Dreams Of Yesterday

By Tim Beresford

The actual details of Mason Tyler’s amazing development of tachyonic time-messaging have remained a secret - but one of the unexpected consequences of this breakthrough is about to become public knowledge - in a big way!

This will present mankind with the most important moment in its history; while requiring the most significant decision that human society has ever had to make.

A new and wonderful future is on offer... but will those in control, who benefit most from the status quo, be prepared to sacrifice their power in order to benefit the whole of mankind...?

Will our civilisation rise... or fall...?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tim Beresford
• Release date: May 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9780957696211

Tim Beresford

I didn’t set out to be an author... But when an opportunity presented itself to leave behind the world of commerce and grab a chance to do something creative, I took it. I had always wanted to explore a particular science fiction idea, which I originally had when I was much younger. (I am still surprised that none of the great writers in the field had already tackled it.) It’s the possibility of sending messages back in time using tachyons. (This IS a possibility - recent events at CERN show that many serious scientists take the idea of particles moving backwards in time seriously. It does not contravene general relativity, or quantum mechanics - at least as far as I am aware at time of writing. It is certainly far more plausible than faster-than-light spaceships; artificial gravity, transporters, and inertial dampers). (Inertial dampers - hah! Gimme a brake!) However, by the time I was ready to begin work on my magnum opus, I had also become concerned with some real-world problems. The ones we all face here on Earth - now, and in the near future. After considerable thought and planning, I realised I could combine the serious scientific speculation about time-messaging with my concerns about mankind’s future, by having the story examine the potential effect of time-messaging on our global social and political setup. It seemed that I finally had a framework for my first novel! However, soon after I started writing, I realised that the scope of this story would be too large to fit comfortably into just one novel. The result is, The Yesterday Trilogy. Three full-length novels which, together, tell one possible outcome of what might happen if we managed to send a message just a few hours backwards in time. What would you do with such a capability? What might you tell yourself in such a message? Whether it’s going to rain on you today? Winner of the 2.30? Lottery numbers? But what if everyone got to know about this capability? What then? If you’d like to know what I imagined on the subject, during five years of research and writing, then I think you know what to do! ENJOY! Tim Beresford.

Book preview

Dreams of Yesterday

by Tim Beresford

---------------------------

The Second Volume

of

The Yesterday Trilogy

---------------------------

Published by

TIMBER PUBLISHING

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Tim Beresford 2013

The right of Tim Beresford to be identified as

author of this work has been asserted.

All characters in this publication are fictitious

and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead,

is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition - Licence Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The only constant is change

Heraclitus.

Chapter One

Mason Tyler was becoming increasingly disenchanted with being kept waiting. He had arrived at the main UNESCO building, on the Place de Fontenoy in Paris, in plenty of time for his appointment. A receptionist had shown him to a seat and asked him to wait; but he had spent only a short time sitting there. He was feeling too apprehensive to remain still for long. So he had begun strolling randomly around the lobby, examining some of the detail of his surroundings.

He supposed that the décor of reception area had been considered the apex of modern design when it was first created. It was not to his taste. The large rectangular space had been divided into unequally shaped areas by oddly angled lumps of stone and irregular sheets of steel and glass. The circular reception desk at the centre seemed to be the only feature with any geometrical normality. In addition to seating units scattered randomly about the various spaces, there were objets d’art in display cabinets; sculptures on plinths and documents set in cases. Thin sheets of glossy marble, or matt grey stone, had been screwed to walls or hung on wires from the ceiling. These had been etched with directions and explanations, in white text, which were augmented by coloured icons and arrows.

The place made Mason feel as if he was standing in the aftermath of a head-on collision between an art gallery and an exclusive gift shop.

He had flown from London that morning to meet with a representative of the United Nations department of science, and had arrived early. However, the actual time of the appointment had now come and gone, and still he awaited an audience. His earlier apprehension was beginning to be replaced with annoyance. He had made it clear, or so he had thought, that he had something of great importance to announce. A scientific breakthrough of global significance. Still they were keeping him waiting. He studied his ghostly reflection in a slightly warped sheet of glass. It showed a tall, balding, middle-aged man of serious demeanour. He turned and strolled slowly back toward the reception desk.

A young woman; an attractive, neatly dressed brunette, was approaching him from the direction of the desk. She smiled at him as she drew close and stopped. Professor Tyler? Her English accent was superb, with just the slightest hint of her French origin.

That’s me, he said, aware, in this centre of multi-lingual activity, that his own Boston accent would be very obvious; unaltered despite his having spent the last few years with his family in Oxfordshire.

Will you come with me, please Professor?

Mason had to quicken his usual pace in order to keep up with the slim young woman, as she led him out of the reception area and along a wide corridor to a bank of elevators. They took a car to the fifth floor, where he followed her again for a few metres along a narrower corridor, until they reached a door where his escort paused and knocked. A strip of glass above the door lit up in green; apparently an entry signal. She opened the door and extended her arm across the threshold, in an obvious invitation for Mason to precede her through the doorway. He obliged, and looked back to see the door close quietly behind him. His escort had not followed him inside. He turned to survey the room. It was a refreshingly normal looking office. It contained a standard modern desk, several leather easy chairs set around a coffee table, and the usual cupboards and cabinets associated with an official obliged to share their space with the paperwork they created.

A fit looking young man, of Scandinavian appearance, with a shock of white-blonde hair, was approaching him from the desk with an outstretched hand. Professor Tyler. Welcome. I am Sven Carlson, assistant secretary of the science administration department.

Mason took the offered hand and suffered the vigorous handshake with only the slightest wince. How do you do, Mr. Carlson?

Shall we sit at ease, Professor? The young diplomat indicated a chair by the coffee table.

That will be fine, thank you. Mason sat in one of the indicated leather chairs, which he found surprisingly comfortable despite its unyielding solidity.

A door close to where they were sitting opened, and Mason’s former escort appeared with a tray of coffee and plates of tiny cakes. She set this down, poured black coffees for two, and left as silently as she had entered.

Please help yourself to cream and sugar, Professor. Mason’s host was already blowing on the black liquid in his demitasse to cool it. Your message mentioned an important scientific breakthrough, but gave no details. I should inform you that I am not a specialist in any particular field, though I did major in physics at school, before studying the history of science for my college degree. I hope that I will be able to arrange for your discovery to be dealt with by the appropriate department, though I would like to say at the outset that it is unusual for you to have chosen UNESCO as a conduit for the announcement of a scientific discovery. I assume you have your reasons for this, Professor?

Mason studied the eager young man, and suddenly had doubts about how to begin his revelation. He had rehearsed this moment in his mind for weeks, but now he found himself uncertain about the appropriateness of his prepared announcement. The young man’s observation about UNESCO being an unusual avenue was correct. Mason decided to tackle that objection first. He opened the long zip which ran around three sides of his soft leather attaché case, and withdrew a small sheaf of papers. He scanned the top page, and then looked back at the young diplomat.

I decided to come to UNESCO with what I have to say, Mr. Carlson, after discovering on the web this document, generated by your organisation. This… er… He looked down again at the papers in his hand and read the title. "Declaration of Principles Concerning Activities Following the Detection of Extraterrestrial Intelligence."

The diplomat looked steadily at his guest while he put his coffee cup slowly down onto its saucer. Extraterrestrial intelligence. I see. Are you associated with SETI in some way Professor?

No, I am not.

I see. There was a rather long pause. No, I don’t see. The young Swede look concerned. Could you explain further, please, Professor?

I am not associated in any way with the group of organisations involved with the Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence, known as SETI; nor with any other body responsible for or mentioned in this declaration. He waved the papers briefly in front of him. Nevertheless, I wanted to try to follow whatever official channels might be established to make my announcement. I realise that I am not obliged to do so, but I wanted to do so. I am here to tell you officially, Mr. Carlson, that I have made contact with an extraterrestrial intelligence.

The young Swede stared at Mason. He seemed unable to respond.

As I say, Mason continued, I am aware that I am not officially or legally obliged to make any formal public announcement via your organisation. However, after researching the subject of such an announcement for some time, I found that this declaration of principles of yours is the only credible piece of work on the subject of interstellar communications, and what to do in the event of making first contact. I realise it doesn’t have the sanction of law, but it seemed to me the best starting point. I would appreciate your assistance therefore, in assuring that the announcement of first contact with an alien race, which I am making to you now, reaches all of the official bodies who have an interest in the subject, as well as the general public at large.

The young man seemed to have finally recovered his voice. You have received a message from an alien race? He was clearly having difficulty suppressing his incredulity.

Actually, I have had a number of conversations with several members of an alien race, said Mason. Now he was back on prepared territory, the scientist began to relax into the moment; though he now began to wonder how much proof it would take to convince this young man of the truth of his statements.

The diplomat rose from his seat and paced the office carpet for a few moments. Then he stopped and looked at Mason, before turning and walking to his desk; moving behind it and working a computer keyboard. He stared at the screen on his desk for a short time, and then looked up at Mason.

Professor, I hope you won’t take this the wrong way. I have in front of me here the results of a background check my department made on you after you called us to arrange this meeting. The young man paused again. He was entering territory which exposed his apparent inexperience in the diplomatic aspect of his role. I… well… it seems to indicate that there was some trouble a few years ago regarding an announcement of, er… the detection of tachyons. Faster than light particles. The announcement was subsequently called into question, following further experimentation by other parties.

Mason had fully expected this. You have no doubt found some of the reports on the incident, generated at the time by my former colleagues, and by some official bodies. You have also, no doubt, found no reference to my explanation of these events. This was effectively suppressed by the scientific establishment at the time. The announcement of the detection of tachyons was actually made by one of my postgraduate assistants, not by me. He was premature in this, and it was indeed the case that we were unable to repeat the experiment when pressed to do so a short time after the initial incident. It is also true that others tried and failed to repeat the results. However, I have continued to work on this phenomenon, and I can now confirm, and am ready to demonstrate, the existence of tachyons. It is the manipulation of these particles which enables interstellar communications.

The young man nodded slowly. So; proof of your discovery of these particles can be established by examination of your experimental apparatus. However, that would deal only with the technology involved. How might we verify the actual message you have received?

I have received many messages, Mr. Carlson. I have the content of some of them with me, in the form of a printed text file, similar to an email. However, such things could be easily faked. I don’t consider them as indisputable proof; nor would I expect anyone else to do so. I also have graphic images, but these could also be easily faked. The best form of proof I will be able to offer is for one or more representatives of UNESCO, along with whatever other scientific and official bodies you appoint to the task, to visit my workshop and talk with the aliens yourselves.

The young man came back to the table and sat down. I am finding this difficult to take in, Professor. He appeared shaken, and, lifting his coffee cup to his lips, drained it in one gulp. You say, come and talk to them? He shook his head. I need a few moments to review our Declaration of Principles, I think.

Mason pushed his copy of the UN document across the coffee table. The young man picked it up and read rapidly down the first few pages, noting especially the phrases and sentences which had been highlighted in a pale green colour. Yes; it’s what I thought. This document suggests that any initial communication from an extraterrestrial intelligence would be expected to take the form of a coded message, which would then need to be interpreted. He read on for a few moments. Yes… and subsequently, the validity of the message would need to be confirmed by a number of experts… and following that a committee would need to be established to consider the nature, and indeed the advisability, of a response. The young man paused again. This all assumes a single received message. But you mentioned a conversation, did you not?

I did.

"I don’t understand that. We are dealing with great distances here, Professor. Interstellar distances. How can you possibly have had a conversation with beings over such huge distances in a relatively short time?"

Because, young man, my messages are not constrained by the speed of light. Tachyons, remember? We are communicating using faster than light particles. These particles move, effectively, backwards in time. This allows the transmission of messages over a long distance, with no perceptible time delay at all. By appropriate tuning of the transceivers, the time of transit from origin to target, in normal spacetime, can be precisely balanced by the movement back in time of the tachyon stream. The net effect is an apparently instantaneous transfer from point to point. I have developed an apparatus which is capable of transmitting and receiving textual and graphical messages, practically instantaneously, to and from any part of this galaxy. It is possible to hold a conversation with other civilisations, in real-time, just as if both parties were using terrestrial email.

The young diplomat was staring at the scientist with his mouth half open, once more apparently unable to respond.

I appreciate that this comes as a shock, Mr. Carlson. It did to me, also, when I received the first message from the appointed civilisation.

Appointed? The one word seemed to be all the Swede could manage.

There is a Galactic Community of civilisations. They have been aware of our existence for many years. They’ve been monitoring our electronic communications. Many years ago, in anticipation of our eventual discovery of interstellar communication, they appointed this one particular member civilisation to be our liaison. Our guides to introduce us to their community of intelligent species.

The young diplomat was slowly shaking his head. This is a lot to believe; er… take in, Professor. He sat back in his chair.

Take your time.

The young man took several deep breaths. He seemed to be marshalling his thoughts. You say they were aware of us from our electronic communications? If that is the case; if they can receive radio, they must be able to send radio. Why did they not contact us before now, by this means?

I have already learned from them that any civilisation which discovers radio, goes on to discover tachyon based, or ‘Trans-Lux’ communication, as they call it, within a relatively short time period. They have a standard procedure for first contact, and it requires that we have developed certain technologies, including Trans-Lux communications. They have not yet explained to me why this is.

The young Swede nodded slowly. So how have they picked up our radio signals from so far away?

They have a local communications monitoring station sitting at the L5 Lagrange point, which has been monitoring our communications. It established a hookup to our communications satellites a long time ago, and they’ve been extracting data from the web ever since.

The Swede leaned forward, and his mouth once more opened soundlessly. He took some moments to compose himself. Are you saying that they’ve been surfing the web? His eyebrows lowered slowly into a frown. Is this some sort of elaborate joke, Professor Tyler?

Mason found the observation unexpectedly amusing, but realised it would be a mistake to show it. He adopted an earnest expression. Absolutely not, Mr. Carlson. I can assure you that all of this is perfectly true. I appreciate, as I said to you before, that this is a great deal for you to take in. Not least because all of the previous thinking on this subject by your organisation, and indeed by everyone else, seems to have been limited to the single idea that radio, or use of some other part of the electromagnetic spectrum at lightspeed, was the ultimate form of communication in the universe. It is a sad fact that even our better thinkers seem to continually fall into the same old trap of believing that our current tools and our present level of knowledge at any given time are the best they will ever be; ignoring the fact of the advancements in all scientific fields going on around them continually. Mason’s tone was even, but his words held a hint of reproach.

I’m sorry, Professor, if I am having difficulty with this situation. I don’t want to make issue with you over this. The science involved can be separately verified by experts. I am trying to understand the enormity of your having had a conversation with another civilisation. Many civilisations. You say there is a community? Have they said how many?

Seven hundred and sixteen separate civilisations. If we choose to join them, we will be number seven hundred and seventeen. You will see, when you read the printed texts of our conversations, that they are already referring to us here on Earth as member number seven seventeen.

They are asking us to join this community?

They have extended such an invitation, yes. But this is dependent upon their now making contact with, and carrying out negotiations with, an official diplomatic channel, able to represent the whole planet.

Once more the expression of the young Swede displayed concern. He rose and returned to the chair behind his desk. Excuse me a moment, Professor. He started to work his computer keyboard. Please help yourself to more coffee; I need to seek some further guidance from our knowledgebase. He worked for several minutes at his computer terminal, reading screens full of information, and occasionally making small tutting noises to himself. Finally, he shook his head and returned to his seat by the coffee table. I have searched all of our published materials, and our internal protocols. I cannot find any further guidance related to this situation. We seem to have had no discussions on the possibility of actual conversations with an extraterrestrial intelligence. You appear to be right, Professor; our thinking on the subject seems not to have progressed that far. As to our acting as the diplomatic channel for such an event, I can find no formal agreement to our assuming that role.

I am delighted to say, Mr. Carlson, that that is now your problem. I have done all I can. I have made the initial contact with the aliens; I have discussed the science of our communications with them. But I cannot negotiate with them on behalf of mankind. And they have made it clear that they have an established approach to such discussions. They require contact with those who can speak for Earth. For the whole of Earth. You are the best we’ve got.

The young man nodded gravely. I appreciate the importance of this matter, Professor, but I need some time to consider the best way to proceed. I will consult with my colleagues here, and also seek advice from the Secretary General’s Department.

Yes, I expected as much.

It seems to me that there are two important avenues to pursue here. There is firstly the technology; this equipment you referred to as, er…

The Tyler Effect Device. We call it TED for short.

We?

Well, er… my colleague and I. I have been working with the assistance of a former pupil of mine; a Miss Jane Munroe, who was for some time a software expert at NASA, and who has aided me with the computer control of the TED device. She has also created the announcement web site.

You have a web site? Again the young man stared, open-mouthed.

I thought it best to be prepared. It’s not actually live yet, of course. The initial pages are prepared, but have not been uploaded. We wanted to be ready, though. Somehow I’d imagined the Secretary General might think this important enough to want to share it with the world fairly quickly. But I also anticipated the need for verification prior to such an announcement. Mason gathered his case and papers, and stood up. Thank you for your time today, Mr. Carlson. I’m sorry to have landed you with such an unexpected extra workload. One last point. May I recommend a degree of urgency in your communication of this matter to the necessary departments? Our appointed guide species, who we are calling the ‘Aethers’, have formally requested a top-level diplomatic contact. It might be construed as unfriendly to keep them waiting too long.

The young man rose rapidly from his seat, as if suddenly galvanised into action. Yes. Yes, you could be right. I promise you Professor that I shall give this matter the highest priority. I shall consult with colleagues here right away, and we will contact the Secretary General’s department in New York as soon as possible. Are you staying in Paris?

No, I shall fly back to England this evening. You can contact me here. Mason handed the young diplomat a sheet of paper with his contact details. The TED communication device is at my workshop in Oxfordshire. Your experts will need to visit me there to validate my discovery. You might be interested in these also. Mason handed him a sheaf of papers containing printouts of some of the messages he had received and sent. The content of these early messages is very interesting. It helps to explain the Fermi paradox, and gives a good insight, I believe, into the thinking of the Aethers, and their community colleagues. You should find the pictures interesting, too. The materials are, of course, confidential and copyright to me; at least for now. I shall of course release them to the world, once the world has been made ready by the official announcement from the United Nations. I hope I shall be hearing from you soon, Mr. Carlson.

Indeed you will. The young man took the offered papers in his left hand, shaking hands with his right, and then moving across the room to his desk, where he worked his computer keyboard again. Seconds later, his trim young lady assistant entered the office through the side door.

Please take the Professor back to the lobby, and ensure that he has whatever assistance he may need in procuring a taxi. Goodbye, Professor Tyler. I will contact you soon.

Once more, without a word, the young lady motioned Mason to follow her. They moved, in mini-convoy, back along the corridor, down in the elevator to the ground floor and across the lobby to the main doors.

There are taxis available just outside, Professor. I hope you have had a pleasant visit. Good day. The escort turned and moved quickly back across the lobby, disappearing into the mill of bodies.

---

It was with huge relief that Mason slid his latch key into the lock on the front door of his cottage, and let himself in. I’m back.

I’m in the kitchen.

Mason hung his coat on the hall stand and made his way down the short corridor to the large, warm kitchen. The room was brightly lit, and there was the lingering odour of a roast meal in the air.

His wife greeted him with a kiss just inside the door. I saved you some dinner, in case you were hungry when you got home.

And I am. The airline food was up to the usual standard. Awful. I couldn’t face it.

Mason washed his hands at the smaller of the two sinks and began to tackle his meal as soon as he sat down. Sylvia took a seat opposite him. She rested her elbows on the table, and her chin in her cupped hands, and stared at her husband. He looked back at her, busily concentrating on the excellent roast beef. His wife favoured him with a patient smile and raised eyebrows.

He finished his mouthful of food and stared at her. What is it?

She chuckled. "You’re amazing. Did you have