The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack - Mark Hodder [123]
He knew that moments after his arrival in the past, he'd have to remove his suit and face Victorian London without the filter. This would only be for a short period though, and, once he'd completed his mission, he'd quickly don the suit and crank up the illusion. He hoped that he could thus avoid culture shock.
On his fortieth birthday, Edward John Oxford completed his preparations.
He dressed in mock Victorian clothing, then pulled his time suit on over the top. It was a white one-piece garment of fish-scale batteries, with a rubberised cloak hanging from the shoulders that he could wrap around himself to protect the suit when it wasn't charging.
He affixed the round, flat control unit to his chest and lowered the heavy helmet, which was large, black, and shiny, over his head. Intricate magnetic fields flooded through his skull. Information began to pass back and forth between his brain and the helmet's powerful processor.
Bouncing on the stilts, and with a top hat in his hand, he left his laboratory and tottered into the long garden beyond.
His wife came out of the kitchen-the house was at the other end of the garden-and walked over to him, wiping her hands on a towel.
"You're going now?" she asked. "Supper is almost ready!"
"Yes," he replied, "but don't worry-even if I'm gone for years, I'll be back in five minutes!"
"You won't return an old man, I hope!" she grumbled, and ran a hand over her distended belly. "This one will need an energetic young father!"
He laughed. "Don't be silly. This won't take long."
Bending, he kissed her on the nose.
It was nine in the evening, on February 15, 2202.
He instructed the suit to take him to five thirty on the afternoon of June 10, 1840; location: the upper corner of Green Park, London.
He looked at the sky.
"Am I really going to do this?" he asked himself.
In answer, he took three long strides, hit the ground with knees bent, then projected himself high into the air. His wife saw a bubble form around him and he vanished.
Edward Oxford literally jumped through time.
A moment of disorientation.
A short fall.
He thudded onto grass and bounced.
Glancing around he saw a rolling park surrounded by tall glass buildings with advertising flashing upon their sides. In the near distance was the ancient form of the Monarchy Museum, once known as Buckingham Palace, where the relics of England's defunct royal families were displayed.
A sonic boom echoed as a shuttle headed into orbit. People zipped overhead in their personal fliers.
Oxford ran into the wooded corner of the park, ducked into the trees, and pushed through the undergrowth until he felt safe from prying eyes. Then he stripped off the time suit and draped it over a low branch.
He reached up to his helmet, switched it off, and removed it.
A foul stench assaulted his nostrils: a mix of raw sewage, rotting fish, and burning fossil fuels.
He started to cough. The air was thick and gritty. It irritated his eyes and scraped his windpipe. He fell to his knees and clutched at his throat, gasping for oxygen. Then he remembered that he'd prepared for this and fumbled in his jacket pocket, pulling out a small instrument, which he applied to the side of his neck. He pressed the switch, it hissed, he felt a slight stinging sensation, and instantly he could breathe again.
Oxford put the instrument away and rested for a moment. His inability to catch his breath had been a perceptive disorder rather than a physical one. The helmet had protected him from the idea that the atmosphere was unbreathable; now a sedative was doing the job.
Unfamiliar sounds