Julius and the Watchmaker (11 page)

‘So…so…' said Julius, as he tried to get his mind around it all. ‘What were you doing giving out notes with keys in them, in Warwick Lane, looking like a Chinaman, I mean, Tibetan?'

‘Good point. But that reminds me. I seem to have misplaced that key,' said the professor.

CHAPTER 11

Thursday 1st June, 1837
12:34 PM

Julius, Mr Flynn and the professor spent several hours picking up rocks and putting them down again.

‘The key is here somewhere,' said the professor, tossing yet another stone to one side.

‘Why didn't you mark the spot, Professor?' asked Julius.

‘What? And let every bandit or ne'er-do-well who happens to pass by know that I am hiding something?'

‘Found it!' said Mr Flynn, as he lifted a large rock over his head. Tossing it to one side, he stooped and picked up a small gold key. He blew on it to remove the dust. Julius and the professor huddled around the find. It looked very small in Mr Flynn's large hand.

‘That's the key that was in the piece of paper you gave me in Warwick Lane,' said Julius.

The professor picked it up and rubbed it against his robe to give it back its shine. Then he held it up to the sun's rays and turned it in his fingers. It sparkled like new. ‘We are at the end of our quest, Julius,' he said. ‘Springheel, or should I say Charles Vivian, has been found and Shelley's pocketwatch will be returned to the Guild.'

‘What's the key for then, Professor?' asked Julius.

‘It was Lord Byron's idea,' said the professor. ‘He is a friend to the Guild of Watchmakers, like Mr Flynn here. He thought we should have a special hiding place for the watch so he arranged it all. Where do you hide the most valuable thing in England? I'll tell you: somewhere in the middle of London, in full view of any beggar or baronet and yet as safe as if it were buried under a mountain. It takes a poet to think of things like that.

‘Byron placed this key into my hand as we stood at Shelley's funeral pyre on that windswept beach in Italy. It was he who put me onto Charles Vivian. He didn't trust the boy, and when Vivian's body didn't wash up he knew the boy had stolen the timepiece.

‘As the flames consumed Shelley's body, I vowed to Byron that I would retrieve the pocketwatch and hide it until a new Watchmaker could be found—one who would be a worthy successor to Shelley.'

‘So the key has been under that rock since 1822?'

‘Precisely, Julius.'

‘But, you gave it to me not two days ago. So, how can you be only finding it now?'

‘He's a sharp one, Professor,' said Mr Flynn and chuckled.

The professor winced. ‘Um, perhaps we could leave that question until—'

‘And, anyway, if you really are time-travellers, as you say you are, then why don't you just go back in time to nab Mr Springheel before he causes all this vortex trouble, before he even steals the pocketwatch, so that none of this ever happens?' said Julius.

‘I'm afraid it's not as simple as that,' said the professor.

‘Why ever not?'

The professor scratched his chin. ‘Julius, my boy, this might be an opportune moment to explain one or two things about the intricacies of time-travel.'

‘Oh, no, he's going to give you the “time is like a tablecloth” lecture now, young fella,' said Mr Flynn, giving Julius a reassuring pat on the shoulder

‘Precisely, Danny. You see, Julius, time
is
like a tablecloth—not an arrow as you would naturally think,' said the professor, turning to face the sun and the vast rolling plains.

‘I would?'

‘Yes,' said the professor. ‘You see, we think of time as stretching out before us and behind us like the trajectory of an arrow. The arrow flies through time from the past, through the present and into the future. Simple? Well, it's not. You see, if we were to go back and sort out Mr Springheel we would be altering the space-time continuum—we would be producing
another
present. We may stop the villain from interfering in other realms but what else might we inadvertently change that would alter the flow of time? We time-travellers only interfere in the course of human history when time-criminals like Springheel interfere with it. Usually we would—'

‘We? You keep referring to time-travellers as if there were more. More than only you and Mr Flynn?'

‘I'm not a time-traveller, Julius, more of a time-passenger,' said Mr Flynn.

‘We'll get to that at a later date,' said the professor, as he paced back and forth. ‘For now, simply know that we are many. Now back to
time as a tablecloth
. Imagine a tablecloth stretched over a table. It has two dimensions—its length and its breadth. Imagine this, Julius, if you will—take a pen and dip it in some ink. Make a dot in the centre of the cloth. That is
now
—
actual reality
. If you draw a line a few inches along the breadth of the tablecloth that will represent time following its traditional course into the future. Each step onto the future becomes a
present
as it occurs. Do you follow?'

‘Eh…?'

‘Now we will complicate matters a little by introducing a time-traveller who is not constrained by that one timeline. Imagine a time-traveller going back a week in time and changing something, anything. You would represent that by drawing a line on the tablecloth beginning at the end of your line and going diagonally backwards to a point that is a few inches to the left of your original dot. That is your changed past. Now, to let that
changed
past continue along its natural course you would draw a line straight along the length of the cloth and stop when you draw parallel with the end of the original line. This point is the
new
present. It is a different present because it has a different past—and it will have a different future. So you see our dilemma. We now have two
presents
running parallel. Each present is inhabited by the same people but they are living in different realities. So my question to you, Julius, is: which is the
real
present?'

‘Um…'

‘You'll never get it, so I'll tell you. They are all real. One is
actually
real and the rest are
potentially
real. There is one original timeline on which all the others are but branches.'

‘Er…'

‘So, that leads us to
possible
and
probable
futures and pasts. Forget about the tablecloth for a moment, and think of a tree. The single trunk is the present in
this
timeline—the timeline we time-travellers have sworn to protect. The splaying branches, each leading to ever smaller branches, represent the future. So let us take a journey into the future. The single trunk divides into two, or three, or four branches. These are where the normal course of time is altered by time-criminals out for personal gain, or by time-travellers like me trying to deal with them. Each fork in a branch is an alteration to a timeline. And so on and so on until you have literally millions of
possible
and
probable
futures. One of them is our
actual
timeline, all the others are
potential
timelines. If I, as a time-traveller, were to travel far forward in time to the end of one of these branches I'd have no way of knowing how many branches had sprung up before me. Are you with me?'

‘I think so,' said Julius, not completely sure. ‘Go on, Professor.'

‘The branches closest to the trunk are the
probable
futures. That is, I can travel a little forward in time and gather information and I can be relatively certain that the future I am in is a
probable
result of the past I just left. The further I go out in time, the further I go out in the tree's branches. The ones further out are
possible
futures. I could travel to them but have little or no reliable information to help me with my present problem. For instance, I once found myself in a possible future where boys and girls sat all day in darkened rooms staring, like the dead, at illuminated moving pictures that crashed and hissed as they manipulated the infernal device to kill and maim their fellows represented on the pictures. Clearly this is some preposterous
possible
future which is the result of some diabolical interference by a time-criminal somewhere in the future. I only hope we can be there to deal with it when the interference occurs.'

‘So…so we can go back to London to…?'

‘Ah, that leads me to your original question, Julius…It's not quite,
back
.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘I have something in the way of a confession to make, Julius.'

‘Me too,' said Mr Flynn. ‘Hold on to your hat while you listening to the next bit, young fella.'

‘You see, Julius, my boy…how can I put it? Our adventures in London, the Grackacks, the enquiry at Mr Higgins's bookshop, all that, well, they haven't happened yet.'

‘What?'

‘I can see that you are somewhat dismayed, Julius. I can understand that. Allow me to explain. We are now in 1st June and—' the professor consulted his pocketwatch—‘it is getting on for four o'clock.'

‘So…so…so I'm more than a month in the past?' asked Julius.

‘Precisely.'

‘What? So…so…that means that there is another
me
right now in London, running home from school?'

‘Correct.'

‘But that's impossible. How can there be two of me?'

‘There can't, not in the usual run of things. But when travelling in the time dimension things are a little more complicated.'

‘So…so…hang on…am I in London as well or am I not? What if I travelled to London to talk to myself ?'

‘That wouldn't be wise, young fella, you see, there would be a
temporal coincidence event
of catastrophic proportions. There is no knowing what would result,' said Mr Flynn.

‘So…so…wait a minute. You said that it was impossible for there to be two of me. So how can there be a temporal coincidence if we meet?'

‘My word, he's a sharp one, Professor,' said Mr Flynn, giving Julius another slap on the back.

‘He is indeed, Danny. You see, Julius, the spatial– temporal continuum you are existing in at this precise moment, in London, is the only one there is. It is what we call the
actual present
.'

‘But…what about the
me
here in Tibet?'

‘Hold on, I haven't finished yet. The spatial– temporal existence simultaneously here in Tibet is what we in the time business call a
potential present
. Your own individual
potential present
does not actually exist in the usual way. You exist in potential. Now, if you go to London and interact with the “you” in that
actual present
then the two presents become
actual
. Because the universe cannot contain two
actual presents
in the same place, well…things get a bit catastrophic.'

‘A bit catastrophic, Professor?'

‘He means storms, earthquakes, tidal waves, volcanic eruptions, that sort of thing.'

‘But…there is still a Julius Caesar Higgins in London right now?'

‘Correct, but he
actually
exists. You, here in Tibet,
potentially
exist.'

‘But I feel real,' said Julius, slapping his sides.

‘And so you are, my boy…in a way.'

Julius felt like running to the top of the hill again.

‘I wouldn't worry too much about all this, young fella. I've been travelling back and forth so often I've forgotten if I'm a potential or an actual me anymore and it doesn't seem to have done me any harm,' said Mr Flynn.

‘You see, Julius. Our little emergency time-jump has placed you in what we call a
time loop
. You are in the extraordinary position of having gone back in time to organise events for your own future. An extraordinarily delicate and dangerous procedure.'

‘My future? Did you say
dangerous
?'

‘Yes, my boy. But do not be alarmed. I know precisely what I am doing.'

‘I'm not sure I—'

‘Remember the note, wrapped around the key?' said the professor.

‘The note? The one you gave to me in Warwick Lane? The one I gave to you in the backyard?'

‘Precisely. You wrote that note, or rather, you
will
write that note and I will deliver it to you to give back to me.'

‘But…but what do I say?' said Julius.

‘Oh, I couldn't possibly tell you that,' said the professor. ‘It would create a double paradox and then things would really start to get complicated.'

Julius sat cross-legged at a small writing desk at the back of the cave. Outside the sun was sinking low, and a single candle lit the blank sheet of paper before him. After a little thought he dipped the quill into an ink bottle and began to write:

Dear Professor Fox and Mr Flynn,