Read by Jay Hunt & Sarah Barlex - final story in podcast, at 1h23min, link below:
S&L Podcast (right click Open Link in New Tab to enable fast-forwarding)
Report compiled by: I. C. Allerman & Dr. E. Brown
Date of Report: 11th June 2331
Date of Incident: 23rd - 24th July 1794
Incident Location: Georgian London - Ratcliffe
Involved Parties: Caira Brennen - Level 3 Guide with Solo Certification
Oliver Fenchurch - Client
The following report attempts to establish the events resulting in, though not exclusively, the complete destruction of the Georgian London Clinic, requiring the temporary suspension of all Aristocratic and Commoner trips to that era. Both parties were interviewed separately but we have attempted to construct a comprehensive timeline from the information provided - some questions have been edited for clarity.
INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
Miss Brennen, you met Mr Fenchurch when he arrived, is that correct?
Yes sir. As is protocol I confirmed his identity and source location. Removed any out-of-time objects on his person and issued him with his sundries.
And did you notice anything odd about him, as a client?
No more than any other client I’ve escorted around the city. I assumed their … um … altered state is somehow due to the transfer process. They all arrive flying high with the pigeons.
You have stated before your, and I quote, “irrational hatred for time travellers”. Why keep working for us?
Is that my diary? How did you get that?
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Mr Fenchurch-
Call me Oz dude.
Mr Fenchurch. I am Dr. Brown, your Interviewing Officer.
I’ll call you Brownie.
You won’t. You booked a Solo Commoner One-Night Package. Is that correct?
Yeah, I wanted to really be where the people were, you know.
And you were met at the tether point by Miss Brennen, correct?
She took my pen off me. Not cool.
Walk us through what happened after you left the tether point.
It’s a bit foggy really, not sure I remember. We just walked down this one street for what felt like forever. I know I was feeling kinda antsy, and she had given me some matches so I assumed a smoke was on the cool list.
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Miss Brennan, walk us through it, with as much detail as possible if you would.
It was a mid-afternoon arrival. We had only just left the clinic, maybe five minutes earlier, and headed directly to the docks, as per the standard route. That insufferable man simply couldn't survive five minutes without lighting up one of those sickeningly sweet cheroots he had brought with him.
My ‘irrational hatred of time travellers’ solidified into a rational one as I watched the smouldering match fly over his shoulder. Fanned by the dockside breeze, it didn’t land on the muddy quay; it floated towards the deck of the nearest barge, coming to rest in a large open cauldron suspended over a brazier. I couldn’t see what the cauldron held but I prayed with all my heart it was merely porridge or gruel. It wasn’t.
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She called me a bitch!
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I said “pitch”, in the cauldron. And even if I had, he’d booked the Commoner’s Package, there was no requirement for me to maintain Mayfair’s standards of propriety.
Anyway, it was pitch, and that match was all it took. Not that he even noticed what he had done, he just offered me the damn cheroot. Behind him I could see the fire beginning to spread, others had seen it too and shouts all around us were raising the alarm.
Why didn’t you stay and assist?
I assumed it’d be a small fire quickly dealt with. I didn’t want us to be there when someone official showed up. From experience, the clinic has no issue with its clients being involved in incidents or even illegal activity, but it has a big issue if they’re caught for it. Something to do with upsetting the temporal balance, whatever that is.
The explosion was … unexpected.
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What do you remember of what happened?
It was amazing! It was like the whole sky went boom! It was like glitter falling all around, like huge, and hot but so cool.
Mr Fenchurch, you can’t smoke in here.
It’s all cool dude, I don’t mind sharing.
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And you didn't think to return Mr Fenchurch to his own time, even after all that?
Fiery hell was raining down on us, more flames springing up wherever the sparks landed. Running was the only option.
And Mr Fenchurch agreed with this?
Mr Fenchurch didn’t appear to be on the same planet, let alone the same page. He was standing in the middle of the street, watching the sparks and ash fall as if they were fireworks.
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That chick can RUN dude, like I swear she was like the wind. In, like a robe and everything. Like a super fast wizard.
I must insist you refrain from smoking Mr Fenchurch.
Relax Doc, it’s nearly gone. You can’t waste good grass, man!
So you ran from the flames. Where did she take you?
I dunno, there were, like, super tall walls and stuff, it was kinda like a dungeon. A dungeon with no doors. The kind where freedom is just a state of mind. It’s like the tethers man. It’s all about the metaphysical. It’s like transcending beyond the ties of this limited reality. You need to see the bigger picture.
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DIARY EXTRACT: MISS BRENNAN
The housemaid told me what had happened. She didn't know I had been there of course, but all of London is talking about it. The fire had spread to the barge moored beside it, igniting its load of saltpetre in a heartbeat. Over four hundred buildings along that stretch of the river are gone. Thousands are homeless.
I should feel bad, and I do now, but at the time it was a secondary concern. As I stood among the charred remains that clear summer morning, all I could really think was “How the hell am I going to get Oz home?” The clinic was gone, leaving nothing but the shell of the old warehouse and the faint smell of burnt sugar. All the small candy-pink pills they supplied to facilitate clients’ return to their own time had gone up in flames, along with every bit of paperwork. More importantly, the Tether device, was just a twisted hunk of metal at my feet. I kicked it with the toe of my boot and got nothing but a hollow thunk.
As expected, Oz did not seem phased at all. I don’t know if he even realised the peril he was in. He simply sat among the ruins, pulled out another one of those hand-rolled cheroots, and watched the clouds float across the sky as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. I felt I had to say something. The man was facing a lifetime in a place he did not belong.
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INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
When did you become aware of your predicament?
It was instantaneous man. Like, I had assumed I would get a chance to restock, so I had only slipped some Mini-Js in my pocket for the journey. But when I pulled out that last one it was like, heartbreaking, you know.
Mr Fenchurch, I was talking about being stranded six-hundred-and-thirty-five years in the past with no way home, not your – (personal drug supply)
Six-hundred-and-thirty-seven.
What?
Six-hundred-and-thirty-seven years in the past. Can we get pizza?
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You did not make any attempt to report this incident at the time?
How was I even supposed to do that? As far as I was aware at the time, there were no other methods of contact now the Tether was destroyed.
At the time?
Well, I assume my letter was delivered, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?
So what did you do? What was your plan to return Mr Fenchurch?
I am not some heroine in an Ann Radcliffe novel. I had no plan and no idea where to even start formulating one. What I did have was too many witnesses and a client who did nothing but smoke, stare into a nothingness void, or complain he was hungry. Often all three at once.
So what did you do?
You already read my diary, you tell me!
Miss Brennen -
Fine. I found us breakfast at a boarding house I know, above an establishment on Butcher’s Row. It was the only place left standing.
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Man I missed pizza, they have weird food. It’s great but weird. Like who wants fishy rice for breakfast? And there was no avocado! The bacon though, oh my god it was amazing. Like, actually transcendental. Never tasted fake meat that was so real you know? Made the come-down way more dealable.
I can be reasonably certain that it was not fake.
What! Not cool dude! What about the sausages?
As you were, at the time, nearly a century before the first meat alternatives became available - I would assume they were also real.
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At what point did you formulate the method of Mr Fenchurch’s return?
I didn’t.
What?
I didn’t formulate anything. It was Mr Fenchurch’s idea.
You are telling me that Mr ‘call me Oz’ Fenchurch formulated a method of time travel that did not require the use of a temporal Tether or the specific chemical make-up contained within the accompanying medication?
Yes. He seemed to become more lucid as we settled at Maggie’s well-stocked table. Less floaty as it were. I am not entirely sure I understood most of what he explained. Something about moving pictures and red shoes. I did ask if the shoes were necessary, but he insisted. Took me hours of trawling the shops around St Paul’s before I found a pair that would fit his measurements. His second requirement was easier thanks to the many times I had attended to clients who had purchased Poppy Edition packages.
And Mr Fenchurch accompanied you on this shopping mission?
Um… No. No, he did not.
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So, against all protocols, you were left unattended for an extended length of time?
It was chill dude, I needed a nap anyway.
You expect me to believe that you were alone for hours and all you did was nap?
Yeah?
Would you care to explain how red shoes and an opium den were all you claimed necessary to initiate an untethered time jump?
I already told you, it’s all just a state of mind. Once you open your eyes to the fabric of the universe you just gotta focus on the right threads.
So you simply got high, clicked your heels and declared there’s no place like home?
Three times, obviously.
And that actually worked?!
Duh.
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DIARY EXTRACT: MISS BRENNAN
I’m still not fully sure what went down in Mr Chen’s small back room. I suppose I may never know. At least I can now be certain that Oz must have made it home and remembered to hand my letter to the Clinic employees at his end of the timeline. It was the only way I could think of to report the incident without access to a Tether.
My appointment with the man from the Clinic was a more than strange experience, and one I remember very little about. There are snatches that drift through my mind at odd moments but make little or no coherent sense. It’s simply like a half-forgotten dream.
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CONCLUSION
It seems that, whilst the incident in question was indeed caused solely by the careless action of a single client, it was amplified by bad luck and timing. These are issues for which HotTub Travel Incorporated cannot be held accountable and therefore they are in no way liable for any damage caused. They have, however, donated £1,667,468,590.57 (equivalent to £2000 at the relevant era rates) to the relief of the homeless. This was via their in-era intermediary: the East India Trading Company.
It is the opinion of this report that Incident 420 has been investigated successfully without any additional cleanup necessary. It has been confirmed that the timeline is uncompromised, and it is safe to begin the search for a new clinic location within the era.
(c) 2024, Charlotte Davis
Charlotte Davis is a UK-based writer who spends her time split between writing, procrastinating, and that pesky thing called the day job. A video editor by trade, she loves all forms of storytelling be they written, visual, or interactive.
Sarah Barlex is 21 years old and lives with her family in South West London. After studying filmmaking at the New York Film Academy, Sarah now works as a social media manager alongside making her own short films: barlexfilms.co.uk Her new film Waitress is out this month and is based on her own experiences as a server with a horror twist, not that waitressing in South London needs the added horror.
Having studied under various acting specialists, Jay Hunt has a passion for Stand-Up Comedy, Stage Combat and Shakespeare. Raised in Stratford-upon-Avon, Jay has been involved with multiple collaborations with the RSC from a young age.
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