The Witches of Chiswick (24 page)

“It’s no fun being the Messiah,” said the other Will, tucking into his pork scratchings. “In fact, it’s a really crap job.”

“I’m sure it is,” said Will. “But what has that got to do with anything?”

“Because
I am
the Messiah. And
it is
a crap job.”

“He’s as mad as a bucket of spanners, chief,” said Barry. “Let’s get him committed to a nice lunatic asylum and head on to Chiswick.”

Will ignored Barry’s advice and said to his other self, “What
are
you talking about?”

“The Promised One,” said the other Will. “That’s what they call me. The saviour of Mankind. The lad who travelled back into the past and thwarted the evil witches’ schemes to change history. Ensured the wondrous future to come. That’s me, for what it’s worth.”

“I really don’t understand,” said Will, who didn’t.

“When I was born, upon the first of January in the year two thousand, two hundred and two” said the other Will, “there was rejoicing throughout the world. My family had always lived under the protection of the state, but when I was born I was taken into the London fortress, that had been specially constructed for my protection, where I would be taught all about myself. Who I really was and the fate that I was born to. Then, when I was older, and upon the date that was foretold, the third of March, two thousand, two hundred and twenty, I would enter the time machine and be dispatched back here to do my thwarting of the witches and save the world.”

Will shook his head and made a puzzled face. “I don’t get this,” he said. “You were born here in Brentford, on the same date as me, and you travelled back in time upon the same date as I did. But I’ve never heard about any of this Promised One business. Which sky tower were you brought up in?”

“I was born just around the corner. Number seven Mafeking Avenue.”

“No.” Will shook his head. “All the streets around here were demolished in the twenty-first century. There are twenty-three sky towers, a tramway connecting the borough with London Central, some supermarkets, of course, and—”

“No,” said the other Will. “You fail to understand me.
That
is the future
you
come from. It’s not the same future
I
come from.”

“Oh,” said Will. “Can you just stop there for a moment. I have to use the toilet.” Will got up from his seat and looked down at his other self. “You won’t run away or anything, will you?”

The other Will shook his wretched head and sank further ale.

Will went off to the toilet.

“Can this be right?” he asked Barry.

“I don’t know about right, chief, but it can certainly be possible. In fact, if you think about it, it’s more than possible, it’s probable.”

“So, let me get this straight.
I
travel back here from
my
future, a future that has no knowledge of all the technical wonders that really went on in the Victorian era, because these so-called witches had somehow managed to suppress and erase all the records. And I stop them from doing their dirty work, thereby changing the future, so that the future I come from, the crappy future with the acid rains and everything falling to pieces, never occurs. The future
I
come from ceases to exist. Never exists. And because I have saved the world, as it were, and as this is recorded history, the world is awaiting the birth of William Starling on the first of January, two thousand, two hundred and two. The birth of the hero who saves history. The Promised One. Is that it?”

“Pretty much so, chief.”

“Except that this Promised One isn’t actually the real hero. The real hero who does the actual saving of the world is
me
, this
me
in this toilet, not the me sitting out there.”

“I think that’s got it, chief. It’s
you
who did the saving, not that poor schmuck. He’s just a victim of circumstance, really.”

Will shook his head. “So how did
he
get back here? Whose time machine did he come in? Did you have anything to do with this, Barry?”

“No, chief, not me. Imagine this wet, imagine this dry, cut my imaginary throat if I tell a lie.”

“What?”

“I’m innocent, chief. I don’t know how he got back here. Why don’t you ask him?”

Will returned himself to the table and sat himself down.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” his other self asked. “You think I’m some kind of raving lunatic. You think I’m as mad as a bucket of spanners.”

“No,” said Will. “What you’re telling me makes some kind of sense. Tell me what you were told, when you were being brought up, about yourself and the things you did, or would do, when you travelled back to the past.”

“Scripture,” said the other Will. “Holy Scripture. I was brought up on it, as is everyone else.”

“Holy Scripture?” said Will.

“
The Book Of Rune
,” said the other Will. “The Holy Scripture of the One World Religion, written by the Master himself, Hugo Rune. Are you not a practising Runee?”

“Not as such,” said Will.

“Then, do you never watch the worldcasts on the reality screens? Have you never seen footage of terrorwitch attacks? Seen a spell bomb go off in a shopping plaza? Seen men turn into turnips?”

“This is getting
really
tricky,” said Will. “In the future I come from things like that don’t happen. I can assure you of this. And there is no
Book Of Rune
.”

“In the future
you
come from.” The other Will spoke these words slowly and unsteadily.

“He’s clueing up, chief. Perhaps you’d better change the subject; he might become violent.”

“Just tell me,” said Will. “I need to understand. Tell me about
The Book Of Rune
. I’ve got a copy of that back at my hotel, but I’ve never actually read it.”

“All right.
The Book Of Rune
is a book of prophecy. It was published, privately, and at some considerable expense, by an unknown patron. Some believe it was Queen Victoria herself, but no one knows for sure. It was published in eighteen seventy-five and ridiculed by the public. It predicted that a cabal of witches would attempt to take over the world, but they would be—”

“Thwarted?” Will asked.

“Thwarted, yes, by Rune’s magical heir, the Promised One, who would travel from the future, do the thwarting and save mankind. And Rune went on to predict the outcome. Incredible technological advances in the twentieth century, based upon the work of Babbage and Tesla. How the Earth survived the Martian invasion, how the British Empire took control of the entire world, as indeed it did and how Runeology would be established as the world religion by the year 2000, which it was, based of course upon the accuracy of his prophecies.”

“The old scoundrel,” said Will, and there was a grin on his face.

“And of course,” the other Will continued, “my birth, the date of my birth, and the date that I would return to the past and achieve my great heroic feats.”

“It all makes sense, chief,” said Barry. “And it’s pretty damn clever when you come right down to it.”

“All right,” said Will. “I follow everything you’re saying. But tell me about the time machine. Who built that? What powers it? Is time travel common in your future?”

“Common? No.” And now the other Will laughed. But it was a sick laugh and lacked for humour. “As the predictions proved, one after another to be correct, and Runeology became
the
religion, scientists realised that if the Promised One was to travel back in time to do his heroic deeds, he would need to have a time machine to travel in. Details of the machine’s construction were not included in
The Book of Rune
, you see. So scientists set to work. Because it was of major importance, wasn’t it? The hero couldn’t go back and save the world without a time machine to travel in. It took one hundred and seventy years of work, but at last it was completed and ready. Just one machine. Billions and billions of pounds spent on work and research, just for me.”

“And they sent you back in it?”

“No,” said the other Will. “I decided not to go.”

“What?”

“
Of course they sent me back in it! I’m here now, aren’t I
?”

“Yes, of course,” said Will. “Sorry.” He finished his pint of Large. “Same again?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” said his other self. “And another packet of pork scratchings. Both these packets are finished.”

Will returned to the bar.

“Incredible,” he whispered behind his hand. “But logical, I suppose.”

“And I bet I don’t even get a mention,” said Barry. “Typical, that is. Rune takes all the credit, gets himself a place in history, fathers a world religion and not a mention of Barry the Holy Guardian sprout, the real power behind the throne.”

“I thought you were a divine entity, dedicated to serving mankind? Forestalling the End Times and so on. Surely you are above praise.”

“Well, naturally, chief. Naturally.” Barry made grumbling sounds.

“Two of similar, would it be?” asked the part-time barman.

“Indeed,” said Will. “And two more packets of pork scratchings.”

The part-time barman set to doing the business.

“I’m having a real problem with this,” whispered Will. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Then dump him, chief, let’s move on and get the job jobbed.”

“It’s getting the job jobbed that’s the problem.”

“You’ll do fine, chief. It’s all in
The Book Of Rune
, probably.”

“That’s not what I mean. Logically, I
must
achieve these goals, otherwise my other self wouldn’t be sitting over there now. But what will happen to
me
once I’ve achieved these goals? If history is changed and the future is changed, then the future I come from will never occur. I will cease to exist. What happens to my mum and dad and Tim? If I cease to exist, so do they. My other self will return to the future and get all the praise, but what about me? Will I just vanish along with the future I came from?”

Barry gave this some thought. And he gave it some thought in silence.

“And you too,” whispered Will. “You don’t come from his future. You’ll cease to exist too.”

“God’s garden!” went Barry. “Which is why I won’t get a mention in
The Book Of Rune
, I’ll bet.”

“Difficult times for us both,” whispered Will.

“There you go,” said the part-time barman. “Two pints of Large and two more packets of pork scratchings. One and two pence please.”

Will paid up, took his purchases and returned to his table.

His other self was staring at Will, rather hard.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

“I’m—” His other self made stutterings. “I’m beginning to figure this out. It’s you … isn’t it … it’s you.”

“I’m me,” said Will. “And so are you.”

“You’re the Promised One. You returned to stop the past from being changed. Returned from your future.”

“This would seem to be the case,” said Will.

“Then all the horrors I’ve suffered. They’re all
your
fault!” The feeble fists were waving once again.

“Calm down,” Will told the waver of the feeble fists. “It’s not my fault. How was I to know that some alternative future would be brought into being and that you would exist?”

“You destroyed my life. You destroyed it before I was even born.”

“Your life isn’t destroyed. In fact, it seems that you have enjoyed a life of rare privilege. A great deal better than my life.”

“What? Born to fulfil a destiny that was not of my own choosing? Schooled to a fate that was laid out for me? Never allowed friends in case they were witches dedicated to my destruction? Watched over twenty-four hours a day? Never knowing a moment of privacy?”

“I’ve known hardship,” said Will. “Attacks have been made on my life.”

“You deserve whatever you get. It’s all
your
fault.”

“You ungrateful sod,” said Will. “You’d be nothing if it wasn’t for me.”

“Chief, don’t go down this route. It’s a hiding to nowhere.”

“And you keep out of it,” said Will.

“Aha!” said his other self. “Again he speaks to his familiar. I know what you are. You are the Evil One. I am Will Starling and you are the Anti-Will!”

“Turn it in,” said Will, “or I will have to give you a smack.”

“No, chief, don’t touch him. Remember David Warner. Keep thinking David Warner. Never touch your other self”

“I’m trying to help you,” said Will. “I’m not the Anti-Will. I am you and you are me. Different futures. Same fellow. We must help each other. We must try and work this thing out.”

“I hate you,” said the other Will.

“That’s ridiculous. And it’s unfair.”

“Do you have any idea of what I’ve been through?”

“No,” said Will. “I haven’t. What
have
you been through?”

“Hell,” said the other Will. “I’ve been through Hell.”

“I’m sure whatever it was, it wasn’t
that
bad.”

“Look at me.” The other Will fluttered his wobbly hands about. “Look at the state of me. I’ve been through horrors you wouldn’t believe.”

“Would you like to tell me about them?”

“No,” said the other Will. “I wouldn’t. I’d like a bath. I’d like a good meal and then I’d like to hide somewhere safe. Somewhere safe and comfortable. And I’d like to stay there, all on my own, forever.”

“You wouldn’t rather just help me get the job jobbed and then return to the future in glory.”

“Return to the future in glory? Are you mad?”

“It’s what I’d do,” said Will. “I’m sure they’re getting a reception committee ready for you even now. Parades through the streets, gala dinners, lots of willing groupies. In fact—”

“Won’t work, chief.”

“What won’t?” Will whispered behind his hand.

“What you’re thinking. That
you
return to
his
future and take all the praise if he’s not keen. Wouldn’t work.
You
can’t travel into
his
future.”

“It was just a thought,” whispered Will.

“Mad,” said the other Will. “Quite mad.”

“Why is it mad?” Will asked.