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Mission summary:
"Jericho and his team have been assigned a tough job back in 1912: a small group of millionaires, scientists and critical thinkers have formed a very special but dark club with the sole intention of controlling humanity - totally - over the next couple of hundred years! It appears they will stop at nothing to achieve world domination including manufacturing World Wars, pan-epidemics, massive starvation and climate changes. For a plan over two centuries they need someone to oversee it from start to finish and apparently that's where a strange character called simply 'TARK' comes in the picture. TARK is nearly five hundred years old already and he's certainly not human!"
Episode may contain the following warnings:
“All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical figures, are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are entirely fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
[1] The original Title for this episode was: ‘TARK.’
[2] This episode has quickly became one of the author’s favourites!
[3] A ‘Temporal Detectives’ original story.
[4] "1912: THE YEAR THAT CHANGED THE WORLD FOREVER.” This episode, was conceived and written by the author. Copyright © 2011-2025 Stephen Williams. No reproduction of any part without written permission. The episode's illustration is an original drawing created by the author. It is copyright ©2011 - 2025 Stephen Williams. No reproduction of any part without written permission.
Episode details:
Concept date: 4th July 2025
First published: Unavailable
Status: COMPLETED, BUT UNPUBLISHED.
Location: BOOK SERIES 0 – EPISODE 0.
Revisions: 1 [last revised July 2025]
Version: In review.
Published Episode No. 00
Previous episode: NONE.
Next episode: NONE.
Age recommendation: 15+
Average reading time: Approximately 75 Minutes.
Angel-in-charge: Margret
Team Assigned: Team 74
Mission: 0 - 173543 - 7 – 1912
Episode Preview:
1. “ENTERPRISE HOUSE”, CITY OF LONDON, ENGLAND. evening of Wednesday September 11th 1912.
The young man tilted his head back and could just see the quiet clock’s stark black and white face, as it hung above the empty mantelpiece of the dead fire. He sighed and – again – ran a hand over his face not failing to notice the slight tremble he had acquired over the last few hours. Cussing softly, he sat upright in the big well upholstered chair and stared at the dark oak door that closed his sitting room off from the hallway. He was waiting for just a few taps on the solid old door which – no doubt – had been installed when ‘Enterprise House’ was constructed almost two centuries ago. Johnson Cantrell slowly rubbed his sweaty hands together; his mind wandering with the events of the last few hours and he tried desperately to regain control of the wilder ones. He decided to think about the house; that it stood in its own grounds when first build. But now all that land had been swallowed up by the growing needs of the great City of London. It now had neighbours both sides and was just one of thirteen houses in the quiet street which had been names after a local man who had made his wealth selling canned vegetables to the poor. But - apparently - winning an Army & Navy contract from Robert Jenkinson’s War Department made him very rich.
[Note: Mr. Jenkinson – who was 2nd Earl of Liverpool - was Prime Minister from 1812 to 1827. The first canned food appeared in 1811 and was corned beef.]
Finally, Johnson rose from the over-comfortable chair and paced the room for a few minutes until his eyes caught sight of the ornate drinks cabinet standing by that very old oak door that seemed to draw his attention. He actually licked his lips a little and walked slowly up to the beautiful, carved wood and glass cabinet, opening the gilded door and reaching in for the brandy decanter. That’s when there was several soft taps upon the old door and Johnson stopped like he had been struck immobile and quickly retracted his hand and closed the cabinet, now most reluctantly. He took a deep breath and managed to keep the nerves from appearing in his voice; “Enter….Please!” He called out quite softly and stepped back a couple of feet. The door swung open and the figure just stood there.
Johnson needed all his reputed ‘fine self-control’ not to scream or make a run for it; he was managing to control his ‘fight or flee’ instincts. For some reason, he bowed a little and with a shaking hand gestured the figure in. It moved slowly and stood by the fireplace as Johnson now gave way to his needs and opened the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large brandy. He didn’t offer the visitor a drink because it couldn’t consume anything whilst wearing its environmental suit which had a tight fitting ‘face plate’ attached. “Please….Please Tark, sit if you wish.” Johnson said, gesturing to the chair as he swallowed down some of the much needed brandy. Tark shook his head and lifted a small thin, black, square box from a pocket on his dull grey ‘suit’ and jabbed at it with all three fingers on his right ‘hand’. The box spoke: “Greeting’s Johnson. I will not sit because I find it awkward in my protective suit. We need to wear them until we become more acclimatised to your atmosphere and most importantly, the microbes it contains. Now when are the others arriving?”
“Shortly Tark, I said to arrive by seven thirty and it’s just past the quarter hour. I have given all my staff the night off on the understanding they actually go somewhere! The two young maids moaned about having no money for the tram or the music hall, so I gave them half a crown each….” Johnson didn’t finish because Tark nodded and operated the little black box again. “That is good Johnson, has your mister Lemon informed you of what is required?”
Johnson finished his brandy and already wanted, no, needed another one. He nodded; “Yes, Mister Lemon has outlined what you wish and for a poor mortal man like myself, I am sad that I will not live to see how the plans work out in the future. Most sad, I must confess.” Johnson was now relaxed a little in the presence of the ‘man’ from a little planet some 24 Billion light years away from ‘Mother Earth’ where the dominate species – Tark’s people – have an Earth equivalent life span exceeding a thousand years in many cases. Normally only an accident would end their lives before that time period came to an end. Johnson knew that Tark and his people’s plans for humanities future would cover the next two hundred years, which was – in reality – just a couple of their decades. He certainly wouldn’t be around to see the fruits of his labours flourish. But his great-grand children would reap huge benefits and rewards by his co-operation with Tark and his plans. It was always better to be on the side of the predator than the prey.
He had to smile; surely these were plans on a superhuman and grand scale; the complete control of humanity and it’s guidance towards the stars, unencumbered by religious or racial hatred. But first there must be some truly hard sacrifices made – not by him or the group he belonged to – but the common people who Tark and Johnson [and his colleagues] openly referred to as sheep. The best of them – amongst the males – who could prove difficult or reluctant would simply be eliminated; apparently in their millions! This would be followed by the part destruction of the family unit to further weaken any foreseen resistance with the control of women vital. Their lives would no longer be dominated by their men: fathers or husbands, but by the government or state, which in fact would be Tark and his people!
“The bloody Roman’s knew what they were doing: divide and conquer. The bloody sheep won’t even know they will be prisoners in cages of their own making!” Johnson muttered to himself as he poured himself a refill while Tark consulted his little black box again. He thought about Jacob [Astor] and Isidor [Straus] who had declared their opposition to the plans and their foolish threats to expose Tark and his plans to the world. “Rotting at the bottom of the sodding Atlantic for all their money: Tark knows how to deal with dissenters and the destruction of over fifteen hundred others to achieve it means nothing to him….and us of course!” Johnson was now actually smiling, almost possessed by the thoughts of such power being wielded without moral judgement, fear or favour. Just the necessity to get the job done. Old Mister ‘Rainbow’ Lemon had stated that the big war planned for the next couple of years would be the catalyst for changes to society and the ‘gentle, slow, almost idyllic Edwardian period would be washed away in a sea of blood; quickly being replaced by a harder, less caring society where the family would start to splinter – as planned. If progress was too slow, then another great war may be needed. Mr. Lemon believed that whipping up fear of the Chinese with their millions of people would be part of that. Tark and his people will certainly find someone to set the world fighting as required!
