Alice Through the Flames

by Roy Stead

Copyright (c) 1990

Another day at the office over with, Colin had decided to settle down with a good book. The year before, he had had installed a `real fire.' As he had said at the time, "It gives the place a homely look-- with a log fire blazing merrily away in the living room, you can really _believe_ that an your home is an impregnable fortress, gallantly keeping the elements at bay whether you be sleeping or awake." Colin smiled to himself, as he often did at these moments, and gave thanks that his wife had taken Jason, the two year-old, to her parents for the weekend. A long, pleasant and-- above all-- _quiet_ weekend stretched out before him as he lowered his body into the comfy armchair by the fire. Colin shifted slightly, to get as comfortable as possible, then adjusted the table lamp to _just_ the right angle before picking up the book and beginning to read...

Just as the hero was about to decapitate the gargantuan nine-headed beast, Colin's attention was diverted by the sound of someone moving around in the next room. "Strange, there's nobody home. Maybe Karen had to come back early," Colin said to himself. "God, I hope not-- I think I'd prefer burglars!" The middle-aged civil servant hoisted his bulk from the chair and wandered into the other room to investigate, pausing only to procure a poker from beside the fire. "Just in case..."

"Odd," thought Colin as he approached the door. the sounds from within had started to collect into words. Speech. In a very strange accent, but-- nonetheless-- English. He slowly opened the door and, poker brandished at the ready, strode into the room. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?" Hardly an original line, but then nobody awards points for creativity at these moments.

Colin stopped. There were four people in the kitchen. Three of them were arguing over the toaster, while the fourth-- a tall, and rather attractive, blonde woman-- looked on. Deliberately and carefully, the blonde turned to face Colin.

"We come in peace." she stated, simply. It looked like cliches were to be the order of the day. Was this some kind of joke? She didn't look to Colin like she was joking but, nonetheless, her words-- and that weird accent!

Colin hesitated a moment, then: "Do you, now? Do you usually `come in peace' by breaking into someone's house, and ransacking their possessions?"

"I must apologize for my friends. They are being,perhaps, a little... overzealous..." The three, dressed-- as was the blonde woman-- in brown, discoloured rags and bereft of shoes, now seemed to be in the those of a disagreement over whose turn it was to drink from the cold water tap. The blonde followed Colin's gaze, looked at her friends then returned her stare to the house's owner. She shrugged.

"Perhaps I should explain myself," she continued.

"Yes, I think maybe you ought to!" snapped Colin, who now looked on, bemused as the strange blonde's three companions had a fight over the contents of the icebox.

Unperturbed, the blonde introduced herself as, "Just call me `Alice'." and went on to describe how she and her three companions were refugees from Colin's own future.

"Oh. Of course," burst in Colin, "I had somebody from the twenty-fifth century for tea last week. Why didn't you say so? Perhaps you would like a quick cup of coffee, before going back to battle daleks or take a spin around Saturn's moons?" His voice cracked, as he shrieked, "Do you think I was born yesterday? You come in here, argue about who gets what in my home then expect me to believe any cock and bull story you care to spin about being time travelers? Well, you're not time travellers!"

"How can you be so sure?" broke in the blonde, Alice, smoothly.

Surprised by the simple audacity of the question, Colin was momentarily nonplussed, before spluttering: "Well, for one thing, time travellers would be better dressed!"

"Look, just hear me out, then-- if you still don't believe me-- we'll leave you. Okay?"

"No, it's _not_ bloody okay! Get out now, or I'll call the police!"

"We're not going. _I_ am not going. Not until you've at least heard us out." Colin sighed. He'd had a wonderfully peaceful weekend planned, and it seemed to be falling apart about his ears. But he resigned himself to hearing Alice's story, and led her-- followed by her retinue-- into the living room, where he settled down in his comfy chair and awaited the tale. At least there would be some entertainment - if only he could find the popcorn...

"Picture it: North America, ravaged by war and plagued-- yes, _literally_ plagued-- by disease. The Statue of Liberty toppled like a house of cards, the remains used by destitutes as stepping stones across the Hudson. The Capitol's roof destroyed, caved in by the backwash from an atomic blast. The Golden Gate Bridge no longer capable of supporting the weight even of an anorexic ant. The United States now disunited, and battling amongst themselves for what remains of the spoils of war, while Mexico and Canada, themselves war-torn lands, sit on the sidelines, occassionally swooping, vulture-like, on the carcasses of shattered principalities. Picture it, if you can. That is the world I-- we-- left behind. And, unless we can do something-- unless we can convince _you_ to help us-- then the war which began the nightmare will come to pass. And The United States will be destroyed, along with the rest of the world."

Colin, mouth gaping, stared a moment at Alice. Then, taking ahold of himself, shook his head as if to clear Alice's description from his mind. "You're serious." It was a statement, not a question, but Alice nodded nonetheless. Colin picked up the phone and dialled, carefully: 9... 1... 1.

"Hello, emergency services? I'd like a-- what the Hell... ? What? Oh, never mind..." He put the phone down, replacing the receiver in its cradle with all the care of a raw-egg juggler. Emulating the studied patience and concentration of a Zen master, Colin watched the receiver settle in its bed before looking up to check what had so startled him a moment before. It was still there. Or, rather, _they_ were still there. The original group of four had multiplied to eight _while Colin was watching_. Nobody had entered the room-- not by conventional means, anyway. Yet four people had... appeared. Colin was, to say the least, mildly surprised.

The four newcomers were dressed far more smartly than the first arrivals. Perhaps they came from a different time period. Colin caught the thought. Time travellers? Well, let's face it-- either the second group teleported in, which is impossible, or they arrived via a time machine, which is impossible. The difference lay in the fact that they _claimed_ the latter. And so the pendulum of decision hung in that direction, for the moment.

Colin looked the latest group over. The clothes were definately plusher than Alice's band-- they wore loose-fitting robes, after the fashion of Ancient Roman togas-- each robe being a single solid block of a bright colour: red, blue, green and... a tall, statuesque brunette wore a white `toga.'

That brunette turned to look at Colin, as he gasped in astonishment. Alice! The two Alices noticed each other then-- and paused to look one another over. Ragged Alice was the first to speak: "You dyed your hair. It doesn't suit you."

"Who _are_ you? No-- don't answer that," began the be-toga'ed Alice, "I know who you are-- you're me. But how? And why do you have such goddawful clothing? Are you me from my future? If so, why are you here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing. Since I have no memory of having been you-- and you seem to have none of having been me-- perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me why you are here?"

"You know as well as I why I'm here-- your presence indicates that your research has led you to the same conclusion to which mine led me. This is a junction point. To be more precise, this _man_ is a junction point. His actions can start, or prevent, a world war."

Colin burst in, "What are you two talking about? I'm no world leader - how can I start off Armageddon? I'm just a government clerk. I'm good at my job, sure. But that's as far as it goes."

The trampesque Alice broke into Colin's monotribe: "Tomorrow, a memo will cross your desk marked `SFF-524G/Q.' If you fail to pass it on, the Pentagon will be unaware of a small, but significant, item of information. This ignorance will lead to a breakdown in communications and then, gradually, to a small conflict between states within what you know as the United States of America. As further states join the dispute, so the conflict will escalate until those states which currently maintain a nuclear arsenal-- in the name of the National Defense-- use them on those regions which they view as enemies. The automated defence computers will register a first strike on US soil, and launch a counter-attack-- against the Eastern Bloc. The resulting conflict destroys most Life on Earth."

"My God," Colin breathed, "For want of a nail, the kingdom was lost... Well, I must ensure that I don't lose that memo! Will that make things alright? Will that stop the war?"

"We think so," began The war-torn Alice, "But, just to be sure..."

"Wait," blurted the more refined Alice, "Think this through. Sure, there will be no war. But-- well, perhaps I'd better tell you why _I_ am here...

"In _my_ history, which seems to be different from yours," she gestured in the other Alice's direction, "the memo got through. There was no war, and consequently no massive investment in research-- How long from now is your war due to begin, if the memo fails to get through?" The question was directed at the other Alice.

"Twenty-four years before the opening of hostilities, One hundred and sixteen years before the first atomic weapon is used. Why?"

"Just a thought. Don't you realize that mankind _needs_ this war? If there is no war, then there is no impetous to survive-- to _live_. War means money poured into research-- defense systems, weapons systems, computers, space. No war, no research. No research, no advancement. In short, stagnation. The human race will reach its demise gradually, through apathy. Nobody caring enough to _do_ anything anymore. The world ending, to borrow one of your phrases," she nods at Colin, "Not with a bang, but a whimper."

Colin, half out of his chair, sank slowly back until he felt the cushions enveloping his body, molding to his shape. "So," he said, eventually, "If I send this memo through, then-- according to you," he pointed at the second Alice, "there will be no war, and the human race will bore itself to death. If, on the other hand, I withhold this memo, then _you_ say," He pointed at the ragged, and now rather pensive, first Alice, "that there will come a world war which will destroy the human race. Whichever I choose, the human race doesn't seem to stand a chance."

Alice one's brow furrowed, as she thought furiously. Turning to the rather flashily dressed Alice two, she said, "I've been thinking. Maybe a war would be a good idea, after all-- at least then we go out with a bang-- a light show which aliens might point to in their skies. A kind of last funeral pyre for mankind."

The second Alice considered this a moment, before saying, "No, I think no war would be better-- after all, humans _might_ recover from this period of apathy, you know..."

"No-- war would be a good idea, we can re-build the world..."

"Uh uh. No war is better, that way, there's no _need_ to rebuild!"

Colin broke in, laughing, "Ladies! Ladies!" he shouted, "You've both done a rapid volte-face, have you not? Why is this?" He silenced their explanations with a wave of his hand," No, don't bother to lie - I can see it in your faces. You've both realized what has just become clear to me. If you had succeeded in your original mission, then my future would be altered. Your future would cease to exist: _you_ would no longer be `real.' Instead, your counterpart-- the woman you are arguing with at the moment-- would be in the `true' future. However, now your pleas are not so much for the human race-- that seems doomed either way-- but for your own existence."

The women looked sheepish. Colin was correct, and all of them knew it. Walking across the room, Colin replaced the poker-- which he found he was still gripping in his right hand-- in the stand beside the fire. He turned from the flames and, with a wry smile, stated,

"Well, I will toss a coin to decide which future shall come about. Does that seem reasonable to each of you?" Reluctantly, they nodded. Colin took a quarter from his trouser pocket, then flipped it: "Heads, war; tails, peace." Even raggedy Alice's cohorts stopped bickering over a toga, previously belonging to a now-unconscious cohort of the other Alice long enough to watch the coin come down. It span in the air, glinting brightly in the flames of Colin's real fire like a single phoenix feather before hurtling toward the carpet, and-- as it landed-- nobody in that room dared draw breath.

The coin landed on its edge.

"Well," came a familiar voice from a corner of the room. "It seems the human race has a chance after all."

Roy Stead is a research assistant in quantum astrophysics at the English University of Sussex. His hobbies include water skiing, Zen Buddhism and searching for cats. His collection of cats is reputed to be amongst the largest in the Western world, though none have ever been seen by reliable witnesses. "Iggy," a grey-green Persian once did not appear on BBC Television's "Tomorrow's World."

roys@cogs.ac.sussex.uk