A Chronicles of St Mary's short story that is sure to entertain. If you love Jasper Fforde or Ben Aaronovitch, you won't be able to resist Jodi Taylor. Here's a question for you. What's the most exciting thing ever found in a fire bucket? And don't say 'fire' because you'll be wrong. Suppose - just suppose - it was the technology to take a pod to Mars? Yeah, now we're talking! Every Christmas, for reasons which seem good at the time - especially after an eggnog or two - Max and the others leap into the nearest pod and indulge in their illegal Christmas jump. It's a tradition. This year, however, just to be different, they find themselves part of someone else's illegal Christmas jump. It's time to don a spacesuit and bring your own urine! Readers love Jodi Taylor: 'Once in a while, I discover an author who changes everything... Jodi Taylor and her protagonista Madeleine "Max" Maxwell have seduced me' 'A great mix of British proper-ness and humour with a large dollop of historical fun ' ' Addictive. I wish St Mary's was real and I was a part of it' 'Jodi Taylor has an imagination that gets me completely hooked ' 'A tour de force'
Release date:
January 1, 2019
Publisher:
Headline
Print pages:
77
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I thought up most of this story some years ago. The jump to Mars was going to be in the first book, Just One Damned Thing After Another, because it dawned on me very early on that if St Mary’s were able to jump to say, Albania 1214 – in other words to move through time and space – then it would be perfectly possible for them to kick time into touch for once and have an adventure in space instead.
The Mars episode didn’t make it into the finished book but I always had plans for it, so I slipped a tiny mention into A Symphony of Echoes. This was the research Pinkie was so desperate to hide from Clive Ronan, and which Max found concealed in a fire bucket.
I’ve tried to incorporate the Mars Project into various stories but it just wouldn’t fit so in the end I decided to give it a story all to itself, not least because I worry the Mars landings won’t happen in my lifetime. When the moon landings occurred, I remember being glued to the TV, listening to scientists enthusing about the possibilities ahead of us. I can remember one man ending his interview with the words, ‘I can conceive of no more exciting time to be born,’ and neither could I.
Sadly, for one reason or another – and, to be fair, some of them were good reasons – manned space exploration just fizzled out. NASA pursued other goals and nothing happened for a very long time.
Now it seems the Mars landings might be less than twenty years away – prompting a lot of anxious counting on my fingers as I try to work out whether I’m likely to live that long. The best I could come up with was that I probably would but possibly wouldn’t. I’m now far too old to achieve my goal of being an astronaut – Elon Musk is unlikely to come hammering on my door – and so it seemed obvious that if I wanted to have anything to do with the Big Adventure of Mars then I was going to have to do it for myself.
I cannot emphasise enough that this story is not supposed to be taken seriously, people. I really don’t want to be held responsible for massively fibrillating physicists. Or be spat on by outraged science-fiction aficionados for whom the SF genre is not to be taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly. It’s just an interesting possibility, isn’t it? Theoretically, if St Mary’s can jump anywhere in time and space, then surely it’s only a matter of calculating the coordinates. And tweaking your pod, of course.
Anyway, this is the story of how St Mary’s would do it. Always supposing it gets past my editor, of course. I’m braced for, ‘No, no, no. We really can’t do anything with this. It’s too weird, even for you. Get back to the typeface and write another, more traditional Christmas story.’
Rebecca – I should warn you now – I’ve got nothing.
I’ve tried to use the story to discuss the issues a little – but not enough to be boring. It’s the old problem, isn’t it? Just because a thing can be done, does it necessarily mean it should be done?
Yes – what a wonderful shortcut to the stars. But, as Commander Hay says, how do you value something that comes so easily? It’s the step-by-step, catastrophe-laden, triumph and tragedy method of space exploration that gives us a proper perspective on what we do. In other words, we prize what we have fought for. What we have earned.
Or you can take Pinkie’s point of view. That it’s all within our grasp. People no longer have to die. We no longer have to devote a considerable percentage of the world’s resources to getting into space.
I shall leave everyone to make up their own minds.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I wrote it as light relief when I should have been concentrating on the latest St Mary’s novel. I could picture Commander Hay’s baffled fury at St Mary’s actions, the can of worms it opened up, and her complete inability to impress Director Pinkerton with the possibly catastrophic implications of her team just nipping off to Mars now. Back by teatime.
I’m planning a book about the Time Police – possibly a series if it goes well – and I thought this might be a good way of getting my head around the characters.
This is a St Mary’s story but not our usual St Mary’s. Yes, Peterson and Maxwell are involved – and with great enthusiasm too, but only as contemporaries, so to speak.
My editor informs me that some words explaining the timeline might be helpful for everyone and, because I grudge no effort when it comes to persuading people to buy my books, here goes.
In Book 2 – A Symphony of Echoes – Leon disappears. Max, Peterson and Guthrie track him to a future St Mary’s which is under attack by Clive Ronan.
Ronan is defeated and, in the absence of their director, Max appoints the former Chief Technical Officer, Miss Pinkerton as the new director.
Pinkie’s main fear is that Ronan was after a piece of secret research. She successfully hid this in a fire bucket whence it was retrieved by Max.
The nature of this secret research is about to be revealed.
Back at Max’s St Mary’s, they’re gearing themselves up to watch history being made, live on TV. Director Pinkerton, as a reward for their assistance, jumps back in time to offer them a unique opportunity and off they all go. Boldly go, you could say, where no man has gone before. (I prefer the original thunderous split infinitive to the slightly more politically correct Next Generation version.)
I always think of the Time Polic. . .
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