[Seed/Character] Cathal and the time machine.

[Catsmate]

A little idea from my notes.
This one has contains references to mental illness and contemplation of suicide.
I hope to continue this with more details and a stat block from Cathal.


Cathal and the time machine.

When Cathal stumbled over the time machine he had been planning to kill himself.
It was, he felt, an entirely rational decision. His circumstances were bleak and there seemed to be no way out of them and extinction seemed actually attractive, even to an atheist like him; no resurrection, reincarnation or afterlife. Just oblivion.

He was walking along the top of the narrow guard wall when he stumbled on the Victorian stonework and attempted to regain his balance by extending his arms and leg. That’s when his foot struck…..something.
Something that didn’t seem to be there.
He stopped momentarily, his foot had purchase on something, where nothing more substantial that air seemed to be. Very cautiously he moved his foot along the invisible surface and regained his balance. He considered for a moment; had his somewhat precarious mental stability finally snapped?

He carefully released his backpack and removed the umbrella from the side pocket. Extending the small shaft he probed the seemingly empty air in front of him. And encountered more of the nothing.
There really seemed to be a tangible object there, one that was entirely invisible.
For a moment he wished for the resources that’d been available in the old days, when he could hold down a job and deal with people. He really needed better equipment to investigate this oddity.

Pushing the thoughts into the spot in his mind as the therapist had taught him, he considered the problem. So far no-one had seen his antics, but that might change. And here in front of him was an actual mystery, a problem to be solved. And he was good at solving problems.
Some of them anyway.

He squatted down and pondered the mystery that was, presumably, in front of him. Some cautious probing revealed that the thing was curved, perhaps a sphere but he couldn’t reach down very far from this position, and aboyt four metres across. The surface seemed, well, neutral came to mind. Neither hot nor cold, not soft, firm but not hard. It didn’t make any noise when tapped.
He thought of Kipling’s “Six Honest Serving Men” and formulated his questions; What the hell was this thing? Who put it there? How was it invisible? Why was it there? Who created it? When would the owner be back?
Unfortunately he had no answers.
Yet.

The wall was too high for him to reach over, and the object was about a half-metre beyond it, put if he lay down he could investigate the underside of the thing. Beyond that he’d need a long ladder to reach it from below, the bed of the stream was a good ten metres below the road level.
A little probing revealed the thing wasn’t a sphere but rather had a flat section below a hemisphere. Under that he couldn’t reach.

Was it a solid? Or a hollow container of some sort? Perhaps an irregularity in space? His brain was starting to churn, he could feel it.
Should he leave the thing and perhaps contact one of his remaining friends to assist? How could he entice them to help?

He sighed. There was no way he’d be able to sleep after this, no matter what pills he took.
That assumed he hadn’t had a stroke and was lying in an ICU bed, or dying on the road.
Well, he thought, it’s hardly likely to just open up if he shouted at it. Snorting wryly he commanded the thing "Open the pod bay door HAL".

And the thing opened, a section of the invisible surface pivoting downwards

[grinch]

Fascinating. Cathal sounds like a most interesting and complex character.

[Catsmate]

Jun 13, 2022 10:58:37 GMT grinch said:

Fascinating. Cathal sounds like a most interesting and complex character.

Thanks. He was a result of some thought and discussion on the idea of who'd actually be reckless enough to disconnect from their life and start experimenting with a time machine that is definitely the product of a far more advanced technology.

He has some issues, quite serious ones, including a near death wish, feeling he has nothing to lose. Hence he's willing to take the sort of risks sensible people would hesitate over.

[Catsmate]

Part II.

Cathal was shocked, but also strangely excited. He examined the interior of the object, no it was clearly a craft of some sort, or as much as could be seen. The inside was dimly lighted but a chair, rather like an operator’s seat in a sci-fi production, was visible along with some other objects could be seen from his angle of vision. He considered his options.

Entering the craft was clearly a stupid idea. He had no idea what might happen. Well actually he did, having consumed a vast amount of science fiction in his life. He thought to himself, " come into my parlour said the flyder to the spy”. But he knew he was going to try anyway. However a degree of caution was indicated. First the umbrella.
The collapsed the metal and plastic device and gently tossed it inside.
It flew straight, with no sign of a force field preventing entry. No was there any apparent defensive system, no lasers cut it into shreds, no crackling sparks of an alectrical discharge. So far so good.

Next the backpack. He was a rather unfit forty-something who’d never been particularly athletic, or agile. He removed it and tossed it after the umbrella. Again, no sign of adverse effects.
His sense of self-preservation was still trying to attract his attention, warning him that inanimate objects might be treated differently to a living body. An animal experiment would be a good idea. However he had no patience with this; trapping a bird might work, but he doubted it. The neighbour’s cat liked him and could have been easily caught, but he liked Smoke and shied away from hurting the animal.

Straight to human experiments, he thought, a noble scientific tradition. Rosalyn Yalow¹ would probably approve.
But was he a Barcroft², a Hansen³, or a Lazear⁴? He laughed and launched himself across the gap.









1. Nobel Laureate who said "In our laboratory we always used ourselves because we are the only ones who can give truly informed consent". Died 2011, aged 90.

2. Joseph Barcroft. A chemist at Porton Down who experimented on himself with hydrogen cyanide. Lived. Continued to experiment on himself.

3. Klaus Hansen. Intentionally drank heavy water to determine its effects on living beings. Lived.

4. Jesse William Lazear. Deliberately infected himself with malaria to study the course and symptoms of the disease. Died.

[grinch]

I could actually see someone such as Cathal making a deal with the Trickster. Although rather than to preserve his own life it would be to achieve the exact opposite and ensure that he was erased from existence. The ensuing paradox of having made a deal with a man who no longer existed would be enough for the Trickster to feed off and cause chaos.

[Catsmate]

Jun 14, 2022 4:04:11 GMT grinch said:

I could actually see someone such as Cathal making a deal with the Trickster. Although rather than to preserve his own life it would be to achieve the exact opposite and ensure that he was erased from existence. The ensuing paradox of having made a deal with a man who no longer existed would be enough for the Trickster to feed off and cause chaos.

He might. He's somewhat genre savvy and rather cautious but also feels he has little to lose. At least to start with.

[Catsmate]

Part III.

Cathal landed inside the craft in a rather ungainly sprawl but he was uninjured and didn’t let himself be embarrassed by his lack of athleticism.
He was more concerned that he’s also landed face-to-face with a desiccated corpse.

He got to his feet, rather freaked by the body, and gathered his backpack and umbrella and looked around.
The interior of the craft matched his estimate of it’s exterior, it seemed like a roughly four metre hemisphere with a flat base underneath.
There was a control chair, resembling that of an aircraft, though with no visible displays and few obvious controls. It sat in front of a desk in the shape of a flat horseshoe. The walls (or rather wall as it seemed one piece) had a number of objects resembling storage lockers, with visible seams.

Inhaling deeply he knelt by the body.
It was human, as far as a quick exam could tell, male with blonde hair clipped back in a ponytail, lightish brown skin, and (he winced as he opened the eyes) almost violet eyes. It, or rather he, was dressed in a light grey three-piece suit that seemed to someone as uncaring of fashion’s niceties as Cathal, to be old fashioned.

Sitting cross-legged he pondered for a moment.
The floor was some sort of high friction material, his shoes had no problems with grip, a plastic of some sort perhaps. The wall was also some sort of non-metallic material, at least to a few quick tests; it was a thermal insulator, and not noticably sonorous.
He spoke out loud to gather his thoughts; “What is this thing, who built it, why, who is he, and how did he end up dead?”.

While he started when the voice spoke, he noted that subconsciously he wasn’t surprised. Hmmm.
The voice was audible without being loud, almost gender neutral in tone and spoke excellent English.
“This is the TX-4 time capsule. It was constructed in Atlantia in, as your culture measures time, the year 5329 as part of the redevelopment of time displacement technology. It was constructed as an experiment”.
“It was operated by Danice Finlet who is now deceased. He was fatally wounded by a neural disrupter in Scouseland in 4967 and died after activating the return journey to this place”.

Cathal was now beyond being amazed or freaked out. He briefly reconsidered the ‘dying from a stroke’ option but dismissed it. He asked the obvious question; “Who are you?”.
The voice responded “I am designated TAIF, Temporal Artificial Intelligence Framework”.
Taif, rather cute given the whole ‘voice from nowhere’ thing¹; “You are a computer then? What is your function and your capabilities?”
“I am an artificial intelligence. I operate the systems of this craft, maintain it’s proper functioning and provide information and assistance for the operator”.
Hmm. “Yet your operator is dead. How did this occur. Do you not have on-board medical facilities?”
“This craft has systems capable of healing almost any injury. However Danice Finlet did not trigger these functions. He merely ordered me to return before being incapacitated”.
Cathal winced. Oh dear, it seemed that Taif was one of those AIs, lacking in initiative.









1. The Islamic name 'Taif' approximately means vision or spectre.

[Catsmate]

Part IV.

Cathal sat on the floor, ignoring for the moment the corpse with which he shared the small space and let his brain churn.

Taif had referred to the “redevelopment”of time travel, which suggested it had been lost for some reason but was known. It had also demonstrated a startling lack of initiative for the management system of an experimental craft, especially one with only one crew-member; any sensible engineer would have given it more freedom of action. Presumably the constraint was deliberate, some lack of trust of AI perhaps? Or maybe a truly capable AI was simply impossible?

He shook his head to clear it. Doyle was right, it was indeed a mistake to theorise without data. Time for some questions.
“Taif why are you talking to me, and why did you open the hatch?”. And while we’re at it perhaps it’s time to close it, just in case anyone passing by notices the doorway into an apparently invisible room hanging in space.

“This craft’s operator is deceased, it defaults to accepting inputs from the next user”.
Cathal winced, that was a mind boggling lack of proper attention to security. Hmm, does that ean what it seems?
“Taif, does that mean I have full control over your actions and those of this craft. And does it have a name other than ‘TX-04’. And what happened to the other such craft”.
“You can assert full control by command, unless over-ridden by TX Central Command , This craft has no other name. There were a total of six TX capsules built or planned”.
Interesting. Better be careful, I don’t want to end up emperor of the known galaxy, Cathal thought. And spoke “Where is Central Command, is it possible to communicate with them? Will anyone come to rescue Danice?”
“The best available information indicates TX Central Command does not exist and now never has. This craft had no capability to communicate through time except by message capsule. There has been no contact with any TX capsule since departure”.
Central Command doesn’t exist? That’s both reassuring and worrying. And English verb tenses aren't great for dealing with time travel and mutable history.

“Taif, how much subjective time has elapsed since departure. And what happened to Central Command?”
“This craft departed Atlantia Base one hundred and nineteen days and eleven decimal three six hours ago. After three jumps through time it returned after eighteen subjective hours but TX Central Command and Atlantia Base were not present. There is no reliable data on what happened, only speculations”.
Hmmm. So, no-one is likely to be looking for the capsule, Cathal shook his head again, he was picking up jargon from Taif. I wonder what happened, a change in history perhaps?
“Taif, did your operator form an opinion on what happened to the TX project?”
“He surmised that either he, or one of the other TX capsules, caused a change in time that erased the TX project from history. He attempted to determine hat had happened but was unable to do so prior to his death”.
Cathal nodded to himself, perhaps Niven was right and only a universe without time travel was stable. But this craft sstill existed.

“Taif, despite ther erasure of the history of the TX project this capsule and it’s former operator still exist, how can this be?” “And”, he added, “how easy is it ti alter history?”
“Based on information from earlier time travel projects and the theoretical work of Sokolnikaff and her colleagues this craft and it’s contents were not effected by the erasure of the TX project due to not being present when the TX project ceased to have been. Knowledge of the ease with which history may be altered is limited, but it is believed to be relatively difficult to alter events except at crucial hinge points”.

Cathal nodded again, that seemed to make sense, as much as anything involving time travel could make sense to a human mind. Perhaps one of the TX explorers had blundered over a Jonbar Hinge and altered events. Of course there was also the possibility that someone has deliberately erased the TX project.
And it seemed that history was plastic, but with significant inertial resistance to change. That was interesting too.
So there was protection if he did alter history.

But first there were some housekeeping details to manage.
“Taif, I assume command of this craft. In future you will accept only my inputs. Second, close the hatch. Thirdly, do you have refreshment facilities? And finally do you have visual display and keyboard input facilities of the type used in this period”.
“Compliance. You are now the sole authorised operator of this capsule. In what name should I register your command? The hatch is closed. This craft has the ability to synthesise almost any form of consumable by molecular fabrication. This craft can generate a display and input facility of the type specified”.
Excellent. Cathal noticed the hatchway didn’t really close, the material seemed to ‘flow’ over and the gap ceased to be. Fascinating. He stood and sat in the command seat.

“Register my command under the name Cathal Gould. Generate a summary of the situation in your home period, the TX project and it’s aims and display them in current English and using current protocols”.
Cathal relaxed. He had a lot of reading to do. The sudden feeling of relief triggered something else.
“Oh and Taif, do you have lavatory or human waste disposal facilities?”

[Catsmate]

Part V.
Cathal removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He’d spent the last two hours or so reviewing almost four millennia of history, sociology and technological changes and only stopped due to the ache in his head and soreness in his eyes. It was utterly fascinating to see who humanity would (probably) develop. Though by 5329 the planet would be something of a backwater, damaged by human actions, war, invasion and natural forces. The TC project had been one attempt to extend human influence, beyond the limits imposed by the Federation and Confederation, the two large human influenced powers of the galaxy.
Not the first human time travel programme, probably the eleventh. And now gone, erased by a fluctuation in space-time.

But the capsule remained, and now it was his. You could do a lot with a time machine, even a limited one, and stay below the notice of the major players.

Cathal considered his resources; firstly there was the time capsule itself, OK it was tiny (even his miniscule apartment was actually larger) but quite liveable, for short periods, and well equipped. It had a bunk, food machine, sanitary facilities, a medical system and a fabricator that could manufacture items. All highly useful.
It was extremely stealthy and quite well protected by an energy shield. However it small, entirely unarmed and, other than by time-space jump, limited in mobility.
The fabricator was extremely useful, able to make basically anything that would it it’s roughly cubic metre chamber. However it could only arrange atoms, not make them, and needed a feedstock of suitable elements. The capsule had little storage space for such.
Taif was a deliberately limited AI, able to run the craft but almost entirely without initiative of its own.

Then there was the standard kit issued to the late Danice Finlet; a weapon/tool referred to as an vajra, the suit he wore was actually an advanced material capable of altering shape, texture and colour to blend into the environment. Not forgetting providing a degree of protection. A portable medical device, a scanning/analysis device with a datalink to Taif. Finlet had acquired a few other gadgets while searching to restore his home, the most intriguing of which was a portable teleporter that could fit into the palm of a hand.

Cathal made the decision he’d been considering and spoke, “Taif rotate the capsule so that the hatch faces away from the road. Also examine the area for anyone who can see it”.
“Compliance. There is no-one in the area who can observe the hatch”.
“Good. Extend the hatch material to form a platform outside the craft, of approximately one metre square. What mass can such a platform hold?”
“At an area of one point two metres square it could support approximately forty tonnes”.
Jesus that stuff, whatever it was, was strong.
“Taif, I am going to leave the capsule for a little while. I will be bringing the, eh, transmat device and a comlink. I will be using the transmat to return to the platform with some possessions”.
Cathal hesitated, a second opinion is always useful.
“Taif, do you see any problems with the plan I have proposed?”
“The transmat will only operate outside this craft, therefore the location of the platform must be recorded before departure. Do you intend to jump to the ground below?”
“No. Once I have recorded the location of the platform extend it to the top of the fence to the south. I’ll leave that way. Once I have left return the platform to the previous configuration”
“Compliance. Your plan should function”.

Cathal stuck the vajra into a trouser pocket and emptied his backpack onto the desk. He was reasonable sure what he’d bring with his. He didn’t have much stuff, other than some boxes stored with a friend so he’s empty the flat. He took a deep breath of the capsule’s bland, neutral air.
“Taif, open the hatch and create the platform as planned.
“Compliance”.
The side of the craft disappeared and he stepped outside.

[Catsmate]

Part VI.
Cathal walked rapidly home, or rather to the place that he lived at. He hadn’t had a true home for quite a few years. This evening he was impatient to get there, but too full of energy to consider public transport. Which wouldn’t have been any quicker really.

As he unlocked the front door he was momentarily hit by doubts; he didn’t have much of a life, but was abandoning it really such a good idea? Closing the door he paused, cocked his head to one side and considered.
Yes, actually it was a good idea. Maybe not the reasonable or rational choice, but one that suited him.
He exhaled and suddenly noticed his chest was relaxed, the know of tension that’d been there since he’d lost his last regular job was gone.
Interesting.

Walking up the two flights of stairs he again reviewed his plans for departure, they seemed sound. He unlocked his door and entered the small room that he’d lived in for more than two years. Cathal’s eyes scanned the space as he looked for anything that he’d missed when planning. Nothing significant. To work then.
He assembled a pair of cardboard storage boxes and started filling them with clothes, gadgets and the miscellany of his life. To be sure he took everything, if it wasn’t actually of use it’d make feedstock for the fabricator.
Thinking of which a visit to the shed out back might be useful…..

In less than twenty minutes he’d reduced the material of his life to five larboard boxes; there was probably a great philosophical point there somewhere, he thought, but he had other things to consider.

Like teleportation. He took the tiny comlink from his pocket and touched the pad.
“Taif this is Cathal, is everything going as planned”. He felt a little stupid as he spoke, some subconscious doubts perhaps?
The computer’s voice responded “Yes operator, all systems are ready and awaiting your return”.
Cathal didn’t reply but took out the transmat device and braced the two boxes on his chest. An instant before tapping the studs inlaid on the small hexagon he remembered something. Bugger, that’d have been annoying.
Rather than the activate stud he dropped the boxes on the bed and selected one of the unassigned locations and tapped store. That way he could avoid the walk.
Picking up the boxes again Cathal took a deep breath and braced himself. After all, he’d never done this before.

There was nothing perceptible to his senses to separate being in his bedroom and then standing on a platform seemingly hanging in mid-air. The breathed rapidly to control the disorientation, turned to the opening in the side of the time machine and entered his new home.

Four more trips had his room emptied and two heavy duty bags of junk moved to the capsule. Broken electronics, scrap wood and metal, and assorted junk would be converted into more useful items. Cathal knew he’d need a base, somewhere to store stuff at least, but that wasn’t an immediate concern.

Back at the house for a final time he ran the scanner over some of the contents of the fridge and cupboards, he’d add them to Taif’s culinary repertoire. The standard meals were rather odd to his tastes, though they appeared to be nutritionally perfect.
He prowled around, thinking of the people with whom he’d shared the house. One or two he’d miss, the rest were people he’d never really connected with. After storing the location of a spot in the yard, out of sight of the windows, in case he needed to make a discreet return, he sat down on the bed and took out his phone.

A brief text message to the landlady, telling her he was moving on. He’d leave her money on the bed. She’d have no problems finding a replacement lodger. Messages to Sofia and Tomás, likewise. He laid the cash on the bed, stood up and went to the door. One final glance around and he closed and locked the door.
Downstairs the keys went into the hall table and he walked out the front door. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d done this, rather than transmatting from inside, but he was willing to let his subconscious have it’s way.

Outside he realised there was one good-bye left when he saw a dark grey furry mass unfold from the top of the wall. He grinned and laughed to himself as he spoke; “Goodbye Smoke, I’ll miss you”. He scratched the cat’s ears as felt him purr luxuriously as he stretched.
The cat would be well looked after, Tomás loved cats, missed his own and had raised the idea of bringing the sociable feline back to Lisbon with him.
Looking around again Cathal moved to the cover of the bins. There was no need to create a Phillimore-esque mystery. Waving to the cat he triggered the transmat and was gone.

[grinch]

This is proving to be most fascinating. Do you envisage Cathal more as a PC or perhaps a recurring NPC? In any case, I think Cathal is really intriguing with a mentality and lived experience that sets him apart from the other travellers in eternity. Could easily see a curious set of PCs investigating or stumbling through Cathal’s timeline to see just what made him the depressed and borderline nihilistic individual he is today.

[Catsmate]

Jun 17, 2022 20:06:18 GMT grinch said:

This is proving to be most fascinating. Do you envisage Cathal more as a PC or perhaps a recurring NPC? In any case, I think Cathal is really intriguing with a mentality and lived experience that sets him apart from the other travellers in eternity. Could easily see a curious set of PCs investigating or stumbling through Cathal’s timeline to see just what made him the depressed and borderline nihilistic individual he is today.

To be truthful I'm not actually sure where this is going....
We discussed it at tonight's session and I have a few ideas (I'm also cross-posting it at alternatehistory.com).

Some time ago I did a similar "walk-through" for another potential NPC, which I may post if you're interested, based on the idea of a recreational serial killer stumbling over a group of disaster tourists and plotting to steal their equipment. That one was too dark for my tastes and is unfinished.

An you're absolutely right to describe Cathal as borderline nihilistic, even tending towards the sociopathic. I could actually see him meddling in his own timeline and creating a duplicate of himself who had a happier life, relying on the effects of time travel to survive.

[Catsmate]

Part VII.

Back in his time machine Cathal stacked the boxes and considered his next actions.
He needed to stow things, recycle the junk and establish a comfortable working and living environment for himself in a volume of, he calculated, approximately seventeen cubic metres.
Lucky he didn’t have problems with claustrophobia.

But first there was the elephant in the room. Or rather the corpse of Danice Finlet. It appeared to be free of decay, still, but he didn’t want to leave it here any longer.
Besides, it addition to taking up space it was useful organic feedstock.

He spoke, “Taif, what are the usual funerary and post-mortem customs of Operator Finlet’s culture?”
“Operator Finlet  was a Reformed Rationalist Unitarian. The usual procedure after death was a commemoration of the deceased’s life and achievements, and the recycling of the husk for the utility of society”.
Cathal nodded, they waked their dead. How civilised. OK, time to strip the corpse of anything useful and drop the remains in the hopper.

It wasn’t that easy, Finlet had been a bit of a pack-rat and his pockets were more stuffed than those of Professor X. Cathal carefully collected their contents on the desk for further analysis and stripped the body of it’s morphic suit.
Taking a deep breath he gave the order, “Taif open the feedstock input hatch”.
A spot on the floor ceased to be, the material flowing invisibly away. Cathal hefted the corpse and carried it over, dropping it into the cramped chamber below.
“Taif close the hatch”.
The material flowed again, covering the body in a neat, shallow dome while the nano-machines began to work.
Cathal was no believer but felt that something should be said. He spoke to no-one in particular.
“I did not know you but I believe you had courage and determination and deserve respect”.
Not the most eloquent epitaph, but he was no poet”.

Now. Time to review his to-do list.
First up was ensure a safe base of operations for while he slept.
Second was ensure he had the resources for his immediate plans. There was plenty of junk dumped nearby, with a few bits and pieces he wouldn’t have problems gathering it for recycling.
“Taif, can you manufacture a small flying platform, equipped with a similar level of stealth to this craft and ablt to carry me and some cargi? And can the feedstock for your fabricators be stored safely outside the craft, in some container that you can make? Oh, and can you construct a second general purpose fabricator for use elsewhere?”
“This unit has the resources to build such a craft as you specify, depenibg on the exact level of capabilities you require. Fabricator feedstock can be stored in suitable containers, easily produced on board. A second fabricator can be constructed but would require assembly outside this craft. However such an action is prohibited by law.

Cathal’s mind lurched. That was annoying. Of course from what he’d seen of the society of 5329 they were human chauvinists, opposed to what he’d consider transhumanism and even somewhat luddite. It’d make sense that there would be prohibitions on something as useful as an unrestricted fabricator. He considered the matter;
“Taif, how can this prohibition be bypassed.
“The craft’s operator is authorised to bypass such a prohibition in the event of a mission emergency”.
Cathal grinned, excellent. “Taif, as operator I consider the construction of a secondary fabricator to be mission essential. Bypass the restriction and begin designing such a device. Design a few options for the flying craft and send them to the visual display”
“Compliance”.

Cathal leaned back in the chair and enjoyed the comfort. Advanced shape-altering materials beat any corporate desk chair hollow he thought. He examined the designs that Taif had submitted, the simplest seemed to be a hexagonal platform about a metre across on which the operator stood, using a control column to fly the craft. It was made of that morphic material and could extend additional sections for cargo. It could lift ten tonnes easily and move at about 500km/hr with full stealth. A standard fifty five gallon drum was about one metre by a half, so the thing could carry, what, forty eight such?
He needed a base to store stuff and a source of raw materials. In fact, he thought what he needed first was a suitable cadre of amoral minions to do my bidding for him¹.
Hmmm.





1. Yes, a QC reference.

[grinch]

Jun 17, 2022 20:29:06 GMT Catsmate said:

Jun 17, 2022 20:06:18 GMT grinch said:

This is proving to be most fascinating. Do you envisage Cathal more as a PC or perhaps a recurring NPC? In any case, I think Cathal is really intriguing with a mentality and lived experience that sets him apart from the other travellers in eternity. Could easily see a curious set of PCs investigating or stumbling through Cathal’s timeline to see just what made him the depressed and borderline nihilistic individual he is today.

To be truthful I'm not actually sure where this is going....
We discussed it at tonight's session and I have a few ideas (I'm also cross-posting it at alternatehistory.com).

Some time ago I did a similar "walk-through" for another potential NPC, which I may post if you're interested, based on the idea of a recreational serial killer stumbling over a group of disaster tourists and plotting to steal their equipment. That one was too dark for my tastes and is unfinished.

An you're absolutely right to describe Cathal as borderline nihilistic, even tending towards the sociopathic. I could actually see him meddling in his own timeline and creating a duplicate of himself who had a happier life, relying on the effects of time travel to survive.

To be fair, I think when it comes to a character such as Cathal lacking an end point is rather in keeping with his nature. Something worth exploring perhaps, that despite his quest for oblivion the fact he chose to use this time machine does display that he is still searching for some kind of purpose.

Actually to be honest, for some reason I could imagine Cathal journeying to the end of time to discover whether there is in fact some great truth or meaning to existence. What he finds there or rather what he doesn’t find may just exacerbate his nihilistic tendencies.

Oh most definitely. Sounds like the perfect antagonist for a darker or VNA inspired game. Reminds me of an idea I once had regarding your Tour Guide campaign idea where there would be a darker counterpart offering time travel/tourism for those sick and twisted individuals looking to express their more psychopathic urges. 

Yes, Cathal does strike me as the sort of character who could go either way. Straight up villain or merely an NPC who is troubled and rather difficult to get along with. Could quite easily see him meddling in his own timeline as you suggested. Maybe he develops a fixation on giving his younger self the perfect life and constantly finds himself going back in time to adjust and changes things. To the point where he finds it difficult to stop and where he doesn’t know where he begins or even ends anymore.

[Catsmate]

Jun 17, 2022 20:54:32 GMT grinch said:

Jun 17, 2022 20:29:06 GMT Catsmate said:

To be truthful I'm not actually sure where this is going....
We discussed it at tonight's session and I have a few ideas (I'm also cross-posting it at alternatehistory.com).

Some time ago I did a similar "walk-through" for another potential NPC, which I may post if you're interested, based on the idea of a recreational serial killer stumbling over a group of disaster tourists and plotting to steal their equipment. That one was too dark for my tastes and is unfinished.

An you're absolutely right to describe Cathal as borderline nihilistic, even tending towards the sociopathic. I could actually see him meddling in his own timeline and creating a duplicate of himself who had a happier life, relying on the effects of time travel to survive.

To be fair, I think when it comes to a character such as Cathal lacking an end point is rather in keeping with his nature. Something worth exploring perhaps, that despite his quest for oblivion the fact he chose to use this time machine does display that he is still searching for some kind of purpose.

Actually to be honest, for some reason I could imagine Cathal journeying to the end of time to discover whether there is in fact some great truth or meaning to existence. What he finds there or rather what he doesn’t find may just exacerbate his nihilistic tendencies.

Oh most definitely. Sounds like the perfect antagonist for a darker or VNA inspired game. Reminds me of an idea I once had regarding your Tour Guide campaign idea where there would be a darker counterpart offering time travel/tourism for those sick and twisted individuals looking to express their more psychopathic urges. 

Yes, Cathal does strike me as the sort of character who could go either way. Straight up villain or merely an NPC who is troubled and rather difficult to get along with. Could quite easily see him meddling in his own timeline as you suggested. Maybe he develops a fixation on giving his younger self the perfect life and constantly finds himself going back in time to adjust and changes things. To the point where he finds it difficult to stop and where he doesn’t know where he begins or even ends anymore.

I'll dig out my 'Kelan and the Odd People' notes and post them.

You're absolutely right in that Cathal is seeking a purpose. Once he feels secure he'll probably try and plug into the Freetimer network. He could well fit in there rather well. Time travellers can often become detached from ephemeral society and he's already in that mindset.

A darker Tour Guide campaign sounds like an excellent idea.

I don't see Cathal becoming a villain; he lacks the drives that would push him in that direction. However meddling on a small scale (a little like Annorax from Voyager) would suit his personality,

[grinch]

Jun 17, 2022 21:09:56 GMT Catsmate said:

Jun 17, 2022 20:54:32 GMT grinch said:

To be fair, I think when it comes to a character such as Cathal lacking an end point is rather in keeping with his nature. Something worth exploring perhaps, that despite his quest for oblivion the fact he chose to use this time machine does display that he is still searching for some kind of purpose.

Actually to be honest, for some reason I could imagine Cathal journeying to the end of time to discover whether there is in fact some great truth or meaning to existence. What he finds there or rather what he doesn’t find may just exacerbate his nihilistic tendencies.

Oh most definitely. Sounds like the perfect antagonist for a darker or VNA inspired game. Reminds me of an idea I once had regarding your Tour Guide campaign idea where there would be a darker counterpart offering time travel/tourism for those sick and twisted individuals looking to express their more psychopathic urges. 

Yes, Cathal does strike me as the sort of character who could go either way. Straight up villain or merely an NPC who is troubled and rather difficult to get along with. Could quite easily see him meddling in his own timeline as you suggested. Maybe he develops a fixation on giving his younger self the perfect life and constantly finds himself going back in time to adjust and changes things. To the point where he finds it difficult to stop and where he doesn’t know where he begins or even ends anymore.

I'll dig out my 'Kelan and the Odd People' notes and post them.

You're absolutely right in that Cathal is seeking a purpose. Once he feels secure he'll probably try and plug into the Freetimer network. He could well fit in there rather well. Time travellers can often become detached from ephemeral society and he's already in that mindset.

A darker Tour Guide campaign sounds like an excellent idea.

I don't see Cathal becoming a villain; he lacks the drives that would push him in that direction. However meddling on a small scale (a little like Annorax from Voyager) would suit his personality,

How very true when it comes to time travellers. Especially regarding those poor unfortunates who find their own timeline wiped out due to their activities. Mind you, Cathal’s problems strikes me as so deeply rooted that even when in such company he’d probably consider himself a bit of an outsider. Maybe for the sake of not losing another pilot, Taif may try and snare another time traveller to keep Cathal company?

Yeah, needs work but it could be interesting. I’m imagining such a service would appeal to the likes of fetishists or serial killers. The latter journeying to the sites of great disasters such as Pompeii where in the wake of such events they can kill and go about unnoticed. After all, what’s another body to add to the pile?

True. Probably not the sort to play God or attempt to destroy the universe but maybe the odd change here and there just to see what happens.

[Catsmate]

Jun 17, 2022 21:33:49 GMT grinch said:

Jun 17, 2022 21:09:56 GMT Catsmate said:

I'll dig out my 'Kelan and the Odd People' notes and post them.

You're absolutely right in that Cathal is seeking a purpose. Once he feels secure he'll probably try and plug into the Freetimer network. He could well fit in there rather well. Time travellers can often become detached from ephemeral society and he's already in that mindset.

A darker Tour Guide campaign sounds like an excellent idea.

I don't see Cathal becoming a villain; he lacks the drives that would push him in that direction. However meddling on a small scale (a little like Annorax from Voyager) would suit his personality,

How very true when it comes to time travellers. Especially regarding those poor unfortunates who find their own timeline wiped out due to their activities. Mind you, Cathal’s problems strikes me as so deeply rooted that even when in such company he’d probably consider himself a bit of an outsider. Maybe for the sake of not losing another pilot, Taif may try and snare another time traveller to keep Cathal company?

Yeah, needs work but it could be interesting. I’m imagining such a service would appeal to the likes of fetishists or serial killers. The latter journeying to the sites of great disasters such as Pompeii where in the wake of such events they can kill and go about unnoticed. After all, what’s another body to add to the pile?

True. Probably not the sort to play God or attempt to destroy the universe but maybe the odd change here and there just to see what happens.

Yes, I could see Cathal trying some "experimental history".

[Catsmate]

BTW, I never posted my inspiration for the design of the time capsule in this story.


Yes it's the capsule from the Time Tunnel episode 'Secret Weapon'. Though Cathal's craft is slightly larger.

[grinch]

Jun 17, 2022 22:32:47 GMT Catsmate said:

BTW, I never posted my inspiration for the design of the time capsule in this story.

<button disabled="" class="c-attachment-insert--linked o-btn--sm">Attachment Deleted</button>
Yes it's the capsule from the Time Tunnel episode 'Secret Weapon'. Though Cathal's craft is slightly larger.

Neat. Have to love that Sixties vision of what the future would be like. 

[Catsmate]

Jun 18, 2022 13:17:19 GMT grinch said:

Jun 17, 2022 22:32:47 GMT Catsmate said:

BTW, I never posted my inspiration for the design of the time capsule in this story.

<button disabled="" class="c-attachment-insert--linked o-btn--sm">Attachment Deleted</button>
Yes it's the capsule from the Time Tunnel episode 'Secret Weapon'. Though Cathal's craft is slightly larger.

Neat. Have to love that Sixties vision of what the future would be like. 

Yes it does look a little dated.

[Catsmate]

Part VIII.



Cathal considered his options as he perused the vast amount of information that Taif had available on the subject of utility robots. He'd need something to multiply his efforts to create a proper base of operations. However he didn't want to exhaust the capsule's relatively small volume of fabrication feedstock.
With Taif's ability to penetrate electronic data systems be could probably manage a discreet purchase rather easily, perhaps somewhere outside the city with sufficient privacy for his planned needs?

Or he could go with the classic supervillain hidden base, perhaps built clandestinely somewhere in the city?

Then again he wasn't limited to the present time or even the planet Earth; Taif was quite capable of jumping to anywhere within the Local Group of galaxies.
Plenty of uninhabited planets out there, according to the datastore....

There was simply a vast amount of information to absorb and limited time to do so.
Or was there?



"Taif. your datastore refers to a 'Limitation Effect' that prevents a time traveller meeting themself. Is there more information available?"
"The Limitation Effect states that time travellers who meet themselves earlier or later in their personal timeline cause a discharge of Artron energy, due to their differing Artron potentials"
Cathal wasn't sure that helped. "How close do they have to get? Can a time traveller visit a location and period where they existed at all?"
"Physical contact or close proximity is needed, no more than a few metres. However some effects manifest at slightly longer distances. Generally a separation of a kilometre is wise".
Ah, that was useful. He could double-back on his own timeline, exercising some care, without problems. If necessary be could have Taif monitor his earlier self by phone or drone. Perhaps he's drop back a few years and acquire a suitable property?



"Taif, how can I speed my absorption of the information in your datastore? There are literal lifetimes of data there".
"Some TX personnel, such as the previous operator of this craft, were permitted exceptions to the restriction on biological augmentation. This allowed them to access and process data more efficiently."
That was interesting. The briefing has alluded to such technology, but mainly to describe why it was prohibited for general use.
"Taif, what forms of biological augmentation were implemented on TX operators, and can any of them be performed on me with the present resources of this craft?"
"A variety of enhancement procedures were standing; an improved immune system to defend against historical diseases; more rapid healing via tissue carried nano-machines, including reduced fatigue toxins; a Rosetta implant allows an operator to speak and understand any language supported by the available datastore. All of these can be installed in you by the ob-board Chrysalis system".
Cathal mentally kicked himself, he should have investigated the language problem earlier. Of course they'd need a way to communicate. And could the Chrysalis system fix his eyes, and any other medical conditions?


"Taif, how does the Rosetta implant work. And is the Chrysalis system able to fix existing medical problems. such as my poor eyesight. Oh, and how long would such an upgrade programme take".
"All basic medical problems can be fixed. For specific details you would need to undergo a detailed cellular scan by the Chrysalis system. The Rosetta implant is grown by manotechnlogy within the human brain and establishes connection to the optical, auditory and language centres. In operation it overrides the usual operation of these sections of the brain and filters them through its own translation system. the user speaks or writes in their native language and the implant intercepts the nerve impulses and changes them into the selected ‘output’ language. Similarly for hearing. For written material an overlay is placed on what is seen. The installation of such an implant takes a few hours and is generally done during a sleep period".

Fascinating. Was he really ready to have his brain spliced? And his eyes rebuilt.

Yes of course he was.

[grinch]

This isn’t meant to be a criticism or anything at all but merely an observation on my point. Cathal strikes me as the sort who is more eager to play supervillain than actually possessing any villainous tendencies. Is that a deliberate decision on your part? That Cathal is getting very giddy at the amount of possibilities he now has at his fingertips?

[Catsmate]

Jun 18, 2022 14:07:42 GMT grinch said:

This isn’t meant to be a criticism or anything at all but merely an observation on my point. Cathal strikes me as the sort who is more eager to play supervillain than actually possessing any villainous tendencies. Is that a deliberate decision on your part? That Cathal is getting very giddy at the amount of possibilities he now has at his fingertips?

That's a very valid and interesting point, and completely true. Cathal really isn't that interested in power or wealth or prestige. He might develop the desire to 'fix' the world, but he's probably too cautious to do that anytime soon. 
A reasonably comfortable life, perhaps shared with someone he cares about is his immediate goal. But he is curious about a lot of things, rather cautious (due to his previous experiences) and likely to react badly to anyone who threatens his new, potential, life.
And you're right, he is giddy with the potential that he sees.

[grinch]

Jun 18, 2022 14:33:29 GMT Catsmate said:

Jun 18, 2022 14:07:42 GMT grinch said:

This isn’t meant to be a criticism or anything at all but merely an observation on my point. Cathal strikes me as the sort who is more eager to play supervillain than actually possessing any villainous tendencies. Is that a deliberate decision on your part? That Cathal is getting very giddy at the amount of possibilities he now has at his fingertips?

That's a very valid and interesting point, and completely true. Cathal really isn't that interested in power or wealth or prestige. He might develop the desire to 'fix' the world, but he's probably too cautious to do that anytime soon. 
A reasonably comfortable life, perhaps shared with someone he cares about is his immediate goal. But he is curious about a lot of things, rather cautious (due to his previous experiences) and likely to react badly to anyone who threatens his new, potential, life.
And you're right, he is giddy with the potential that he sees.

I like that. He’s proving to be a real complex character. A bit damaged and could do with a friend I think. I mean at least he has Taif but she doesn’t exactly make for decent conversation. 

Considering unlike his contemporaries, he has no desire to obtain power or wealth as you say he’d probably be able to go under the radar while travelling. Let’s face it, any decent independent party worth their salt would be keeping an eye on more troublesome time travellers such as a certain Wollian salesman...

But as you say, should anyone such as the Time Agency poke their noses into his business he probably wouldn’t take too kindly to them. And may even take desperate measures to preserve his way of life.

Mind you, should the Time Lords take an interest he’d probably have no chance against them and would need extra help to get them off his back.

[Catsmate]

Part IX.

Cathal looked over the Chrysalis pod and thanked his messed-up brain that at least he wasn’t claustrophobic.
‘Pod’ was indeed a good descriptor, he’d been in MRI scanners with more wriggle room.
“Taif how does this thing work”.
“The Chrysalis pod will connect sensors and life-support to your body and introduce nanomachines and the building materials necessary for the alterations to your body. During the procedures you will be kept in a condition of deep sleep to assist in the operations of the nanomachines and to prevent adverse psychological effects”.
’Adverse Psychological Effects’ that was a nice, clinical, phrase. It reminded him of quite a few physicians he’d had acquaintance with. Oh well…
“OK Taif, while I’m under install the implants, fix my eyes and install the enhancements I’ve specified, fix my teeth and take care of the other problems the scan noted”.
“Compliance”.

Cathal stepped back to the console desk and sat down. He took a deep breath and considered what he was doing. He was freaking out internally, though of course his façade of stoicism showed almost nothing. Curiously, he analysed himself, he was freaking out more because of how little the next step was disturbing him. Fascinating, the human psyche really was a strange thing.
He was about to voluntarily have molecular machinery enter his body and partially rebuild him. It was no Steve Austin level alteration but his genetic proclivity to cardiac and prostate problems would be erased, his lungs fixed to peak ability and the cancer he’s been oblivious about fixed before it became a threat. He’d have an artificial immune system able to fight off almost any pathogen, though this would take a week or more to finalise, and be immune to many toxins as well. His eyes would be enhanced beyond natural human levels and his hearing improved (and that irritating inability to directionalise sound well fixed). He’d have a pinhead sized computer grown and linked to his brain, giving him a communications channel to Taif as well as the ability to understand hundreds of languages.
And, potentially, that was only the start.

He turned to the monitor and his expanding ‘to-do’ list. First up were the rat-bots. He’d need material to make stuff and rubbish was a valuable source of material such as iron, zinc, aluminium, silicon, carbon et cetera. CHON for organics, like food, though the capsule could recycle indefinitely, could be obtained easily from wood. But metals and other elements for robots would need to be sourced. But then he’d need a base of operations. Really obtaining a base seemed the higher priority. And money, though with Taif’s ability to intrude into any computer system, and the ability to do that in the past, there should be no difficulties there. Plenty of dirty money he could move to a more productive location. Even while dormant Taif had been gathering data.

OK, he was tired, he could feel the fatigue intruding into this thought processes. It was time for sleep.
He rose and stepped over to the Chrysalis pod. A moment’s thought and a deep breath.
“Taif, prepare to initiate the specified medical programme. As a failsafe wake me after eight hours unless this would cause significant injury to me. In that case fix the problems and then wake me. However I am to be inside no longer than one day”.
“Compliance”.

Cathal stripped off and paused for a moment, “Taif open the fabber’s hopper and have it clean and repair my clothes.
“Compliance”.
He emptied the pockets of the usual minutia and dropped the clothes in the hopper. Then he took another deep breath, grinned and lay down.
Over his body the capsule solidified it’s other casing and he slept.

[Catsmate]

Part X.

Cathal awoke abruptly, more so than was his want. He quelled the immediate sensation of panic at waking in the volume approximately the size of a coffin, and spoke; “Taif, open the pod”.
“Compliance”.
The response was reassuringly immediate and the section above him flowed away. He was again impressed, despite the various manifestations of advanced technology, by their materials. Perhaps because he understood more of that branch of science.
He remained lying flat while he explored his new body. The rough spot on his pre-molar was gone, and the teeth felt different. Some exploratory chomping and grinding yielded no discomfort.
So far so good.

He was about to rise when certain sensations reminded him of the machinery that enveloped him.
“Taif, is it safe to disconnect the umbilicals and catheters?”
“It is”.
“Then do so”.
“Compliance”.

As the tubes inserted into various parts of his body flowed away Cathal had a sudden thought of Benjamin Franklin, and spoke aloud, “I could visit him”.
Suddenly the reality of his new situation dropped on him, harder than the black dog ever hit previously.
He clenched his teeth and grinned. Fuck you. I’m in control now.
Not quite what his therapist would suggest, but even without triggering the new enhancements he felt his heart rate lower and the weight drop from his chest.
Oh yes, Cathal thought, the new me.

Checking there was nothing still connected he sat up and took stock of the situation. With a mental command a display appeared in the corner of his vision, his now perfect vision he realised that showed his heart-rate, blood pressure and other indicators. He switched it off. He way hungry. But first a few tests.
He turned and focussed on the table, with a slight squint he could read the maker’s details from the frame of his glasses. His now obsolete glasses.

“Taif, display the text of Tolstoy’s War and Peace in the original Russian”
“Compliance”.
The invisible screen at the console came alive with the opening paragraph. Cathal had learned some, mostly technical, Russian at college and had started reading Tolstoy before giving up in irritation. Hilda had been right.
“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don’t tell me that this means war, if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that Antichrist—I really believe he is Antichrist—I will have nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my ‘faithful slave,’ as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I have frightened you—sit down and tell me all the news.”
The original Cyrillic text was there, but the translation was also there.
Weird. But very useful.

“Taif, is there any news?”
“A summary of events is available to view”.
Cathal sighed, the AI was capable but couldn’t overcome its programming. Or could it?
“Is there anything relevant to me, or us, such as a threat to the security of this craft?”
“Nothing known as yet”.

“OK, Taif if they are completed deploy the drones”
“Compliance”.
A miniscule gap opened briefly in the outer hull and two objects, table tennis ball sized, disappeared outside. Despite their size they were perfectly visible to Cathal’s new eyesight.
One of them would remain on station nearby, to provide enhanced security. The other would act as a cellular relay and operate from several kilometres away.
Just in case…

A few seconds later and the display started showing his messages and missed calls.
Most of them weren’t particularly important, his house-mates responding to his departure, and his landlady complaining about the lack of notice and using vaguely threatening phrases. Perhaps Taif should rummage through her affairs and examine her tax compliance…
A couple of messages from actual friends deserved replies and he responded in general terms, vaguely promising more information in due course. He didn’t want to be the subject of an investigation.
Then there was the voice-mail from an unknown land-line number. A quick check revealed it was the offices of Richard Harvey and company, a firm of solicitors. Quite reliable ones a little digging suggested.
Odd.
The message was brief:
“Mister Gould, this is David Harvey here, just letting you know that the documentation for your acquisition is available for signing. Your agent informed us that you’d be available today, call me and we’ll arrange for matters to be settled”.

That was more than odd, Cathal thought. A solicitor he didn’t know wanted to meet to sign some documents.
Hmmmm.

[Catsmate]

Part XI.

This was a bit of a black swan. So, first time for some research. Then perhaps a drone to infiltrate Harvey’s computers. Next prepare for the meeting, with all appropriate care. Finlet had rather a lot of cash, was it real? And plenty of plastic and ID, had Taif arranged that? Hmm
“Taif, where did the money and identification carried by Operator Finlet come from?”
“The currency was retrieved from a number of automated dispensers in the area. Operator Finlet had this system infiltrate the local banking network and create a suitable facility for him to use. The fabricator produced the necessary access cards and identification which linked to records inserted in the appropriate data systems approximately three years ago, prior to his trip to Scouse”.

OK, so several of the preparations needed had already been made, thought Cathal, that was good. What was bad was he hadn’t known about it. He needed to prioritise, less gulping down general information and more selective sipping of relevant data. OK time to recycle the identity.

“Taif, can you alter the records created for Operator Finlet to match me and enable me to use them? I want to be able to access the funds your created. How much was there anyway?”
“This unit can create a second set of access tokens for Operator Gould, allowing access to the banking systems. There is approximately three million, six hundred and forty thousand Euro available in the account”.

Cathal was shocked, did no-one notice such a discrepancy? Then, thinking on it, he realised it was quite possible. In his own career he’d seen an institution mislay twenty times as much for over a week¹.
“Taif, open the fabber input and recycle the cards of Operator Finlet. Create a new set with my name and biometric data. Ensure, and his is a high priority, there no security systems are alerted of these actions”.
“Compliance”.
A narrow tube extruded from the floor and Cathal dropped in the cards.

He was getting side-tracked again. He needed to plan for his lawyer visit. A sober suit, he thought, and suitable accessories. But first a shower and trim.
“Taif, fabricate a charcoal grey suit, of current style and cut for me, something that suggests a sober businessman if you can. Oh and a dark blue tie”.
“Compliance”.
“Taif, extend the fresher”
“Compliance”.
The multi-purpose toilet/shower chamber extended from the floor.






1. A true story....

[Catsmate]

Part XII.

Cleaned and sanitised Cathal donned a clean t-shirt and briefs, then sat down to plan. The call was interesting, and had so many possible implications. Anyway, time to return the call.
After verifying the drone relay was a dozen kilometres away he had Taif route the call.
“Good morning, Richard Harvey and company, Shona here, how may I direct your call”. Cathal immediately classified the speaker, female, attractive, moderately intelligent and probably hunting. Very politically incorrect of course but he’d seen the type many times.
“Good morning Shona, my name is Cathal Gould and I’m returning a call from David Harvey”. With an effort he cut himself off, recognising his tendency to speak too much in such situations.
A keyboard clacked in the background, audible despite Shona’s headset.
“Ah yes mister Gould, I’m afraid mister Harvey had to leave the office urgently, a family matter. He left an envelope here for you to collect, and I can schedule a meeting for tomorrow? Or later today, perhaps, if he’s back”. There was a slight change in her tone, Cathal detected. Hmmm.
“Meh, tomorrow is fine, 11AM?” Cathal deliberately selected the hour, neither early nor too close to lunch.
“That’s absolutely fine. Do you know where our offices are?”.
“I think I can find them easily”. Cathal grinned, drone #3 was currently hovering above the building in the city-centre. “Oh, and the papers, I’ll pick them up later today”.
“That’s fine, there will be someone at reception until 8PM”.
“Excellent, thank you”. Cathal ended the call and considered matters.

He’d head in and get the papers anyway, just to satisfy his curiousity. Of course his innate paranoid suggested certain precautions….
“Taif, scan news reports, schools and hospitals for anything related to a David Harvey, solicitor. Also acquire his phone number and determine his recent location, and any calls in the last six hours”.
“Compliance”.

While Taif was gathering data Cathal started designing some gadgets, just in case. However he;d barely got started when the AI reported back. Dumping the data onto the screen in chronological order he found a call to Harvey from his daughter’s school about halt-an-hour after he;d called Cathal, followed (according to his telco’s data) by a rapid departure from the office to the nearest large hospital to the girl’s school.
OK, paranoia seemingly not necessary. Maybe next time.

Two hours later he was ready for a field trip, and discovered he was oddly eager for fresh air and exercise.
The suit fitted perfectly and was visibly expensive without being ostentatious. The shoes likewise. Of course all had been assembled molecule by molecule, not a silkworm or cow in sight. Plus the suit incorporated discreet armour that would stop rifle fire and the shoes would protect against a butterfly mine. Not that he really expected either, but it paid to be safe.
Also he was a gadget fan, he acknowledged to himself.
He’s had Taif fabricate a couple more of the highly useful vajra devices, with one in his short pocket alongside the Montblanc that he’d managed to retain from his old life. While short ranged, the gadgets were as much tool as weapon.
The more powerful ‘Pacifier’ stun weapon in one pocket could render a crowd unconscious with no visible effects. In his breast pocket he placed the cerebral disrupter, with which he could (hopefully, given his lack of practice) tamper with a person’s memories. A couple of stun grenades in another jacket pocket. Plus the more mundane contents; notebook, phone, wallet, coins, keys (rather redundant now) et cetera. The phone looked mundane, if top-of-the-line and expensive, but now included a short ranged scanner and a datalink back to the craft (and Taif’s analysis capabilities).
One of the gadgets Cathal had played with was strapped to his wrist in the guise of a smartwatch. Taif called it a ‘shimmer’ and it was some sort of textured force-field generator, one that projected a tangible illusion over his body, one that could fool cameras as well as human senses. Tap a control and instant disguise. Very neat.
Finally there was the transmat remote and the addition he’d made to it, one he was rather proud of.
The device would be of little use if he was unconscious or otherwise unable to activate it, so it was currently encased in a shell that resembled a leather holder. Now he could have Taif trigger it, or do so if the AI lost contact with him.

Rather high-level precautions for visiting a solicitor.

Using the overhead drone Cathal had planned his departure from the time machine. A little lateral movement of the craft allowed it to block sight of him while he used the platform to walk over the bank of the small river to a tarmac path. From there it was a couple of minutes stroll to the main road and plentiful taxis. He now had plenty of cash to throw around. And this route wouldn’t risk getting his clothes muddy.

He ran through his plan again, nothing new popped into his mind. Time to go. He stood and picked up the expensive looking messenger bag.
“Taif, check the area for anyone who could observe me leaving”.
“No person or camera can overlook your route.
“Then extend the ramp as arranged. Once I have reached the path retract it and deploy the platform for return by transmat”.
“Compliance”.
“Open the hatch”.
“Compliance”.

Walking along an invisible path was still rather weird but Cathal made the eight metres or so without falling into the river. Once on solid ground he selected a secluded spot and added it to the transmat’s memory. He then walked down the path to the road and hailed a taxi.

[Catsmate]

Part XIII
Despite the afternoon traffic the taxi took less than twenty minutes to bear Cathal to the outskirts of the city-centre, where a new-ish office block housed Richard Harvey and company. A fairly typically redeveloped area, once borderline slums, now “prestige” officer and apartment developments, interspersed with a scattering of ground-floor retail units, a very few restaurants and more cafes and sandwich places than any reasonable person could count.
After avoiding a homicidal cyclist with seemingly no comprehension of traffic lights, and repressing the urge to use the vajra in his sleeve to respond somewhat inappropriately, Cathal made it across the street and examined the office block.

He’d seen it before, the quality of the drone feed was excellent, and had studied the building’s internal layout, just in case. He knew, thanks to the thermographic and neural activity sensors on the drone, that there forty three people on the ground floor, and five hundred and eighty nine in the floors above. He knew that David Harvey was at home, a nice detached house in the south city suburbs, after having collected his daughter Ceiline from hospital after a minor injury at school.

Information overload, Cathal thought to himself, it’s becoming a thing. The implant in his brain not only connected his to Taif and the time-machine (I must name it he thought, not for the first time) but also to the live feeds from the drones overhead.
He grunted noncommittally to himself and walk to the automatic door.

Inside it was darker, from the tinted windows and discreet lighting, and far quieter. There were seven people present, four female and three male, by appearance anyway. He realised that, if he wished, the scanner in his pocket could image them down to the cellular level and Taif could not only give him their genders and ages, but also their identities and health status. This concept disconcerted Cathal for an instant, and he filed it away for later consideration. Stick to the matter at hand, he thought.

He strode to the reception desk, where two of the three staff were engaged, and spoke to the third.
“Good afternoon, my name is Cathal Gould, I’m here to collect an envelope from David Harvey at Richard Hervey”, Cathal kept his voice matter-of-fact but his senses, both natural and enhanced, were alert.
“Ah yes, mister Gould, mister Harvey left this for you”, the young and artificially blonde woman replied after an instant of checking a list, “I’m afraid I’ll need to see some photo identification”.
“Of course”, Cathal replied, producing and opening his (entirely genuine) passport to the photo page.
The receptionist gave it a cursory glance and said “That’s fine, here you go mister Gould”, as she handed him the white A4 envelope.
“Oh”, she added, after another look at the list on the desk, “could you sign this receipt”.
“Certainly”, Cathal replied, and scrawled his signature on the proffered docket, “thank you”.
He turned and walked away holding the envelope, his fingers suggested only a couple of sheets of paper inside.
He looked down at the envelope as he considered opening it there and then, but the tiny sketch of a café chain in the corner caught his eye. Hmmm
Outside he decided to accept the suggestion of the envelope’s author, and walked about fifty metres down towards the canal and went in.

Entering the café he was somewhat surprised by the quiet, too late or too early for the rush and not popular with schoolkids he thought.
Ordering a large black breakfast tea he was amused by his instant irritation that he hadn’t brought his keep cup along. The price difference wasn’t important anymore.
He selected a low armchair in one corner and, after mlking his tea, took off his jacket and sat down.

Opening the envelope wasn’t easy, it was well taped in addition to the adhesive strip but his pen-knife did the job neatly. Inside was a single sheet of heavy white paper, which was utterly blank when unfolded.

At least it was blank in his hand for a couple of seconds, then the surface changed to a slightly tinted yellow and the phrase “Identity Confirmed” appeared in large black letters, shortly replaced by a cheerier “Don’t Panic” in indigo in what looked suspiciously like Comic Sans.
Cathal laughed out loud, it seemed his earlier suspicions were correct.

[Catsmate]

Part XIV.
As he continued to hold the paper Cathal found the cheery greeting replaced by a different block of text.

            Good afternoon. Unless something has gone terribly wrong you’re reading this in the café near the Harvey officies. You’re probably
            curious about this message but you’re almost certain who wrote it and why.

            You are correct; I am you from a little period in your subjective future. And yes, that means you are (as I was) enmeshed in a             predestination paradox. Quite possibly an infinite series of us have been, and will be, involved. The joys of time travel…

            Anyway you’ll be glad to know that the scheme you were working on, to ‘relocate’ certain large collections of ill-gotten gains for your
            use will work out. Part of what I arranged with the money was the purchase, three years ago when property prices were rather lower,
            of Brunel House.

            Yes, the old Victorian pile you (and I) passed by every day, conveniently close to where the time machine is parked. I’ve also             arranged, through a contact of Harvey’s, to have the place fitted out and renovated.It’s rather bigger than it looks too, in addition to the             basement and the three above-ground levels, there are two levels of cellars, one of which the estate agent doesn’t know about. Plus             the garage, sheds and other bits, all on 1.2 hectares.
   
            Today is when you were set to take possession, until a minor football accident intervened. Ceiline will be fine, by the way.

            Keep scrolling for the details on what accounts to pillage, what work to have done et cetera. You’ll figure the rest out.
           
                                                                                                                    Cathal Gould

            PS, in doing this we triggered the gang war two years ago and the subsequent fourteen deaths.

Cathal took stock of what he’d read and nodded to himself.

It seemed entirely logical, though the philosophical implications, especially regarding the information paradox., were staggering. Who did the initial planning for this scheme? Did anyone? Did the information actually have an origin?
Fascinating, he thought, I wonder if I could pop back, look up Hawking and ask his opinion?
Obviously there was some leeway or time travel would simply not work. Mass, energy and information could move through time, changed the total potential of the universe. A certain quantum fuzziness, even above the Planck length, he speculated mentally. He really must find a few more time travellers and discuss matters.
Once he could negotiate from a position of strength and security.

Cathal played with the sheet of something that obviously wasn’t ‘paper’ and soon got the knack of it. Some form of flexible, paper-thin, polymer screen with a tiny embedded computer and storage. And presumably comms and a security sensor.
He scrolled down the ‘page’ and nodded to himself, most of it was just a more advanced version of his current plans, though Brunel House was actually a very clever choice.
He congratulated himself.

OK, base of operations is taken care of, as is money. Though quite a few jumps in time will be needed. He’d set up a long-life drone with a decent AI and comms capabilities, somewhere, to handle the three years worth of call that would happen. Dump the higher level decisions on mister Harvey, he had the money to spend.
Hmm, while he was thinking of it there were quite a few lost caches of gold scattered around history, add a little field work to his to-do list.

Cathal considered the deaths that his scheme would/had caused. He thought about it and decided that, no actually he didn’t care at all. They were, as the media details of the feud had pointed out, criminals who thrived and profited on the misery of others. He really didn’t care. And could he alter events now?

Cathal idly wondered how much the paradox he’d entangled himself in would protect him; could he walk out in traffic without fear? A moment later he was started to notice that, embedded among the details his future self had left for him was a boxed and bolded line.
            NO!! This paradox does not make you immortal. Don’t try it.

Hmm. Well if there was one person he really should take advice from it was himself.