1877 - The genesis, shrouded in the fog of the Northumberland coast. Aethelred Finch, a cartographer obsessed with the movement of tides, began constructing his apparatus. He theorized that the rhythmic pulses of the ocean, when amplified and channeled through precisely calibrated coils and vacuum tubes, held a key to manipulating temporal currents. His initial designs, meticulously etched onto oiled parchment, resemble nothing so much as a celestial map rendered in brass and glass.
Finch's primary instrument, dubbed the “Harmonic Chronometer,” utilized a series of Leyden jars, meticulously wound with copper wire of varying gauges, and connected to a modified telegraph key. The signal wasn’t intended for simple message transmission, but rather for inducing a resonant frequency within the earth itself. He believed that by achieving this resonance, he could momentarily “bend” the flow of time, allowing for precise observations of geological events – particularly, the subtle shifts preceding volcanic eruptions.
The core of the Chronometer’s design incorporated a “Null Conduit,” a serpentine channel constructed from polished obsidian, purportedly chosen for its ability to absorb extraneous temporal eddies. This conduit was connected to a complex series of vibrating diaphragms, each painstakingly tuned to a specific harmonic. The idea, as Finch documented in his increasingly frantic journals, was to create a “temporal echo” – a fleeting impression of the past.
1883 - The experiments escalated. Finch began experiencing…shifts. Not dramatic alterations, but disconcerting glitches. A misplaced tool suddenly appearing an hour before it was last seen. The faint scent of lavender, a flower extinct for centuries, lingering briefly in the laboratory. These were dismissed initially as the product of fatigue and wishful thinking, yet they increased in frequency and strangeness.
His assistant, Elias Thorne, a brilliant but tragically unstable physicist, argued that Finch had inadvertently created a “temporal fracture” – a localized disruption in the spacetime continuum. Thorne’s theories, scribbled in a feverish script, posited that the Harmonic Chronometer wasn’t merely observing time, but actively *interacting* with it, creating ripples that extended back into the past.
The most troubling incident occurred during a particularly intense experiment. The laboratory was plunged into a chilling silence, the air thick with the sensation of being watched. Thorne reported seeing a brief, shimmering distortion in the corner of the room, accompanied by the distinct impression of a voice – a voice speaking in a language unknown to any recorded human tongue. He documented this event with obsessive detail, filling several notebooks with diagrams and calculations that remain largely incomprehensible to modern scholars.
The core of Finch’s theory hinged on the concept of “Electrotelegraphic Resonance.” He believed that the flow of electricity, when precisely modulated, could interact with the inherent temporal frequencies of the Earth. The key was achieving a state of perfect harmonic alignment – a state he described as “temporal synchronicity.”
Thorne, in his more radical interpretations, suggested that the vacuum tubes themselves were not merely components of the Chronometer, but acted as “temporal capacitors,” storing and releasing bursts of temporal energy. He proposed a complex mathematical model based on the principles of electromagnetism and harmonic series, attempting to quantify the relationship between electricity, resonance, and time.
The obsidian conduit, according to Finch’s notes, served as a “temporal damping agent,” mitigating the destabilizing effects of the resonance. However, it also seems to have amplified the effects, leading to the anomalies. The precise function of the conduit remains a subject of intense speculation.