Ixatemit (standard:science fiction, 3419 words)
Author: Ian Hobson	Added: Apr 03 2004	Views/Reads: 4181/2646	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A lonely young night-time Internet surfer finds himself travelling in time…

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


'Err, yes,' said Tim, now in awe of this amazing web-site. He watched as
the desert scene dissolved and as, once again, the city scene was 
revealed. But almost immediately, this too dissolved and was replaced 
by footage of a very attractive young woman, who, Tim thought, seemed 
to be looking straight into his eyes as though she could actually see 
him. The woman was tanned and healthy looking with short blond hair. 
Her gaze moved down Tim's face, onto his naked chest, and back to his 
eyes again. 

'Hello,' she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 'My name
is Miranda. I am your guide. May I ask your name?' 

Tim's jaw dropped as he realised that he was in some kind of video
linkup with the young woman. 'Tim,' he said 'Tim Andrews. How are you 
doing this? I don't have a camera.' 

'You do now. I installed one for you.' 

Tim's jaw dropped again. 'But...' 

'Well, Mister Tim Andrews. First let me congratulate you. You are in a
way our first customer. You are certainly my earliest, to date. How did 
you find us?' 

'Err, I just... surfed on in.' 

'Ah, I thought you weren't dressed for travelling,' said Miranda. 'But
then if you just stumbled across us, you wouldn't be expecting to 
travel.' 

'Travel?' said Tim, puzzled. 'Travel where?' 

'Forward in time. And then back again, of course. We're not allowed to
leave clients permanently displaced.' 

'But...' 

'Sorry, Tim, I can see this is a lot for you to absorb at short notice.
Let me explain. Ixatemit, or Time-Taxi, as it is also called, is the 
invention of Professor Michael Standish. I was one of his students at 
the Standish Institute in New York, but now I work for Ixatemit. Much 
of our business is with clients from our time, who wish to travel back 
in time.' 

'Your time?' exclaimed Tim. 'You expect me to believe that you're from
the future?' 

'That's not quite correct,' replied Miranda. 'I'm not from the future.
I'm in the future, your future, anyway. The year 2094.' 

Tim began to shake his head. 'This web site of yours is truly amazing
but... time travel? You have to be joking.' 

'Yes, I know it's hard for you to believe. May I ask your age?' 'I'm
twenty-four. Why?' 

'And you are in good health?' 

'Very good, but why...' 

'Just hold for a moment and don't worry about your clothes. I'll fix you
up with some.' 

'My clothes? But... hey...' 

Suddenly Miranda's image dissolved and Tim was looking at his own
reflection; his computer screen having become a perfect mirror. But Tim 
saw that his reflection was not quite right. He quickly looked down at 
his naked chest and thighs and then back at his reflection, which was 
fully clothed in a light grey one-piece suit made from some kind of 
silky material. 

The computer's hard drive was humming again, and Tim found himself being
physically drawn towards his own increasingly worried looking mirror 
image. He placed his hands against the desk, trying to resist the 
unseen force. 

'There's no need to be afraid.' Miranda's voice again. 'Just relax.' Tim
became instantly drowsy and his eyelids became heavy, and just before 
his eyes closed he saw that his image had been replaced by a brightly 
lit tunnel; not an image, but a real tunnel reaching deep into his 
computer screen and seemingly on into infinity. 

Tim felt himself floating and he could feel the passage of cool air over
his body, and then abruptly he was sitting on a soft leathery sofa in 
what looked to be someone's office. Across the room there was a large 
uncluttered hardwood desk, behind which was a high-backed office chair. 
Sunshine was streaming in through the widows, and there was a smell of 
coffee and perfume. Tim sensed a presence behind him, and as he turned 
he saw Miranda, standing and smiling down at him. She wore a suit 
similar to the grey one that Tim was wearing, except that hers was more 
of a silvery grey and slightly tighter fitting. 

'Welcome,' said Miranda. 'Welcome to 2094. It's Wednesday, October 14,
and the time is 10.07.' 

Tim jumped to his feet, still turning towards Miranda, but he
immediately lost his balance and fell through a glass-topped coffee 
table. He lay on the floor, under the table, feeling very strange, as 
though his body was not his own, and as though gravity was too strong. 
He stared at the coffee table, wondering how he could have fallen 
through it without breaking it, before looking up at Miranda. 'Where am 
I, and why do I feel so... odd?' he asked. 

'Don't worry,' said Miranda. 'Bi-droids take a little getting used to.
You see, you are not really here, at least not in person. And your host 
body is... well the closest thing in your time would be a hologram. 
Bi-droids are much more solid though. Except when it's safer for them 
not to be. Try standing again but take it slowly this time.' 

Tim moved, crablike, away from the coffee table and slowly got to his
feet, too stunned to say anything more. 

'Now try walking,' said Miranda, as she moved closer to Tim and took his
hand. Tim was having the weirdest and scariest experience of his life, 
but he was still, at least mentally, a man and therefore very aware of 
Miranda's warm hand and her perfume and the way her suit accentuated 
the curves of her body. She smiled at him and he tried to smile back as 
he hesitantly walked hand in hand with her towards the plate glass 
window. 

'How did I get here?' Tim asked, finding his voice again. 

'Through what you call the Internet,' Miranda replied. 

'What do you call it?' 

'Mostly just the Grid, or the Net. Are you feeling okay now?' 

'Yes, I think so... But, you mean... I travelled through time, to here,
wherever we are, through the Internet?' 

'That's right,' replied Miranda. 

They had reached the window, and as Tim looked out he realised that they
were high in a very tall building surrounded by other tall buildings. 
He leaned forward, wondering if the window really was a window or if it 
might be a force field, as portrayed in a Star Trek film he had seen. 
But when his forehead touched the cool glass, stopping him from seeing 
down into the streets, he dismissed the idea. But then he had another 
thought. He turned and looked at Miranda again. 'Is this virtual 
reality?' he asked. 

'No, it's not V.R.' replied Miranda. 'What makes you ask that?' 'Well,
you say I'm not really here but... well, are you here, and is 
everything else... real?' 

Miranda laughed, and as she did so, Tim was reminded of his Miranda.
'Yes, everything you see is real. Would you like some coffee?' 

'Yeah, I'd... but... can this...' Tim looked down at his grey suited
body or whatever it was. 'I mean, can I? Won't it just make a mess on 
the carpet.' 

Miranda laughed again and then walked over to a cabinet in the corner of
the room. 'Bi-droids need energy, just like human bodies,' she said, as 
she poured coffee from a percolator into two cups. 'Though fewer people 
are drinking real coffee these days. I got hooked on it when I worked 
with Professor Standish. Cream and sugar?' 

'Yes please.' Tim was looking out of the window again. He could see
people in the building across the street. 'Where are we?' 

'Bradbury, Nevada. It's America's newest city, named after Senator John
Bradbury. You won't have heard of him. This building is the Bradbury 
Tower.' Miranda was beside him again, handing him his coffee. 'You're 
from a big city, aren't you?' 

'Thanks,' said Tim, as he accepted the coffee. But he had to think for a
moment. There was so much going on inside his head, or his Bi-droid's 
head, that he hardly new his own name, let alone where he was from. 
'Yes, I'm from England. I live in a city called Sheffield... Where's my 
real body?' 

'In Sheffield, England, just where you left it. Remember, you have
travelled through time. When you return it will be as if you were never 
away.' 

Tim sipped his coffee. It was the best he had ever tasted. He glanced
down at the floor. 

'See, no leaks,' said Miranda, with a giggle. 

Tim laughed, but he was now examining his footwear; the trendiest pair
of trainers he had ever seen. Miranda's were of a similar design, he 
noticed. He raised his head and looked into Miranda's blue eyes, 
thinking that somehow they looked vaguely familiar. He mentally 
comparing them to his Miranda's brown ones. 

Miranda set her coffee cup down on the narrow window ledge, put her
hands on Tim's shoulders, close to his neck, and then kissed him full 
on the lips. Tim was so surprised he almost did spill his coffee on the 
carpet. 

'Do all of your... clients, did you call them, get this treatment?' 

'No,' Miranda replied, 'but I know how lonely you are.' 

'But you don't know me,' exclaimed Tim. 

'Yes I do. We have to vet potential clients. Do you remember the party
you went to, in your time, two days ago?' 

'Yes,' replied Tim, looking very puzzled. He remembered the party at his
friend, Dave's, house. He had gone there to get drunk and done just 
that. 

'Do you remember the girl you met in the garden? You told her your
life-story. You were very intoxicated at the time.' 

Tim thought for a moment. 'There was a girl, a blond girl. We sat under
a tree at the bottom of... That was you?' 'Yes.' 

This was too much for Tim to take in. He turned away from Miranda but
then suddenly turned back towards her as he remembered something. 'Did 
you came back to my flat?' he asked. 'Yes.' 

Tim tried to remember what had happened next. 'You and I... did we?'
'No, you fell asleep,' replied Miranda. 'I never have sex on a first 
date, anyway.' 

'Wait a minute. How could you have been at...' Realisation showed itself
on Tim's face. 'You were able to travel back in time and then back here 
whilst...' 

'You were still sitting at your computer.' Miranda finished Tim's
sentence for him. 

'This is all just too incredible,' said Tim, shaking his head and
walking away from the window. He put his coffee cup down on the coffee 
table and looked around the room. 'Where is your computer?' he asked. 

'I don't actually have one. But to keep it simple; this office is my
computer. In fact the whole building is a computer, as are many other 
buildings.' 

'You mean they are controlled by computers?' 

'No, that's not quite the same thing. You see, everything, the walls,
the floor, the furniture, they all have more than one use. They all 
combine to supply the necessary energy, solar energy that is, and the 
processing power to... Let me demonstrate.' Miranda thought for a 
moment and then spoke to someone or something, but Tim could not work 
out who or what. 'Short-term visit mode. Barbados, Holetown, the beach. 
Tim and Miranda. Clothing: swimwear.' 

Without warning, Tim felt himself floating again and then suddenly he
was standing on a beach with hot sunshine beating down on him. He 
blinked at Miranda who was wearing an olive green bikini, then looked 
down to see that he was wearing navy blue swimming trunks. Waves were 
lapping onto the pristine sands and nearby there were people sunbathing 
and strolling along the beach. And out to sea, Tim could see many small 
sailing vessels. 

'Come on,' said Miranda, 'we have about ten minutes.' She raced off into
the sea and before the water was waist deep on her, she dived beneath 
an incoming wave and then surfaced and swam on towards a raft that was 
tethered about a hundred meters offshore. Tim looked around at the 
beach and the palm trees and the plush hotels before grinning widely 
and turning and following Miranda. The water felt cool and refreshing, 
and Tim raced after Miranda who was halfway to the raft. And by the 
time Tim caught up with her, she was lying on her side in the center of 
the raft, wet and glistening and smiling at Tim as he climbed aboard. 

'This is incredible,' said Tim, breathlessly, as he pushed his wet hair
back from his forehead and then lay down beside Miranda, closing his 
eyes against the strong sunlight. 

'I know,' replied Miranda, 'but there are no computers here to sustain
us, so...' 

Tim felt the raft move as a wave lifted it, but then he was floating in
air again and when he opened his eyes, he was back in Miranda's office, 
standing near the sofa, and wearing the grey suit again. He sat down. 
His head was beginning to ache. 'If this isn't my body, why does my 
head hurt?' he asked. 

Miranda, dressed as before in her silvery suit, retrieved her coffee and
walked over and sat beside Tim. 'Bi-droids respond to your mental 
state, just like a real body.' 

'And the year is 2094, did you say?' asked Tim. 

'That's correct.' 

'And this computer... this office, brought me here through the Internet
and then transported us to that beach? Where was that?' 

'Barbados. I had lots of vacations there, as a child. And yes, this
computer, as you call it, with the aid of the Grid, took us there.' Tim 
was silent for a moment. 'So what's the deal? Why have you brought me 
here?' 

'Because we need agents. People based permanently in the past, who can
help us. We would send our own people, but bi-droids are not 
supportable for more than a few hours. Backward time travel is still 
quite new, but there is a tremendous amount of interest in it.' 

'You mean this is a job interview?' 

'Well, yes,' Miranda replied. 

'But what if I don't want to work for you, or your ixat... time taxi...
what ever you call it?' 

'Ixatemit... Then you don't have to. But think about it. The
remuneration is very good and the fringe benefits can be truly 
amazing.' 

'Fringe benefits?' exclaimed Tim. 'Isn't this sort of thing dangerous?
Won't it upset history or the... the space time continuum, or whatever 
they call it?' 

Miranda laughed and her face seemed to shine as she said 'Perhaps a
further demonstration of our abilities and our sincerity will convince 
you. Disengage bi-droid and return subject. Goodbye, Tim. I hope we 
meet again.' 

'What... no, wait...' But Tim was floating again and feeling cool air
pass over his body, and then, as though awaking from a dream, he was 
sitting at his computer, looking at the google page. 

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, not knowing what was real and
what was not. The word 'miranda' was still in the google search field, 
but as Tim scrolled the page and looked through the search results he 
saw that none of the web-sites listed included ixatemit.com. He clicked 
the search button to refresh the page, but there was still no sign of 
Ixatemit. 

'Did I dream all that,' Tim asked himself, out loud. 'Am I going crazy?'
With a shaky hand he closed down the google page and looked again at 
his and Miranda's image, comparing his Miranda with the one he thought 
he had just met, and trying to remember the blond he had met at Dave's 
party. He wondered if the death of his Miranda had affected him more 
than he knew. 

'If only she hadn't driven herself to work that day,' he thought. 'She
would still be alive, and I wouldn't be alone and having weird 
hallucinations.' He shut down his computer, switched it off and 
returned to the bedroom, for once feeling tired and ready for sleep. 
But as he walked through the doorway he stopped in his tracks. 

'What time is it, Tim?' asked Miranda, as she rolled over in bed and
pushed her long dark hair out of her eyes. 'Can't you sleep?' 


Tweet