NanoSteps Brainstorming 3 - And a Step to the Right

[Bob Schroeck]

I was sitting on a bench in Berkeley Square -- not the Berkeley
Square of my home timeline, more's the pity, but one in a London
not terribly different from the one in which I had spent my
twenties and thirties.  I had just ridden in from Wiltshire,
where I'd arrived in this particular version of Earth by way of
Stonehenge some twelve or so hours earlier by my best guess.  (In
the process, I gathered from the detritus surrounding my
motorcycle when I came to, interrupting a ceremony being
performed by latter-day druids or some other neo-pagan
tradition.)

As I sat, enjoying the late morning sun, a fellow with a
definite city gent look to him walked up to me, doffed his
hat, and to my extreme surprise asked, "Excuse me, but do I have
the pleasure of addressing Colonel Douglas Sangnoir, late of
Wiltshire?" in the most perfect Received Pronunciation.

Given that no one in this timeline should have had a clue who
the hell I was, I was immediately on guard. I laid one hand on
my helmet, which rested on the bench next to me, and did a quick
threat eval on the fellow. Zero. Not relaxing my state of
readiness, I replied, "You do. Might I ask how it came to be
that you are asking?"

"An American, how unexpected!  I'm sorry, I'm Gordon Rogers,
Esquire."  And here he handed me a business card for a law firm
located in central London.  "My firm has recently been handling
some very odd bequests some centuries old.  And one such had
instructions to deliver it today, at this hour, to a Colonel
Douglas Sangnoir, late of Wiltshire, who would be found wearing
a suit of grey leather, seated on a bench in Berkeley Square
at the end of Bruton Street.  And, well... here you are."

"Yes, yes I am," I said, turning to peer over my shoulder and
past the low iron fence behind me to the street that extended
northeast from the park.  "Oddly specific instructions from a
bequest a few hundred years old," I commented. 

"Indeed, indeed," Rogers agreed.  "They've all been like that,
and some have been more than a little disturbing to the members
of the firm who have delivered them.  In this case, I have what
appears to be a letter."  He reached into his suit jacket and
withdrew a rectangle of what looked to be parchment or maybe
vellum, folded such that there were no openings you could peer
through to read its contents, and held shut by a wax seal.
He held it out to me, and after a quick glance at it in magesight
(nothing) I shrugged and took it.  After turning it over in my
hands once or twice, I broke the seal, unfolded it, and began to
read.

"5 April 1656

Colonel Sangnoir:

Thou art late and hast missed alle ye excitement.  My
descendant Anathema, her yonge mann, and sundry otheres were
sufficient to ye taske and alle is well for the nonce.  This
worlde nowe hath no neede of thy service, as so many otheres
have, so thou needst not tarry but may take thy nexte step
homewarde.  Ye song thou needst play will be "Sloop John B"
by Van Morrison, although I must admitte I finde ye
performance by ye Beache Boyes more to my likinge.

I wish thee safe travells.  Oh, and thy wife hast forgiven
thee, and has muche newes for thee.

-- Agnes Nutter, wytche

P.S.  Squire Rogers needst feare nothinge in this letter;
unlike others of his companye he is a goode and honest manne
and I have no reasonne to rebuke him."

Well.  That was unexpected.

Spoiler

-- Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman