18:51

A light drizzle had been blessing the roofs of London for the past hour, and the grey sky was finally opening up. A woman in a crimson dress reached beyond her umbrella; satisfied, she retracted the cover and continued to scurry through Hyde Park. She adjusted the heart-shaped brooch at the base of her choker, eyeing the dubious wisps of clouds lingering up ahead. The trail bustled with horse-drawn carriages and well-dressed folk making conversation. She paused when she saw a group of sturdy men erecting a banner by The New Crystal Palace.

“Lovely evening, madam!” A handlebar mustache invaded her line of sight. She tried not to stare at the hairy statement above the man’s lip as he tipped his hat to her. He turned to see the banner. “Prince Albert’s Great Exhibition: Bicentennial,” he read with an ambiguous tone. She offered a tight smile and his eyes dropped to her throat. “Get that contraption off your neck before someone sees you.” He walked away without another glance. The puzzled woman touched her neck and clenched her jaw to find that she had accidentally opened the locket. She unclasped her necklace and looked inside. 18:51. With a slight gasp, she picked up her pace again.

A few minutes later, she turned down a narrow, neglected alley full of boarded up windows. It was mostly obstructed, but she managed to spy an abandoned virtual gaming console through a musty storefront. It must have been an entertainment shop before The Victorian Revival, as it was officially christened by Parliament.

“Well ain’t that a sight.” The woman looked to see a lackadaisical man leaning against the door she was aiming for. His ill-fitting graphic t-shirt displayed art of some forgotten movie about the future: a boy in an orange vest, a mad-looking scientist, and a car with wing-like doors. “Heard you ‘ad conformed.” He pointedly scanned her up and down. “Seems the rumours were true.”

“You know me, Roger,” she approached him with an uneasy grin, “can’t stay away from a party.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “Victorians ain’t allowed.” The woman tensed, but he revealed himself quickly. “Aw, I’m just having a laugh, Rita. Go on in. I wouldn’t expect a warm welcome, though.” He opened the door, and she thanked him before disappearing down a dingy staircase.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rita placed her hand on a sleek black door which pulsated frantically. She took a breath and swung into a blinding cacophony of electronic music and colourful strobe lights. Her senses eased with familiarity, but it felt like ages since she had been around anything so raucous. The large space was flooded with revelrous people wearing retro outfits common in the early 21st century and popular styles from the few independent nations that had escaped the reach of the United Empire.

Following the devastation of World War 3 in 2025, the United Kingdom managed to swallow up the world, forming a new, larger empire. The “evils of war technology” prompted the government to launch the Victorian Revival campaign for the sake of social simplification. It wasn’t long before anachronism was prohibited. The punishment for a willfully misplaced reference or article of clothing might get you a spell in the lockup. But anachronists were revolutionists at heart, raging against the empire’s suffocating grip. Flagrant anachronism was treason. Rita thought of her heart locket, a disguised digital watch, and wondered why the mustachioed man hadn’t given her more trouble.

She found herself bobbing to a ragtime-dubstep rendition of Danse Macabre. It was a refreshing change of pace from the dreary classical concerts she had been attending of late. She passed a psychedelic dance floor so tightly packed, it evoked a humorous scene of flailing sardines. Many of the dancers precariously gripped some sort of glowing beverage. One girl found it to be a losing gamble.

“I saw that! You’re cleaning that up, girly. Come here and grab a rag.” Anxious electricity rippled through Rita’s body at the sound of the surly command. She followed the girl who had been reprimanded and slid onto a stool at the bar.

“Sorry, sir,” the girl said.

The bartender shook his head, “Sir is for Victorian’s, lass. Here we say friend.” The girl raised a brow and visibly appraised him.

“How about more than friend?” she chirped, attempting to sound sultry.

The handsome man leaned over the bar, drawing her in. “How about . . .” He paused, and she leaned in closer to his lips. A dirty rag smacked her face. “You clean yer shite.” He pulled away with little interest. The girl raged with a string of curses that fell on deaf ears as he calmly cleaned dishes.

“I know people who could bring this place to the ground.” she said, her eyes gleaming wickedly.

“Do ya’ now,” he said darkly. “That’s grand. Fortunately for me-” he pulled out a large electric handgun from under the counter and pointed it at her. “I know people too. Say hello to Candace.” He cocked the advanced weapon which surged with a hungry buzz. She yelped, and her gaggle of girlfriends fled with her out of the club in a confused panic. Surrounding customers were unbothered, clearly used to these types of antics. The man muttered under his breath in a heavy Connemaran accent and trudged over to the dropped rag.

“I could drag her back here for you,” Rita offered, “That floor isn’t going to clean itself.” The bartender’s grimace melted away instantly at the sight of her. A spark in his eyes caused her stomach to flutter, but it was fleeting. He looked her up and down and hardened his expression again.

“Seems you walked into the wrong club, madam.” His voice dripped with disdain. “Daniel, I am so, so sorry. I can’t begin to-”

The man shouted across the room. “Oi, Benji. I’ll be needing ‘ya to confiscate a lass, would ‘ya.”

Rita stood up in alarm, “You can’t be serious!” A bouncer emerged from out of the chaos and planted himself next to Rita like a menacing tower. Daniel continued, “What was that boyo thinking, letting a Victorian in on a night like this. Try not to rough her up too much, Benji. We wouldn’t want to spoil that lovely dress.” The bouncer laughed and grabbed Rita’s shoulders.

“Wait, look,” she cried desperately. She ripped off her choker and clicked open the locket to reveal the digital watch face.

Daniel cackled sardonically, “Ah yes, two years of abandonment undone because you have some fancy jewelry. Do me a favor, darlin’, and kiss me pale Irish arse.” Daniel waved his hand and the bouncer pushed the indignant Rita toward the entrance. They didn’t get far before the black door swung open with a new arrival. Daniel cursed. “Too late. Hold off, lad.”

The bouncer brought Rita to a halt, still gripping her shoulders with beastly hands. It was 7pm, the exact time she had been told to expect her target. She did not, however, expect to recognize him. Smoothing the unmistakable handlebar mustache, the man caught sight of Rita and the bouncer.

He tilted his head with an incredulous smile, “Fancy meeting you again. Seems you’ve found yourself in a sticky wicket.”

“She was just on her way out,” Daniel frowned. “But she’s seen you now. Not sure what you want to do.”

“Oh dear, that is troubling.” The man approached her with a sly swagger. Disoriented by the circumstances, she hardly reacted when he swiped the necklace from her hand. “No need for that, my good man.” He addressed the bouncer, who finally released her, and the man guided her back to the bar. “Sit, please.”

“You trust her?” Daniel wondered.

“Why of course. Do you have a hammer?”

The bartender raised a brow but handed him a hammer from a nearby drawer.

“Ta.” The man slapped the necklace onto the bar and sent the hammer down on it with a violent crunch.

“No!” Rita squeaked.

“I trust her to tell us why she was wearing a bug.” He turned to Rita with a languid smile that put her ill at ease.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she stuttered.

Daniel groaned, “Christ, Rita, you’re working for the feds? I knew you turned, but I never woulda taken ya’ for a Judas. You’d think three years and an engagement ring would earn a man a little loyalty.”

“It’s not like that, I swear. I-” she collected herself. “The feds have been recruiting people with connections to the underground; they know about your club and my history with you.”

“And you thought, ‘Oh I do quite feel like being a piece of human garbage today. I think I’ll spy on me ex fiance.’” He rolled his eyes.

“No. They said they’d pardon you from treason if I helped them.”

Daniel’s expression softened. “Oh.”

She nodded, “Yes. Anyhow, they heard that an anachronist leader was hosting a gathering here tonight and wanted to know how far his influence reached.” She turned to the other man, “And here you are.”

“Amusing,” said the leader, “They thought a digital watch was enough to earn our trust. Less amusing is that the bloody hypocrites used modern tech to spy on us. They don’t despise technology, they fear it being used against them.” He clapped his hands. “A perfect transition to our gathering this evening. Shall we?”

“Wait, what are we going to do with her?” Daniel met Rita’s eyes, and again she spotted that gentleness he masterfully hid.

“The usual.” He handed the hammer to Benji. “Make it quick.” Rita’s mouth fell open in horror, but the men exploded with laughter.

“Oh, he’s just jokin’, ya ninny.” Daniel said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“No, indeed, you are our guest of honor now, my dear!” Nervously, Rita followed them to a back room which held a starkly different atmosphere than the club. There were dozens of grim looking people talking amongst themselves.

“Welcome, my friends.” the leader began, and Rita settled herself beside Daniel. “We have known for some time that our mission is very fragile and time runs short. But it has come to my attention that the government is right at our heels. We must strike tonight. I know we didn’t expect this to happen so soon, but can I count on you, my friends?” The room erupted into cheers and war cries. The man tore off a tarp from a nearby table to reveal various threatening electric weapons. The crowd immediately rushed over and started equipping themselves.

Under the table, Rita spotted something she recognized from anachronistic history books: the same bombs that destroyed the white house in America. Her eyes widened with fear, and she felt a gentle hand take hers.

“I remember what you said when you left. You thought I was getting too involved with the rebels.” Daniel lilted sadly. “You said, ‘I can’t stand by and watch you get yourself killed.’” He turned to her, and her spirit strengthened at the sight of the warm smile she missed so much. “Looks like you left in vain.”

Looking at him now with the buzz of battle anticipation enveloping them, she felt a surge of life. She knew then that she would see this path through to whichever bitter end it may lead. He walked away to find a weapon, but she pulled him into her and pressed into his lips with more passion than she’d known her whole life. When she pulled away, he grinned.

“That was a hell of a lot more convincing than a digital watch.”