a gent’s Royal Albert black bicycle
!markdown
Una's time-machine is literally a bicycle. No joke.
This is what it looks like:
Here's a few excerpts from the story "The Murderer's Song", which describes it and, in a numinous sort of way, how she uses it.
***
> Miss Una Persson, her coordinates as conservative as ever, had landed in Camelot’s central plaza. Until now the location had been a deserted pine mine, an abandoned artefact of the Duke of Queens. She had left her time-machine (merely a gent’s Royal Albert black bicycle) where it was and had been stretching her legs when she bumped into the inebriated recreator of Arthur’s ancient seat-in a cul-de-sac he had not meant to invent.
[...]
> Una’s coordinates were evidently out. The whole landscape was seething, semiliquid. Terrifying shapes formed and disappeared. Armies of half-human figures rode through billowing black smoke and hungry flame. Confronting them, on a rearing stallion, a white- faced warrior dark baroque armour lifted a shrieking sword to the skies, voicing a challenge in a rich, lilting language only vaguely familiar to her. She remounted her Royal Albert and began to pedal as fast as she could, studying the instrument strapped to her left wrist. It told her nothing. Chaos controlled everything. She was drifting. She concentrated on the speedometer on her bike. Gradually the world turned to ice and became peaceful. Somewhere in the distance a huge clipper ship raced by. She considered trying to reach it, but her tyres would not grip the ice. Again, she reset her instruments and a burning wind seized her. She was in a desert and above her the sun was small, dull red. In this world, the society at the end of time had almost certainly failed to flourish. She went sideways through the Shifter, desperately. She knew what was happening to her now. She pulled herself together, hitched up her greatcoat and pedalled as fast as she could. The bike crossed the desert and reached a thick, salt sea. Her concentration faltered. She tried again. Her attempts to get back to her original base had been foolish; she had been too long away from it. Linear logic was virtually a mystery to her now. The larger world beckoned. She accepted it. It was what she had always wanted. She gave up her soul.
[...]
> Una was smiling as she departed. She stooped to recover her bicycle, bouncing the
tyres to rid it of the dust. She glanced at her wrist. Her instruments were giving stable readings for the moment. She did not mount her machine immediately, but strolled with it along the edge of the bluff, looking out over the brilliant gold, scarlet and blue of the plain below. The patterns
were mysterious and it was impossible to guess what the creator of the design had planned.
> She swung her leg and seated herself on her saddle. She began to pedal, making adjustments to the dials on the handlebars. Soon was on her way through Time again, pursuing her lonely, optimistic, explorations; searching for one world where tolerance and intelligence were paramount and where they existed by design rather than accident.
[Originally posted at http://una-persson.dreamwidth.org/100194.html - comments go there.]
Una's time-machine is literally a bicycle. No joke.
This is what it looks like:
Here's a few excerpts from the story "The Murderer's Song", which describes it and, in a numinous sort of way, how she uses it.
***
> Miss Una Persson, her coordinates as conservative as ever, had landed in Camelot’s central plaza. Until now the location had been a deserted pine mine, an abandoned artefact of the Duke of Queens. She had left her time-machine (merely a gent’s Royal Albert black bicycle) where it was and had been stretching her legs when she bumped into the inebriated recreator of Arthur’s ancient seat-in a cul-de-sac he had not meant to invent.
[...]
> Una’s coordinates were evidently out. The whole landscape was seething, semiliquid. Terrifying shapes formed and disappeared. Armies of half-human figures rode through billowing black smoke and hungry flame. Confronting them, on a rearing stallion, a white- faced warrior dark baroque armour lifted a shrieking sword to the skies, voicing a challenge in a rich, lilting language only vaguely familiar to her. She remounted her Royal Albert and began to pedal as fast as she could, studying the instrument strapped to her left wrist. It told her nothing. Chaos controlled everything. She was drifting. She concentrated on the speedometer on her bike. Gradually the world turned to ice and became peaceful. Somewhere in the distance a huge clipper ship raced by. She considered trying to reach it, but her tyres would not grip the ice. Again, she reset her instruments and a burning wind seized her. She was in a desert and above her the sun was small, dull red. In this world, the society at the end of time had almost certainly failed to flourish. She went sideways through the Shifter, desperately. She knew what was happening to her now. She pulled herself together, hitched up her greatcoat and pedalled as fast as she could. The bike crossed the desert and reached a thick, salt sea. Her concentration faltered. She tried again. Her attempts to get back to her original base had been foolish; she had been too long away from it. Linear logic was virtually a mystery to her now. The larger world beckoned. She accepted it. It was what she had always wanted. She gave up her soul.
[...]
> Una was smiling as she departed. She stooped to recover her bicycle, bouncing the
tyres to rid it of the dust. She glanced at her wrist. Her instruments were giving stable readings for the moment. She did not mount her machine immediately, but strolled with it along the edge of the bluff, looking out over the brilliant gold, scarlet and blue of the plain below. The patterns
were mysterious and it was impossible to guess what the creator of the design had planned.
> She swung her leg and seated herself on her saddle. She began to pedal, making adjustments to the dials on the handlebars. Soon was on her way through Time again, pursuing her lonely, optimistic, explorations; searching for one world where tolerance and intelligence were paramount and where they existed by design rather than accident.
[Originally posted at http://una-persson.dreamwidth.org/100194.html - comments go there.]