Permitting time travel to be the domain of enthusiastic amateurs has clear drawbacks. Far more prudent to charge a body of knowledgeable bureaucrats with the responsibility of monitoring and regulating time travel. British authors, coming as they do from a nation whose efficient bureaucracies are the stuff of legend, are particularly well-placed to appreciate the benefits of sensibly-regulated time travel.
Consider these five works about the wonders of bureaucracy.
The Wall of Years by Andrew M. Stephenson (1979)
Determined to protect the British Republics from the deleterious effects of time travel, Commissariat of National Integrity launched Project Damocles. The results were spectacular. CNI functionaries were rewarded appropriately.
The two million lucky survivors who escaped the utter destruction of the 21st century by fleeing to the comparative safety of the 26th are dependent on time machines for vital resources. Thus, it is imperative that time travel be used as judiciously as possible. A calibration mission to King Alfred’s court yields an alarming discovery: the brutal purges may have missed key CNI personnel, who may even now be plotting to unravel history once again!
Much of the novel is a 9th century cat-and-mouse game, in which two modern agents try to work out who amongst Alfred the Great’s retinue is behaving oddly because they are time travelers determined to alter history—as opposed to all the people who are acting oddly by 21st/26th century standards because 9th century Saxons and Danes had profoundly unfamiliar beliefs and values.
The Silver Sky by Tanith Lee (1980)
(First broadcast on Saturday Night Theatre) Once the possibility of time travel became clear, British scientists wasted little time turning theory into a functioning time machine every bit the equal of the de Havilland Comet and the R101. Alas, certain blinkered figures higher up the food chain imperil the funding on which the project depends. Therefore, there is no alternative but fast-forward to human testing while funds are still available.
Emerging from the wreckage of his time machine, Paul discovers that the models his team used were flawed. The raspberry pink sea and the silver sky make it painfully clear that he has not reached the 17th century, as planned. Where or when is he? That’s a mystery he must solve.
Among the tests Paul’s team cannot have done if the story were to work out as it does: none of the test rigs could have had cameras, and none of the test runs involved short intervals. If either of those had been true, Paul’s team would surely have realized that their model was flawed.
Primeval, created by Tim Haines and Adrian Hodges (2007–2011)
The appearance of Permian-era animals in the Forest of Dean allows only one conclusion. For reasons unknown, temporal anomalies facilitate the displacement of animals from one period to another. As a significant percentage of the displaced creatures pose a threat to the British public, Her Majesty’s Government must deal with the crisis.
Nick Cutter and his colourful team have the requisite field skills. To ensure that the crew conforms to the Home Office’s very sensible goals, exemplary bureaucrat James Lester oversees the team. As the crew faces intrusion after intrusion, it does not take long for Cutter and company to discover that the crisis is far worse than they knew.
Many viewers may be somewhat alarmed that the outcome of human tampering with anomalies is decidedly apocalyptic. As it is clear that history is not fixed, it’s not impossible that, had the series continued, that particular bad future could have been averted1. Or made much worse. Changed, at any rate.
Just One Damned Thing After Another by Jodi Taylor (2013)
The historians employed by St. Mary’s Institute of Historical Research employ a more hands-on approach to their field than rival historians. St. Mary’s possesses time machines, which allow the stalwart researchers to venture into the past. The lucky staff members manage to survive long enough to return to their present.
Dr. Madeleine “Max” Maxwell is an ideal faculty member. Not only is she highly knowledgeable, unlike many of her less fortunate colleagues, Max has an exemplary talent for not dying. The latter knack is of great use to Max as she and her fellow disaster magnets pioneer the field of time travel.
Many of St. Mary’s projects seem badly thought out. Still, I should not judge. If I were provided with a time machine, I would almost certainly perish during an ill-fated but in some senses extremely successful attempt to hand-feed a velociraptor.
The Psychology of Time Travel by Kate Mascarenhas (2018)
Margaret, Lucille, Grace, and Barbara are the coinventors of time travel. Margaret, Lucille, and Grace went on to create the Conclave, an elite quango with responsibility for all time travel missions. The Conclave is above reproach. As for the fourth researcher, Barbara? Why dwell on the unpleasant?
Barbara is Ruby’s Granny Bee. Ruby has an understandable curiosity about events others would prefer to forget. More immediately, Ruby is concerned with a murder mystery: who is the victim, how will they come to be in a locked room, and most importantly, can anything be done to prevent the murder?
I too am astonished that the nation that is home to Midsomer, St Mary Mead, Carsely, Kembleford, Grantchester, Great Slaughter, York, and Oxford should somehow be the nation that gave the world a time travel murder mystery. What are the odds?
These are but a small sampling of the time travel bureaucracies featured in British novels and TV. No doubt I missed some of your favorites. Feel free to remind me of them in comments below.