The Time Backwater Anthology

  (“Go on then, try,” said the Author.)

  (“Descriptively funny or words?” enquired Sid.

  (“I didn’t want the characters to speak in this piece.”)

  (“That’s your strongest point mate, witty banter. They should have you on QI or something. If you don’t lose your mojo again.”)

  He stood by one of the food transfer machines and programmed it for fish and chips for 50. (“That means there are at least 50 gnomes on the precinct,” noted Arthur.)

  (“Unless there are more and only 50 of them wanted fish and chips,” re noted Sid.) The machine started to grab orders of fish and chips from different time frames and different dimensions, some wrapped in paper, some in foil, some in card, some in polystyrene and some in vuminium. (Have you ever thought you had done something, like wrap up fish and chips, only to find that they weren’t wrapped? This is where all the food goes that you forget about or misplace.) (“Is this supposed to be funny?” asked Arthur, “or are you trying to be like Tolkien at the start of the Hobbit, you know the bit they took out of later editions of the book? They probably took it out because at least he was funny, which they did not want. Where as you want to be funny and are not.”)

  (Author grinds teeth and takes tablets for headache brought on by sassy characters in a piece of Flash Fiction they are ‘helping’ him with.) He piled ten portions into a sack and skedaddled over to the open access tunnel grate and lowered the food towards another pair of small hands. He then went back for some more, but while he was piling another ten portions into another bag a maintenance droid went past, this caught the motion sensors of the chef droid who looked back at the moving object. The chef droid’s line of sight fell upon a half filled bag of fish and chips on the floor near the food transfer machine. It went over to the bag, looked at it, picked it up then took it over and dropped it into the waste disposal machine. It then went over to the food transfer machine and started to take out the other portions and pile them into sacks to throw away. When it had filled one sack it started on another. Splob swapped sacks for others filled with baked bean tins, he did this another three times. The droid put one of the bean tin filled bags into the waste disposal. The tins grunched and ground on the machinery. The droid emptied the 3 other sacks of tinned baked beans into the machine until it ground to a halt. (“Long section here with no funny stuff in it,” observed Sid. “Just make something funny happen so the droid falls over or something. People like it when people fall over look at the success of ‘You’ve Been Framed.”)

  (“How am I going to make that work, Does he slip on a piece of fish?”)

  (“Ok.”)

  The droid slipped on a piece of 2s/6d haddock from the Second World War dropped by Splob to make the previous section funnier. When the droid had picked itself up it pushed the start button but the machine had clogged up, like Marlon Brando choking on wads of cotton wool while making The Godfather. (“That’s not funny enough, it’s quite sad really to think of Marlon Brando choking on his wads of cotton wool, and you trying to make a joke of it. You should have said ‘The machine had clogged up like a giveaway sale at a clog factory.”)

  (“That’s a bit surreal and is it really funny?”)

  (“I think it is, ha ha ha!” laughed Arthur.)

  (“I just hope enough people have your sense of humour when they look at this.”)

  (“Ooh nooo, you don’t want to be pandering to his sense of humour, or you’ll never sell any of your books about us.”) It warbled over to the ‘Call for maintenance droid’ button and pushed it then waited near the waste disposal machine.

  Splob snuck the other 3 sacks of fish and chips out to the grate. While the two droids were concerned with the bean tinned state of the waste disposal he programmed another ten portions, bagged them and slipped down into the access tunnel pulling the grate over his head. The other gnome had started on a portion of fish and chips. Splob glared at him and collected two other bags and started off down the tunnel. The other gnome wiped his lips, re-wrapped his food, picked up two sacks and followed Splob.

  At one minute past midnight there was nine loud pops and nine time travellers appeared on re-routing pads then headed toward the cafeteria for a snack between adventures, they saw an electronic sign displaying the words, ‘This cafeteria is unable to serve food at the moment due to unforeseen circumstances’. They looked for another food outlet.

  Here ends part III.

  “You see,” said Arthur, “much funnier. You should have let us do it before.”

  “Did you like that bit where I suggested you had lost your mojo?” commented Sid.

  “Yes, well thank you you two for helping me out. I’ll let you know if I get stuck again,” said I.

  “No probs Author,” waved Sid.

  “Good day to you sir,” nodded Arthur as they both whistled and sang their way back to their half life existence between book and computer program.

  Splob a blob dob.

  “Look, get on with it Author, you sound like a flower pot man,” wittered Arthur.

  “I’m not sure our American fans will get that reference.”

  “They can look it up on YouTube or something.”

  “Let us begin.”

  The Time Backwater IV

  Today was busy at Time Backwater Precinct 19. There were hundreds of people being re-routed and the central plaza looked quite full. The security drones were out in force making sure that there were no casual paradoxes, things like ancestors falling for their descendants or people with diseases carrying them to others who might wipe out whole populations. Anyone causing trouble would immediately be locked in the cells until they popped towards their time destination. Those who were heavily diseased would immediately be re-routed to the clinical facility, but others might be carriers and hard for the filtering scanners to diagnose.

  Sid and Alf the elf popped in.

  “Aww, not again,” groaned Sid, “I seem to be spending half my time at this stupid precinct.”

  “Calm down Sid,” said Alf, “or you might blow a gasket.”

  “You big pansy, trying to get me to connect with my feminine side. Gerraway wi yer.”

  “It is medically sound advice to calm yourself down, if you get stressed for too long it affects you physically, you could quite metaphorically blow a gasket.”

  “The 1,000 yard stare eh?” ehd Sid who then began to choke.

  A security droid came over, “What seems to be the problem?”

  “I think he’s blown a gasket,” said Alf jokingly.

  “He must be taken for medical help immediately," said the droid.

  “I was joking,” pleaded Alf as the droid took Sid away still choking. “These droids must be programmed without a set of humour sub routines,” thought Alf, “well, never mind, while he’s in the clinic I can do a bit of shopping, he hates shopping.”

  Alf looked at the composite bows and the other bow accessories at the archery store. He posed in a Robin Hood hat, "I don’t think it goes with my ears, what do you think?”he asked the shop droid.

  “I am sorry Madam, but I am not programmed to give my opinion.”

  “Cheeky,” replied Alf, “you’re nearly as bad as Sid. I am a Sir.”

  “Sorry Sir.”

  Alf paid for the bow, hat and exploding arrows, “Oh, before I go, have you got a mask like the Green arrow?”

  “No Sir, we have run out. We do have a mask like Hawkeye?”

  “I don’t think that will go with the hat, oh never mind.” He took out his debit card and paid in credits. He then walked across to the pneuma lift, entered it and spoke the command

  “Clinic please.” The piped music was Frank Sinatra and New York New York. Alf began to tap his foot, then sang, ‘New York, New York’ at the top of his voice as the lift got to the clinic and the door opened onto two people from the 19th century who were stunned by the loudness of his singing.

  “Uh, sorry,” said an embarrassed looking Alf as he made his way to the
reception droid of the clinic. “Can I see Sid the Dwarf please?”

  “I must warn you Madam…”

  “SIR!”

  “I must warn you Madam Sir…”

  “No, I am a man, not a woman.”

  “I must warn you Sir that Sid the Dwarf has been restrained for the safety of the public. He bit a security droid’s finger and is lucky he is not in the cells. He is in booth 19.”

  Alf walked down to booth 19 and drew back the curtain. Sid was there with a restraining jacket and electronic gag.

  “Mnmnnmnnmnm,” mnmned Sid.

  “I can’t understand you Sid.”

  “Mnmnmmnmnm,” Sid said more slowly.

  “No, can you mime it?”

  Sid struggled in his jacket and mnmned again..

  “Ok, one mnmn for yes and two mnmns for no.”

  Sid’s little dwarven eyes just looked back in shock and awe at his elven friend.

  “Has this got anything to do with that gagging order?”

  “Mnmn mnmn.”

  “I bet you’re gagging for a drink.”

  “Mnmn.”

  “Doo doo be doo doo,”

  “Mnmn mnmn.”

  “Doo doo be doo.”

  “Mnmnmnmnmnmnmnmnmnnmnmmnmmnm!”

  “Okay, so you don’t like the Muppets, calm down, this is what got you into trouble in the first place.”

  Sid just sighed.

  The Dr. Droid hovered past.

  “Excuse me,” cried Alf, “is my friend allowed to be de-gagged?”

  The Dr. Droid looked at Sid. “Will he try to bite my fingers?” asked the Doctor. “Can you vouch for him?”

  “Yes I will,” said Alf enthusiastically.

  The Dr. Droid began to take the gag off. Sid snapped at his fingers with his teeth. The Doctor started to put the gag on again. “I am joking!” exclaimed Sid.

  The doctor relented.

  “It is a good job you have a sense of humour, not like those stupid security robots,” noted Sid.

  “It is part of my bedside manner, and if you hadn’t of bitten his finger you would have been released by now. I can find nothing physically wrong with you. Your gaskets appear to be fine,” said the Doctor.

  “My teeth ache a bit,” said Sid, “I bet I’m going to have problems with my bicuspid.”

  “Didn’t you mother tell you not to bite metal things? Chips the enamel,” commented Alf.

  “Hrumph,” hrumphed Sid, “let’s get out of here. Can you get me out of this jacket doctor?”

  The Doctor started to unzip and untie the bonds. When he got to the last one Sid and Alf popped off. “I wish that would have happened earlier,” said the droid, “it would have saved me a job!” It picked up the gag and the restraining jacket and took it to the cleaning area.

  The Time Backwater V

  The Fleeby Deeber skittered and skipped over staggered steps and sticky subways. Splob had nearly been caught by a security droid but managed to get away, so far, on a Fleeby Deeber. But, oh no, he slipped on a puddle of oil and was immediately surrounded by four security droids. “This way please Splob, we have wanted to catch you for the past 300 years.”

  “What will my wife say when I don’t come home? She will be devastated. She was expecting me to bring her lasagna tonight!”

  One droid picked up the sticky and oily Fleeby Deeber, two carried Splob between them and the other resumed its duties. As they neared the security office Sid and Lee the children’s entertainer came round the bend at full speed on Fleeby Deebers. “Weeeeeee,” weeeed Sid as he crashed into the two droids and sent them and Splob sprawling.

  Splob shook his head, got up, then headed for a holographic suite. “The Titanic,” he ordered and the room started to take the form of the infamous ship of 1913, earth time. He twiddled the buttons on a small box he was carrying and entered the room.

  One droid picked itself up off the floor and went over to Sid and Lee, “You will have to accompany me to the cells.”

  “What for?” shouted Sid.

  “Misuse of Fleeby Deebers.”

  “You’ll have to catch us first,” said Sid as he too sped into the holographic suite running the Titanic hologram story.

  As Lee paused a little too long he was caught by a droid, “Fair cop,” he said, “Fleeby Deeber misuse is unacceptable in this day and age. Whenever this day and age is.”

  The other droid went over to the hologram room, “101 override SD215.”

  The room console beeped, “Sorry, the override facility has been overridden.”

  The droid tried again with the same response then made a call. “This is SD215 to the main processor, I cannot override the Titanic program running in Holographic Suite 79, this will make it very difficult to find Splob as he can hide among the denizens of the Titanic program.”

  “I will send a maintenance droid straight away, guard the door.”

  The droid drew its arms in, retracted its head and rested on its haunches in front of the door.

  A casino crowded with people dressed in costumes from the early 20th century greeted Sid’s eyes. He nearly bumped into a woman holding a champagne glass, “What a funny little man Woger,” she commented to her long thin husband.

  “I’ll make ye laugh in a minute,” he retorted, “I’ll make ye eat that feather boa! That’ll tickle your insides.”

  “Really Woger, what class of people have they allowed on to this maiden voyage?”

  “Ha,” exulted Sid, “you wait ‘til the unsinkable ship sinks. You wish that you’d been with Molly Brown.”

  “Eh?”

  “The Unsinkable Molly Brown? Ah, never mind you electronic phantasmagorical construct.”

  “Woger, can you hit him?”

  Woger tried to hit Sid but was unable to.

  “Ha,” cried Sid again, “the hologrammatic safeties are on!”

  Woger tried to push Sid, succeeding this time.

  “Oof,” went Sid as he landed at the woman’s feet, “I bet that gnome is messing around with the electronic guts of this suite.” Before the man could lay another hand on him, Sid had crawled under the table and started to make his way to the end of the room injuring toes and knocking over drinks. When he got to the end of the table he popped his head out and looked around. Sure enough he saw Splob at an open panel pulling out wires. Sid got up and wandered over to him. “So what’re ye doin’ there ma little friend?”

  “I am trying to make a space big enough for me to crawl through. I can get out through the cable ducts.”

  “What about me? If you do that they’ll put me in the cells.”

  “I’m sorry mate but I don’t think you would fit through the cable ducts, you are a bit too big. Had too many pies I should wonder!”

  “Little in size and big on cheek!” Sid watched Splob a little more.

  “Can you help me pull these four wires out?” Splob asked.

  “I can get into trouble for that, next time I turn up they can put me straight in the cells, no questions.”

  “Go on.”

  “Oh alright then, but you must tell me how many of you are on this precinct and where you live?” said Sid as he began to pull one of the cables out.

  Splob twiddled with the buttons on his box, tapped it and listened to it for a bit, “We live down in the service tunnels and all the areas the security droids can’t get to. There’s 1,000 of us now.”

  “So all of them came from you and your wife?”

  “No, my sons and daughters married other gnomes who were left here for a time or were frequent poppers.”

  “Sounds like some kind of weird rave party, or that crisp snack in a pack.”

  “I don’t get your cultural references, we don’t have TV or radio here, just the different media friends and frequent poppers leave us.”

  “And the piped music in the pneuma lifts?”

  “We can’t use those, the droids can lock them down and trap us.”

  “Well having listened to the
selection of music the past couple of times maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.” Sid pulled out the other three cables.

  “Righto, I can fit now. If you come back some other time I’ll let you meet the family.”

  “Ok Splob that’s a deal, now get going before that droid gets here.”

  “Byeeeeeee,” said Splob as he wriggled into the space made by the removed cables.

  Sid walked over to the table and picked up a chicken leg, just as he was about to munch it, it and the whole Titanic Holographic story disappeared. “Aww nuts,” stamped Sid, “I bet I don’t get me tea now.”

  Then the main door opened and the security droid walked in with a maintenance droid, “Splob, you are under arrest.”

  “He’s no here, cannae ye tell?”

  The droid looked around and saw the open panel and wires sticking out, “You have messed with precinct property, you are now under arrest.” The security droid grabbed Sid.

  “Quick Author, make me pop now!”

  But Sid did not pop and had to spend the night in the cells.

  “Why’d you make me go through that?” asked Sid in the morning.

  “You had to go through it sometime, either now or in the future, so I thought I’d get it over with now.”

  “Thanks. Remind me not to help you out again when you lose your creative mojo!”

  The Time Backwater

  Time War part 1

  The Interdimensional Police force policed paradoxes in the 7 dimensions, the Main Processor and droids in the 24 precincts of non-space. On this occasion the Interdimensional police made a visit to the Main Processor. Lebil and Danish were the two officers who had travelled from the science fiction dimension to meet with the Main Processor. Two security droids escorted them into the presence of the Main Processor.

  “Greetings gentlemen,” said the Main Processor, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “We have a problem, somebody from the precincts is causing minor paradoxes in the 7 dimensions that could lead to a catastrophic time event,” said Danish who was the senior of the two men.

  “How do you know it is somebody from the precincts?”