Resolution 258 (standard:science fiction, 3176 words)
Author: Peter Ebsworth	Added: Oct 01 2003	Views/Reads: 3551/2478	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A student's IT project accidently creates a system that allows emails to travel through time. The boy and his father find that they only have minutes to save a life.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story



‘No Dad, you’ll want to see this now,’ he reached out and seized Jack’s
forearm stopping his backwards shuffle, ‘I’ve just received over three 
million emails. All addressed to me. Over three million! Come look.’ 

Still with some reluctance, Jack allowed himself to be led into the
small guest room that had been converted into his son’s workshop. The 
light was on, with the curtains drawn, which was how Tom always had it 
to prevent screen-dazzle on the huge twenty-two inch monitor that he 
had bought him last Christmas. Along the entire length of one wall was 
a pine workbench, which Jack had built himself. On it was a seemingly 
jumbled mass of CPU boxes, motherboards, accelerator cards, black 
transformers and miles of flat belt-wide connection cables. Sitting 
atop this mess, balanced the monitor, and what appeared to be two 
keyboards held together by black insulation tape with a large, 
ball-backed Internet mouse on a South Park swipe mat beside it. 

Tom lifted a pile of inch-thick computer magazines from the only spare
chair in the room, and pulled it over next to his in front of the 
bench. 

‘The only reason they’ve stopped now, at three million two-hundred and
twenty-five thousand four-hundred and forty-three,’ he pointed to the 
number displayed in the top right-hand corner of the screen, as Jack 
took the seat beside him, ‘is because the hard-drive is full. Heaven 
only knows how many more are waiting to download.’ 

Rescuing his beleaguered staff was already becoming less of a priority
Jack’s mind. Partly because he was intrigued, but mostly because it was 
clearly very important to Tom that he shared this phenomena with his 
dad. Now that his son was nearly sixteen, Jack knew that he might not 
be bothered about sharing anything with him for very much longer. 

‘Somehow you must have intercepted everyone’s emails at your ISP and
redirected them all to your address,’ said Jack glancing at his son’s 
earnest face as he leant towards the screen. 

‘Not so Dad, loads of them mention ‘Tom’ in the header, I’m sure that
they are all addressed to me.’ 

‘Maybe it’s the same one repeated millions of times, some sort of
software loop.’ 

‘No, they all seem to be from different people. See this one here, it
says “Thank You Tom... Joyce Adams”, and this one, “Tom you changed my 
life...Bill James.” And something even stranger,’ he turned towards his 
father, the light from the consol lightly shadowing the left side of 
his face, ‘I haven’t been online all day. These have downloaded from 
the Net without me connecting.’ 

Jack shook his head in disbelief. 

‘Well they had to come from somewhere...if you weren’t online then where
could...’ 

‘Maybe they were pulled out of the air...like radio waves.’ 

‘Well don’t you know,’ asked Jack, leaning in close to the screen, aware
that something else didn’t look right but still not sure what it was, 
‘you built this thing. What is it meant to do?’ 

‘All I was trying to do, was interlink enough accelerator cards to this
digital decoder box, so that I could receive foreign satellite channels 
via the Internet. This transformer moderates the current, but the 
Voodoo cards allow me to...’ 

‘The dates,’ Jack interrupted his son, ‘look at these crazy dates,
they’re all in the future.’ He ran his finger down the right hand side 
of the consol leaving a faint snail-trail on the curved surface, ‘these 
dates at the top are only a few months away. Down here,’ he pointed to 
the last entry visible on the first page, ‘its two thousand and 
fifteen...over a decade away.’ 

‘Spooky, or what? Come on Dad, let’s read some of them, see what its all
about.’ 

‘Okay, we’ll start with the first one. Its dated three months from now
and looks a bit official.’ 

‘Senate Ethics Committee...Resolution 258,’ Tom read aloud as he
double-clicked on the message line. ‘Resolution 258 has been passed by 
majority vote of the Senate Ethics Committee on this day 28th October 
2004. The said resolution approves the release of the new communication 
technology named Time-Mail or temail, as it has become known in the 
Media. 

On behalf of the Committee, I wish to congratulate the inventor, Thomas
Blackburn, for discovering the single greatest technological 
advancement in human history. Now all humankind, including the 
countless billions as yet unborn, exists simultaneously for the 
purposes of communication. 

We can now draw on the wisdom of tomorrow to solve the problems of
today. 

Ben Jameson – Committee Chairman.’ 

Tom’s voice trailed away into mumbled astonishment as he finished
reading the message. Father and son leant back into their chairs 
simultaneously, momentarily stunned. 

‘This can’t be real can it?’ asked Tom in a quiet, awed voice. 

‘I think maybe it is,’ replied Jack, a great, dopey grin spreading
across his face, ‘I think my son’s invented some sort of email 
time-machine.’ 

‘Let’s read another,’ said Tom, the amazement already metamorphosing
into acceptance, incredulity in the young having only the lifetime of a 
virtual particle in vacuum space. 

‘You Saved My Life...Doug Chalcraft. 

Thank you so very much for inventing temail. My tumour was inoperable
under pre- TimeMail technology, but Dr Madsen from the year 3098 was 
able to guide my doctors through a course of treatment that has 
resulted in a complete cure. I owe you my life. 

I realise that you ever reading this is extremely unlikely, what with
temails being sent to you by a limitless number of S.T.Bs (Still To 
Be). But it’s worth a try. 

So much thanks – Doug.’ 

* 

Katie returned with the meat-hammer, planted a foot either side of the
fallen bike and gave the raised end of the spanner her hardest ever 
hit. It spun round faster than she had expected, stopping only half an 
inch from her exposed shin. With a yelp of delight, she dropped the 
hammer to try once again to turn the nut. Now it was easy, she no 
longer needed the funny, flat spanner; the nut turned only using her 
fingers. Once the nut had come completely off, Katie lifted away the 
arched tubular frame of the stabiliser and wiggled it free from the 
bolt thread. When she lifted up the bike, she was happy to find that 
the stabiliser on the other side simply fell off, it had been a single 
through-bolt locking both sides. 

Another peek at her parents, mom was pouring another coffee so they
wouldn’t be going shopping quite yet. Katie imagined how surprised they 
would be when they saw her riding around the back yard with no 
stabilisers. But first she needed a quick practice, because the truth 
was at Jenny’s she fell off not just sometimes but most times. Quietly, 
she wheeled her bike down the side passage, unlatched the gate and went 
out onto the sidewalk in front of the terraced Brownstone. Once she had 
closed the slated-wood gate behind her, she straddled the white leather 
saddle and squared her handlebars for a straight course. Before she 
gave the big push with her legs, which she knew was the way to get a 
two-wheeler going, she waited for the truck to pass so that the rush of 
air wouldn’t make her wobble. 

* 

‘Try that one,’ said Jack, pointing to a message that would be sent
seven years from now that was addressed ‘ FOR GOD’S SAKE READ 
THIS...Margaret Dolton’ 

A double-click and the message appeared. 

‘Please, please read this message now. 

To come back to it later will be too late to save her. 

I have been reading your biography and in there it says that you
discovered temail early in the morning of Saturday, 4th April 2004. It 
also said that you were immediately swamped by millions of temails from 
the future. But I still have to try to get through to you. 

My daughter, Katie, was killed in a road accident at 9:15am on the
morning of Saturday, 4th April 2004. She was only 7. The accident 
happened in the street outside the front of our house. I was only in 
the back yard. Please ring me on my mobile (I know that I had it with 
me, and turned on, because we were just about to go shopping and I 
always take it in case of any problems), the number is 07789 445632. 
Tell me to find her, tell me the danger she’s in. 

Please, I beg you. I miss her so much, every minute of every day. 

Margaret Dolton.’ 

They read it in silence; Jack checked his watch, 9:05am, still time. 

‘If you ring, won’t you alter the future?’ asked Tom. 

‘I suppose everything we do now alters the future, son, for better or
worse.’    Rummaging among some diagrams and papers rammed under some 
unused wiring, Jack tore the corner off a page of notepaper and wrote 
down the name and number with a heavily chewed Biro. ‘We’ve got to try, 
Tom...Christ, we’ve at least got to try.’ 

With that, he rose from his seat, clutching the ragged note, and made
towards the door. Before leaving, he glanced over his shoulder and 
said, ‘when I get back, we’ll figure out what to do next.’ Tom nodded 
but said nothing, his attention having returned to the screen. 

Once downstairs in the hallway, Jack lifted the receiver on the
wall-phone, tucked it under his chin and started to punch in the 
numbers. Only when he came to the last two digits did he pause to 
consider just what on earth he was going to say. For a moment he stared 
blankly at the scrap of paper held in his now trembling hand. But there 
was no time; he’d have to play it on the hoof. He entered the 3, then 
the 2. 

After a connecting silence, it started to ring,
...three...four...five...it seemed to be ringing for too long. What if 
she had remembered wrong and, in fact, her mobile had been left out of 
earshot? Then a voice. 

‘Hello, this is Margaret.’ 

‘Is that Margaret Dolton, mother of Katie Dolton?’ 

‘It is. Who is this please?’ 

‘You don’t know me, but I’m ringing to warn you that Katie is in great
danger. Do you know where she is at this moment?’ 

‘Yes...she’s here with us...well she was a minute ago. What danger? Who
is this?’ 

‘My name doesn’t matter. What does matter is that if you don’t find her
within the next...’ he paused to check his watch, ‘four minutes, she’ll 
be dead.’ 

‘Oh my God, what are you saying? Have you taken my little girl?’ 

Jack had to stop her talking and get her moving, 

‘Not yet, but I’m coming to get her. I’M COMING NOW...SO FIND HER FAST.’


There was a clumping noise, accompanied by a thin screech, as if the
mobile had struck a hard surface, but he could still hear distant 
voices. 

‘What’s the matter Hon?’ said a male voice. 

‘A man on the phone threatening to hurt Katie, where on earth has she
gone George? She was messing with her bike by the summer-house a moment 
ago.’ A shout, ‘KATIE! KATIE WHERE ARE YOU?’ 

A static buzz, then the male voice, loud and clear. 

‘You touch my daughter you perverted creep, and I swear that I’ll...’ 

Jack hung up. The twitching in his hands had spread to his entire body.
Clutching the banister above the phone table, he leant over as if about 
to be frisked, pulling in deep breaths to calm down. What if the 
message on the computer was a joke? Had he just terrified an innocent 
family for no reason? He didn’t know; the whole situation was crazy. 
Slowly, he pulled upright; the worst of the shakes had passed. A glance 
at his watch showed 9:13, as he climbed the stairs and headed back to 
the spare room. Would they find Katie? Then it stuck him that if they 
did find her, before the accident, the message from Margaret would no 
longer be there. Could the future be changed? He had told Tom that it 
could, had always believed that it must be so, but what did he know? 

When he returned to the room, he found Tom scrolling through the endless
pages. 

He swung round on his swivel computer chair as his dad entered. 

‘Did you get through?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘I bet they thought that you were some sort of fruitcake. Did you tell
them about the temail?’ 

‘No,’ replied Jack, returning to his own seat in front of the consol, ‘I
didn’t have time to get into any of that. Besides, they never would 
have believed me.’ 

On the monitor screen, the digital clock changed to 9:15. ‘Well, if the
time on the message was right, then that little girl is either...’ 
Without a sound the screen in front of him cleared, leaving only one 
temail. The first message, titled Resolution 258, was the only one 
still there. The counter confirmed that the total number received was 
one. 

‘Where have they gone?’ gasped Tom. ‘They were recorded on my
hard-drive, and I haven’t touched anything.’ 

‘I don’t know, son. Something’s changed. Something’s shifted.’ 

‘And why would they all go except the first one?’ 

‘Open it up, see if it’s the same as it was before.’ 

Tom clicked on the rather lonely looking temail. 

‘Senate Ethics Committee...Resolution 258,’ this time they each read in
silence, 

‘Resolution 258 has been passed by majority vote of the Senate Ethics
Committee on this day 28th October 2004. The said resolution states 
that the new communication technology named Time-Mail, or temail as it 
has become known in the Media, represents the greatest threat that 
humanity has ever faced. Future unknown technologies evolving in 
reverse, back through the time stream, threaten the destruction of 
civilisation. No personal, or short-term benefits, can justify exposure 
to this great a danger. 

In an unprecedented emergency session of the full Senate, the ‘Blackburn
Law’ has been passed that imposes summary execution, without trial, for 
any person, or group, found in possession of Time-Mail capable systems 
or suspected to be attempting to develop such a technology. 

Both your father and yourself have been taken into custody, where you
await imposition of this penalty. Only the immediate destruction of 
your prototype Time-Mail equipment will secure your release. 

Be in no doubt, that failure to do so will lead to your execution 24
hours subsequent to this time location. 

George Dolton – Committee Chairman.’ 

Jack thought that, on reflection, they’d have to manage without him at
the store today. 


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