The More Things
Change...
by Susan Cornford
Sammy passed
me the ball in the tricky play we’d
practiced and I managed to “dribble”
half the length of the court before I had to
shoot at the basket. I knew we were off again
when, instead of dropping through the net, the
ball began to float away like a balloon.
I closed my eyes; I’ve learned that’s
the easiest way to transition through a time-space
change. When things felt more settled, I opened
my eyes and looked around. I could see a round
rock about the size of the basketball I should’ve
just scored with. It was lying on the floor and
Samuel, in olde-worlde, fancy dress was paying
out a piece of string with knots in it between
where I was standing on it and the rock. Having
secured the other end of the string under the
rock and counted off the knots, he turned to a
gentleman who was sitting on a gold-coloured
chair with a crown on his head. “So, you see,
Your Majesty, it can be proved that the force of
what I call “gravity” can be measured,
depending on the weight and distance one moves an
object. All my assistant and I need is a few,
paltry coins so that we may continue to study
this phenomenon more closely. We only ask this in
order to find ways of applying it to improvements
in Your Majesty’s weaponry and, on the other
side of the coin, to better defences and security
measures. I’m sure Your Majesty will agree
that you deserve the very latest developments in
these vital areas.”
I wondered how long I was going to have to listen
to Samuel carry on like an apparently-medieval
used-car salesman while I held down one end of a
piece of string with my foot. Not long, as it
turned out, since His Majesty gestured to his men-at-arms
and said, “Take them away to the dungeon!”
Two of them converged on me as I somehow undid
the clasp on the cloak I was wearing and began to
twirl it over my head in an attempt to disrupt
their sightlines long enough to slip away under
their guard.
The next change caught me with my eyes open, so I
don’t know if that disoriented me or if it
was the heavy rain pounding on the umbrella my
cape had “become”. I reeled through the
door in front of me and managed to close what I
could then see was a proper English brolly.
Looking around I saw many soberly-clad
individuals, inhabiting a classical-looking space.
“Welcome to the Old Bailey!” said Sam,
who was standing by my side. “I really don’t
think we have anything to worry about. They can’t
PROVE we used fraudulent measurements to apply
for the funding.”
We began to make our way toward the courtroom
where our case was to be heard when I heard the
sound of a whistle. Was it a legendary London
bobby?
There was another shifting blur and the
basketball referee yelled, “Free throw -
travelling!”
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