The following Prologue Chapters do not contain any sexual descriptions whatever. However they are important as they contain the reasons for all that follow. More Chapter will be released, each a complete tale.
Prologue - Chapter 1.
I Remember!
It only happened a few weeks ago. My suddenly remembering I mean. I was sitting up in my bed, leaning into my pillows and reading a book by the light of the bedside lamp. I was aware I had heard the grandfather clock on the landing strike a late hour and I suddenly thought about Ham. Ham, my mentor, who had started as my childhood friend. Ham who had given me so much of his time, his energies, his time and attention, his..... Memories. I sat there in bed and suddenly started remembering all sorts of things about him. Images flashed though my mind like a never ending slide show, first one thing then another, then another, then another. Even now, a scant few weeks later, I am not sure what actually happened, but I have a good idea.
First things first. A quick history. In the early fifties my parents were looking for a place to go for a holiday. Dad had been invalided out of the army after the Falklands war due to his injuries. He had become a successful travelling salesman for a Company and my parents were becoming well off for the first time. A friend of Mum lived in a small coastal village in Devon near Salcombe. Mum had received a letter from her asking us down there and as Dad was always tired and not really very well, Mum said we could all do with a break. Dad arranged for time off work. Mum's friend had said that she could arrange 'bed and brek' lodging for us close by that would not cost 'the earth', and so we went for a Summer Holiday. I was thirteen years old, going on fourteen. It was my first Holiday with my folks away from home.
Mum's friend Joan lived in a small cottage in a terrace of nine houses near the little harbour on a sandy bay. As I remember it was a tiny 'one up, one down' cottage with an outside toilet. Mum said they were fishermen's cottages and some of them still had fishermen living in them. Joan had secured us lodging in the main village about 5 minutes walk away in a large house with a grey slate roof. It stood apart from the other houses, which were smaller and had thatched roofs. Mum's friend Joan said that the man who lived there was a recluse. Joan only knew him because she cleaned and polished the house for him, twice a week. He also employed a permanent butler, a cook and a local man who worked as a gardener and odd-job man. The owner's name was Michael Hampton (named changed to protect etc.) and he was a London finance man and inventor. Several of his inventions had earned him a fortune and he lived away from everyone in his house. Joan had mentioned us to him whilst she was working. He had a way of being able to talk to anyone for a few minutes and know his or her life history. He told Joan and Charles-the-Butler to 'open up a few rooms and make them comfortable,' and gave orders to Charles for May-the-Cook to 'make sure they don't go hungry' and that was that. Mum was worried because she thought he would charge more, but he did not seem to worry about money at all. Joan said that he was a 'man of his word' and not to worry.
The train journey down to Devon was an adventure in itself and then a taxi trip to the village. On the train I became quite dizzy watching the trees and fields pass by, and was amazed as to how high the roadside banks and hedges were as we drove in the taxi from the station to Joan's village. The taxi-driver said it was to protect people from the wind, which blew most days. Mr. Hampton's house stood on a hill slope above the other houses. It was very Victorian with high ceilings and windows with internal shutters that Charles closed at night. We had a suite of guest rooms with a sitting room, two bedrooms, and our own bathroom and toilet. It was all much better than our house. My bedroom was in one of the house' corner towers and had windows that looked out over the harbour, the bay and the sea, and I could see all the way down to Plymouth on a good day. Mr. Hampton sent his 'regards' we were informed by Charles on arrival and he told us 'not to fail to ask' if we wanted anything. I asked for a hot chocolate and was hushed by my Mum but May the Cook took hold of my hand and said 'Of Course Young Man' and led me down to the Kitchen. It was a typical Victorian Kitchen like the ones you will see if you visit a Nation Trust property now, but to me then it was an Aladdin's Cave full of mystery and, more importantly, a hot chocolate. My memories of May never change. She was wide but not very tall. She wore a dark blue full-length dress, which she then enveloped with a full-length apron that seemed to contain her two ample bosoms and stomach in such a way that I was sure the tightness made her bottom cheeks bulge bigger. She was always efficient, and busy, but never too busy to stop and she was soft, not to touch but in the way she did everything. Her meals spoke reams of love and care.
But I digress.
It had been a lovely sunny day the day we travelled down to Devon, but the next day the weather changed; it was windy and wet and I had to stay 'in the house'. My parents had always been careful with my health and me. I thought it was because of Dad and his war-wounds, and that Mum was just being over-careful. I later found out that I had been diagnosed as a baby with a 'heart murmur'. I was all right if I did not do too much, but running around made me very breathless and I had to sit down. I was never included in games at school that included prolonged physical exertion. It did not really upset me any, as I had always been like that. So being in 'The House' on the first day of the Holiday was a pity but not so upsetting as I had 'The House' to explore. "Don't go making a nuisance of yourself," advised my Dad, "And don't break anything," added my Mum, and then I was left to my own devices.
I had covered most of the house, finding some doors open and others locked. On the ground floor at the back there were two glass swing-doors, but I could not see through them for condensation. I cracked open one and was physically struck by the warm moist air inside that was almost falling out. I went inside and closed the door behind me. I could see an old man with rolled up shirtsleeves and trousers tied at the knees. The shirt and trousers were old and dirty from gardening, and he wore old boots tied with laces and encased with dried mud. This must be the glasshouse and he must be the gardener. He was bent over a shelf of potted plants. "Put it on the side there, thank you," he said. I looked about but there was no one else in the room. He turned towards me as he was working and just stopped, staring at me. Then he smiled and asked, "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Please Sir," I stammered, " I did not mean to startle you. I was just finding my way around. I don't know who you thought I am."
"They normally bring me a cup of tea about this time, and I felt the draught as you opened the door. Got to keep the heat up in here you know. Special plants. Tropical they are." He waved me over. "Do you want to see?"
He sat on a bench and patted the wooden slats beside me. "These plants rely on me. If I did not look after them, they would die." As he spoke his hands seemingly caressed the leaves of a plant. I went and sat on the bench next to him. I was wearing sandals and my feet just reached the floor. The Gardener took in what he saw - a young man wearing an open necked short-sleeved shirt, grey flannel shorts, grey socks and tan sandals. I looked at the potted plant in his hands. He turned it round slowly so I could see the flowers. They looked like bees on a stem.
"This is an orchid. It does not need to be warm and wet. I can grow him out in the garden here," he said nodding to the garden through the windows. "No it's other plants that need the heat. You would like them. Meat eaters they are." He looked at me and his eyes sparkled as he smiled. "Don't worry. They are insect eaters, not boys."
There was a discreet cough. I looked up and there was Charles with a mug of tea in his hands. "Thank you," said the Gardener, then he turned to me and asked if I wanted anything. "A glass of water, please," I said feeling very self-conscious, "But I can come and get it if you wish." Charles smiled and put the mug down on a bench next to the Gardener, turned to face me and said, "I will return in a minute with your water young Sir." The Gardener made a sound like a hiccup and when I looked at him he was almost laughing. Obviously some joke had passed between them that I had missed.
The Gardener sipped at his mug of tea. I looked around. "Do you like working here?" I asked, really just wanting to break the silence. The old man looked into his mug and then nodded, "Yes, it's a very pleasant place to be."
There was a long silence and then he asked me, "And you, young man, do you like being here?"
"I don't know yet. The house is nice and Mum and Dad are happy. It's a better house than we live in.......far better. Dad's not very well and Mum is worried about him. He really needs a bit of a break." I felt as though I could speak to this man, even though he was a stranger.
"You have not been too well either, have you Roland?" The Gardener asked, then raised his head and looked at me with those twinkley eyes.
"It's nothing really. Been like this all my life." He watched as realisation spread across my face. "How do you know I am not well?" He just sat there smiling. "And how did you know my name?" His jovial expression did not falter. "Who are you?"
I stood up and turned to face him. I think the heat in the glasshouse must have made me dizzy and faint. I don't remember anything else except him reaching out to me as I fell in a faint. I woke in my bed with my Mum sitting beside me as a voice spoke.
"We think he became too hot in the conservatory and passed out. I brought him straight here and had Charles inform you." I turned to the speaker and saw it was the Gardener.
"I am so sorry if we have caused any problem...." Started my Mum, but he shushed her soothingly until she was quiet.
"No problem at all. In fact, if you all feel up to it later this afternoon we must have tea together, Charles will know where I am and will bring you to me" he said gathering himself and making for the bedroom door.
"But what if Mr. Hampton finds you're not working?" I blurted out to him before he disappeared round the door.
"I really don't think Mr. Hampton will mind. See you there." And with that he closed the door behind him.
"Who was that?" asked Mum.
"I think he's the Gardener, Mum."
"Poor thing," said Mum passing her hand over my forehead. "I don't suppose you have had a bite to eat. It's well past lunchtime and your Dad will be back from the Town soon. Let's go and ask the Cook what we do today for food, the weather being as it is and all."
A couple of hours later and Dad had returned, May the Cook had rustled up some sandwiches - slices of ham, sliced tomatoes and green salad with cucumber, all in freshly baked bread, but for some reason she cut the crusts off - and I was feeling fine again, unlike the weather.
It was just before 4 o'clock when Charles came into our sitting room and announced his presence with a discreet cough. I was to get used to him just appearing with a cough, it was his trademark. "I have served tea in the Library, if you would be so kind as to follow me."
We followed him through the main reception hall, past other rooms until finally we were at the Library. Charles opened the double doors and stood to one side to let us pass. The walls were simply covered with books of different sizes and colours. There were tables with green glass shaded lights and big green leather covered chairs. There were ladders on each wall that slid along rails, so you could climb up to any of the books near the ceiling. I had never seen so many books. And standing in front of the fireplace looking at himself in the big mirror that sat on the mantelpiece, with his back to us, was Mr. Hampton himself, wearing a lovely tweed jacket, plus fours, and dark brown brogue shoes. We approached him and then he turned. "Will you be Mother?" he asked of my Mum and gesturing to the tea set on the table by a semi-circle of chairs. "Of course Mr. Hampton. It's so kind of you. We don't want to be any bother." Mr. Hampton held the high back of my Mum's chair and she sat down. Mr. Hampton waved to the chair on the other side of him and my Dad shook Mr. Hampton's hand and sat down. "Come Roland. You can bring over the cake stand on that trolley, and sit with me." Mr. Hampton sat down on a long sofa. I just stood open mouthed. Mr. Hampton was The Gardener.
Prologue - Chapter 2.
It was almost two days before I was able to talk to Mr. Hampton again. 'Taking Tea' with Mr. Hampton had been a formal affair. My Mum and Dad had seen to that. They were absolutely aghast that what they had taken for The Gardener (on my say-so) turned out to be the famous, rich recluse who owned the house. It turned into an eat-the-scone-drink-the-tea-and-get-out affair. I hardly had a bite or a word before the two library doors were being closed by my Dad on our backs. Back in the sitting room Mum admitted to being 'mortified' and Dad 'shocked'. I thought it was quite funny. When we went down to May the Cook for supper, she had a small smile constantly on her face, but she made no mention of our tea, and it was never talked of again.
The next day was brilliant, cloudless sunshine and we made our way down to the beach with the folding chairs and a bucket and spade that Charles had found. As we left the house, Charles said he would see us later and we really thought nothing of it. But after we had been on the beach for an hour or so, Charles turned up, driving the Rolls Royce across the dry but firm sands. There were few people on the beach and he had no difficulty in spotting us. He parked the car near us and proceeded to set up a table and chairs, "courtesy of Mr. Hampton." A tablecloth, various cold cuts and soft drinks appeared from the boot of the car. Charles then invited us to sit and he served us our Luncheon. After this he magiced a cup of tea from a Thermos for Mum and Dad and gave a sherbet dip to me. When we had finished he packed it all up and with a cough and a 'Thank You Madam, Sir, Young Sir' he drove off the beach and up the slipway before the tide came back in. My Mum said she would never have believed it if someone had told her it had happened to them, as she sat in her folding chair with a big smile on her face and her eyes closed in the shade of her broad brimmed sun hat.
The next day was wet again. I watched the curtains of rain swish across the bay from my bedroom windows. Midmorning I cleared it with Mum and went looking round the house again. I had found out there was a cellar under the house and even better had found the cellar door was unlocked. Before descending I switched on the electric light and was gratified to see a loom of light across the floor below. At the bottom of the stairs I was greeted with a comprehensively stocked workshop. Without disturbing anything I walked round the several workbenches looking at what they contained. There was plenty there but nothing I could understand. Obviously they were some of Mr. Hampton's inventions. I was bending down looking at one of them when a door opened near me and Mr. Hampton came into the room. I could see a tunnel behind him, which seemed to stretch for some distance. There was also an old, white haired man in a white robe.
"Hallo Roland! What do you think of that?" asked Mr. Hampton, pointing to what I was looking at.
I could only shake my head and say that I admired the craftsmanship but did not understand what it was for.
"No, of course not, but one day you might well!" he said.
I nodded to the old man behind him and asked Mr. Hampton, "Does he help you make these things?" Mr. Hampton stopped in his tracks as if someone had turned a switch off. He remained motionless for a few seconds, and then slowly came over to me. He stood behind me so we both could look at the old man, and put his hands on my shoulders, then spoke softly into my right ear, "Can you see old Tommy there?"
When I answered I could, I felt his hands tighten a bit on my shoulders and then he said into my right ear again, "And what is he wearing?"
"He is wearing a white robe. He looks a bit like a picture of Merlin I have in a book at home," I answered.
"Capital!" said Mr. Hampton. He called out to the man-in-the-robe, "Tommy how many is this now?"
Tommy walked through the door into the room and answered "Only sixteen in almost three thousand years have been reported from the total number of the outposts on this planet."
"Did you hear what he said?" asked Mr. Hampton. It was my time to stop and think before I answered. Mr. Hampton looked into my face expectantly. Is this a trick question I thought? "I understand what he said, but I am not sure I actually heard him," I paused to think back, then continued, "I don't think I saw his mouth move, but it must have done, otherwise how could I have heard him?"
"Capital!" Mr. Hampton repeated, then to Tommy, "Look at him. Not at all frightened and reasoning with his brain, not just believing what he thinks should be right." He turned back to me. "This is a momentous day for me. I never thought I would live to see this ever." Then back to Tommy, "I will return later Tommy." The old man 'Tommy' showed no emotion, just retired into the passageway and closed the door behind him. In complete contrast Mr. Hampton threw up his hands and whooped in excitement. "Who would ever have believed it?" and then to me, "It was fate that has brought us together. Fate!" He grasped my right elbow and propelled me to the stairs. "We must make arrangements! Arrangements my boy! Arrangements!"
Together we raced up through the house to my parents' sitting room and burst into the room, Mr. Hampton holding me by my elbow.
"It's about your boy Roland..." started Mr. Hampton, but was cut short by my Mum saying, "I'm sure he didn't mean to ......... whatever it is!"
"No no! My dear Lady. Calm yourself! Pray sit and gather yourself," this to my Mum, "and you too Sir!" this to my Dad.
"No, this is a momentous day. A day that I thought statistically impossible.........impossible!" he paused to think and then continued, "and yet why not? Statistics pointed towards it happening again.....but surely not this soon......not this opportunely!" To my parents he said, "Do you realise what I have in my hands here?" My parents looked at each other. To them it seemed obvious the man was off his head. "I have the future, nothing more, nothing less!" He let go my arm, turned and disappeared striding across the main hallway. "I have so many plans to make. So many!.....And so little time. Charles!......Charles!........Where have you got to?" And a few seconds later, his voice diminishing as he travelled "Ah! There you are............. My Office, Immediately"
We saw nothing of Mr. Hampton for the rest of the day, but were aware of some commotions. By about six o'clock several cars arrived and people were ushered into the Library. At just after seven that evening we were about to go to have supper in May the Cook's kitchen as usual when Charles asked for us to join Mr. Hampton in the Library. The reading desks had been moved into one long table with chairs down either side. Mr. Hampton sat at one end and there were five suited gentlemen down one side. Charles showed us to sit on the other side, and I was up next to Mr. Hampton. "You are probably wondering what this is all about...." started Mr. Hampton but was silenced by one of the suits standing up. He held his lapels and started to talk.
" I am a Doctor of Medicine," he said addressing my parents, "and I have examined Mr. Hampton today both physically and mentally. He is sound in both body and mind. You have my word on that." Mum held onto Dad's arm and wondered how this would all end. "Also I have known Mr. Hampton since he was a boy and can vouchsafe his integrity." He sat down.
"You see the thing is......" started Mr. Hampton again but was interrupted by another of the suits. "I represent Mr. Hampton on all things in law. He has asked me to draw up papers for you to sign. They are surprising in content but perfectly legal." He sat down.
There was a slight pause and then Mr. Hampton stood again slowly, glowering at the suits, daring one to interrupt this time. They all just sat and looked up at him. "Today something happened which was unexpected to say the least. I discovered that your son Roland has a remarkable talent that has only been seen once before in this century, and that was in me. Trust me when I say that I don't want to reveal yet what it is, just that your son definitely has it. To this end I wish to take over responsibility for your son's education and well-being. As his parents you will of course remain as long as you wish as my guests, either here or elsewhere of your choice. Whilst Roland is in my care you will be completely looked after. You will no doubt want to consider my offer, and these gentlemen will answer your questions as best they can. I will retire into the smoke room for a while. Do you have any questions at this moment?"
Dad looked bewildered at me, and Mum just looked white. "Will we be able to visit him?" she asked in a quiet voice. "Anytime you or he wishes, so long as it does not interfere with his Schooling," came the reply from one of the seated suits.
"Does this mean that Dad won't have to work any more if he doesn't want to?" I asked.
"Not if he doesn't want to. I am sure that if he does I can find something for him in my firm," answered Mr. Hampton.
"Mr. Hampton, will I have to learn History?" I asked.
"No Roland, not if you don't want to, but you will find that History is more fun that anything you might have imagined in School. And you don't have to call me Mr. Hampton any more, my name is Ham, but I prefer Ham." He reached for my hand and we shook.
Nothing was actually done that night, but over the next few days everything was worked out so that I could stay at the House and Mum and Dad were able to go back home and sort out their affairs before moving back to the village. A comfortable house was found for them in Salcombe where they lived comfortably for the rest of their days. My education advanced in leaps and bounds, but more of that later. As the years passed Ham grew old, as did I. His health slowly failed and he became bedridden. As I said at the beginning of my narrative I was sitting in my bed reading when I was suddenly flooded with images of his life, his memories. I somehow sensed that he was on the point of death. As I saw his life images unfold I heard his voice telling me not to worry and that he was finally going to rest. When this experience was over I called to Charles and he asked me to meet me at Ham's bedchamber. We found he had passed peacefully away in his sleep. The lasting image I have of him is his smile, which although his soul had left, was still on his face, and in my mind.
In the following weeks Charles, May and I tried even harder to complete the work that had been left for me.
Prologue - Chapter Three.
Those of you who have read thus far will be aware that there are several inconsistencies in my writings. Who is Tommy? What was so special about me? Why had old May and Charles seemingly not grown older with us as well? I will try to answer these as we go.
After my parents had agreed to let Ham take over my wellbeing and education, Ham had to show me what 'my gift' was all about. We descended to his workshop and then to the door on the far wall. Ham punched a coded number into the keypad, and the door opened. Tommy was standing on the other side as we entered. As the door swung open Tommy greeted us with a phrase that I was to hear many, many times. "Welcome. How may I help you?"
Tommy showed no surprise at my presence there. "I wish you to educate this young man for me. His name is Jonas, and by his demeanour and skin colour, I believe he may have a body illness or defect," Ham said. "Go with Tommy and do what he says," Ham told me. When I appeared reluctant Ham said, "Tommy will not hurt you. He is incapable of that, believe me. What he does will seem strange until you have enough knowledge to understand what it is all about. Consider yourself as a baby who can see and hear but is unable to rationalise or communicate. All will become clear with time. Trust me. Go with Tommy, and don't worry or be shy. You will learn things about yourself that will only be known inside this structure. Take him now Tommy and inform me when he has assimilated his basic instructions."
"If you will follow me young sir," Tommy said as he walked off down the corridor. I followed and we passed many closed doorways, each showing symbols in a language I was unable to read or understand................yet.
Some time passed. Tommy took me into what I now know to be an advanced hospital facility, deep inside the hill. There I was 'cured' of all ailments in my body. In fact I have not had a day of illness since. One thing that was not touched however, was the aging process, which continued as usual. I learned that Tommy's full name was Ptolemy, and that this name was a name he had adopted at some time during his existence, which even he had no knowledge as to its start date. All three personas, Tommy, Charles and May are projections. I don't try to understand how, but accept that they can be 'flesh and blood' at times and insubstantial ghosts at other times, depending on circumstance and distance from the house. Communication can either be by voice or telepathy, or inner voice as Tommy likes to call it. Tommy's method of teaching was simple. After some short periods wearing a special helmet or 'crash hat' as he called it with a smile, my mind was able to accept a telepathic link to a central 'brain' deep in the complex. From then on I was able to 'learn' as I slept. But the learning process is two way. As I understand it the 'whoever-built-it entities' are able to observe humanity using myself as their camera and to effect such change as they are allowed or wish. And I am not the only one they observe. Apparently they have similar complexes elsewhere on the Planet. Also there are certain things they can not do, such as.... they understood the mechanics behind cancers, but could not release a 'cure', as it would fundamentally change humanity. However they had through the ages allowed 'discoveries' to be released by various ways. I remember talking to Tommy about Archimedes. He would not say much but just laughed at the memories of trying to get some of the basic ideas of chemistry and physics understood then, things we now take for granted today. He did however caution me, using Archimedes as an example, that there were things today that we, the human race, could not dream of, in a way parallel to Archimedes in his times. This was in response to my wanting to know more than he was willing to give me. In fact it was Archimedes and his famous drawings of helicopters, submarines and the like that cautioned me that humanity would move at its own speed, regardless of the facts laid in front of it.
This then is the background behind my situation. There are, inside the complex, areas where any situation that can be imagined, can become reality to the observer. Seemingly as a reward for allowing information to be taken or planted, I was allowed to use the rooms for recreational purposes, but even then my 'games' were noted. I have often thought about my relaxation periods and what they contained. Given that Tommy had access to my every secret as I slept, he would have been able to engineer what I needed. As a fourteen year old, puberty was on the ascendant, and Tommy was able to gratify my needs in a multitude of ways.
And so, dear Reader, in the following Chapters, I shall endeavour to describe some of the adventures that Tommy created for me, both for education and pleasure.
And finally the final mystery I have to reveal - that of my name. I was christened Jonas Seymor Weight but I much rather enjoy the shortened name of Jon.
Thank you for being patient thus far.