Black Swan Publishing, p.26 (A
further observation from book publisher Frank Harris noted that Wells’ “manner was timid.”)
336
M. Foot, 1996, H.G. – The History of Mr. Wells, Great Britain, Black Swan Publishing, p.1 (“Bertie
was his family name.”)
193
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance Steve!” said Bertie, who noticed the
young man’s gaze. “Help yourself if you’re hungry, but-” he held up an index finger
as though he were going to say something incredibly important. “Don’t forget to give
Benjy some! Do you take milk in your tea?”
**********
As Steve sucked down the steaming cup of tea, he watched Bertie feed Benjy some
more bread.
“You know, your little canine friend here has some rather unusual expressions?” the
small man asked.
“Yes,” said the time traveller. “It’s sometimes almost as though he’s been crossed
with a human being!”337
The man smiled, as if caught in a momentary passing thought, and then asked: “he
certainly likes his grub though doesn’t he?” before patting the alert Labrador on the
top of the head.
“Well he’s definitely a dustbin dog!” Steve started to giggle, but stopped abruptly
when Benjy turned his head sideways to glare at him. Then, after a short moment of
silence, the time traveller turned his attentions back to his gracious host. “So I take it
from all of this talk of publishers that you have written a book?”
The moustached man blushed slightly.338 “I’m writing one at the moment,” he
corrected. “The publishers have offered me one hundred pounds for the finished
337
Octopus Books Incorporated, p. 11 (In another of Wells’ novels, entitled “The Island of Doctor
Moreau”, “the agony of beasts made half- human by the surgery of the maniacal scientist, Moreau” is
dealt with. Vivisection horrified H.G. Wells and the book conveyed his opinions on “‘interference’
with nature.”)
338
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 37 (Wells apparently “blushed very easily, and when he did he
would often rub the back of his hand across his face to try to disguise his embarrassment.”)
194
manuscript.339 That’s more money than I have ever seen! It will remove us slightly
from this squalor anyway!” His eyes moved around his lodgings with a look that
bordered almost on contempt. Steve meanwhile, had internally taken this last
comment on board. He was still trying to work out when they were, but unfortunately
the fact that one hundred pounds was a lot of money didn’t offer any further clue.
They could be in England, one hundred years ago or even within his own short
lifetime. He remembered his father for instance, earned about one hundred pounds a
month for wages in the late nineteen seventies.
“So what’s the book called?” As Steve hadn’t found out the date, he realised that he
had to be content with good conversation and inquiry. He was genuinely interested
though. He was always keen to meet budding young authors. Even though he was an
art student, strangely he equated himself with these people. To write is an art form. It
is just as much about conjuring up images as those completing work in the more
literal realms of his domain. Also, many authors in the past had given him ideas and
pre-occupations for his own strand of creative labour.
“I’m not sure yet, I’m still tinkering with a few ideas. The original story was called
‘The Chronic Argonauts’. You see it’s actually an earlier tale that I am re-working.
‘The Chronic Argonauts’ was published six years ago in the “Science Schools
Journal”.340 It was one of my little claims to fame! This is the type of thing that I
really want to do for a living you see? I want to write, full- time, professionally.
Unfortunately that’s all about taking risks!341 So, a friend of mine, Will Henley, who
works for a magazine called New Review, recently proposed that I re-write my story
for public consumption!342 He wants to release it in his national periodical! It’s going
339
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 50 (“Henley’s influence on Wells’ career cannot be overestimated.
He wrote to his young contributor, offering 100 pounds for what would become The Time Machine.”)
340
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.39 (“The
genesis of The Time Machine was involved and complex because the ‘Time Traveller’ articles
themselves had evolved from other material, ‘The Chronic Argonauts’, which Wells had originally
written for The Science Schools Journal.”)
341
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.36 (H.G. once
said of The Time Machine, at the time it was written that it was his “trump card and if it does not come
off very much I shall know my place for the rest of my career.”)
342
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 50 (W.R., or William Ernest, Henley seems to have been one of the
greatest influences of Wells’ career as an author. He not only commissioned the story for the New
195
fairly well! I don’t think that its perfect343, perhaps it never will be, but it’s definitely
a self contained piece.”344 Steve had never heard of the man or the magazines that
Bertie had described. They had obviously all bombed out at some stage, did not go
down in the grand echelons of history and therefore their lack of fame was quite
understandable!
“It sounds like you’re having fun with it though. How long have you been writing?”
Steve thought about his own thesis and the months that it had taken him so far.
“About a week,” Bertie said succinctly. “I’m about half way through!”345
Steve nearly stood up from his seat in admiration. “A week?” he exclaimed. “You
must be a fast writer! What’s it about?”
Bertie’s face creased slightly. “It’s a little difficult to explain,” he said. “It’s a tad…
scientific.”346
“Oh?” said Steve, now quite intrigued. “Try me anyway!”
“Well, it’s about this man who traverses the fourth dimension.347 It’s a bit about time
actually.”
Review, but also “took the liberty of approaching publisher William Heinemann” to get the book in
print as a novel.)
343
M. Foot, 1996, H.G. – The History of Mr. Wells, Great Britain, Black Swan Publishing, p.29 (Wells
thought that “The Time Machine” was “the work of an inexperienced writer.”)
344
H.G. Wells, 2002, The Time Machine, London, Everyman’s Library, p. xliii (Direct quote from H.G.
Wells in John Lawton’s introduction. The author would later dismiss The Time Machine as “a very
undergraduate affair, perhaps indicating that he was never entirely happy with the finished product.)
345
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.37 (“In the
fortnight they spent on holiday… Wells, aged only twenty eight, wrote The Time Machine from some
commissioned articles. This must be something of a literary record.”)
346
http://www.literatureclassics.com/essays/388/ (Essay on H.G. Wells life and background), as viewed
on 21st January 2003 (Wells had a history in science. He “got his Bachelor of Science in 1890. He
wrote a biology textbook and contributed short stories to several magazines.” At Midhurst Grammar
school earlier on in his teaching, “he studied biology under T.H. Huxley. Wells found Huxley an
inspiring teacher and as a result developed a strong interest in social and biological evolution.”)
347
H.G. Wells, 1935, The Time Machine, Great Britain, J.M. Dent in Everyman’s Library, p.4 (In
Wells book, this copy cited is a re-release of course, there is a detailed explanation about movement in
the fourth dimension. This is the first time, such an explanation was ever devised or considered.)
196
“What like “The Time Machine” you mean?” Steve chuckled, now starting to consider
his earlier line of inquiry. This was another would- be author, who wrote about time
travel! Another coincidence perhaps? Or a more carefully planned journey? Whatever
force it was that was manipulating their adventure, it certainly had a specific agenda!
“You mean like the H.G. Wells novel?”
Bertie suddenly looked absolutely flabbergasted. His eyebrows rose, his eyes widened
and his mouth hung open slightly, as if in surprise. It was a few seconds before he
spoke again and Steve was beginning to wonder how he had offended him. “What did
you just say?” Bertie asked slowly and quietly.
Steve glimpsed behind him rapidly, not quite knowing why he currently felt so guilty.
“I said like the H.G. Wells novel, ‘The Time Machine.’” His words were slow and
cautious.
Bertie didn’t say anything in reply for the moment. Instead, to Steve’s amazement and
shock, he simply stood up, walked over to the door of his abode and systematically
locked it. The young time traveller suddenly had visions once more about being
bound by the wrists and ankles in his underwear and started to panic! Even Benjy,
who had slumped to the ground for a bit of a doze, lifted his head to see what Bertie
was up to.
The man turned around and stared straight at Steve. “Now, I want the truth.” He
plunged his hands deep into his pockets and raised his chin up high. He looked almost
embarrassed about what he was going to ask next. “Are you a time traveller?” He
swallowed hard, so much so, that his Adam’s apple rippled.
Steve looked boggle- eyed before almost spluttering his reply. How could he have
been caught out so easily? “What?” was about all he could manage!
Bertie took two paces closer to the young man. “What year is it?”
Steve said nothing.
197
“You don’t know do you?” Strangely enough, Bertie did not seem angry or deranged.
At first he was quite silent and subdued, but the more the conversation moved on, the
more… excited he became.
“What is this all about Bertie?” The young man was starting to get very hot under the
collar and flitted around the room looking for possible escape routes. There were
none.
Bertie rose up to his full height. He obviously wasn’t very tall, but it was still a fairly
intimidating gesture to someone who was half scared out of their wits. “I know that
you and Benjy are not from this time.”
Shaking a little, Steve continued with his excuses and lies. “That’s absurd!”
“I know,” Bertie continued “because one of the titles that I was considering for the
book that I am currently writing was to be ‘The Time Machine.’ I hadn’t told a soul.
You couldn’t possibly have known!”
“Maybe I’m psychic?” Steve feebly offered, not even putting two and two together at
the information that had just been dangled in front of his eyes like a carrot.
“I don’t think so young man,” continued the cockney. “Also, did I tell you that Bertie
is only a diminutive of my full name? A nickname my family once allocated to me?”
Suddenly for Steve, something snapped ferociously and rapidly into place. “Allow me
to introduce myself properly.” Bertie’s gaze seemed to be adhered and unblinking to
the young man’s. “My full name is Herbert George Wells!”
**********
At first, Steve considered putting on the ‘surprise, happy birthday!’ act, but quickly
realised that this man was by no means stupid. He doubted that the world was ready
for his Marilyn Monroe impression anyway. He didn’t have the figure for it and he
certainly didn’t have the singing voice. He rubbed his face in his hands. In his home,
in October 2002, he had just acquired a pile of books on the life of H.G. Wells, but
198
had simply not got around to studying them yet. He cursed himself and his lazy
attitude! What a read they were going to be though, if he ever got back to the realms
of normality! Finally he looked up and stared directly into the eyes of the literary
genius before him. “What do you want to know?”
H.G. Wells slowly turned his wooden chair around to face Steve and sat down.
“Everything!” said the man, with a look of wild- eyed wonder.
**********
Steve told Wells the full story of how he and Benjy came to be travelling through the
echoes and voids of time, carefully describing and outlaying the various anachronisms
of speech that cropped up as he went. Being a man of science, the would-be author
quickly picked up and grasped everything that he was told, such as the terms
‘microwave oven’ and ‘mobile phone’ and opinions on traversing the fourth
dimension. The young time traveller had been initially in two minds about telling his
tale. On the one hand, he knew that he was risking his own safety, privacy and
possibly every paradoxical notion under the sun, on the other though, he felt that he
had been pressured into it and didn’t have much choice. Either way, it turned out to be
good to get all of it off his chest, to someone other than Benjy. When he came to
discussing the various time zones that they had visited, he gave Wells the condensed
version, knowing that the relevance of each of the historical figures that he and Benjy
had met, would be wasted on the man, given the fact that most of them were in his
future. Steve did however discuss in full detail their last jaunt, the business with the
Gascoigne leader and the subsequent explosion in 802,701.348 This, as he remembered
from the story of “The Time Machine”, seemed quite an appropriate date!
“So there you have it,” he said finally, sitting back in his chair. “It’s a pretty amazing
and far- fetched tale. Do you believe it?”
348
http://www.online-literature.com/wellshg/ (On-line literature website – H.G. Wells section), as
viewed on 21st January 2003 (“As a novelist Wells made his debut with The Time Machine, a parody of
English class division and a satirical warning that human progress is not inevitable. The Time
Traveller lands in the year 802701.”)
199
Wells sat staring at the magic mobile phone, which the time traveller had placed for
him to see on the table. Then he nodded silently and quickly to signify that he had
been won over. Benjy had stayed slumped to the ground throughout the entire story,
but was very much wide- awake, rolling his eyes backwards and forwards between the
two humans, as though offering his master emotional support!
“So what now?” Steve asked in anticipation of the fact that he could be the sole
human being who caused a devastating rip in the fabric of the space and time
continuum.
Wells then looked up. “Can anyone time travel? I mean could I go with you?”349
Steve shook his head solemnly. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Why not?” the cockney author asked.
“Well to begin with, in my time, you play an enormous role in the fabric of society.
You’re the founder and the father of science fiction!350 You actually establish many
ideas in story- telling that become the platform for basically all that will follow.351 If
you came with us, the chances are, you couldn’t be brought back to your own era! It
would cause a paradox in time.” Steve was unsure if Wells had understood this
concept and so attempted to explain himself. “If you don’t eventually write ‘The Time
Machine’ for me to read and relate to as a child, then technically I cannot explain to
you now about the book, because it will never have existed for me to read it in the
first place! If you came with me and couldn’t get back, then we would perhaps be
intentionally causing a muddle in time!”
349
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Roberts, Pennant (director), 1985, Doctor Who – Timelash,
London, BBC Television (In this Doctor Who adventure in 1985, Wells actually did travel in time in
the TARDIS with the sixth Doctor, Colin Baker. The writer was portrayed as a typical nineteenth
century adventurer from 1888. However, the character here bears absolutely no resemblance to the
H.G. Wells of reality. For example, major mistakes include that that he speaks with an upper- class
English accent and also that he is timid around gorgeous women!)
350
http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Delphi/8169/ (H.G. Wells Biography- fan website), as viewed on
21st January 2003 (Direct quote from this student- based web-site: “H.G. Wells is considered by some
to be the father of modern science fiction.”)
351
http://members.tripod.com/~gwillick/wells_hg.html (H.G. Wells’ Vital Statistics Page), as viewed
on 21st January 2003 (“Four novels in four years that created time travel, genetic experimentation,
invisibility, and interstellar invasion.”)
200
“But all I am doing is writing a novel that no-one will read anyway!”
The young time traveller glared at the man. “Then why do you persist in writing it?
You must know, to be re-writing this story with such enthusiasm, that it has public
appeal!352 The idea of time travel is novel. It’s brand spanking new in fact! It’s never
been done before!”
“That’s not strictly true…” Wells began, but Steve cut him off short.353
“It is the way you do it though! You combine scientific thinking and fiction. Your
traveller goes to the future in a man- made machine.354 That’s never been done before
and I tell you, that will set the standard for a long while to come! In the year 2002 in
fact, the year I left, your great grandson has just produced a Hollywood moving image
version of your first novel.355 It’s a multi- million dollar blockbuster!”
“A what?”
Steve smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out. All you need to know is that it will be
big, I assure you!”
“So do I really become famous?” Wells, for some reason, was nearly driven to tears.
“Will I become a respected writer?”
“Yes, you will. Not only that, your ideas in ‘The Time Machine’ will spur on a line of
thinking in genuine scientific research. A bloke called Einstein will pick it up in a
352
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 49 (1894 was not actually the first re-write. As it says here,
preceding 1895, “Wells had revised the story at least five times…”)
353
H.G. Wells, 2002, The Time Machine, London, Everyman’s Library, p. xxxvii (In John Lawton’s
introduction, it is explicitly stated that Wells wasn’t actually the first person to use the idea of time
travel in a story. For instance, William Morris’ book entitled “News from Nowhere”, which was written
in 1890, “features a man who wakes after a long sleep to find himself in the twenty- first century.”
According to Lawton here, several “novels of the time offered something like this- Richard Jefferies’
‘After London’ (1885) and W.H. Hudson’s ‘A Crystal Age’ (1887)” were two more examples.)
354
viewed on 21st January 2003 (“Much of the realism of the story was achieved by carefully studied
technical details.”)
355
D. Valdes (Producer) and S. Wells (Director), 2002, The Time Machine, USA, Dreamworks Pictures
201
little over ten years time.356 Time travel is not a norm of my contemporary daily life. I
can only do it because of a freak accident. Scientists however are trying to make it a
reality! Science aided your fantasy, but in turn your fantasy will aid science. It’s kind
of neat really!”
The young H.G. Wells stood up. A few tears were streaming down his face. He placed
his hand on his forehead delicately. “I never thought that I would do it. I have always
resigned myself to the fact that there are two classes of human being.357 The rich and
the poor. I have always despised that notion, especially as it has often seemed that I
was always going to live a life of drudgery. I was always going to be part of the
working class, the servitors; the drapery assistants.”358
Steve also stood and put his hand on the man’s jacket sleeve. “But you have used
these emotions haven’t you? To me you’ve just described a class distinction, a bit like
that between the Eloi and the Morlocks in fact!”359
H.G. looked up, quite shocked that Steve had known about the existence of these
characters, but then beamed. It was after all, further proof that the young man was
telling the truth. “The secrets of time aye?”
“The secrets of time,” the anachronistic individual repeated before winking
mischievously.
356
viewed on 21st January 2003 (“The basic principles of the machine contained materials regarding time
as the fourth dimension - years later Albert Einstein published his theory of the four dimensional
continuum of space-time.”)
357
Bloomsbury Publishing Limited, p. 25 (During Wells’ childhood, he had “developed an awareness of
the English class structure. Though solidly lower middle class, both of his parents displayed a certain
inflated class snobbery… His headmaster too exhibited this same snobbery, emphasizing the allimportant difference between the privately educated pupils of his school and the ‘rabble’ outside the
gates… (Wells) realized for the first time that the mere possession of an education gave one a certain
station in society.”)
358
Octopus Books Incorporated, p. 9 (After his father had an accident in the young Wells’ youth, placing
their household in “real financial hardship”, the “young Bertie was forced to leave school and ‘make
his way in the world.’ Wells became an apprentice Draper’s assistant and loathed every second of it.)
359
P. Haining, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrap Book, Great Britain, New English Library, p.40 (In the
story of “The Time Machine”, the traveller meets two races; the Eloi, “gentle but ineffective people who
seem to have descended from ourselves, (who) do no work and… appear to spend most of their time in
amorous dalliance”; and the Morlocks, “a sinister and savage race dwelling underground, who seize
members of the Eloi from time to time”.)
202
**********
“Look,” Steve was blunt, but then he felt that he had to be. “You must promise me
that all that I have told you today, will remain a secret! You cannot tell people about
our presence! I don’t think that it is wise for man to know too much about his
future!”360
H.G. nodded. “Of course, I wholeheartedly agree! Anyway, if I did voice my
knowledge of all this, in all seriousness I would probably be locked away in an
asylum somewhere!” The author had made them both another cup of tea and had
supplied Benjy with a saucer of water. Steve thought that the fellow probably needed
to do something everyday and normal to cope with what he had just been told. “What
about you? How does meeting me equate with the theory that you had upon your
arrival here?”
Steve pondered momentarily. “Well, time travel stories have always been my
favourite and I did read ‘The Time Machine’ both when I was younger and recently in
terms of my own scholarly research.” Suddenly Steve grappled with a flash of
inspiration. “Of course! Perhaps I am the guiding force? Perhaps this process of
traversing the voids is somehow connected to my own subconscious?” He stopped
momentarily and scratched his head in frustration. “I wonder how I could put this to
the test?”
“I take it that by the subconscious, you mean your inner memories?”361 Steve nodded
in response. “Well, all right, what about if you brought your inner memories to the
forefront a little? You could really keep your mind focused on a specific time and
place when you are next travelling? Just think about that place wholeheartedly
without failure and you may actually arrive there! It might not work-”
360
I realise that this statement seems fairly antiquated and sexist, but when Steve talks to H.G. here, he
speaks in a tongue that the author will understand. H.G. Wells came from a time, obviously, where
women were not considered in such speech. Humankind was often referred to as simply “Man”.
361
Sigmund Freud’s work on the subconscious, namely his Interpretation of Dreams was not published
until 1899. Therefore Wells would not have been aware of its explicit theories for another five years
after this story is set.
203
“But it’s worth a shot!” Steve concluded Bertie’s statement for him.
Wells picked up the mobile phone off of the table and peered at the buttons curiously.
“What an intriguing time machine! So all you have to do to time travel is press a
special number in here and if the plughole is close by, you sort of… get sucked in?”
“Yes.” The young man leant forward and took back his property daintily. “The
plughole has to be in close vicinity somewhere here! Probably even in this room! I
think that you and I were supposed to meet and share this conversation! That is why
Benjy and I were both brought here in the first place.” His eyes began to look around
the dwelling in detail and sure enough, there it was, the time plughole in all its glory,
hidden roughly out of sight on the wall, tucked down to the right of the bookcase.
Even though he was excited to see it however, he didn’t tell Bertie of its presence.
“We are going to have to leave soon. As I said, I think that we’ve done what we came
to do! And besides which, I think that the fair Catherine and her mother will be
returning home soon!”
“Hmm. Explanations would be difficult,” Wells agreed. Suddenly, a bell rang out
from the direction of the front door downstairs. “Ah! That might be the man from the
publishers. I had better go and let him in. I have already notified Mrs. Higginbottom
of his arrival! She’ll expect me to attend to him. Wait here Steve, please! I will be
back presently!” The young version of H.G. Wells hurriedly made his way to the door
of his lodgings. He unlocked it (glancing back with a knowing stare) and then went
out to greet his guest.
Steve nodded toward Benjy. “Well, you heard what the man said. Let’s keep our mind
focused on Sydney, 2002. Hopefully that will be our next destination!” He proceeded
to tap in the special number on the mobile and as the tones of each digit rang out, both
he and Benjy clenched to allow the wave of vapourisation and dispersement to
overcome them. When H.G. Wells would return to his flat in just over a few seconds
204
with the man from Heinemann publishing in tow, his guests from the future, as
curious a distraction as they may have been, of course, would have simply vanished.
205
Chapter Eight:
The D elusional Time Traveller
Figure 20. 2002 A.D.- The Delusional Time Traveller 2002
206
“I guess as a child I found the idea of time travel one of the most exciting things
ever…” – Suzanne Treister
The Museum of Contemporary Art,
Circular Quay, Sydney, Australia, 12.58 pm, Thursday 16th May 2002
Even before they had fully solidified back into physical form, on this occasion, Steve
knew exactly where he and Benjy were about to materialise. Being a visual arts
student, he was more than familiar with the Museum of Contemporary Art in Sydney.
He had been there in many instances for field trips, exhibitions and personal jaunts of
research.
Given that when they had set off on this occasion, on their flit across the continuum,
they had a very distinct motive as to where they might end up, these new surroundings
were not exactly what Steve had had in mind. As he swam through the endless wastes
of the time and space void, the only two things that he had focused on were Sydney
and 2002. Unfortunately, he didn’t realise that he had to be a great deal more specific
than that! If they had arrived in this place, on October the 8th 2002, then they would
have been able to enjoy the benefits of a fresh exhibition at the gallery; before all of
this adventure had begun, Steve hadn’t paid the MCA a visit for a little while. On the
final fizz of their arrival however, the young man was surprised to see an art show
that he had previously visited already. This in itself presented him with a curious mix
of emotions. On the one hand, their new location offered the duo some degree of hope
207
and relief. They had clearly landed in an era that was in the near vicinity of their own
and it was nice for Steve, for once, to be in some familiar surroundings. The young
man’s theory on his own subconscious thought being the driving force behind their
travels had, in some respects, been proven to be correct! On the other however, their
new predicament was almost like a temporal slap in the face. They were so close to
the date that they had originally left from, but as the saying goes, still so far away…
In hindsight, it probably would have been preferable to see a series of exhibits from
the future!
“It’s this year’s Biennale of Sydney!” exclaimed Steve. A minute spark of awareness
then flashed upon his face. “It worked… sort of. At least we’re a little closer to home!
We nearly made it! I suppose that this could be a good sign…” He didn’t seem very
sure of his words.
Benjy yawned an apathetic response: “Yeah, really wonderful,” before slumping to
the ground where he stood. “As you know, I’m not much of an art lover, so wake me
when you’ve changed the course of history and found the plughole will you?” With
that little quip, he started to close his eyes in order to get some sleep!
Steve was a little irritated by his canine companion’s lack of enthusiasm. “Come on
Benge,” he almost pleaded. “You just had a nap at H.G. Well’s place! It’s not
everyday that a dog gets to be shown around an art gallery!”
Benjy’s eyes opened and the dog considered briefly his retort. “I’m still tired and
basically, if the art is anything like the imagery that you bring home, then I think that
I can live without it! I remember that painting of me that you did a few years back!
My oh my…”
They had arrived on the second floor of the art gallery, at the top of a wide staircase
leading down to the building’s front entrance. It was on this level that the work of
artist Gilles Barbier from Vanuatu, comprised of a large floor- piece (made up of a
number of children’s toys and action figurines) and a life-size rubber model of a
rather dishevelled human male, was being displayed.
208
“So you’re not coming to explore then?” Steve asked in a last ditch attempt to spark
some interest from his pet. “I promise that you’ll like this exhibition. It was all about
notions of imagination and fantasy!”362
“No, no… I’m a little tired” Benjy muttered without any consideration whatsoever.
“You go and play and I’ll catch up with you later!” With that, he once again closed
his eyes and this time, successfully drifted off into slumber.
The young man stood for a second with his hands on his hips and looked around at the
rest of the gallery. Frozen people, spectators – the audience, stood scattered and
random, observing the works of art on display. Some frowned, some smiled, some
pointed and some just merely stood scratching their heads, quite obviously trying to
work out what the art was all about. Steve really wanted to go for a wander, but was a
little bit wary of leaving his dog alone in such a place that was alien to him. Besides
that, when time started up again, Benjy’s presence in the gallery could cause absolute
pandemonium! Considering what the best course of action should be, he looked down
again at where the Labrador was placed. Benjy was curled up in a ball, conveniently
next to Barbier‘s human mannequin, which he remembered from his earlier visit and a
public forum that he had attended at around this time363, was about the “omnivorous
developments” in the notions of cloning and dehumanisation.364
“Well, I suppose when all of these people start to move,” he rationalised, “if Benjy
stays asleep, it will just be assumed that he’s a part of the artwork.” As the young man
turned away from the Labrador, he was rather amused to read the nametag for the
work, which was to be a fortuitous bonus. “My Life as a Dog”365 he said aloud, before
chuckling. “Perfect!”
**********
362
The Biennale of Sydney 2002, Exhibition Guide, 2002, Sydney, Museum of Contemporary Art, p.4
(The Sydney Biennale of 2002 was entitled (The World May Be) Fantastic and according to the
exhibition guide released by the Museum of Contemporary Art, “focuses on artists who use fictions,
fakes, invented methodologies, hypotheses, subjective belief systems, modellings and experiments as a
basis for their work.”)
363
I attended a public forum on the Biennale of Sydney 2002 at Campbelltown City Bicentennial
Gallery on May 8th. Craig Judd, Biennale Education and Public Programs Officer gave a lecture as to
what some of the contents of the upcoming show would be.
364
365
209
Steve had quickly decided to move up to the next level of both the gallery and the
exhibition. The floor where he and Benjy had arrived was actually quite small and so
basically, after a quick look around, he had no other real option except to go upstairs.
If he went down to the ground level, he would risk separating himself too much from
his dog and so consequently estimated that if he ran into difficulties upstairs, he could
collect the Labrador in a hasty retreat downwards, toward the building’s main exit.
In this destination, for some weird reason, time seemed to be taking a bit longer to
start up again. There had never been any specific set period where animation set in (in
fact some instances often seemed a lot longer than others), but considering that on this
occasion, he had been able to look thoroughly at the vast multitude of the exhibits on
his route through the building, there was a definite drag. Steve justified in his own
mind, that perhaps the energy forces that drove this whole business of traversing time
were overly considerate of the traveller’s needs. Like a drawn out episode of
“Quantum Leap”, the young man had simply not discovered what he was doing in this
temporal location yet.
It was after toddling up a metal staircase however and exploring further into the
Biennale exhibition, that a reason of sorts seemed to present itself. After completely
ignoring the museum’s reading room and a small exhibit of Joyce Hinterding’s
plasma screens and marauding wires, he stepped into a secluded gallery space to his
left.366 This is where panic stations positively set in!
After a lifetime of time travel literature and stories, Steve was very aware of the
problems that could exist within the confines of such a journey. He knew of the
grandfather paradox367, the parallel dimension368 and the energy needs for a human to
366
B. Clark- Coolee and C. Judd (producers) and J. Marshall (director), 2002, The Biennale of Sydney
2002 – (The World May Be) Fantastic Artists in Focus, Sydney, Australia Council for the Arts (In a
section entitled “The Invisible Made Visible”, Hinterding discusses her work with “plasma wave
instruments.”)
367
www.plato.stansford.edu/entries/time-travel-phys/ (Time Travel and Modern Physics), as viewed on
15th August 2001. (This website outlays briefly the grandfather paradox: “you travel back in time and
kill your grandfather, thereby preventing your own existence.” If you never existed, how then could
you go back in time and kill your ancestor?)
368
F. Alan Wolf, 1988, Parallel Universes – the search for other worlds, USA, Simon and Schuster (In
the first chapter of this book, Wolf outlays the ideas of the parallel universe and how they are possibly
210
actually traverse the voids369, but right at this moment, it was the fourth major
problem that was on the tip of his mind. This was the notion about actually meeting
another version of yourself throughout time. According to popular culture, there were
many alternate theories to the outcome of this. In “Doctor Who”, it was combated by
the “first major law of time”370, which could only be overthrown in “the gravest
emergencies.”371 In the “Back to the Future” trilogy, the character of Doc Brown had
claimed that such a meeting could “cause a chain reaction that could unravel the very
fabric of the space- time continuum.”372 Either way, Steve had had it ingrained that
such an event would have a colossal and negative effect!
As he turned the corner into the space, he was initially surprised to see a number of
people sat in rows in front of a single lady who, given the fact that she was holding a
microphone, was obviously presenting some sort of lecture. His first reaction was to
almost duck behind the woman, as in spite of a vast number of frozen eyes staring up
in his direction, it was with one specific pair that Steve couldn’t help but to
continually focus on. A gut wrenching feeling welled up in the pits of his stomach. He
was staring directly into the eyes of himself.
**********
Steve, at that point, allowing for the inaccuracy of his own memory, knew the rough
date of his current predicament. When he had visited this exhibition before in
normality, in May earlier on that year, he had gone with one directive in mind: to see
the work of Suzanne Treister, a lady who had created for herself an alter ego, a
“duplicates of our own.” His research is pure speculation though, as the existence of these regions of
science has never been proven.)
369
P. Swain (Producer and Director), 1997, The Sci-Fi Files: The Children of Frankenstein, USA, A
Satel Documentary Production (In an interview on time travel, the science fiction author, Stephen
Baxter, speculates that to actually traverse the voids would “involve huge energies and enormous
amounts of mass.” He says that to time travel, “means kind of taking a star apart, essentially.”)
370
B. Letts (producer) and L. Mayne (director), 1973, The Three Doctors, Great Britain, BBC
Television (Direct quote from the series.)
371
J. Nathan- Turner (producer) and P. Grimwade (director), 1983, The Five Doctors, Great Britain,
BBC Television (Direct quote from the series.)
372
S. Spielberg (producer) and R. Zemeckis (director), 1989, Back to the Future Part 2, USA, Amblin
Entertainment (Direct quote from the movie.)
211
delusional time traveller named Rosalind Brodksy.373 Treister’s current work was
based around the temporal exploits of this character and the various projects that she
had initiated on her journeying. The double whammy for Steve’s visit was that the
artist had been giving a talk as a part of the Biennale celebrations and this meant that
valuable information could be gleaned for his university research.374
As he now stood behind the motionless Treister though, internally praying that time
wasn’t going to resume in a flash, he remembered that on that earlier occasion, he had
made a real day out of the event. He had gone along to the museum with his
grandfather (who was currently on holiday from England) and his friend, Rob. He
flitted through the crowd rapidly. The two were certainly sat in the group, one on
either side of his other persona!
Steve drastically needed somewhere to hide. The normal flow of time was imminent
and he knew that he couldn’t risk destroying what actually took place on that day. He
had certainly never remembered seeing a different temporal version of himself before,
let alone at the MCA! He looked up at a large clock that was on the wall and saw that
it was nearly 1pm. He seemed to recall that Treister’s talk had only been for half an
hour and so was nearly finished as it had begun at twelve thirty. If he could hide for
another ten minutes, then his other self, grandfather and friend would disappear onto
Circular Quay wharf outside, to go and get some lunch before the next artist talk at
2pm.375
He looked around rapidly and then ultimately decided on the best place for perfect
concealment.
**********
Steve had been right. When times’ flow recommenced, they had reached the point in
the proceedings where Suzanne Treister had asked the crowd if there were any
373
http://ensemble.va.com.au/Treister (Suzanne Treister’s official website), as viewed on 8th June 2002.
(Information about the character of Rosalind Brodsky on her “Homepage” clearly states that she
“suffers from delusions, particularly in relation to fantasies of time travel.”)
374
I actually attended a lecture given by Suzanne Treister, on her work, during this specific time.
375
At 2pm, the artist Susan Hiller was being interviewed by the Biennale artistic director Richard
Grayson, specifically about her work entitled ‘Witness’ (2000).
212
questions. From his hiding spot inside one of Rosalind Brodksy’s time travelling
costumes (the one specifically created for going back to save her grandparents from
death in the great holocaust,376) he was astonished to see himself put his hand up from
within the crowd.
“Yes, I have a question!” ‘How pompous do I come across in public?’ thought the
newer version of Steve, before he listened to the crux of his earlier inquiry. “What
major childhood narratives influenced your art- making and ideas?”377
Treister smiled and answered succinctly. “Oh probably, ‘Doctor Who’ and stuff like
‘The Tomorrow People.’ I always used to watch those in childhood!”378
As the earlier version of Steve scribbled down notes on a pad, the hidden
accomplished time traveller model smiled and whispered to himself: “A girl after my
own heart!”
With that though, he remained rigid and statue- like. Aware that if he were
discovered, it would certainly mean an immediate arrest and a spell in a jail cell, the
rest of the audience enquiries seemed to zoom by in a blur. As his anxiety was about
to reach maximum pressure though, luckily for him, Suzanne Treister thanked the
crowd for listening, before saying goodbye and that her time was up. Steve was then
relieved to see that everyone had started to slowly disperse from the exhibition site,
either just nodding politely at the artist as they made their exit, or shaking her by the
hand.
Steve waited for a few more minutes, until most of the people had gone and then
quickly peeled off the special type of clothing that he had placed, rather hurriedly,
over his own. He noticed that his earlier version and company had vacated the area
rather swiftly, which was a large relief in terms of the stability of the universe! Upon
leaving he would need to be careful and refrain from inadvertently bumping into the
376
http://ensemble.va.com.au/Treister (Suzanne Treister’s official website), as viewed on 8th June 2002.
(Rosalind Brodsky has a few time travelling costumes, all with different uses. In this costume,
according to this website, she accidentally turned up on the set of the movie Schindler’s List! Another
costume that is shown here is the one she used to travel back to the “Russian Revolution.”)
377
This was the actual question that I asked during Treister’s feedback session after her public talk!
378
This was the actual and direct answer from Suzanne Treister on 16th May 2002.
213
three again. He then retrieved the original mannequin that he had undressed earlier
and thrown to one side of the space (out of view of the audience), and quickly put the
costume back on it.
As he carried out the final stages of his perfect crime, his mind began to rush with
both the unanswered reason for him being there (on this occasion), in that he hadn’t
seemed to have made the slightest difference to the predicament, and also how he was
going to get Benjy the Labrador to the plughole and safety through the rabble of
people downstairs!
He turned to make his own exit, looking around in all directions, to make sure that noone had seen him tamper with Suzanne Treister’s art. Before he actually left though,
he stopped abruptly to take a look at the work in the space, with a fleeting sense of
melancholy. His eyes fluttered between the picture of Rosalind Brodsky on Brighton
beach379, the Golem statue380, the numerous files of case- studies of histories’ greatest
psychoanalysts381 and the fully working CD Rom that the audience was able to
interact with.382 He laughed when he saw that currently on the screen of this last item,
the Rosalind Brodsky cookery show was playing, showing her baking a cake
backwards!383
He hadn’t known about the work of Suzanne Treister for very long. In fact, the first he
had ever heard of her was in this Biennale show. That one exhibition however had
made the most remarkable impact upon his own thinking. Apart from offering art that
379
A. Convery (Designer/ Producer) and R. Bennett (Creative Director), 2002, The Biennale of Sydney
2002 (The World May Be) Fantastic CD Rom, Sydney, COFA/ The University of New South Wales
and The Fridge (Picture of Rosalind Brodsky singing into her “lacan/ vibrator on Brighton beach”,
allegedly in the year 2025.)
380
According to a personal e-mail that I received from Suzanne Treister on 9th June 2002, Rosalind
Brodsky apparently carried out many time- travel projects which “operate as investigations into
connections between both real and imagined histories, persons, artefacts, images, inventions,
discoveries, theories and events.” One such project is entitled “Golem/ Loew” which is a soft sculpture
and deals with notions of “artificial life”. (According to the Collins English dictionary, a Golem is “an
artificially created human being brought to life by supernatural means.”).
381
Also, apparently Brodsky underwent “analysis” from various psychoanalysts such as Freud and
Jung, to combat the strain of her time- travel endeavours.
382
(According to the guide, Treister’s CD-Rom was “the central component of the installation.”)
383
B. Clark- Coolee and C. Judd (producers) and J. Marshall (director), 2002, The Biennale of Sydney
2002 – (The World May Be) Fantastic Artists in Focus, Sydney, Australia Council for the Arts (From
comments on her e-mail on 9th June 2002 and from snippets on the video.)
214
was interesting, novel, exciting and fun, Treister had shown him a kind of legitimacy
that he had been sceptical of before. Whenever he’d worked on his own art with the
concepts of time, time- travel or even his obsession with “Doctor Who” in the past, he
often felt that his peers and superiors were frowning upon him. Suzanne Treister had
inadvertently showed him “a justification.”384 It was okay to work with themes that
were wide, varied and… a little nutty. It was okay to be unique and eccentric. In fact
without people like this, the world would be a very dull place indeed!
As he finally glanced back toward the costume that he had worn only minutes before,
he quietly made a sentimental statement. “Well Ms. Treister, it’s real! Time travel can
happen! Your dreams don’t have to be of a delusional nature anymore!” He looked
around to see that he was the only person in the room. “I only wish that I could tell
you!”
With that, he toddled off to retrieve his pet.
**********
Benjy was decidedly grumpy at having been woken up. He didn’t wag his tail and was
clearly not impressed to see his master in the slightest. Steve was therefore rather
relieved when they had found their time plughole, seemingly without incident, in the
highly imaginative position of a sink in the upstairs men’s toilet of the gallery. At
least, once vapourised and on their way to the next destination, the whining would
stop for a while and the young man would have a bit of peace and quiet!
As he was about to dial the magic number on his mobile phone however, the pair
were greeted by a rather strange whooshing sound that emanated from one of the
washbasins. This by Steve’s reckoning (and given that the plughole within was a
dramatically different design from the others in the room) was, in fact the same washbasin that they were about to traverse down! The two companions looked at each
other worriedly.
384
This was taken from a direct comment from Suzanne Treister in her e-mail to me on 9th June 2002.
215
Suddenly, a bright light shone out from the little hole and to their amazement, out
popped an angelic figure, clad in what seemed to be a metal dress of some kind and a
face- mask that was reminiscent of Ned Kelly. Steve and Benjy stood agog and
dumbfounded, quite clearly shocked at the fact that someone else was using their
subterranean network of wormholes and time warps!
“Do not be afraid!” said the figure, which was clearly female. “I’ve just been sent
back by the head honchos at I.M.A.T.I.385 It’s not usually my normal means of travel,
the plughole. The machines were all busy at H.Q.386 I just thought that I’d hitch a lift,
that’s all!”
Steve couldn’t find his voice and Benjy’s head titled to one side in a look of utter
confusion.
“Oh don’t worry, I do this sort of thing all of the time!” The light died down and the
figure fully formed from a sparkling evaporated mass. “There, that’s better!” Then,
through her metallic visor, she made a point of looking Steve up and down. “So
you’re the one are you?”
“The ‘one’?” Steve finally asked. His throat felt crackly. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” she held her hands up as if to apologise for being so rude. Then practically
as an afterthought, the strange woman added: “Watch out for that white rabbit! He
might be late, but he’s devious!” With that, she clicked her heels together, spun
around so that her dress spiralled in the air and then began to swiftly make for the
toilet’s main exit.
Steve hastily followed her out of the little room. “Wait! Who are you?” he screamed.
385
(I.M.A.T.I. stands for “The Institute of Militronics and Advanced Time Interventionality”)
386
According to Treister’s CD-Rom synopsis (sent to me in her e-mail on 9th June 2002), I.M.A.T.I.
was formed in the year 2004, with “its mission is to carry out interventional historical, anthropological
and scientific means of time travel.” Rosalind Brodsky is an agent of this organisation and despite the
fact that she is only supposed to be a “delusional time traveller” (ie. she only thinks she is travelling
through time), this institute seems to be remarkably constructed and well thought out…
216
The woman carried on walking, but looked back over her right shoulder as she did so.
“The name’s Brodsky, Rosalind Brodsky – license to thrill!”387
387
http://ensemble.va.com.au/tableau/suzy/c+devices/CaseHistory1.html (Suzanne Treister’s official
website, section on Case Histories), as viewed on 27th December 2002. (There are also obvious
references to James Bond within Treister’s work, particularly in the design of her special time
travelling spy kits and “attaché cases” that were on display. One such example is “Rosalind Brodsky’s
case for getting into virtual reality in an emergency.”)
217
Chapter N ine:
D o- D o- D odgson in W onderland
Figure 21. 1862 A.D.- Do- Do- Dodgson in Wonderland 2002
218
“There are some absolute truths… the meaning of life is elusive, childhood is fleeting
and following white rabbits is a dangerous pastime…” – Donald Sutherland
Alongside the river Isis, Godstow,388
Three Miles from Oxford, Great Britain, 3.53pm Friday July 4th 1862 389
Benjy looked up toward the sky. He was clearly perplexed by the erratic display of
weather above him. Most of the heavens were stained by a dingy and miserable
greyness, but at a distance to his right, over one conspicuous spot of countryside
marked curiously with a single haystack, there appeared to be a circle of pure and
brilliant sunshine.390 “That’s weird,” mused the dog. “I’ve never seen weather as
precise as that before!”
388
L. Carroll, 1993, The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll (with introduction by Edward Guiliano),
New York, Random House, p xi (“After lunch on July 4th 1862, Charles Lutwidge Dodgson… met the
three daughters of the dean of his college, Christ Church, for a boating excursion up the river Isis.”)
389
J. Pudney, 1976, Lewis Carroll and his world, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p. 5 (In his Diary
on 4th July 1962, Charles Dodgson wrote: “Duckworth and I made an expedition up the river to
Godstow with the three Liddells: we had tea on the bank there, and did not reach Christ Church again
till quarter past eight”)
390
D. Hudson, 1954, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, William Cloves and Sons Limited, p.139 (There
seems to be a clash between the weather remembered by all who were present on the day in question
and historical fact. Alice Liddell “wrote in the St James Gazette in 1898 of the ‘burning’ sun, and later
described in the Cornhill magazine ‘that blazing summer afternoon with the heat haze shimmering over
the meadows where the party landed to shelter for a while in the shadow cast by the haycocks near
Godstow’. One would have supposed that such unanimity of testimony must be conclusive of a ‘golden
afternoon’. But ours is a sceptical age. A correspondence in the Observer in 1950 provoked an enquiry
at the Meteorological Office, which showed that July 4th, 1862, at Oxford was ‘cool and rather wet’.
The weather record affirmed, most unpoetically, that in the twenty four hours from 10a.m. on July 4th,
0.17 inch of rain fell, mostly between 2p.m. on the 4th and 2a.m. on the 5th.”)
219
Steve squinted at the oddness of the elements also. “A single beam of sunshine
through the clouds. I wonder what that could mean?”
“Luck perhaps, to anyone sitting underneath it?” Benjy joked. They both shared a
quiet snigger, before the young man began to amble through the tall grass toward the
enormous mound of hay, urging his pet with a single nod to follow.
The two had left the Museum of Contemporary Art in Sydney, within minutes of
Rosalind Brodsky’s eventual disappearance. Steve had seen no point whatsoever in
chasing the lady throughout the prestigious exhibition space. She clearly had no desire
to stand and chat and he had wanted to attempt to return to his rightful place in time
once more.
As his consciousness had subsequently travelled through the void on this occasion
however, despite the fact that he had really attempted to maintain the line of thinking
that he had assembled together over their last two temporal jaunts, things again did
not go according to plan. He had at least set out to keep the specific destination of his
home in Sydney on October 8th 2002 within the forefront of his mind and stick with
H.G. Wells’ advice. The more he travelled however, the more he couldn’t help but
think of what the strange Brodsky had told him about ‘the white rabbit’. It was similar
to the task that a primary school teacher might give to one of their young pupils: go
and stand in a corner and don’t think about pink elephants. The more you try not to,
the harder it becomes to keep these incongruously coloured mammals out of your
thought processes! So with this conflict set up within the young man’s head,
desperately trying to think of a specific time and place, but absently veering onto a
rather unrelated and absurd image, it was perhaps not surprising that the latter became
dominant and as a direct consequence, the duo once more, did not get back to the
exact location that Steve had intended.
The where in which they had actually arrived of course was yet again, a mystery. The
idyllic countryside of their surrounds, complete with its meandering river, huge fields
and random succession of trees and shrubbery, reminded Steve of his brief meeting
220
with Wordsworth in the early eighteen hundreds.391 It was clearly somewhere in
England again, there didn’t seem to be a single soul around, the air that filled his
nostrils smelled fresh and clean and here, he truly felt at one with nature.
All of these little associations however offered no explanation as to how he and Benjy
had got here. If the theory about his thought processes being the main determinant of
their journeying was correct, then why, of all the places they could have been sent to,
had they arrived here? This area of rustic beauty, on first glance, plainly had no
bearing on either of the elements that had been flickering throughout his mind in the
void. They obviously were not at home, they didn’t appear to be even close either
spatially or temporally, but also Steve failed to see what this place could have to do
specifically with a white rabbit! His mind attempted to collate through all known
references to such a creature and after coming up with nothing other than the familiar
icon associated with a magician, he decided that the strain of lateral thinking was too
much and that for now, he would just enjoy the pleasant landscape and stroll.392 He
would start the worrying and analysis later, at such a point when he had no other
choice but to do so!
With the exception of a few words of complaint from Benjy (who was having trouble
seeing over the top of the long grass), the pair made their way to the haystack in a
comfortable silence. In spite of the strange division of weather, the day into which
they had intruded was quite pleasant and they both allowed themselves to be
consumed by a soothing feeling of calm. The two hadn’t really spent time together
like this since walking back up the beach of Port Ligat after meeting Salvador Dali.393
391
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.114 (Curiously, quite
aside from the contents of this body of research, there are definite links between Lewis Carroll and
William Wordsworth. “It comes as no surprise that Wordsworth, ‘the poet of childhood’ who ‘depicts
the mood and activities of children more extensively’ than any earlier writer’, would be another
favourite. Charles knew and quoted from his work. As early as March 13, 1855, when Charles resolved
to read ‘ whole poets’, he placed Coleridge and Wordsworth on the list. In May 1881 he suggested that
his publisher, Alexander Macmillan, include Wordsworth in the Globe series of authors.”)
392
J. Fisher, 1973, The Magic of Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p.11
(Carroll, since childhood, was interested in games, tricks and magic and there is a direct link to this in
the story of “Alice in Wonderland”. “Alice’s white rabbit, an unexceptional rabbit perhaps until one
considers its props- a watch, a fan, a pair of gloves- and then infallibly a magician’s rabbit.”)
393
E. Vink, (producer) and J. Ward (Series producer), 2000, Great Books: Alice in Wonderland, USA,
Discovery Communications (In this documentary, which not only encompasses the history of “Alice”,
but also the many associated visuals, a link with Salvador Dali is outlaid. “The fact that (Carroll) made
time stop and things go backwards is a theme of the Surrealist movement and Salvador Dali, in
221
Most of their companionship was spent in panic, speculation or investigation and so it
was good, Steve pondered, that they seemed to be revelling in the harmony, if only for
a little while. These days, they never seemed to know what was around the next
corner; it had all become so hectic and weird. Times like this it seemed, where
nothing eventful was taking place, were to be cherished.
When they finally reached the large mound of straw, Steve immediately uprooted a
long blade of grass, which was almost as tall as him and inserted one end of it in
between his teeth. Dressed in his dishevelled shirt and tattered jeans, he looked like
that of a stereotypical country bumpkin and as he sat down on the ground, stretched
himself out and propped his head up on one of the lower bales of straw, this added
even more to the effect.
Benjy shook his head from side to side in response. He would never understand the
strange antics of humans, not as long as he lived! “You look ridiculous!” he
exclaimed.
Without offering a word of apology, Steve simply chuckled at his own stupidity.
Being directly here under the unusual expanse of sunlight, he had suddenly been
overcome with the most glorious of emotions and didn’t seem to care that much about
his silly appearance. At that moment, he could have been butt naked and doused from
head to toe in custard and he doubted if he would even care that much! The
temperature here was obviously warmer than on the underside of the clouds, but the
ambience, the very vibes of this spatial vicinity, for some absurd reason, differed also.
Here, on top of that serenity that the landscape had adorned on him, he felt as though
this circle of sunlight embodied something quite magical.394 He couldn’t really
explain why; the second that he had penetrated it, when he had moved from gloom to
lustre in one single step, he had rapidly been overwhelmed by the most amazing aura
particular with his fascination for clocks and very funny shaped clocks. Dali went and produced his
own Alice with some very interesting illustrations.”)
394
Discovery Communications (The tale of Alice would first be told later that day and, as this
documentary states: “that moment of magic… would change the landscape of childhood.”)
222
and had got the distinct impression that at one point or another, something quite
wonderful would take place here.395
He moved a loose bundle of hay slightly with his feet and then propped them up on
top of it so that his body formed a comfortable, if inverted arch. “I feel exhausted
Benge,” the young man announced, stretching his arms out in a yawn. “I think it’s
high time that I had a nap for once!”
“Aren’t we going to find the plughole?” the dog asked. After having spent so much
time asleep himself during their preceding exploits, Benjy was quite full of energy
and did not sympathise with either his companion’s wants or the upbeat atmosphere at
all.
“You can have a wander around if you like,” said Steve dreamily. “I’m going to catch
forty winks!” Then after offering the dog a sly look (an action that perhaps hinted at
the fact that Steve was getting his own back for his abandonment in the Museum of
Contemporary Art), he closed his eyes and instantly began to snore rather loudly.
The dog hesitated slightly for a second, but then realising that for the first time in a
long while, he actually had a certain amount of freedom, he simply tutted, shrugged
and then, thrusting his nose to the ground and his tail high in the air, began to sniff
right around the base of the haystack until he had disappeared totally from view.
**********
When Steve awoke, he had a throbbing headache. His whole body in fact seemed full
of sprains and cramps. For some strange reason, he had flipped over onto his front
during sleep and fallen rather crudely from his straw- bale props into an indelicate
sprawl. As if that wasn’t enough and to add absolute humiliation to injury, his face
had been pushed into the very base of the haystack and when he made to pull himself
395
L. Carroll, 1929, Alice in Wonderland – Through the Looking Glass, Great Britain, J.M. Dent,
Everyman’s Library (Rather than being applied to a specific page or reference, this comment was an
allegorical one about Alice’s overall adventure in the story. She steps from gloom and the boredom of
sitting with her sister on a riverbank – as mentioned on page 3- to the lustre of adventure down the
rabbit- hole and into Wonderland. Steve can sense this and in a way, it is exactly what he has done on
his overall adventure also.)
223
up, he realised that his mouth was full of the brittle and yellowed grass and that there
was also a rather bizarre indentation on his forehead. As he spat out the offending
substance, he realised that this probably wasn’t one of the most hospitable of locations
to have settled down in. The huge mound of hay smelled quite awful, it was
incredibly uncomfortable and he was sure that there were things living in it.
Nevertheless, he was still extremely grateful for the chance of recuperation, especially
given the fact that since leaving the Gascoigne star cruiser, he had practically been
running on fumes.
He sat up, rubbed his face aggressively with both hands and then stared slowly into
the blue sky above him. It seems that the sunshine had begun to fight back against the
grey’s dictatorship and the clouds were now in heavy retreat.396 The swift change in
weather was very welcome of course, it certainly added to the beauty of the
surrounds, but it made him question how long he had actually been in a slumber. He
couldn’t be sure, but it felt like simply hours.
As he stood slowly, carefully balancing himself on one of the bales of straw in the
process, he was startled to see Benjy running from the other side of the haystack at
full speed. “What’s the matter with you?” the young man exclaimed, attempting at
once to stretch all of his limbs back into submission. They all creaked and crikked as
he did so.
“Follow me, quickly!” said the dog, coming to a rapid skid. He sounded incredibly
out of breath, but excited at the same time. “I’ve found a few people around here!
They’re having a picnic!”
“You’re kidding me?” asked Steve. He was fairly flabbergasted that there were people
so close.
“No,” exclaimed the dog, taking the young man’s enquiry as a literal question of his
word, rather than what they were: an exclamation of surprise. “There are two men and
396
J. Pudney, 1976, Lewis Carroll and his world, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p. 7 (Dodgson
always described the elements of the day in question as “that ‘golden afternoon’” and even began the
opening poem of Alice with the same words. I thought that it might be nice to continue the chapter with
his opinion and feelings!)
224
three little girls!”397 With that, he then started to run back in the direction from which
he had just come.
**********
Even though Benjy had just alerted him of their presence, Steve was still quite
shocked when his eyes fell upon the picnickers. He was quite unnerved in fact that
there had been others so close by without his knowledge. If he had slept for longer, he
was suddenly aware that anything could have happened. These people could have
kidnapped Benjy, murdered the pair of them while they were separated and
completely defenceless or just simply made a general nuisance of themselves. He
shuddered at the very thoughts that were flowing through his mind and resolved to be
a great deal more careful and responsible in the future!
The party was made up of two men, dressed a bit like Tweedle- Dum and TweedleDee398, each in a white shirt, flannelled trousers399 and straw boater hats400 and three
little girls also identically clad in long flowing white dresses.401 They had certainly
been there for a while. All were spread in carefree positions on, or around, a large
square blanket and in amongst their lazy bodies, there were a number of scattered
plates containing the remnants of sandwiches, cakes and other such finger foods. Over
to one side of the rug, just behind the larger of the two men (a fairly hefty blonde
haired individual402), there was an open picnic basket and a short distance away from
that, an old fashioned looking kettle boiling on the top of a small fire.403 A number of
397
New York, Random House, p xii (Guiliano’s introduction said that the two men took “tea and cakes by
a haystack with the young girls.”)
398
Everyman’s Library, p. 135 (Tweedle- Dum and Tweedle- Dee were two odd characters from Alice
through the looking glass and what she found there.)
399
New York, Random House, p.xii (“The two dons exchanged their clerical blacks for white flannels…”)
400
D. Hudson, 1954, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, William Cloves and Sons Limited, p.127 (Dodgson
“had signalled a festive occasion by assuming a hard white straw- hat instead of a topper”.)
401
F. B. Lennon, 1947, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, Cassell and Co. Limited, p.111 (The three girls
“commonly wore white cotton frocks, white open- work stockings, and black strap slippers, all alike.”)
402
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.89 (The hefty blonde
man is referring to Charles Dodgson’s friend, Robinson Duckworth and there is a photograph of him in
Cohen’s book. He was by no means slight!)
403
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.86 (Alice Liddell
once recalled her times out with Charles Dodgson. She said: “he always brought with him a large
basket full of cakes, and a kettle, which we used to boil under a haycock, if we could find one.”)
225
china teacups were also dotted here and there, complete with their accompanying
saucers.404 The young man had been incorrect in his suspicions: this was obviously a
truly genteel age!
Steve had to admit to himself that when he had followed his pet around the haystack,
he had expected to find a number of frozen rigid people, captured by time’s now
trademark grip, but once the picnickers were in full view, he was surprised to see that
they were all moving around slowly, laughing, joking and basically enjoying the day
out. His eyes instantly flicked toward Benjy and for a second he wondered if the dog
had gained the ability to speak permanently, but then, as he saw the animal bound in
between the three little girls with a dopey, but happy expression, he realised that time
must have reconvened in the few milliseconds that it had taken for him to edge around
the large mound of straw. He knew then, in his heart of hearts, that he would never get
used to the constraints of their journeying. Time- travel kept giving him too many
unwelcome surprises!
The first to speak from the small crowd was the second of the two men, a fairly young
man405 with dark brown hair, blue eyes and what can only be described as
asymmetrical features.406 He stood immediately, to a height that was not above six
foot407 and walked up to Steve in an awkward manner, smiling timidly as he
moved.408 “Ca- ca- can I he- he- help y- you?” he inquired.
404
L. Carroll, 1929, Alice in Wonderland - Through the Looking Glass, Great Britain, J.M. Dent,
Everyman’s Library, p.57 (With the contents of the Mad Tea Party in Alice, I had to mention cups and
saucers somewhere!)
405
J. Pudney, 1976, Lewis Carroll and his world, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p.5 (Dodgson
was then a “thirty- year- old Oxford mathematics don”.)
406
M. Gardner, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p.10 (“In
appearance Carroll was handsome and asymmetric- two facts that may have contributed to his interest
in mirror reflections. One shoulder was higher than the other, his smile was slightly askew and the
level of his blue eyes were not quite the same.”)
407
http://65.107.211.206/victorian/carroll/bio1.html (Internet essay on Lewis Carroll), as viewed on
31st October 2002 (“The young adult Charles Dodgson was about six foot tall, slender and
handsome”.)
408
M. Gardner, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p. 10
(“He was of a moderate height, thin, carrying himself stiffly erect and walking with a peculiar jerky
gait.”)
226
Steve initially squinted at the obvious stutter, but being a sensitive fellow, attempted
to make out very quickly that he hadn’t even noticed the affliction.409 “I’m terribly
sorry,” the young man began. “My dog has this tendency to impose himself in places
and events that he hasn’t been invited to!”
One of the little girls, the only one of the three with short cropped brunette hair and a
fairly dainty face, stood up from her place on the blanket and placed her arms around
the dog in a large and affectionate hug.410 “Oh Mr. Dodgson, he’s a loveable
creature!”
The man turned slightly, so that he wasn’t looking away from the time traveller, but
he was still able to face the child. “Yes he is isn’t he?”
Steve looked straight at the individual with an expression of confusion. He was
astonished that the man’s stutter had seemingly vanished in an instant.411 He decided
however that perhaps it was more tactful not to mention this irregularity and
ultimately followed a different line of questioning. “Are these your daughters?” he
asked. He smiled in turn at each of the three children, but when his eyes roved back to
Dodgson’s features, Steve couldn’t help but think that this individual was poking fun
at him.412
“Er, no- no- no. The- the- these are fr- fr- friends of mi- mi- mine!” Dodgson seemed
captivated by Benjy’s newfound child friend and although he was facing straight
409
Everyman’s Library, p. vi (In Roger Lancelyn Green’s introduction to this edition of Alice, he
discusses Dodgson’s perhaps most unfortunate affliction. “Any inclination toward either marriage or
the priest- hood… were further discouraged by the incurable stammer which he suffered all his life.
This made preaching difficult, social or parochial contacts awkward and constrained, and produced an
uncomfortable and frustrating shyness with his contemporaries”.)
410
F. B. Lennon, 1947, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, Cassell and Co. Limited, p.111 (“Alice’s hair was
cut across her forehead in a fringe that emphasized her wistful eyes and dainty- three cornered face.”)
411
J. Pudney, 1976, Lewis Carroll and his world, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p.20 (Pudneyand many other references- state that when Dodgson was around children, “he lost his habitual
stammer. He simply became one of them, whether they accepted him or not- and most did.”)
412
31st October 2002 (“The stammer has always been a potent part of the myth. It is part of the
mythology that Carroll only stammered in adult company, and was free and fluent with children, but
there is nothing to support this idea. Many children of his acquaintance remembered the stammer;
many adults failed to notice it.”)
227
toward Steve, it was quite obvious that his eyes were constantly transfixed upon
her.413
“Just out enjoying the day are you?” Steve was quickly running out of conversation
and his mind was frantically attempting to think of ways in which he could
disentangle his pet from this child and make a hasty retreat.
“Ye- ye- yes. I- I- it’s a lu- lu- lovely one!”
It was then that the first man stood up and moved over toward them, proffering his
hand for Steve to shake, with which the time traveller complied. “ I’m sorry. You’ll
have to forgive Dodgson,” he said. “He’s one of the old school. Doesn’t really know
how to speak to people unless he’s been introduced to them by a third party. Manners
and all that!”414
“That’s fine,” said Steve responding to the individual’s greeting and holding up both
hands in apology. “I am truly sorry for gate- crashing!”
“Don’t be silly!” the man’s voice was deep and booming and for some reason, the
time traveller equated it with that of a singer; it seemed tuneful and harmonious.415 “If
the countryside is not for meeting people, then what’s it for? My handle dear fellow is
Robinson Duckworth.”416 He curtseyed, which was met with a titter from the three
girls behind him. “My good friend here is none other than the Reverend Charles
Lutwidge Dodgson.” Steve shook Dodgson by the hand, looking the stuttering man
413
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.101 (Dodgson was
obsessed with Alice Liddell and once commented that she was his “ideal child friend”. Cohen attempts
to provide an analysis why: “that she sparked his creative energy, that he devoted so much of his time
to her and fashioned his two remarkable fantasies with her as heroine is proof enough of a deep
attachment, certain affection, even a kind of love.”)
414
L. Carroll, 1977, The Wasp in a Wig, Great Britain, Macmillan London Limited, p.27 (In Martin
Gardner’s preface to this undiscovered chapter of “Alice through the Looking Glass”, he comments that
“Carroll prided himself on being a Victorian gentleman.”)
415
D. Hudson, 1954, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, William Cloves and Sons Limited, p.128 (“Like
Dodgson (Duckworth) remained a life- long bachelor, but he was fond of children and had a powerful
and rich sense of humour, as well as a pleasant singing voice.”)
416
F. B. Lennon, 1947, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, Cassell and Co. Limited, p.112 (When Dodgson
took the girls out on the river, although no reference seems to discuss this explicitly, one gets the
distinct impression that he must be accompanied by another party. Often, either his own sisters or
brothers would go along for a day out, but on this occasion “chaperonage was supplied by Canon
Robinson Duckworth”.)
228
straight in the eyes as he did so. He was sure that he heard that name before! “And
these adorable little ladies are Ina, Edith and Alice Liddell.”417 Duckworth held his
hand open flat and wide as he gestured to each in turn.
“I’m Steve and that,” the young man pointed toward the Labrador, who was now
being fed a large chunk of cake “is my best friend, Benjy!”418
“C- co- co- come j- j- join us!” Dodgson said immediately.
“Yes, you must,” Duckworth agreed. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
**********
As Steve sipped his cup of hot, sweet tea, devoured a little strawberry cupcake and
partook in conversation with the two gentlemen, Benjy enjoyed a game with the three
Liddell sisters off in the adjacent space between the river and the haystack. The young
man watched the little girls as they moved. Each were enjoying the dog’s company
immensely and were clearly interested in and loving toward animals. Benjy, on the
other hand, was having the time of his life. The little Alice had found a large stick
down on the riverbank and was throwing it as far as she could, in anticipation of him
chasing it.419 The Labrador however had other ideas; he was just interested in the
cuddles and caresses!
“So do you live in Godstow?” asked Duckworth, breaking Steve’s thoughts.
417
D. Hudson, 1954, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, William Cloves and Sons Limited, p.127 (The
names and ages of the three Liddell girls were- respectively- “Ina (aged thirteen), Alice (aged ten) and
Edith Liddell (who was eight)”. Alice, in terms of historical context however was by far the most
important of the three and so in my line- up she is, to be suspenseful and confuse Steve’s own personal
memory of history, the last!)
418
M. Gardner, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p.9
(Gardner makes an interesting link between Alice and the very subject of food and eating that I found
quite interesting. “Are the many references to eating in Alice a sign of Carroll’s ‘oral aggression’, or
did Carroll recognise that small children are obsessed by eating and like to read about it in their
books?”)
419
Everyman’s Library, p.35 (There is a scene in Alice where the heroine is playing fetch with an
“enormous puppy”.)
229
“Godstow?” It took the time traveller a while to realise that the fair- haired man had
been referring to the place in which they were now seated. As far as Steve could
recall, Godstow was a small village somewhere in the south of England, although he
could not be exactly certain. “Oh, Godstow!” he rapidly tried to cover up his mistake
with a fraudulent moment of memory loss. “No, I often just take Benjy out for the day
to walk in the countryside. It keeps him fit and my mind from going stale!”
“So- so- so wh- wh- where d- d- do you come from?” asked Dodgson. His question
was fairly direct, but if he was suspicious of Steve however, it didn’t show. His face
was passive, quiet and interested, without the look of any doubtful intent. Steve found
this to be rather odd. If the shoe had been on the other foot, he would have been
questioning every possible motive and movement.
“An outer province!” the young man said feebly, for it was all he could come up with.
He had no knowledge of the neighbouring towns and judging by the fashions and lack
of technology around, he couldn’t even be sure if the car or automobile had been
invented yet. Evasiveness was about his only option! “Benjy and I come from an
outer province!”
“How remarkable!” Duckworth exclaimed. “I didn’t think that there were any
provinces left, well not since the dark ages anyway!”
Steve chortled embarrassingly, he wasn’t sure if the man had been mocking him,
attacking his word or what, so simply bounced the conversation back by attempting to
rapidly change the subject. “So do you often come out for a picnic with the girls?”
“Y- y- yes, we- we- we h- h- have o-o- on occasion!” said Dodgson smiling.
“Yes,” Duckworth agreed. “We were supposed to do this outing yesterday, but it was
called off due to the weather.”420
420
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.89 (The trip on July
4th was in actual fact a second attempt. It was “the day after rain had forced their party to postpone a
journey.”)
230
“Was it bad then?” said the time traveller, before polishing off the remnants of his tea
in a single gulp.
The two men simply looked at each other briefly and then, as if Steve had just asked
the most absurd question in the world, they both stared straight back at him with an
expression that bordered on horrified disbelief. “We’ve just been through the worst
period of rain we’ve had this year!” Duckworth said with more than an element of
distrust in his voice. “Surely you noticed?”
The young man then realised his mistake. “Noticed. Yes, of course!” He held his hand
out flat and tapped his forehead as though mimicking that he had just lost his power of
recall once more. He couldn’t believe how easy it was on some occasions to blend in
with their temporal surroundings and yet in others, it seemed virtually impossible!
“I’ve been bed- ridden for a few days. I’ve been ill. It’s funny the things you forget
after a time under the weather isn’t it?”
The two men just smiled, but Steve could tell that they hadn’t believed his story in the
slightest. Duckworth continued politely with the conversation however. “Yes, we
often come for a row on the river, then stop for a picnic.”421 He indicated the large
row- boat that had been moored by the water’s shore. “We normally leave Christ
Church at about lunch time and either come here, or down river to Nuneham.422 Do
you know it?” Steve shook his head absently in response. “Lovely place,” he added,
smiling thoughtfully.
“So do you live in Christ Church?” asked Steve. He placed his cup and saucer
delicately down on the blanket beside him.
421
D. Hudson, 1954, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, William Cloves and Sons Limited, p.128
(“Robinson Duckworth, then a fellow of Trinity and later Sub- Dean and Canon of Westminster, was an
excellent choice for the fifth member of the expedition. He had been on similar excursions before and
the three Liddells knew him quite well.”)
422
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.87 (“Nuneham was
one of the Liddell’s cherished destinations for a day’s outing.’)
231
“All of us do,” Duckworth confirmed. “Dodgson and I are both lecturers there and the
three little ones are the daughters of the Dean, Henry Liddell.”423
The young man hadn’t put two and two together before. He’d taken Christ Church to
be the name of a town, but it was actually a part of Oxford University. With the
mention of such an establishment, Steve’s mind flicked back to his own studies, but
almost instantaneously he made a conscious decision not to discuss them. He had
made so many errors of speech so far that he didn’t feel able to explain the contents of
his Masters, especially not with it being a degree from Western Sydney anyway! The
first thing they would ask is how he got to England’s pastures so quickly from the
Antipodes! He was interested in their exploits however. “Lecturers?” he was
genuinely impressed. “What do you teach?”
Dodgson was the first to pipe up. “Ma- ma- mathematics a- an- and Re- rel- religious
studies.”424
“Maths?” Steve asked. The answer had come as something of a let down. In terms of
the overall time- travel adventure, he was still finding it difficult to comes to terms
with how he and Benjy had got to this specific location. Nothing at all seemed to be
falling in line with the image of a white rabbit in the slightest and now that he had
discovered the basis behind this gentleman’s profession, he was even more perplexed.
He had never been interested in sums, equations or figures and as a consequence of
this man’s discussion, was actually beginning to doubt his own theories on their main
motivations behind traversing the voids. Against the earlier contents of Steve and
Benjy’s travellings, these gentlemen seemed to be completely abnormal characters in
that neither of them seemed to have anything in common with the young man, or his
interests, at all. Everybody else that the two companions had met since leaving their
kitchen had been linked to Steve in some way and therefore all fitted in very well with
his conjectures. At some point or another, with the exception of the Gascoigne Leader
(whose interventions into the journey had been completely out of his control anyway),
423
Everyman’s Library, p.vii (Green’s introduction states that Dodgson “made friends with the children of
Henry George Liddell, who became Dean of Christ Church in 1855.”)
424
Discovery Communications (“It is ironic that a master of nonsense made his living as a scholar of
logic. Carroll was first a mathematician…”)
232
it was practically a certainty that each of the historical figures which they had
interacted with, had at least existed at some point in the young man’s subconscious.
He’d either read about them, studied their work or watched them on T.V. Steve didn’t
seem to have any knowledge of these two people and the small cluster of children at
all however! “I was never any good at maths at school,” he said finally. “All those
equations used to utterly confuse me to be honest! Still, you must be very intelligent
though, to be teaching it at Oxford!”
“We- we- well, I- I –I do en- enjoy w- w- working with th- th- the fi-fi- figures, b-bbut, it’s a-a- a f-f- fairly un- unrewarding ex- experience!”425
“Why?” Steve asked. In some respects he did understand what Dodgson was telling
him; he remembered the maths teachers that used to be at his own school and the grief
that they were given from the pupils. Maths was usually a subject that was forced
upon a student, not one that they could individually choose and this did hinder the
general level of interest somewhat and often resulted in apathy and abuse.
“Dodgson’s treated as a bit of an odd- bod around campus,” Duckworth explained.
“He provides some excellent lectures and he has a first rate understanding of
everything he outlays. The trouble is, even with the high standard of students that we
have, they seldom share his passion for numbers!”426
Before Duckworth had the chance to explain what field of interest his career lay in,
their conversation was cut short when the three Liddells and Benjy returned to the
picnic site. All were extremely puffed out, particularly the Labrador. He seemed to
have run totally out of steam and slumped against Steve on the blanket. “You need to
lose weight!” whispered the young man, offering a chuckle, before turning back
toward the rest of the party.
425
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.67 (Dodgson
“reported ‘becoming embarrassed by the duties of lectureship’: he was so occupied tutoring pupils that
he had little time to prepare adequately.”)
426
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.67 (On November
26th 1856, Dodgson apparently made a very telling statement in his diary. “I am weary of lecturing, and
discouraged… It is thankless, uphill work, goading unwilling men to learning they have no taste for, to
the inevitable neglect of others who really want to get on.”)
233
“Did you enjoy that run around?” Dodgson asked Alice and Ina quietly, as they sat
down elegantly next to him, one on either side. Once again, it was as if the man had
no speech impediment whatsoever.
“Yes we did!” Ina smiled. “I’m exhausted now though!”
“But we came back,” Alice chipped in, “because we were wondering…” She trailed
off shyly though before finishing her sentence. Steve watched the mathematics
lecturer carefully and noticed especially the way that he looked at the girl again.
Dodgson’s eyes weren’t lustful, he was sure of that, but they were certainly filled with
some sort of reverence.427 The young man could understand why in a way. Alice was
young, lively and cheeky. She was as pretty as a picture, but contained an innocence
that could only be described as utterly enthralling. She was childhood personified.
“We were wondering,” Edith continued. She had sat down beside Steve on the
opposite side to the dog. “If you could tell us a story?”428
Dodgson smiled. It was clear that he was slightly embarrassed and he rolled his eyes
in a very thespian manner. “I told you a story in the boat on the way here,” he chided.
“And besides which,” his gaze flicked rapidly toward the two time travellers, “we
have company now!”
“But Steve and Benjy won’t mind!” exclaimed Alice. “I bet they’d like to hear a story
too?” The three girls simultaneously looked at Steve with a degree of expectancy.
“But it’s ill mannered to dominate a conversation,” said Dodgson.429 It was clear that
he wanted to indulge in the children’s fantasies and requests, but felt embarrassed by
Steve’s presence.
427
J. Pudney, 1976, Lewis Carroll and his world, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p.67 (“Alice was
the first and greatest of these love affairs with maidens, unformed women, little girls of nursery age,
creatures in whose presence he lost his stammer… and found the reality of Wonderland.”)
428
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.90 (Alice once
commented on the events of the day for a bibliographer named Collingwood- Dodgson’s nephew“when writing on the life of his uncle”. “I believe the beginning of Alice was told one summer
afternoon when the sun was so burning that we had landed in the meadows down (sic.) river, deserting
the boat to take refuge in the only bit of shade to be found, which was under a new- made hayrick. Here
from all three came the petition of “Tell us a story” and so began the ever delightful tale.”)
234
The young man decided to intervene however. “Mr. Dodgson,” he began. “I’m sure
that you’re a fantastic storyteller. Please don’t hold back on my account. I like a good
yarn just as much as the children perhaps.”
“Yes come on old man,” chipped in Duckworth. “You’re protesting a little too much!
You know that you want to take us on a trip to make- believe! You’re so good at
it!”430
The girls all began with a continuous and excitable chorus of “tell us a story, please”
and it was then that Dodgson buckled under the weight of his crowd’s wishes.431 “All
right,” he said quieting his child- friends down. “What would you like a story about?”
“Do one of those where you include us!” said Edith.432
“I want a fairytale!” said Ina.433
“I want you to tell a story about Steve and Benjy!” said Alice. All of the conversation
suddenly stopped. In their silence, the other two girls nodded and smiled in agreement
and both Dodgson and Duckworth looked straight up toward the young man, perhaps
gauging to see how he would feel about a story in his honour. No- one was more
surprised about the notion put forward than Steve of course, but he wasn’t ever one to
429
Discovery Communications (Bibliographer, Morton N. Cohen is on this documentary and comments
on Dodgson’s mode of etiquette. “He had very stern and rigid ideas about how one should behave and
how one should live and about relationships. He was very formal in his own way, especially with
adults.”)
430
31st October 2002 (“He was naturally gregarious, egoistic enough to relish attention and
admiration.”)
431
New York, Random House, p xii (“Twenty- five years later Dodgson… could recall vividly ‘the three
eager faces’ that begged him that afternoon to ‘tell us a story, please’.”)
432
Everyman’s Library, p.vii (“As with the stories which Barrie told to Peter and John and Michael in
Kensington Gardens, so here the listeners became characters in the stories”.)
433
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.89 (Dodgson once
wrote: ‘Many a day had we rowed together on that quiet stream- the three little maidens and I- and
many a fairy tale had been extemporised for their benefit.”)
235
stifle the imagination of children! “I just think that it would be fairly interesting!” the
little girl continued, feeling that she should defend her ideas out in the open.
“Okay,” said Dodgson after a short while. “A fairy tale, where we’re all included, but
mainly about Steve and Benjy. I think that I can manage that! Make sure you’re all
sitting comfortably then!” Duckworth lay back so that he was staring directly into the
sky and the girls all shifted slightly, each stretching their dress covered legs out ahead
of them, like the ladies that they would eventually become. “Right then,” the
mathematics don continued, “I will start!”
Steve watched them all as Dodgson began his tale. The whole experience reminded
him of his own childhood, particularly when his father would read him stories before
bed- time. He remembered how well he had responded to the silly voices, the
simplistic plots and the whole experience generally and could easily relate to the girls’
emotions. As they listened, all three of their faces exhibited that amazing degree of
childhood sensation too; they were captivated and totally absorbed with the
mathematic lecturer’s words and features.434 It was clear that such a narrative event
was a regular one and that when they were older they would always remember the
importance and whimsy of afternoons such as this.435
While Benjy drifted off to sleep, the young man listened to the events of the story
unfold too. The girls had been right to get excited about such a fairy-tale. It was truly
an astonishing one. It was original and innovative and bordered on complete genius.
With all of the knowledge that Steve had however, about all of those things that
would transpire in the future, the story seemed a little familiar and as it continued
through to its conclusion, the young man was hit with a large degree of realisation.
The account that was being told was one that started with the idea of Steve and Benjy
434
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.138 (“Charles has a
good ear and captures the speech and manners of several social grades. His listeners were
undoubtedly amused by his imitation of the Cockney, the parvenu, the social climber, the huffy
academic.”)
435
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.90 (Alice said that
most “of Mr. Dodgson’s stories were told to us on river expeditions to Nuneham or Godstow.”
Therefore, it did happen or more than one occasion and she also remembered it well into her adulthood
with much fondness.)
236
following a little flustered white rabbit into its hole in the ground.436 After several
misadventures, which included dropping to the centre of the Earth via a beautifully
furnished tunnel437, nearly getting drowned in a pool of tears438, bandying words with
a half- stoned caterpillar439 and avoiding decapitation at the hands of the mad queen of
hearts440, the tale provided Steve with the valuable information and link that he
needed. If, at first, he had had no idea about the relevance of his meeting with the
Reverend Charles Dodgson, then this picnic ritual of off- the- cuff fiction had turned
that confusion completely about face.
Steve’s memory instantly started to assimilate all of the facts around him. In
hindsight, the clues to this temporal incident had been staring him in the face and he
couldn’t believe that he hadn’t realised. The white rabbit. The Reverend Charles
Dodgson. Oxford University. He looked straight at the enchanted faces of the girls
and his vision became stuck on one of them in particular. Alice!
436
Everyman’s Library, p. 3 (Alice’s journey into Wonderland begins by following a white rabbit and
falling down his hole. The rabbit exclaims “Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!” and Alice is shocked, as
she has “never before seen a rabbit with either a waist-coat, or a watch to take out of it.”)
437
Everyman’s Library, p. 4 (As she falls, Alice sees “cupboards and bookshelves” and “maps and
pictures hung upon pegs.” “She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled
‘Orange Marmalade’, but to her great disappointment it was empty”.)
438
Everyman’s Library, p. 12 (Alice’s “foot slipped, an in another moment, splash! She was up to her chin
in salt water. Her first idea was that she had somehow fallen into the sea…”)
439
Everyman’s Library, p. 36 (“She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the
mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar, that was sitting on the top
with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah”.)
440
Everyman’s Library, p. 66 (“The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a
moment, like a wild beast, screamed “Off with her head! Off- ”)
237
Figure 22. 1862A.D. –Steve and Benjy go underground 2003
238
This mild mannered and shy man, with his infamous stutter and penchant for taking
children on expeditions, was none other than Lewis Carroll.441 Lewis Carroll was of
course the pen- name for Charles Dodgson!442 Steve and Benjy had arrived during the
moment in which this genius of literature had come up with the very idea for “Alice in
Wonderland”. The only trouble was, things didn’t seem to be going the way that they
should. Events were not proceeding, as Steve and the biographies of this man had
always known. Alice, the little girl that would capture the heart of millions443; the
most quoted character after those from only the Bible and Shakespeare’s imagination,
didn’t seem to be the heroine of the story at all.444 Steve and Benjy were
inappropriately in her place and as Dodgson’s characterisations of them both woke up
from their excursion and dream445, the young man knew that history wasn’t going to
like this eventuality one little bit!
**********
“Oh that was a lovely story! It was one of the best ever!” said Alice, standing up and
throwing her arms around Charles Dodgson’s neck.446 He responded by kissing her
delicately on the cheek.447 For a moment, this disturbed Steve a little, for he had
441
M. Gardner, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p.12 (“A
long procession of charming little girls (we know they were charming from their photographs) skipped
through Carroll’s life”.)
442
Everyman’s Library, p. x (“The book appeared over the pseudonym of ‘Lewis Carroll’, which Dodgson
had used since 1856 for contributions grave and gay of an unacademic nature… This he made by
translating Charles Lutwidge into Latin as Carolus Ludovicus, reversing the order and re-translating
as Lewis Carroll; and as his fame grew he became more and more anxious to guard the retiring
student of Christ Church from the inquisitive adulation of the innumerable readers of that popular
author’s works.”)
443
http://www.afirmfoundation.com/Biographies/Lewis_Carroll/lewis_carroll.html (Lewis Carroll
Biography), as viewed on 31st October 2002 (“Alice in Wonderland is an immortal story. The shy,
quiet, lecturer's masterpiece has been translated into most of the languages of the world. Lewis
Carroll will always be sure of a following of admirers, young and old, in every part of the world.”)
444
Discovery Communications (“Next to the Bible and Shakespeare, Alice in Wonderland and Through
the Looking Glass are the most quoted books in the English language.”)
445
Everyman’s Library, p. 102 (“‘Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!’ said Alice, and she told her sister,
as well she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers”.)
446
D. Hudson, 1954, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, William Cloves and Sons Limited, p.130 (“Lewis
Carroll’s stories that afternoon seemed to (Alice) even ‘better than usual’.”)
447
M. Gardner, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p.13
(“Carroll enjoyed kissing his child- friends and closing letters by sending them 10,000,000 kisses, or 4
¾, or a two millionth part of a kiss. He would have been horrified at the suggestion that a sexual
element might be involved.”)
239
obviously heard the rumours about Lewis Carroll and his “interests” in little girls.448
As he watched the two historical figures in that friendly embrace however, he then
considered that perhaps he was looking at the man too much through his own
contemporary eyes. Steve had lived for most of his life in a world where news
broadcasts had brought paedophiles, rapists, murderers and perverts of all description
to the fore and after observing and talking to Dodgson, he knew that this man wasn’t a
part of their number. He liked children, that much was obvious.449 He clearly had
affection for them, but his fondness did not seem to be of a sexual nature.450 It was
almost like he wanted to be their best friend; as if he wanted to be like them. It was a
very difficult thing to judge and the time traveller instantly decided to put all such
notions out of his mind.
As the three girls participated in idle banter, watched the would- be absurdist author
perform sleight of hand tricks and then listened to Robinson Duckworth subsequently
burst into song, Steve spent some time gazing toward the river’s view.451 He was
racking his brains as to the predicament that was literally happening around him. He
had been reading about Lewis Carroll and the construction of Alice’s world on the
very day that he and Benjy had begun their own adventure, but as so much had
happened in the interim, the order of events had simply become jumbled within his
mind. When he had finally worked out Dodgson’s identity, he had remembered in a
blink about the circumstances of this precise party having a picnic alongside the river
Isis, near Oxford. He had remembered that sometime during that excursion, the good
Reverend had told the children the story of “Alice” for the first time and he recalled
that at the end of the day, the little girl in question would ask him to write the
448
M. Gardner, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p.10 (“‘I
am fond of children (except boys)’ (Dodgson) once wrote. He professed a horror of little boys, and in
later life avoided them as much as possible.”)
449
Discovery Communications (Edward Wakeling of the Lewis Carroll society in the U.K. discusses
Dodgson’s fascination with children. “He likes all children, as long as they are little girls. He’s not too
happy with boys. There’s no evidence why that should happen though.”)
450
M. Gardner, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p.13 (“Of
late Carroll has been compared with Humbert Humbert, the narrator of Vladimir Nabokov’s novel
Lolita. It is true that both had a passion for young girls, but their goals were exactly opposite. Humbert
Humbert’s ‘nymphets’ were creatures to be used carnally. Carroll’s little girls appealed to him
precisely because he felt sexually safe with them.”)
451
M. Gardner, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p.10 (“As
a child he dabbled in puppetry and sleight of hand, and throughout his life enjoyed doing magic tricks,
especially for children.”)
240
imaginary adventure down on paper.452 Events would of course spiral from there and
“Alice in Wonderland”, as it was later titled, would become one of the most successful
stories in history.453 Without any shadow of a doubt, it would change the face of
children’s literature for the better.454
What he couldn’t recollect though, was the specific time of the day in which the tale
had actually been told and he supposed that this little nugget of information, in itself
was perhaps the most important in this long list of facts. Something within him, for
some reason, thought that the story in its rawness had been initially conveyed on the
river- boat journey back to the university. He remembered a comment from Lewis
Carroll’s diaries about the two men taking the oars of the small vessel, allowing him
to indulge once more in fantasy.455 If this was the case, then there was a chance that
history could eventually remain secure. It seemed though, as was becoming the norm
of every pit stop in his journey, that Steve had to intervene once more and make that
security a certainty. As to how he was going to interpose in the events of this incident
however, was anybody’s guess. He unfortunately also remembered from his research
that at the time in which the story was made up, Dodgson had had no inclination to
get it published. When he eventually wrote it down, it was only for the sole benefit of
452
New York, Random House, p xii (When Dodgson and Duckworth had “conducted the three children
back to the Deanery, Alice said as he bade him goodnight, ‘Oh Mr. Dodgson, I wish you would write
down Alice’s adventures for me.’ Many years later Alice reminisced that she pestered Dodgson about
writing down the story for her and ‘it was due to my ‘going on, going on’ an importunity (such) that,
after saying that he would think about it, he eventually gave the hesitating promise which started him
writing it down at all.’”)
453
J. Pudney, 1976, Lewis Carroll and his world, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson, p.5- 6 (“This
could have been a long forgotten Victorian incident were it not that the tall shy, child- doting bachelor
called Dodgson had the pen- name Lewis Carroll, and that he carried out the wish of the little girl
called Alice Liddell and wrote Alice in Wonderland. The following day at the Great Western railway
station at Oxford he met Alice again with her family- waiting for the 9.2 morning train to London.
Evidently he travelled separately: for before he reached Paddington, he had the ‘headings written out’
for the story which first appeared as Alice’s Adventures Under Ground.”)
454
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.141- 142 (“Children’s
books had existed for centuries before Charles came along. He did not invent the genre. But he did
something significant. He broke with tradition. Many of the earlier children’s books written for the
upper classes had lofty purposes: they had to teach and preach… Much of the children’s literature of
Charles’s day, the books that he himself read as a boy, were purposeful and dour. They instilled
discipline and compliance… Most earlier writers(contemporaries and later writers too) wrote down
and condescended children. They rarely gave the young credit for much intelligence, let alone
sensitivity and imagination.”)
455
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.91 (Robinson
Duckworth stated: “I rowed stroke and he rowed bow… when the three Liddells were our passengers,
and the story was actually composed and spoken over my shoulder for the benefit of Alice Liddell, who
was acting as ‘cox’ of our gig.”)
241
little Alice and her family.456 Therefore Steve couldn’t even dangle the carrot of
eventual success in this man’s view.457 He had to be a great deal more subtle than that.
It was then that an idea developed. He could help Dodgson forge the idea for the
Alice stories through the children!
When Duckworth had finished his song (it was a little number that Steve hadn’t ever
heard before), Dodgson and the little girls clapped at his efforts and the noise brought
the time traveller crashing back from his analysis and planning. “You’re a very good
singer,” the young man said in acknowledgment.
“Thankyou,” said Duckworth graciously.
“And you,” Steve then turned to Dodgson, seizing his chance while he could. “Are an
extremely good story teller!” The soon- to- be- famous author simply smiled at the
compliment. “I was just thinking though,” continued the young man rather slyly.
“About that story you told of Benjy and I falling down a rabbit- hole.458 I think that it
would have been a lot better with only a single heroic character.”
“O-o- oh?” queried Dodgson, suddenly quite intrigued.
“Yes.” Steve was being deliberately long- winded and evasive, in an attempt to attract
the attention of every member of the picnic party. “I was wondering if the story had
456
M. Gardner, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons Limited, p.23 (In
response to Alice’s request to have the story written down, Dodgson “said that he should try, and
afterwards… he sat up nearly the whole night, committing to a MS. book his recollections of (the story)
with which he had enlivened the afternoon. He added illustrations of his own, and presented the
volume, which used often to be seen on the drawing room table at the Deanery.”)
457
D. Hudson, 1954, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, William Cloves and Sons Limited, p.133 ( It seems
that any urging of the author to publish the book happened at a later date. “Lewis Carroll finished
writing Alice’s Adventures Under Ground some time before February 10th, 1863, and soon afterwards
sent it to his friend George MacDonald for his opinion. Mrs. MacDonald read the manuscript to her
assembled family with such success that the verdict was not in doubt. On May 9th, 1863, the author
noted that they wished him to publish it. So much is clear from his diary. But Duckworth maintained
that Henry Kingsley saw the manuscript at the Deanery, and that it was Kingsley’s advocacy… that
induced Dodgson to decide on publication.”)
458
New York, Random House, p xii (When Dodgson came up with the story “he sent his heroine ‘straight
down a rabbit hole, to begin with, without the least idea what was to happen afterwards…’”)
242
been better if one of the children had been placed in the lead role? What do you all
think?” He looked directly at each of the little girls in turn.
“Why?” asked Ina. “Didn’t you like having a story made up about you?”
“Oh yes, of course,” said the time traveller, whilst smiling. “I’m very honoured in
fact! But I’m not a hero.459 I think the story was such a good one though that it would
be a lot more special if it was actually about one of you.” He glimpsed up towards
Dodgson, who appeared to be listening carefully to everything that Steve was saying.
The young man didn’t seem to be getting anywhere though.
“What does it matter?” asked Edith, who was looking perplexed. “Mr. Dodgson has
told us lots of different stories!”
His mind started to dance frantically, attempting to find a line of reasoning. Then
something clicked. “Well, fairness really!” he said triumphantly.
“What do you mean, fairness?” Duckworth sat up from his laying position to partake
in the conversation.
“Well, one thing that I noticed,” the young man continued. He had hit upon the
ultimate idea and decided to run with it. “Was that Alice didn’t have a role in the
story.”
“By Jove, I think you’re right!” Duckworth declared.
“I know I am,” replied Steve. “You were there in the character of the Duck. The Lory
and the Eaglet represented Ina and Edith respectively. Mr. Dodgson was clearly the
Do-Do and Benjy and I were, of course, the stories’ main focus.460 But poor little
Alice didn’t even appear!”
459
Steve is obviously lying, especially after his entanglement with the Gascoigne mutants!
Everyman’s Library, p. viii (“‘There was a Duck and a Dodo, a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other
curious creatures’- whom the children had no difficulty in recognizing as Duckworth, Dodgson (‘Dodo- Dodgson’ when he stammered), Lorina and Edith- besides Alice herself.”)
460
243
“I’m sorry Alice,” Dodgson said to the little girl immediately. “I think that I got
carried away with the story so much, that your omission was just an oversight!” The
look of sheer guilt on the man’s face was of gargantuan proportions and although
Steve felt like the ultimate manipulator, he knew that this had to be done! The world
without “Alice in Wonderland” didn’t bear thinking about! “I will rectify my error in
the boat on the way home. I will re-tell the story and you will have the major role!”461
Although Alice wasn’t even initially disgruntled in the slightest (she had after all
enjoyed the story and hadn’t even realised a lack of character based on her), she still
acknowledged Dodgson’s mistake and promise with a brief thank-you. As an
afterthought however, she added: “but Steve and Benjy will still appear in the story
somewhere, won’t they?”
“Of course!” said Dodgson. “Anything that you desire!”462 He then looked up at
Steve. “Which character would you like to be in the tale?”
“Oh anybody,” smiled the young man. “Just remember though: I don’t wear hats and
I’m not mad!”463
The author offered a facial expression that seemed genuinely confused at Steve’s
statement, but before he could comment upon it, Edith made a very interesting
observation. “Mr. Dodgson, you didn’t stutter when you spoke to Steve just then!”
“So I didn’t!” the man exclaimed in surprise. “Perhaps that’s because, even though
Steve clearly has the intellect of a man, behind his face, lies the heart and soul of a
461
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.135 (“The Dodo is
Charles, the Duck is Duckworth, the Lory is Lorina, the Eaglet Edith. But they play hardly more than
walk on parts. The book is about Alice, the middle sister; it is she, and she alone, who stands centre
stage throughout.”)
462
Everyman’s Library, p. 35 (Benjy is obviously represented by the overbearing puppy!)
463
New York, Random House, p xiii (The Mad Hatter’s tea party, which Steve refers to here, was not
actually in the first version of the story. “The Alice that was published and that is now a classic is
considerably different from the manuscript version Dodgson presented to Alice Liddell in 1864; in fact
it is twice as long. Three chapters were added, ‘Pig and Pepper,’ ‘A Mad Tea Party,’ and ‘The Caucus
Race,’ as was much of the Trial scene. In preparing Alice’s Adventures Under Ground for publication,
Carroll also introduced one of the most memorable characters, the Cheshire cat.”)
244
child!”464 As Dodgson looked up at Steve and winked, the girls all laughed out loud at
this apparently nutty revelation!
The time traveller just smiled back, relieved.
**********
Steve helped the small crowd to gather up all of their picnic- ware. Both Dodgson and
Duckworth had decided that it was getting a little late in the afternoon and that
perhaps they should be heading back to the university grounds. He and Benjy walked
with the crowd as they made their way to the boat and the young man helped them
into the vessel one by one.
“It was lovely to meet you!” cried Duckworth, who sat in the boat with his back to his
companion.465
“Yes!” cried Dodgson. “If you’re ever at Christ Church, do come and look us up. I
have the most amazing collection of photography that I could show you!”466
“That would be great!” said Steve, even though he knew that he would never meet
any of these people again. “Enjoy your row! Take care! Thankyou for the afternoon
tea and the story! It was one of the best that I have ever heard!”467
All of the Liddell girls offered their proclamations of farewell and as Steve waved, he
heard, echoing around the river, the words of Charles Dodgson as, for the first time
464
Discovery Communications (This is nearly the exact description ascribed to Dodgson himself by
nonsense scholar, Elizabeth Sewell: “He had the brain of a very clever man, with the heart of a child.”)
465
M. N. Cohen, 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House, p.91 (Duckworth said “I
remember turning round and saying, ‘Dodgson, is this an extempore romance of yours?’ And he
replied, ‘Yes, I’m inventing as we go along.’”)
466
31st October 2002 (“In 1856 he took up the new art form of photography. He excelled at it and it
became an expression of his very personal inner philosophy; a belief in the divinity of what he called
"beauty" by which he seemed to mean a state of moral or aesthetic or physical perfection.”)
467
F. B. Lennon, 1947, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, Cassell and Co. Limited, p.113 (Lennon’s
description is perhaps very apt. She describes Alice in Wonderland as a “dream story”. This is exactly
what it is of course, in that it is about a dream, but it also offers the connotations that it is one of those
rarities that every author and artist is after: a true original that will inspire, excite and enthrall!)
245
ever, he began the very story that would make him utterly famous. “Okay, where do I
begin? I know… Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the
bank and having nothing to do…”468
**********
As the small party sailed off around the next bend, Steve and Benjy turned their backs
from the river and faced the great haystack once more. “Well now Benge, I suppose
that we need to find the plughole and think about getting out of here!” The time
traveller then rapidly scoured their direct landscape. “The only problem is, I haven’t
got a clue as to where it could be!”
After looking for the object of their desire in the exact spot where the picnic blanket
had been (this seemed to be the most logical place to start), they ultimately decided to
make their way over to a small cluster of trees and foliage, which lay just a few yards
from the position where they initially arrived. It was really quite odd that it was taking
so long for them to find their point of time- travel departure. Even when it had been in
the most obscure of places in the past, they had either stumbled upon it by accident, or
Steve had had some sixth sense as to where it might have been. This time though, it
was beginning to seem likely that the strange little portal hadn’t even travelled with
them through time at all! “Are you sure you haven’t seen it?” the young man asked
Benjy, after a short while. The plughole’s absence was obviously starting to worry
him. Benjy, of course, couldn’t reply, even if he had wanted to.
As they got closer to the trees though, the young man’s anxieties began to diminish. A
fluffy white shape attracted Steve’s attention from the corner of his eye and as he
looked around, he was greeted with the most curious of sights! Only a few feet away
from them in amongst the tall grass at the lower edge of the thicket, a single white
rabbit scurried along, seemingly minding its own business. His eyebrows rose
instantly! “Well isn’t that a coincidence?” he exclaimed. “Perhaps old Dodgson is
psychic? Perhaps somehow, he knew that we would see such a creature?”
468
New York, Random House, p 397 (This is the very first line of the original manuscript, entitled Alice’s
Adventures Under Ground.)
246
In response to his friend’s query, Benjy simply sniffed in the air toward the animal’s
direction, before starting to growl under his breath and readying himself to pounce
viciously upon it. Before he had the chance to carry out his threat however, Steve
snapped at him. “Oh don’t be so ridiculous Benjy! It’s only a rabbit. I admit that its
colour is incredibly weird and coincidental, but there must be a few of them around
here! It’s just a boring old everyday rabbit! Nothing to worry about!”
As if to mock the young man’s summations however, much to his surprise, the rabbit
stood up on its hind legs and from out of its fur, it pulled out a pocket-watch. After
checking the time and shaking its head, it then slumped back down onto its tummy
and scampered off in the opposite direction, eventually disappearing down a fairly
large hole that was hidden behind it by a clump of grass.
Steve was totally astonished. “Did that really happen?” he asked out loud, before the
pair thrust forward simultaneously and began to peer into the hole to see if they could
catch another glimpse of the creature!
As they stared into the darkness however, Steve suddenly began to regret his own
curiosity. The rabbit had obviously been some sort of a decoy or trap and as an odd
line of cause and effect began to take place around them, he suddenly remembered
Rosalind Brodsky’s warning. In hindsight, he realised that it hadn’t been Dodgson
who was psychic at all! Brodsky had been the one who told them of the white rabbit
in the first place and he had taken her words to refer to his subsequent meeting with
the author. He’d been lulled into a false sense of security and now, unfortunately, it
seemed that he was going to pay the ultimate price!
The pair were suddenly overcome by a strong force that seemed to radiate around
them. In a fit of fear, they lost all control of their own body movements, were thrown
to the ground and then strangely magnetised to the spot. As they attempted to
struggle, all to no avail, both Steve and Benjy were utterly horrified to see that the
rabbit hole in front of them had started to enlarge; the grass and landscape around it
heaved, twisted and distorted to accommodate the anomaly.
247
The young man knew what was coming and without being able to move his limbs at
all, he simply screamed and begged for both he and his pet to be set free. It was like
one of those horror movies where the hapless victim gets dragged helplessly into the
mouth of a hideous and revolting sea monster! The second that it was big enough to
consume both of their torsos in one foul swoop, for no apparent reason, the hole then
began to suck them up into its dark and gloomy midst. Their bodies were instantly and
effortlessly heaved from their attached state, as if they were simply two specks of dust
at the mercy of a gigantic vacuum cleaner!
Everything seemed to happen so fast. One of Steve’s hands instinctively shot out and
grabbed Benjy’s collar, whilst the other attempted to grip the crumbling edge of the
hole, to keep them from being fully consumed. It was perhaps the last incident in this
episode of strangeness however that forced him into finally letting go. As he
attempted to summon up every ounce of energy and strength to save both his friend
and himself, he glimpsed down at his belt rapidly and noticed that the buttons of his
mobile phone seemed to be dialling themselves! The numbers of course were the
magic ones that initiated the plughole and when these were followed up with the send
call button, Steve released his clutching fingers. As he and the Labrador fell
powerlessly into the darkness and the rabbit hole closed up, like a mouth about to take
a swallow, the last thought that flew through his mind was that perhaps this had
something to do with his destiny!
**********
If Steve had thought that being eaten by a rabbit- hole was both the worst and last
thing that would happen to them in this time zone, then he was very much mistaken.
The mouth of the hole had merely been a short lip, a point of entry into what seemed
like an incredibly deep well and as he and Benjy had been thrust through it, they
realised that very soon they would suffer from the even greater threat of gravity. This
was something that did not impress the young man at all, especially given the fact that
he had vertigo and was terrified of heights!
As they plummeted, given the similarities between their predicament and the story
that he had just secured the future of, the young man half expected to see Disneyesque
248
clocks and other time pieces floating around him; either that, or cupboards and
drawers half embedded in the rocks.469 What he did see though was a strange
succession of images that seemed to flash into the retina of his eyes at an enormously
swift rate. They were so fast that he didn’t even have time to blink and they affected
everything that he could perceive. One by one they entered his consciousness and
were made up of an odd assortment of pictures, a string of unrelated things and events
that had happened over the course of his own lifetime; the players of his football
team, Brighton and Hove Albion, strolling onto the park at Wembley, ready to
participate in the F.A. Cup; himself as a child in bed, screaming for his father and
claiming that there was a horse in the corner of his room; a succession of the artworks
that he had carved in lino over his time at university; the kookaburra that had
followed his family to their car, whilst bushwalking on their first holiday to Australia;
disembodied images that had stemmed from both the world’s media and text books
that he had read at school; his first true love and then it’s inevitable breakdown; his
emigration to Australia at the age of sixteen; and the beginnings of his own interest in
“Doctor Who” and science fiction during the late seventies. As he realised that what
he was seeing was basically his own life in a single flash, he gradually began to
become aware that the very boundaries of time around him were literally collapsing.
All in the same instance, he could see himself both as an old man, looking back upon
his existence and as a baby, attempting to look forward. He suddenly thought that this
was the defining moment that should have taken place when he had pressed that
button on the microwave on that eventful day in October 2002. As the electricity had
surged through his body, instead of being pushed on to another point in the space-time
continuum, he should have been horrifically killed and now, that moment was literally
catching up with him.
He tried to block the images out, to turn around in mid- fall, to see if Benjy was okay,
but as he did so, his eyes caught sight of a vast and glowing shape beneath him. It
took him a little while to realise that he was tumbling directly into an enormous
plughole.
469
B. Sharpsteen (producer) and C. Geronomi (director), 1951, Alice in Wonderland, USA, Walt
Disney Entertainment (In the Walt Disney version of Alice in Wonderland, when Alice plunges down
the rabbit- hole she is surrounded by hour- glasses, fob watches, sun dials and the like.)
249
He could feel the fibres in his body begin to break down and disperse and because of
this, he was temporarily relieved at both the sight of the time- link beneath him and
the method of traversal that he was about to undergo. This was all very short- lived
however. As he started to vapourise on this occasion, a very different sensation began
to overcome him. His skin tingled painfully and his entire being began to shake and
quiver. Something very strange was happening to his body. He was changing,
regenerating; he was going through some strange period of metamorphosis and as his
molecules began to swirl around like a single stream of water gurgling toward the
plughole, his mind reeled and screamed in agony…
250
Figure 23. 1862A.D. – And then something happened… 2003
251
Conclusion:
A N ew P urpose
Figure 24. Interstitial Time – Meeting Time 2003 Hand Coloured Linocut.
30cm x 30cm
252
“My God, this is it. It’s come… Its decision time!” – The character of Gary Sparrow
Interstitial Time,
The Temporal Voids
When Steve eventually came to, he knew in an instant that somehow he felt different,
but he hadn’t quite anticipated what was to come. He stood and initially found it odd
that the ground didn’t seem to be as far away as it used to, but upon glimpsing down
at his hands, body and clothes, he suddenly and shockingly discovered the reason
why. His fingers were short, stumpy and pudgy. His ensemble consisted of a little
blue cardigan, shorts, sneakers and a “Flash Gordon” T- shirt. He was about threefoot tall.
He started at once to panic, but upon glimpsing up at a nearby wall, which peculiarly
contained an almost mirror- like surface, his reflection added to the hideous and grisly
revelation that was careering through his mind. This confirmation alone was enough
to stop him utterly in his thoughts and anxieties. Steve gibbered pathetically, as he
looked into his own eyes. He had seen photographs that had been taken of him at the
age of six and although he could only remember shreds of memory from this period of
his life, he knew without a shadow of a doubt, that the face looking back at him came
from that time. It was the same version of him who had been taken to Butlins holiday
camp, given fairy floss and placed on a giant mouse amusement ride. It was the same
253
Steve who had just started to develop an interest in the popular culture of the age. It
was the same little boy who had just begun to go to school. He instantly wanted to
cry!
As he regained some composure, he frantically started to dart around the space in
which he had rematerialised. It was like nowhere that he had ever seen before; it was
a hollow location with constantly shifting substances that dwelled and formed within
its walls. It was at once, liquefied and hard. It was simultaneously both blue and
black. It felt quite cramped, whilst paradoxically spacious. Aside from its
inconsistencies though, this domain was always both ambiguous and intangible.
He found Benjy laying a short distance away from where he himself had awoken and
immediately rushed over to his aid. The dog was alive, but completely out for the
count. This still didn’t deter Steve from observing that his friend too had been
returned to a state of childhood. This wasn’t the Labrador adult that had accompanied
him on his journey through time; this was the puppy that his parents had brought
home some years ago on a cold winter’s night from their local pet store.
“What’s happened to us?” Steve sobbed, laying his head down on Benjy’s small torso.
“Why have we become children again?” He then burst into tears and as he wailed, the
unhappy sounds echoed forcefully off of the seemingly unstable surfaces of their
surrounds.
**********
It was after a few minutes, when Steve’s tears had ceased, that the little boy suddenly
heard footsteps walking toward him. They were loud, something heavy tapping on
stone as they moved. He instantly clambered up from Benjy’s side, stood as tall and
as brave as he possibly could and squinted into the shadows at the far end of this
strange space. “Who is it?” he yelled.
“Vigilance. That’s good. I am impressed.” The voice seemed to echo all around him
and the time traveller, at first, assumed that the Gascoignes had found some way of
escaping from the explosion and were now wreaking their terrible revenge. It was
254
when an old man, in a red cloak, stepped out from the shadows behind him though
that that theory quickly diminished.
He spun around to face the figure instantly. “Who are you?” asked Steve again, this
time feeling a little more intimidated. At least if it had been one of those foul
unearthly mutants, he would have known exactly what fate was in store for him. Now,
he just felt uncertain.
“Don’t you recognise me?” the man said, as his face moved slowly out of the
darkness. It was William Hartnell, the actor who Steve had convinced to persevere in
the role of “Doctor Who”.
The boy was instantly agog. “William Hartnell? How did you get here?” He was
having problems in coming to terms with the state of his own under- developed voice.
It was squeaky… and strangely cute.
The old man simply smiled in response. “I am not William Hartnell. It took me a
while with the walking… and the talking, but I am not he.”470
Steve put his finger delicately to his lips in thought. “Then who are you?” he asked.
At first the Hartnell look- alike seemed as though he was not going to answer, but
after a few seconds, he stated simply: “I suppose that you could refer to me as Time!”
**********
“I needed to take on a form that you would not only recognise, but respect also,” said
the elderly individual. “The face of William Hartnell seemed appropriate. His bodily
appearance is, of course, no longer utilised in your time and the fact that he died
within months of your birth has always meant that, at least in your own mind, he was
an untouchable and miraculous figure. In some respects, before the events in this little
470
P. Segal (producer) and G. Sax (director), 1996, Doctor Who – The Movie, Canada, BBC
Worldwide/ Universal Pictures (In the Americanised version of Doctor Who, the timelord known as the
Master, after taking over the body of an innocent ambulance driver, comments: “I’m not Bruce. It took
me a while with the walking and the talking, but I am not Bruce!”)
255
series of adventures at least, he wholeheartedly paved the way for your ultimate hero,
didn’t he?”
“Well, he was always special, being the first Doctor.” Steve admitted. The little boy
seemed totally confused and beginning to walk around the scarlet clad man, he
decided to attempt to play this conversation to his advantage. He had learnt well over
his adventures and wanted to put these skills into use, despite his appearance and
associated lack of wisdom. “So, I suppose that you’re the one with all the answers?”
Time’s eyes followed the youngster’s path. “Perhaps, I have nothing but questions?”
he offered.
“Well, I’ve certainly got some for you!” Even though he had said this with conviction,
in truth, the time traveller really didn’t know where to begin. There was so much he
needed to know; why he had been sent on this temporal merry- go- round in the first
place; how was it possible for Benjy to talk and think; why had he now been
converted into the body of a minor?
It was then that Time held up his hand rapidly in peace. “Steve, I bear you no malice
and if you’ll let me, I will explain all that you want to know.” It was clear that the
little boy’s inner thought processes were completely open to this mythical being.
“When you have all of the answers though, I want you to consider questions for your
future, okay?”
Although he didn’t really understand what was being asked of him, the time traveller
simply nodded in reply.
“Good.” Time smiled affectionately and began to move around the space, like a tourguide in an art gallery. Steve found this to be a rather odd motion, especially given the
fact that the man’s robes were longer than his body and he seemed to be floating. “I
have to oversee all events in the universe,” he then stated.
“Are you God?” the little boy asked. He had never been religious before; he had
always claimed that he was open to suggestion. Never having any proof at all of
256
higher beings in the heavens, he had refused to give his faith and belief up absolutely
to one set idea. Although a sanctioned religion was never going to be an option, this
incident was obviously going to change things in the future though.
“Not exactly,” Time replied. “The creation of Earth and its surrounds were not my
jurisdiction. That belonged in the planning and construction department. My job, if
you like, is to come up with a grand plan of how things are going to work and run.
I’m sort of like a foreman; the smooth functioning and running of existence is my
responsibility.”
Steve couldn’t believe his ears. This fellow was equating the entire sanctity of life in
the same way that one might refer to a building site. He said nothing however and
continued to listen attentively.
“Sometimes though, things don’t run to the grand plan. There are little glitches that I
can only resolve by method of intervention.”
“Glitches?” the little boy repeated. “What, like things going wrong?”
“Exactly!” Time was clearly attempting to speak in a language and structure of words
that Steve could understand and he seemed pleased that it appeared to be getting
through so easily. “Now recently, I became aware of a number of inconsistencies in
the fabric of existence.” He pulled an old yellowed scroll out of his robes and
unravelled it. “I won’t give you the full list, just perhaps the edited highlights. What
have we here?” He held his face incredibly close to the paper and his nose started to
visibly move down the list. “Churchill and the allied forces needed help in winning
World War 2, you gave Shakespeare the idea for the famous Scottish play, aided Tom
Petty in writing the song ‘I won’t back down’.” He stopped mumbling and read in
silence for a second, before recommencing his words. “Ah here’s an interesting one
that will exemplify what I mean! Salvador Dali was going to abandon his painting
“The Persistence of Memory” and would therefore go off on a different path of image
making. The Surrealists fizzled out in the nineteen- thirties and the line of art
movements, well at least as you know it, ended up to be quite, quite different.”
257
“How different?” Steve asked.
“Believe me, you don’t want to know!” Time seemed adamant. “Let’s just say that an
art movement based solely on the image of teddy bears wouldn’t have gone down too
well in history. It would have taken decades to cope with the impact of that one!” His
eyes flitted down to the list once more. “Here’s another. Stephen King, in listening to
his mother, would have applied for a job on the staff of Mills and Boon! He always
wanted to write, as you know, but it was such a waste of talent. He can really be sick
and twisted when he wants to!”
“What about the Gascoigne invasion?” Steve was attempting to catch Time out.
“Ah!” The old man smiled. “Yes, that Gascoigne Leader was a nasty piece of work
wasn’t he?” He scratched his head. “Their intrusion into your journey was actually a
glitch within a glitch. I hadn’t anticipated that they would trace your path at all; it was
a completely random accident. When you were there though, on board their
spaceship, I sort of got to thinking that perhaps their creation had been a slight error
of judgement. It seemed like a good idea on paper, but in practice…” He then began
to shake his head quietly.
“So basically you used me to destroy them then?” the little boy crossed his arms in
annoyance.
“Well, yes that is a crude way of putting it I suppose, but I did need a resolution
where both you and humanity were safe and the Gascoigne’s destruction seemed to be
about the only avenue available.”
“But Benjy and I were nearly blown to smithereens!” Steve remembered that last split
second before they were sent hurtling on to H.G. Wells’ front garden.
“I would never have left you there in that explosion. I admit that I had a little trouble
in getting the plughole and Benjy to you in the first place, but I had to overcome the
time ripples that had been set in motion from both your pet’s imprisonment in the
eddy and the Gascoigne’s intervention.”
258
“Why was Benjy trapped in the mobile phone?” He gazed over at the dog’s prone
form on the ground.
“Just a mere technical malfunction I’m afraid. It happens from time to time!”
Steve then started to walk backwards and forwards in a short line. “There’s a few
things that I don’t understand here,” he began. “This all seems a bit too convenient!”
“Well, air your concerns kiddo,” said Time. “We’ll work through them one by one!”
“Okay.” Steve ignored the obvious put down and sorted out an appropriate order of
questions in his mind. “Firstly, you implied that I was being sent to sort out a few…
mistakes in the continuum.” Time nodded in response. “But clearly on some of those
occasions, I didn’t make the slightest bit of difference. For example, on the African
safari in 1953, all Benjy and I did was run around a lot. When we met the Vikings in
the year 987, we were simply roughed up a bit and thrown in their ship’s hold, where
of course we found the plughole. And more recently, when we arrived at the Museum
of Contemporary Art, all I seemed to do was avoid a meeting with another temporal
version of myself!”
“Yes. There are two answers to what you are asking here.” Time placed his hand on
his chin in much the same way as William Hartnell used to as the Doctor. “On some
of those earlier occasions, especially whilst you were in Africa and Norway, life’s
plan basically rectified itself without your intervention. You were clearly surplus to
requirements and so I moved you on to places where your skills could be more
adequately utilised.” He paused again. “When you went to Sydney in May 2002
however, that was an entirely different matter. Through your own intelligence and the
assistance of H.G. Wells, you had found the minute loophole to time traversal. In the
beginning, I was sending you to the various temporal locations, but by keeping a
specific destination in your head whilst time- travelling, you forced your way to
Suzanne Treister’s artist talk.”
259
Things were starting to become a little clearer to Steve. “And don’t tell me,” he began
with a hint of the obvious in his tones. “We were still good enough for one more
journey, so you sent Rosalind Brodsky to us, as a double bluff?”
“Something like that,” the old man conceded.
“Okay, what about Benjy?” Steve then asked. “Why did you send him with me and
how did he gain such remarkable human attributes?”
“Easy,” said the godly character, as though he was treating these questions like a
game. “I didn’t think that it was fair for you to travel alone and Benjy being the only
life form in the world that you trusted implicitly, seemed to be the obvious candidate
to go with you.”
“But that doesn’t explain why he could talk and think?” Once again, the little boy’s
eyes wandered over toward the unconscious dog and he wondered if his friend was
okay.
“What would the point of a companion in time be, if you couldn’t relate to one
another? I know that dog’s aren’t strictly supposed to be able to do half the things that
Benjy can, but… I sort of, bent the rules a little.” Time looked almost guilty as he
spoke.
It was then that Steve asked the main question that had been circulating around in his
thought processes. “Why me? I mean, why didn’t you intervene in existence
yourself?”
Time began to chuckle. “Come now, you’re a science fiction fan.” His eyes twinkled
mischievously. “ To answer those questions in reverse order, you must know that I
cannot be seen to be directly involved with humanity. Only those special enough get
to actually meet me. It’s always better if I send one of humanity’s number to influence
it. Your race has a tendency to blend in better than I.”
“Is that what I am?” the little boy questioned. “Special?”
260
“I’m coming to that. While I was checking my list of inconsistencies, I noticed that
the last one referred explicitly to you.”
“Oh?” Steve was suddenly intrigued.
“Yes, you were giving up on life. You were forgetting all of those things that used to
give you joy, faith and happiness. You were getting to a point where your daily
existence had just become a meaningless chore. I think that you know what I am
referring to.”
“I had forgotten about all of those things that had inspired me when I was growing
up,” he stated simply and suddenly remembered the incident with the pile of
paperwork in his bedroom. Each and every day was filled with little tedious
happenings like that. Time was right; he had been ‘giving up’ for a long while and on
that very day in question, the 8th of October 2002, perhaps more so than on any other
occasion, he had known it. “I actually asked to go back to childhood didn’t I?”
“Yes you did,” Time confirmed. “But that sort of thing isn’t strictly allowed and it’s
not terribly pro- active for your future is it?” Steve said nothing, but continued to
dwell on his quandary. “When I checked the list of things that needed to be rectified, I
realised that a lot of them had some specific reference to you. In general, they were
based around many of the people that you had grown up admiring, so I diversified.”
Steve looked up at the man immediately. “What do you mean?”
“I corrected the last of existence’s mistakes on the list, by allowing you to intervene
and correct the others.”
The little boy instantly filled with rage. “But you botched it didn’t you?” he
exclaimed.471
471
J. Nathan Turner (producer) and P. Moffatt (director), 1983, Doctor Who – The Five Doctors, Great
Britain, BBC Television (When the fifth Doctor find the main protagonist of this latest adventure to be
Lord Borusa, the president of the time lords, he berates the man for trapping his own fourth incarnation
in a time eddy. “But you botched it didn’t you?” he exclaims.)
261
Time held his hands up in protestation. “But you now see the value of life. You were
reminded about some of those things, people and events that used to give you
comfort. I hardly see that as a botch?” Not being a member of the human race, he was
finding it difficult to understand the reasons for Steve’s anger.
The time traveller held out his arms out wide though and looked down at his
appearance and things started to become a little clearer. “Look at me!” the child
screamed. “I’m a man in the body of a boy! Benjy’s a puppy! We’ll both have to go
through puberty again! Will we be like this forever?”
The strange being closed his eyes and as he finally realised the extent of Steve’s
grievances, he smiled. “No. You are only in that aspect while you are in my presence.
Remember what Dodgson had said after little Edith had pointed out about his
inconsistency of speech toward you?”
The little boy nodded. He was beginning to simmer down.
“You have the intellect of a man, but the heart and soul of a child. While you are in
my presence,” the mythical figure chided, “the system that you know as time is
defunct, or non- existent. You appear to me as you feel, not as you are!” He bowed his
head, as though happy at the outcomes of Steve’s dilemma. “It is the perfect signifier
to prove that I have succeeded in your re- awakening. As you told Wordsworth to do
so in his work, you too have found the balance between childhood and the rest of your
life. Your dreams and aspirations still thrive and you cannot deny that you now have a
new purpose in both your artistic endeavours and your outlook.” He then began to
move, making Steve jump at first, and glided over toward a large wooden door that
had miraculously appeared from no-where over to one side of the space. “Come, we
have to work out what we are going to do with you from this point on!”
Steve began to follow, but then stopped abruptly and looked down toward his sleeping
pet. “What about Benjy?” he called.
“Ah yes!” Time stood still himself and simply clicked the fingers of his right hand.
The dog slowly began to stir. “Now come on,” said the old man. “You must follow.
262
There is a decision to be made!” And with that, the doors sprung open with a clunk as
he approached them.
**********
It had been Benjy’s turn to wake with a headache and after primarily being a little
disturbed by the appearance of both Steve and himself, he scrambled woozily to his
strangely over- sized feet. The little boy filled him in quickly on what had been taking
place while he had slept and then when the canine was fully satisfied of their safety,
Steve finally urged him into following in Time’s footsteps.
As they passed through the doorway, they realised that this new space was some sort
of a games room. It consisted of a snooker table, a bowling alley, a gym, several
pinball and arcade machines and a small stand to their right, upon which sat an ornate
looking chess set. A game had been started and many of the pieces were taken
already.
Time was standing over the board solemnly. His eyes didn’t move from their features,
he was perfectly rigid like a statue and in his open hand was Steve’s mobile phone.
Upon seeing the device, the boy instinctively looked down at where it used to be on
his belt. It was of course no longer there. “Did you know that Charles Dodgson’s
second book, entitled ‘Alice through the Looking Glass and what she found there’,
was a metaphor for growing older?” the old man suddenly inquired. 472
“Yes,” said Steve in reply. “It was about Alice progressing from the status of a pawn
to a queen, as she moved across a life- size chess board.”473
472
Discovery Communications (Edward Wakefield summarizes the main point of focus for Through the
Looking Glass: (Looking Glass) “is an analogy of Alice growing up, becoming an adult, and for Lewis
Carroll to lose her.”)
473
New York, Random House, p xiv (“While the world in Alice in Wonderland is seemingly random and
nonsensical, a world where escape and individual possibility are appealingly present, the world of
Through the Looking Glass is determined and absurd, bound into a metaphor of life as a chessboard
and all its people only pawns and pieces.”)
263
“Chess…. Yes,” the man agreed. “The good Reverend realised that in the end, he lost
the children that adored and admired him so much. He lost them to me actually, to
time. They always grew older and left him behind. They forgot about what it was like
to be young and took on their own responsibilities and endeavours. Dodgson wrote
about those very emotions that he went through in the story.”
“I remember,” said the youth. “There was a touching scene within it which was based
around a farewell to Alice, his favourite child- friend of all time.”474
“Quite,” Time looked at the little boy and then Benjy in turn. “It was a remarkable
approach to how the game of chess can be equated to life and when we think about it,
the same motif can also be used as a fantastic metaphor for what you are both
experiencing now.”
The Labrador puppy couldn’t make the connection. “In what way?” His voice was
younger and higher pitched also.
“You’re both playing a game Benjy. You have to think several moves ahead, but
always have a very distinct goal in mind: to move forward.” Time skipped a few
paces, as if to emphasise his comment and stood just in front of the pair. “Your
decision is a simple one to make. You must decide whether or not you are going to
continue playing the game, or whether you are going to simply stop.”
“Well, that’s easy,” said the dog. “We should stop… shouldn’t we?” He looked up at
Steve for confirmation. “We want to go home don’t we? That is what we’ve been
aiming for?”
474
Everyman’s Library, p.183 (The scene to which Steve is referring is the one in Through the Looking
Glass with the White Knight. It is rumoured that this character was in fact meant to be a parody of
Dodgson himself and as he bids farewell to Alice, one can easily see why. “As the Knight sang the last
words of the ballad, he gathered up the reins, and turned his horse’s head along the road by which they
had come. ‘You’ve only a few yards to go,’ he said, ‘down the hill and over that brook, and then you’ll
be a Queen- But you’ll stay and see me off first?’ he added as Alice turned away with an eager look. ‘I
shan’t be long. You’ll wait and wave your handkerchief when I get to that that turn in the road? I think
it’ll encourage me, you see.’”)
264
The little boy however, ignored his friend and simply stared Time straight in the eyes.
“This is a test,” he said soberly. “Whether we wanted to go home or not wasn’t the
question that Time asked.”
“What do you mean?” Benjy was getting more and more confused.
“He simply asked us if we were going to give up, or continue with life. Is that right
sir?” His eyes never moved from the man who was now residing in William
Hartnell’s aspect.
Time closed his eyes in response, but then quickly, as if to draw their conversation to
a conclusion, he leant behind him and flicked over the white king on the chessboard,
as if to indicate a check- mate. “You have learnt well,” he acknowledged. “I did say
that I would get you to question your existence didn’t I?” He then turned and began to
walk away from them. “Thankyou for your recent assistance,” he said finally, over his
shoulder. “I will always be grateful and will no doubt continue to watch your progress
with pride.”
“But what’s going to happen to us?” asked Benjy. He was suddenly feeling as though
they would end up stranded and forgotten in this weird place forever and sidled up to
the young Steve’s bare legs in fear.
Time didn’t stop in his movements, but as he got further away, he did offer one more
piece of advice. “No matter what you decide to do my friends, whether you continue
your journey or go home, your adventures are far from over!” With that, he dialled
some numbers on the mobile phone and then threw it with perfect accuracy over his
shoulder toward Steve’s direction. “Turn the page, Steve and Benjy! In your heart you
will know what to do!”
As Steve caught the phone with precision in one hand, he instinctively grabbed
Benjy’s collar in the other and within seconds, after the pair had watched Time leave
the confines of the room, they simply and completely vanished from view.
265
Epilogue:
A Truly Suitable Ending
Figure 25. Infinity – The Perpetual State of Childhood 2002
266
“It’s the end… but the moment has been prepared for…” – The character of the
Doctor
A Suburban Home,
Sydney, Australia, 3.15pm, Tuesday 8th October 2002
“Steve? Are you there?” Michael’s voice shattered the moment through the mobile
telephone’s speaker, so much so, that Steve released his finger instantly from the
microwave’s on- switch. As the machine clunked back into normal function- mode,
the young man shook his head out of a momentary daze.
He looked around at his surroundings slowly. He was home. He and Benjy were again
standing within the kitchen waiting for their scrambled eggs, which were still in the
fully functioning and perfectly normal microwave. He glimpsed down at his hands
and then the rest of his body and realised that furthermore, he was back in the aspect
of a twenty- seven year old.
“Steve?” It was another little while before he realised that Michael was still on the
line.
“Err… Michael, I’m sorry. I don’t quite know what happened there!” He looked
straight down at Benjy, half expecting the Labrador to come out with some wise
crack, but everything seemed as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. The
267
dog was still perched eagerly underneath the electrical device, expectant of the
forthcoming food. His tongue was hanging out of his open mouth, with a delicate line
of drool dribbling to the ground and he was for all intents and purposes, his old self.
“Yes, the phone seemed to cut out for a second!” Michael paused for a moment.
“Anyway, about this meeting, how does tomorrow sound to you? I have a window in
my schedule at about eleven o’ clock.” He had been checking his diary, obviously.
“Brilliant!” said Steve suddenly, as though he had just had a sudden flash of
inspiration. “We really do need to meet soon! I’ve got some new ideas for both my
artwork and my written paper that I want to discuss with you!”
“Good, good!” said Michael cheerily. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, in my office
okay?” With that the line went dead.
Steve clipped the phone absently back onto his belt and feeling slightly bewildered he
knelt down next to his canine companion. “Benge?” The dog began to wag his tail
furiously in response. “Did it actually take place? Did we really meet and influence all
of those people?”
Benjy of course did not reply, but as the young man stood up to tend to their meal,
after a brief moment, although he could not be certain, he thought that he had seen the
dog wink.
THE END
268
Sub Title Quotes
1.) Abstract
The character of the Seventh Doctor
Nathan – Turner, John (producer) and Morgan, Andrew (director), 1988, Doctor Who- Remembrance of the
Daleks, Great Britain, BBC Television
2.) Preface
The character of Ron Wheatcroft
Bartlett, John (producer) and Nash, Robin (director), 1996, Goodnight Sweetheart: In the Mood, Great Britain,
BBC Television
3.) Introduction: Paperwork, an infamous comic and then… ZAP!
The character of the Uber- Morlock
Parkes, Walter F. and Valdes, David (producers) and Wells, Simon (director), 2002, The Time Machine, USA,
Dreamworks Pictures
4.) Chapter One: Art, Absurdity, Persistence and Memory
Salvador Dali
Moorhouse, Paul, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press, p.6
5.) Chapter Two: The Start of King’s Highway
Stephen King
Underwood, Tim and Miller, Chuck (Editors), 1988, Bare Bones – Conversations on terror with Stephen King,
USA, New English Library, p.112
6.) Chapter Three: Describing Crowley
Graham Crowley
Professor Graham Crowley, via telephone on the 19th of June 2002
7.) Chapter Four: Who? Doctor Who?
The character of the first Doctor
Lambert, Verity (producer) and Hussein, Waris (director), 1963, Doctor Who – 100,000 B.C., Great Britain. BBC
Television
8.) Chapter Five: Ode
William Wordsworth
From his poem Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early childhood, 1802- 1804
9.) Chapter Six: Attack of the Gascoignes
Randall Frakes
Frakes, Randall, 1991, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, USA, Bantam Books, p.158
10.) Chapter Seven: The Pioneer of Time
H.G. Wells
Wells, Herbert George, 2002, The Time Machine, London, Everyman’s Library, p.6
11.) Chapter Eight: The Delusional Time Traveller
Suzanne Treister
Personal e-mail received from Suzanne Treister on 9th June 2002.
12.) Chapter Nine: Do- Do- Dodgson in Wonderland
Donald Sutherland
Vink, Eugenie (producer) and Ward, Jonathan (series producer), 2000, Great Books: Alice in Wonderland, USA,
Discovery Communications
13.) Conclusion: A New Purpose
The character of Gary Sparrow
Phillips, Nic (producer) and Nash, Robin (director), 1999, Goodnight Sweetheart: Just in Time, Great Britain, BBC
Television
14.) Epilogue: A Truly Suitable Ending
The character of the fourth Doctor
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Grimwade, Peter (director), 1981, Doctor Who – Logopolis, Great Britain,
BBC Television
269
Bibliography
Figure 26. 2099 A.D.- Time affects it all 2003
30cm x 30cm
270
Digital Print.
B ibliogr aphy
The Holy Bible, King James Version, 1st Corinthians, Chapter 13, Verse 11.
Author Unknown, 21st May 1983, Football Association Challenge Cup Competition
Cup Final Programme – Brighton and Hove Albion versus Manchester United, Great
Britain, Wembley Stadium.
Author Unknown, 30th June 1999, “The Time Team”, “Doctor Who Magazine Issue
279”, Great Britain, Marvel Comics.
Author Unknown, 2002, The MCA Winter 2002 Program, Sydney, Museum of
Contemporary Art.
Author Unknown, 2002, The Biennale of Sydney 2002 Exhibition Guide 2002,
Sydney, Museum of Contemporary Art.
Adams, Douglas, 1979, The Hitch-hiker’s guide to the Galaxy, Great Britain, Pan
books.
Alan Wolf, Fred, 1988, Parallel Universes – the search for other worlds, USA,
Simon and Schuster.
Anghelides, Peter and Cole, Stephen, 2000, Doctor Who – The Ancestor Cell, Great
Britain, BBC Books.
Barbour, Julian, 1999, The End of Time, Great Britain, Weidenfeld and Nicholson
Limited.
Barnes, Alan, 17th December 1997, Bad Boys Inc., Doctor Who Magazine Issue 259,
Great Britain, Marvel Comics.
Barnes, Alan, 30th June 1999, Games without frontiers, Doctor Who Magazine Issue
279, Great Britain, Marvel Comics.
Baxter, John, 1999, George Lucas – A Biography, Great Britain, Harper Collins.
Bentham, Jeremy, 1986, Doctor Who – The Early Years, Great Britain, WH Allen.
Beer, John, 1979, Wordsworth in Time, Great Britain, Faber and Faber Limited.
Bettelheim, Bruno and Zelan, Karen, 1981, On Learning to Read, Great Britain,
Penguin Books.
Bettelheim, Bruno, 1992, Recollections and Reflections, Great Britain, Penguin
Books.
271
Blum, Jonathan and Orman, Kate, 1997, Doctor Who – Vampire Science, Great
Britain, BBC Books.
Blum, Jonathan and Orman, Kate, 1998, Doctor Who – Seeing I, Great Britain, BBC
Books.
Buffington, Cathy, 1993, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers- Playback
(Accompanying book to CD collection), USA, MCA records.
Butler, Thomas, 1989, Memory – History, Culture and the Mind, Great Britain, Basil
Blackwell Limited.
Carney, Jessica, 1996, Who’s There? The Life and Career of William Hartnell, Great
Britain, Virgin Publishing Limited.
Carroll, Lewis, 1929, Alice in Wonderland - Through the Looking Glass, Great
Britain, J.M. Dent, Everyman’s Library.
Carroll, Lewis, 1977, The Wasp in a Wig, Great Britain, Macmillan London Limited.
Carroll, Lewis, 1993, The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll (with introduction by
Edward Guiliano), New York, Random House.
Cartwright, Steven, 20th November 1996, Roots Part 1: Pathfinding and Avenging,
Doctor Who Magazine Issue 245, Great Britain, Marvel Comics.
Cartwright, Steven, 12th February 1997, Roots Part 2: Bond and Beyond, Doctor Who
Magazine Issue 248, Great Britain, Marvel Comics.
Cartwright, Steven, 7th May 1997, Roots Part 3: Kane and Fable, Doctor Who
Cartwright, Steven, 2nd July 1997, Roots Part 4: Holmes and Vardans, Doctor Who
Cartwright, Steven, 27th August 1997, Roots Part 5: Buddha and Trickster, Doctor
Who Magazine Issue 255, Great Britain, Marvel Comics.
Cartwright, Steven, 19th November 1997, Roots Part 6: Bard to Verse, Doctor Who
Chapman, Barry, 1995, Reverse Time Travel, Great Britain, Cassell/ Wellington.
Clare, John D., 1991, I was there: Vikings, Australia, Random House.
Cobb, Edith, 1977, The Ecology of Imagination in Childhood, Great Britain,
Routledge and Kegan Limited.
Cohen, Morton N., 1995, Lewis Carroll – A Biography, Canada, Random House.
272
Coren, Michael, 1993, The Invisible Man – The Life and Liberties of H.G. Wells,
Great Britain, Bloomsbury Publishing Limited.
Crowley, Graham, 1987, In Living Memory, Great Britain, Orchard Gallery
Exhibition Catalogue.
Crowley, Graham, 1998, The Flower Show, Great Britain, The Lamont Gallery
Exhibition Catalogue.
Dali, Salvador, 1970, Dali by Dali, New York, Harry N. Abrahams.
Darbishire, Helen, 1953, Wordsworth, Great Britain, Longmans, Green and Co.
Limited.
Davies, Paul, 2002, How to build a Time Machine, Great Britain, Penguin Books
Limited.
Davis, Richard, 1981, The Encyclopedia of Horror, Great Britain, Octopus Books.
De Bono, Edward, 1969, The Mechanism of Mind, Great Britain, Penguin Books.
Descharnes, Robert and Néret, Giles, 1998, Dali, K• ln, Taschen.
Drabble, Margaret, 1966, Literature in Perspective: Wordsworth, Great Britain, Evans
Brothers Limited.
Engel, Susan, 1995, The Stories Children Tell, USA, W.H. Freeman.
Finkelstein, Haim, 1996, Salvador Dali’s Art and Writing, 1927 – 1942: The
Metamorphosis of Narcissus, Great Britain, Cambridge University Press.
Foot, Michael, 1996, H.G. – The History of Mr. Wells, Great Britain, Black Swan
Publishing.
Fisher, John, 1973, The Magic of Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and
Sons.
Frakes, Randall, 1991, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, USA, Bantam Books.
Franklin, Fay, 1977, History Factfinder: Date by Date through World History, Great
Britain, Ward Lock Limited.
Gardner, Martin, 1975, The Annotated Alice, Great Britain, Thomas Nelson and Sons
Limited.
Gill, Stephen, 1989, William Wordsworth- A Life, Great Britain, Oxford University
Press.
Gillatt, Gary, 1998, Doctor Who From A to Z, Great Britain, BBC Books.
273
Gómez de la Serna, Ramon, 1977, Dali, Spain, Crown Publishers.
Gregory, Clive, 1986, The Great Artists – Their lives, works and inspiration: Issue
73- Dali, Great Britain, Marshall Cavendish Limited.
Griffiths, Peter, 20th December 1995, Cut to the Chase, Doctor Who Magazine Issue
Griffiths, Peter, 17th January 1996, Maiden Voyage, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 234,
Griffiths, Peter, 16th December 1998, My God, how did we get away with this?,
Haining, Peter, 1978, The H.G. Wells Scrapbook, Great Britain, New English Library.
Haining, Peter, 1983, Doctor Who – A Celebration, Great Britain, WH Allen.
Haining, Peter, 1999, The Nine Lives of Doctor Who, Great Britain, Headline Book
Publishing.
Halliday, F.E., 1980, A Concise History of England, Great Britain, Thames and
Hudson Limited.
Harpur, Patrick, 2002, The Philosopher’s Secret Fire- A History of the Imagination,
Great Britain, Penguin Books.
Harris, Mark, 1983, The Doctor Who Technical Manual, Great Britain, Sphere Books
Limited.
Harvey, Sir Paul, 1967, The Oxford Companion to English Literature, Great Britain,
Oxford Press.
Hearn, Marcus, 7th June 1995, Vox Pops, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 226, Great
Britain, Marvel Comics.
Hearn, Marcus, 20th December 1995, The Creation, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 233,
Hearn, Marcus, 14th January 1998, A cross between Genghis Khan and a Pussy Cat,
Hodge, Jessica, 1994, Salvador Dali, Great Britain, PRC Publishing.
Howe, David J., Stammers, Mark and Walker, Stephen James, 1992, Doctor Who –
The Sixties, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing.
Howe, David J., 1993, Doctor Who – Timeframe, Great Britain, Virgin Publishing.
274
Howe, David J., Stammers, Mark and Walker, Stephen James, 1994, Doctor Who –
The Handbook – The First Doctor- The William Hartnell Years: 1963 – 1966, Great
Britain, Virgin Publishing.
Howe, David J. and Stammers, Mark, 1995, Doctor Who – Companions, Great
Britain, Virgin Publishing.
Howe, David J. and Walker, Stephen James, 1999, Doctor Who- The Television
Companion, Great Britain, BBC Books.
Hudson, Derek, 1954, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, William Clowes and Sons
Limited.
Hughes, Robert, 1980, The Shock of the New, Great Britain, Thames and Hudson.
Isaacs, Alan, 1981, The Macmillan Encyclopedia, Great Britain, Macmillan.
Johnston, Kenneth R., 1998, The Hidden Wordsworth- Poet- Lover- Rebel- Spy,
United States of America, W. W. Norton and Company Inc.
Jones, Richard M., 1968, Fantasy and Feeling in Education, USA, Penguin Books.
Jones, Mathew, 10th May 1995, Fluid Links: The Essential Doctor, Doctor Who
Keyishian, Amy and Keyishian, Marjorie, 1996, Pop Culture Legends: Stephen King,
USA, Chelsea House publishers.
King, Alec, 1966, Wordsworth and the Artist’s Vision, Great Britain, The Athlone
Press.
King, Stephen 1977, The Shining, Great Britain, New English Library.
King, Stephen, 1986, It, USA, New English Library, Hodder and Stoughton.
King, Stephen, 1987, Misery, Great Britain, Hodder and Stoughton.
King, Stephen, 1987, The Bachman Books: The Long Walk, USA, New English
Library, Hodder and Stoughton.
King, Stephen, 1992, Needful Things, USA, Hodder and Stoughton.
King, Stephen, 1993, Nightmares and Dreamscapes, Great Britain, Hodder and
Stoughton.
King, Stephen, 1996, The Green Mile – The Complete Serial Novel, USA, Penguin
Books.
King, Stephen, 2000, On Writing – A Memoir of the Craft, Great Britain, New English
Library.
275
Lawrence, Elizabeth, 1970, The Origins and Growth of Modern Education, Great
Britain, Penguin Books.
Lennon, Florence Becker, 1947, Lewis Carroll, Great Britain, Cassell and Co.
Limited.
Leonard, Paul, 1999, Doctor Who – Revolution Man, Great Britain, BBC Books.
Lloyd, Michael, Gott, Ted and Chapman, Christopher, 1993, Surrealism- Revolution
by Night, Canberra, National Gallery of Australia.
Longcroft, Sean, 25th September 1996, Doctor Who and the Fangs of Time (Comic
Strip), Doctor Who Magazine Issue 243, Great Britain, Marvel Comics.
Lubar, Robert S., 1991, Introductory Essay from Dali – The Salvador Dali Museum
Collection, Canada, Bullfinch Press.
Lucie- Smith, Edward, Cohen, Carolyn and Higgins, Judith, 1988, The New British
Painting, Great Britain, Phaidon Press Limited.
Lyons, Steve, 25th September 1996, Temporal Orbits, Doctor Who Magazine Issue
Lyons, Steve, 25th October 1996, Temporal Orbits 2, Doctor Who Magazine Issue
Macdonald, Fiona, 1996, Insights: The Vikings, Great Britain, New Burlington Books.
Macdonald, Philip, 7th May 1997, Question Marks, Doctor Who Magazine Issue 251,
MacKeith, Stephen A. and Cohen, David, 1992, The Development of Imagination: the
private worlds of childhood, Great Britain, Routledge, Chapman and Hall.
Maddox, Conroy, 1983, Dali, West Germany, Benedikt Taschen.
Martell, Hazel Mary, 1991, Young Researcher – The Vikings, Great Britain,
Heinemann Educational.
McEwen, John, 1997, Paula Rego, Great Britain, Phaidon Press Limited.
Moorhouse, Paul, 1999, Dali, New York, Knickerbocker Press.
Myers, Bernard L. and Copplestone, Trewin, 1977, The Macmillan Encyclopedia of
Art, Great Britain, Macmillan.
Nathan- Turner, John, 1985, Doctor Who – The TARDIS Inside Out, Great Britain,
Hutchinson Publishing Group.
276
Parkin, Lance, 2000, Doctor Who – Father Time, Great Britain, BBC Books.
Pedler, Kit, 1981, Mind Over Matter, Great Britain, Fakenham Press Limited.
Pudney, John, 1976, Lewis Carroll and his World, Great Britain, Thames and
Hudson.
Randles, Jenny, 1994, Time Travel – Fact, Fiction and Possibility, Great Britain,
Cassell Imprint.
Reid, Stuart, 2000, Groundbreakers: Albert Einstein, Great Britain, Heinemann
Library.
Richards, Justin and Martin, Andrew, 1997, Doctor Who – The Book of Lists, Great
Britain, BBC Books.
Rogerson, Mark, 1987, The Dali Scandal, Great Britain, Victor Gollancz Limited.
Saxby, Maurice, 1989, The Great Deeds of Superheroes, Newtown, Millennium
Publishing.
Secrest, Meryle, 1986, Salvador Dali – The Surrealist Jester, Great Britain, George
Weidenfeld and Nicolson Limited.
Segal, Philip and Russell, Gary, 2000, Doctor Who – Regeneration, Great Britain,
Harper Collins Entertainment Publishing.
Shaw, George Bernard, 1914 (reprinted 2000), Pygmalion, Great Britain, Penguin
Classics.
Tulloch, John and Alvarado, Manuel, 1984, Doctor Who – The Unfolding Text, New
York, St. Martin’s Press.
Tulloch, John and Jenkins, Henry, 1995, Science Fiction Audiences: Watching Doctor
Who and Star Trek, Great Britain, Routledge Press.
Underwood, Tim and Miller, Chuck (Editors), 1988, Bare Bones – Conversations on
terror with Stephen King, USA, New English Library.
Walters, Marilyn, 2002, Time Warps and Teddy Bears, Sydney, unpublished essay to
accompany Steve Perrin’s exhibition of work under the same title.
Wells, Herbert George, 1895, The Time Machine, Great Britain, Chancellor Press.
Wells, Herbert George, 1897, The Invisible Man, Great Britain, Heinemann
Publishing Limited.
Wells, Herbert George, 1935, The Time Machine (re-print), Great Britain, J.M. Dent
in Everyman’s Library.
277
Wells, Herbert George, 1962, The Island of Doctor Moreau (re-print), Great Britain,
Penguin Modern Classics.
Wells, Herbert George, 1982, The Treasury of World Masterpieces: H.G. Wells,
United States of America, Octopus Books Incorporated.
Wells, Herbert George, 2002, The Time Machine (re-print), London, Everyman’s
Library.
Woodford, James, October 6th 2001, Against the Clock, Australia, The Sydney
Morning Herald Spectrum Segment.
Wordsworth, William, 1912, The Longer Poems of William Wordsworth, Great
Britain, J.M. Dent and Sons.
Wiggins, Martin, 4th June 1997, dalek (followed by dictionary definition), Doctor Who
Williams, John, 1993, Wordsworth- Contemporary Critical Essays, Great Britain,
Macmillan Press.
Wright, Esmond, 1979, The Medieval and Renaissance World, Great Britain, Hamlyn
Publishing.
W ebsites
www.Jungindexnet/intro (The CG Jung Index), as viewed on 17th March, 1999.
www.british-dgtip.de/Messen/mcm.htm, (Inter-net interview between Michael CraigMartin and interviewer Katja Blomberg), as viewed on 23rd March 2000.
http://home.uleth.calsfa-gal/collections/Britain/Cmartin.bulbhtml, (British Art
collection, specifically the Michael Craig- Martin work entitled Light Bulb created in
1983), as viewed on 29th August 2000.
www.plato.stansford.edu/entries/time-travel-phys/ , (Time Travel and Modern
Physics), as viewed on 15th August 2001.
www.timetravelinstitute.com (The official U.S. Time Travel Institute Homepage), as
viewed on 16th October, 2001.
www.scifistation.com/george_pal.html (The Fantasy Worlds of George Pal), as
viewed on 23rd October 2001.
www.geocities.com/Athens/Delphi/8169 (The HG Wells Biography Site), as viewed
on 23rd October 2001.
278
www.salon.com/weekly/carroll960930.html (Essays on Alice in Wonderland and
Alice through the Looking Glass), as viewed on 23rd October 2001.
http://freespace.virgin.net/steve.preston/time7.html (Time Travel – The Amateur
Physicist’s Section), as viewed on 4th April 2002.
www.jamesmdeem.com/timepage.htm (James M. Deem homepage), as viewed on 4th
April 2002.
www.adlerbooks.com/timetvl.html (How to Travel through Time), as viewed on 4th
April 2002.
http://www.finifter.com/quantum_leap/ (The Accelerator Chamber, a Quantum Leap
fan based web-site), as viewed on 4th April 2002.
http://www.sff.net/people/Gwilliam/timetrvl.htm (Scientific and Biblical Indications
for the Viability of Time Travel), as viewed on 4th April 2002.
www.computercrowsnest.com/holotales/a17.htm (Past and Pretense: Time Travel
problems in Science Fiction), as viewed on 5th April 2002.
www.biols.susx.ac.uk/home/John_Gribbin/Time_Travel.html (Time Travel for
beginners), as viewed on 5th April 2002.
www.goodnightsweetheart.co.uk (Goodnight Sweetheart- the official BBC site), as
viewed on 5th April 2002.
http://timemachine.countingdown.com/# (The Time Machine - official Dreamworks
site), as viewed on 20th April 2002.
http://ensemble.va.com.au/Treister (Suzanne Treister’s official website), as viewed on
8th June 2002.
http://www.dfm.dircon.co.uk/tvhist1.htm (Who invented Television?), as viewed on
10th September 2002.
http://65.107.211.206/victorian/carroll/bio1.html (Internet essay on Lewis Carroll), as
viewed on 31st October 2002.
http://www.afirmfoundation.com/Biographies/Lewis_Carroll/lewis_carroll.html
(Lewis Carroll biography), as viewed on 31st October 2002.
http://www.visitoxford.org/oxford/tourism.nsf/leadpages/CityofChildrensLiterature?O
penDocument&Start=1&Count=99&Expand=3 (Oxford Tourist Board Website
containing information on Lewis Carroll), as viewed on 31st October 2002.
www.reddwarf.co.uk (Official Red Dwarf web-site), as viewed on 23rd December
2002.
279
www.stephenking.com (The Official Stephen King Web Presence), as viewed on 6th
January 2003.
http://www.literatureclassics.com/essays/388/ (Essay on H.G. Wells life and
background), as viewed on 21st January 2003.
http://www.online-literature.com/wellshg/ (On-line literature website – H.G. Wells
section), as viewed on 21st January 2003.
http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Delphi/8169/ (H.G. Wells Biography- fan website)
as viewed on 21st January 2003.
http://encarta.msn.com/encnet/refpages/refarticle.aspx?refid=761553053 (Microsoft
Encarta Encyclopaedia On-line), as viewed on 21st January 2003.
http://www.literatureclassics.com/authors/Wells/#biography (Literature Classics site
– H.G. Wells page), as viewed on 21st January 2003.
http://members.tripod.com/~gwillick/wells_hg.html (H.G. Wells’ Vital Statistics
Page), as viewed on 21st January 2003.
www.gallifreyone.com (Outpost Gallifrey- Doctor Who fan-site), as viewed on 14th
February 2003.
www.bbc.co.uk/cult/doctorwho (Official Doctor Who web-site), as viewed on 15th
February 2003.
www.kingarthursknights.com (King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table), as
viewed on 15th March 2003.
www.celtic-twilight.com (The Celtic Twilight), as viewed on 15th March 2003.
http://www.beauxartslondon.co.uk/GC-biblio.html (Beaux Art Gallery), as viewed on
27th March 2003.
http://www.online-literature.com/wordsworth/ (On line literature), as viewed on 11th
April 2003.
http://www.todayinliterature.com/stories.asp?Event_Date=3/27/1802 (Today in
Literature), as viewed on the 11th April 2003.
http://www.top-biography.com/9102-William%20Wordsworth/ (Top Biography on
William Wordsworth), as viewed on 11th April 2003.
http://encarta.msn.com/encnet/refpages/refarticle.aspx?refid=761572396 (Encarta
Encyclopedia On-line”, reference to William Wordsworth), as viewed on 11th April
2003.
http://members.aol.com/wordspage/bio.htm (The William Wordsworth page: A
Hypertextual Biography), as viewed on 12th April 2003.
280
http://members.aol.com/wordspage/bio.htm (The William Wordsworth page), as
http://www.bartleby.com/145/ww331.html (Great Books on-line), as viewed on the
12th April 2003.
http://www.sparknotes.com/poetry/wordsworth/analysis.html (Spark Notes from
Barnes and Noble: William Wordsworth Analysis), as viewed on 12th April 2003.
http://www.bartleby.com/145/ww260.html (Bartleby Great Books on Line, which
contains every single one of Wordsworth’s great poems), as viewed on 23rd April
2003.
http://www.masterly-commissions.com.au/dali.html (The Dali Universe site), as
http://www.time.com/time/europe/magazine/2000/0327/dali.html (Time Europe
Magazine Article on Dali, by Robert Hughes), as viewed on 29th April 2003.
http://www.artchive.com/artchive/D/dali.html (Dali Art-chive), as viewed on 29th
April 2003.
http://www.salvador-dali.org/eng/index.html (Fundacio Gala- Salvador Dali- The
official Salvador Dali website), as viewed on 29th April 2003.
http://www.daliweb.tampa.fl.us/biography.htm (Salvador Dali 1904 – 1989 A Brief
Biography), as viewed on 29th April 2003.
http://www.virtualdali.com/biography.htm (Virtual Dali), as viewed on 29th April
2003.
http://www.seven7.demon.co.uk/dali/history.htm (Dali Pages- Dali- Life, History,
Art), as viewed on 29th April 2003.
http://www.mcs.csuhayward.edu/~malek/Dali.html (California State University
Website on Dali), as viewed on 29th April 2003.
http://www.daliweb.tampa.fl.us/biography.htm (Salvador Dali 1904- 1989), as
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/speech/surrealazd.shtml (BBCi A-Z of Surrealism - D is
for Dali), as viewed on 29th April 2003.
http://encarta.msn.com/encnet/refpages/refarticle.aspx?refid=761557348 (Microsoft
Encarta Entry for Salvador Dali), as viewed on 29th April 2003.
www.beanotown.com.uk (The official Beano comic website), as viewed on 5th May
2003.
http://calendarhome.com/tyc/ (The 10,000 year calendar), as viewed on 7th June 2003.
281
http://www.geocities.com/Yosemite/Rapids/9755/BillyKid.html (Billy the Kid: 18591881), as viewed on 11th June 2003.
Filmology
Melies, George (producer and director), 1902, A Trip to the Moon, France, Jasonfilm.
Laemmle Jr., Carl (producer) and Whale, James (director), 1936, The Invisible Man,
United States, Universal Pictures.
Le-Roy, Marvin (producer) and Fleming, Victor (director), 1939, The Wizard of Oz,
USA, Turner Entertainment/ MGM United Artists.
Sharpsteen, Ben (producer) and Geronomi, Clyde (director), 1951, Alice in
Wonderland, USA, Walt Disney Entertainment.
Pal, George (producer and director), 1953, H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds, United
States, Paramount Pictures.
Pal, George (producer and director), 1960, H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine, USA,
MGM Studios.
Lambert, Verity (producer) and Hussein, Waris (director), 1963, Doctor Who –
100,000 B.C., Great Britain. BBC Television.
Lambert, Verity (producer) and Hussein, Waris (director), 1963, Doctor Who – The
Pilot Episode, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Lambert, Verity (producer) and Barry, Christopher and Martin, Richard (directors),
1963, Doctor Who – The Mutants (A.k.a. The Daleks), Great Britain, BBC Television.
Lambert, Verity (producer) and Martin, Richard (director), 1964, Doctor Who – The
Dalek Invasion of Earth, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Lambert, Verity (producer) and Camfield, Douglas (director), 1965, Doctor Who –
The Crusade, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Lambert, Verity (producer) and Pinfield, Mervyn (director), 1965, Doctor Who – The
Space Museum, Great Britain, BBC Video.
Lambert, Verity (producer) and Camfield, Douglas (director), 1965, Doctor Who –
The Time Meddler, Great Britain, BBC Video.
Allen, Lewis M. (producer) and Truffaut, Francois (director), 1966, Fahrenheit 451,
Great Britain, Universal Pictures.
282
Lloyd, Innes (producer) and Martinus, Derek (director), 1966, Doctor Who – The
Tenth Planet, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Jacobs, Arthur P. (producer) & Schaffner, Franklin J. (director), 1968, Planet of the
Apes, USA, 20th Century Fox.
Letts, Barry (producer) and Mayne, Lennie (director), 1973, The Three Doctors, Great
Britain, BBC Television.
Letts, Barry (producer) and Bromly, Alan (director), 1974, Doctor Who – The Time
Warrior, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Kurtz, Gary (producer) and Lucas, George (director), 1977, Star Wars – Episode IV –
A New Hope, USA, 20th Century Fox.
Caffey, Richard (producer) and Haller, Daniel (director), 1978, Buck Rogers in the
25th Century: Volume One – Awakening, USA, Universal Pictures.
Williams, Graham (producer) and Blake, Gerald (director), 1978, Doctor Who – The
Invasion of Time, Great Britain, BBC Television.
C. Jones and P. Monroe (directors), 1979, The Bugs Bunny/ Road Runner Movie,
USA, Warner Brothers.
Kubrick, Stanley (producer and director), 1980, Stephen King’s The Shining, USA,
Warner Brothers Pictures.
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Grimwade, Peter (director), 1981, Doctor Who –
Logopolis, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Lloyd, John (producer) and Shardlow, Martin (director), 1981, The Black Adder: The
Black Seal, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Bell, Alan J.W. (producer and director), 1981, The Hitch-hiker’s guide to the Galaxy
Part One, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Deeley, Michael (producer) and Scott, Ridley (director), 1982, Blade Runner, USA,
Warner Brothers.
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Moffatt, Peter (director), 1982, Doctor Who –
The Visitation, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Grimwade, Peter (director), 1982, Doctor Who –
Earthshock, Great Britain, BBC Television.
The Five Doctors, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Kanzanjian, Howard (producer) and Marquand, Richard (director), 1983, Star Wars:
Episode VI – The Return of the Jedi, USA, 20th Century Fox.
283
Shaye, Robert (producer) and Craven, Wes (director), 1984, A Nightmare on Elm
Street, USA, New Line Cinema.
Hurd, Gale Ann (producer) and Cameron, James (director), 1984, The Terminator,
USA, Hemdale Entertainment.
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Harper, Graeme (director), 1984, Doctor Who –
The Caves of Androzani, Great Britain, BBC Video.
Watts, Robert (producer) and Spielberg, Stephen (director), 1984, Indiana Jones and
the Temple of Doom, USA, Lucasfilm pictures.
Bennett, Harvey (producer) and Nimoy, Leonard (director), 1984, Star Trek 3: The
Search for Spock, USA, Paramount Pictures.
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Robinson, Matthew (director), 1985, Doctor
Who – Attack of the Cybermen, Great Britain, BBC Television.
The Two Doctors, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Roberts, Pennant (director), 1985, Doctor Who –
Timelash, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Gale, Bob (producer) and Zemeckis, Robert (director), 1985, Back to the Future,
USA, Amblin Entertainment.
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Morgan, Andrew, 1988, Doctor Who –
Remembrance of the Daleks, Great Britain, BBC Television
Jackson, Paul (producer) and Bye, Ed (director), 1988, Red Dwarf – The End, Great
Britain, BBC Home Video.
Jackson, Paul (producer) and Bye, Ed (director), 1988, Red Dwarf – Waiting for God,
Great Britain, BBC Television.
Wade, Harker (producer) and Hemmings, David (director), 1989, Quantum Leap –
The Pilot Episode, USA, CIC Video.
Gale, Bob (producer) and Zemeckis, Robert (director), 1989, Back to the Future Part
II, USA, Amblin Entertainment.
Nathan- Turner, John (producer) and Wareing, Alan (director), 1989, Doctor Who –
Survival, Great Britain, BBC Video.
Rubinstein, Richard P. (producer) and Lambert, Mary (director), 1989, Stephen
King’s Pet Sematary, USA, Paramount Pictures.
284
Ruppenthal, Chris (producer) and Napolitano, Joe (director), 1990, Quantum Leap:
The Boogieman, USA, Bellisarius Productions.
Shussett, Ronald (producer) and Verheoven, Paul (director), 1990, Total Recall, USA,
Carolco Entertainment Pictures.
Cohen, Lawrence D. (producer) and Wallace, Tommy Lee (director), 1990, Stephen
King’s It, USA, Warner Brothers Pictures.
Zinnemann, Tim and Linder, George (producers) and Michael Glaser, Paul (director),
1990, The Running Man, USA, Taft Entertainment.
Ruppenthal, Chris (producer) and Napolitano, Joe (director), 1991, Quantum Leap –
The Leap Home, USA, Bellasarius Productions.
Shussett, Ronald (producer) and Oken, Stuart (director), 1992, Freejack, USA,
Roadshow Home Video.
Bush, John (producer) and Davies, Ken (director), 1993, Doctor Who – More than 30
years in the TARDIS, Great Britain, BBC Video.
Silver, Joel and Levy, Michael (producers) and Brambilla, Marco (director), 1993,
Demolition Man, USA, Warner Brothers.
Albert, Trevor (producer) and Ramis, Harold (director), 1993, Groundhog Day, USA,
Columbia Pictures.
Bartlett, John (producer) and Nash, Robin (director), 1993, Goodnight Sweetheart
(Entire Series One), Great Britain, BBC Worldwide.
Jones, Hilary Bevan (producer) and Grant Naylor (directors), 1995, Red Dwarf V –
The Inquisitor, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Kappas, David (producer) and Holland, Tom (director), 1995, Stephen King’s The
Langoliers, USA, Independent Productions.
Segal, Phillip (producer) and Sax, Geoffrey (director), 1996, Doctor Who – The
Movie, Canada, BBC Worldwide/ Universal Pictures.
Bartlett, John (producer) and Nash, Robin (director), 1996, Goodnight Sweetheart: In
the Mood, Great Britain, BBC Worldwide.
Devlin, Dean (producer) and Emmerich, Roland (director), 1996, ID4: Independence
Day, USA, 20th Century Fox.
Pressman, Edward R (producer) and Frankenheimer, John (director), 1996, The Island
of Dr. Moreau, USA, New Line Cinema/ Roadshow Entertainment.
Bunting, Judith (producer) and Lynch, John (editor), 1996, Horizon: The Time Lords,
Great Britain, BBC Television.
285
Swain, Peter (producer and director), 1997, The Sci-Fi Files: The Children of
Frankenstein, USA, A Satel Documentary Production.
Bartlett, John (producer) and Nash, Robin (director), 1998, Goodnight Sweetheart:
Have you ever seen a dream walking?, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Silver, Joel (producer) and The Wachowski Brothers (directors), 1999, The Matrix,
USA, Warner Brothers.
Boyle, Peter (producer and director), 1999, Biography – Stephen King: Fear, Fame
and Fortune, USA, CBS News Productions in association with the History Channel.
Phillips, Nic (producer) and Nash, Robin (director), 1999, Goodnight Sweetheart: Just
in Time, Great Britain, BBC Television.
Vink, Eugenie (producer) and Ward, Jonathan (series producer), 2000, Great Books:
Alice in Wonderland, USA, Discovery Communications.
Macmillan, Ian (producer) and Smith, Phillip, (director), 2000, This is Modern Art –
Episode Six: The Shock of the Now, Great Britain, An Oxford Television Company
For Channel Four.
Stewart, David (producer and director), 2000, Omnibus: Stephen King – Shining in
the Dark, Great Britain, A BBC/ The Learning Channel Co- Production.
Zanuck, Richard D. (producer) and Burton, Tim (director), 2001, Planet of the Apes,
USA, 20th Century Fox.
McCallum, Rick (producer) and Lucas, George (director), 2002, Star Wars Episode 2:
Attack of the Clones, USA, 20th Century Fox.
Konrad, Cathy (producer) and Mangold, James (director), 2002, Kate and Leopold,
USA, Miramax Films.
Parkes, Walter F. and Valdes, David (producers) and Wells, Simon (director), 2002,
The Time Machine, USA, Dreamworks Pictures.
Clark- Coolee, Bronwyn and Judd, Craig (producers) and Marshall, James (director),
2002, The Biennale of Sydney 2002 – (The World May Be) Fantastic Artists in Focus,
Sydney, Australia Council for the Arts.
286
M ultimedia
Haigh- Ellery, Jason (producer) and Russell, Gary (director), 2002, Doctor Who –
Neverland (Audio Recording), Great Britain, Big Finish Productions.
Convery, Alissa (designer/ producer) and Bennett, Rick (creative director), 2002, The
Biennale of Sydney 2002 (The World May Be) Fantastic CD Rom, Sydney, COFA/
The University of New South Wales and The Fridge.
Perrin, Steve, 1999, Is Doctor Who a typical hero?, Sydney, unpublished
undergraduate thesis, University of Western Sydney.
Perrin, Steven, 2000, Artistic Interferences, unpublished Honours thesis, University of
Western Sydney.
I n ter views
Professor Graham Crowley, via telephone on the 19th of June 2002.
Professor Graham Crowley, via e-mail on the 31st of March 2003.
A r tist Talks/ Emails/ For ums
Public forum on the Biennale of Sydney 2002 at Campbelltown City Bicentennial
Gallery on May 8th by Mr. Craig Judd, the Biennale Education Officer.
Suzanne Treister at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney, at 12.30pm on
Thursday 16th May 2002.
Public conversation between Susan Hiller and Richard Grayson at the Museum of
Contemporary Art, Sydney, 2.00pm on 16th May 2002.
Personal e-mail received from Suzanne Treister on 9th June 2002.
287

the plughole of time - UWS ResearchDirect

Transcription

Similar documents

Center Acura

steve deace - Salem Radio Network

VEGAS RAT RODS - Proper Television

Ad, 8.625x11.125, Laverson, RanchandCoast

Reading is Fundamentally Depressing

View the 2010 WILL Annual Report.

You can Steve`s bio in PDF

to read

The FWSO Presents Simply Sinatra

Top 10 Steve Prefontaine Quotes