Something rotten

'He's Chancellor of England.'

'That figures. Did St Zvlkx return tomorrow?'

'He might.'

'Okay. Who won the Superhoop?'

'That's Saturday week,' I explained. 'It hasn't happened yet.'

'Not strictly true, Sweetpea. Everything that we do actually happened a long, long time ago — even this conversation. The future is already there. The pioneers that ploughed the first furrows of history into virgin timeline died aeons ago — all we do now is try and keep it pretty much the way it should be. Have you heard of someone named Winston Churchill, by the way?'

I thought for a moment.

'He was an English statesman who seriously blotted his copybook in the Great War, then was run over by a cab and killed in 1932.'

'So, no one of any consequence?'

'Not really. Why?'

'Ah, no reason. Just a little pet theory of mine. Anyway, everything has already happened — if it hadn't, there'd be no need for people like me. But things go wrong. In the normal course of events, time flies back and forth from the end of then until the beginning of now like a shuttle on a loom, weaving the threads of history together. If it encounters an obstacle then it might just flex slightly and no change will be noticed. But if that obstacle is big enough — and Kaine is plenty big enough, believe me — then history will veer off at a tangent. And that's when we have to sort it out. I've been transferred to the Armageddon Avoidance Division, and we've got an apocalyptic disaster of life-extinguishing capability, Level III, heading your way.'

There was a moment's silence.

'Does your mother know you wear your hair this short?'

'Is it meant to happen?'

'Your hair?'

'No, the Armageddon.'

'Not at all. This one has an Ultimate Likelihood Index rating of only twenty-two per cent: 'not very likely'.'

'Nothing like that incident with the Dream Topping, then,' I observed.

'What incident?'

'Nothing.'

'Right. Well, since I'm on probation — sort of — they thought they'd start me on the small stuff.'

'I still don't understand.'

'It's simple,' began my father. 'Two days after the Superhoop President Formby will die of natural causes. The following day Yorrick Kaine proclaims himself dictator of England. Two weeks after that, following the traditional suspension of the press and summary executions of former associates, Kaine will declare war on Wales. Two days after a prolonged tank battle on the Welsh Marches, the United Clans of Scotland launch an attack upon Berwick-upon-Tweed. In a fit of pique Kaine carpet-bombs Glasgow and the Swedish empire enter on Scotland's side. Russia joins Kaine after their colonial outpost of Fetlar is sacked — and the 'war moves to mainland Europe. It soon escalates into an apocalyptic shoot-out between the African and American superpowers. In less than three months the earth will be nothing but a steaming radioactive cinder. Of course,' he added, 'that is a worst-case scenano. It'll probably never happen, and if you and I do our jobs properly, it won't.'

'Can't you just kill Kaine?'

'Not that easy. Time is the glue of the cosmos, Sweetpea, and it has to be eased apart — you'd be surprised how strongly the historical timeline tends to look after despots. Why do you think dictators like Pol Pot, Bokassa and Idi Amin live such long lives and people like Mozart, Jim Henson and Mother Teresa are plucked from us when relatively young?'

'I don't think Mother Teresa could be thought of as young.'

'On the contrary — she was meant to live to a hundred and twenty-eight.'

There was a pause.

'Okay, Dad — so what's the plan?'

'Right. It's incredibly complex and also unbelievably simple. To stop Kaine gaining power we have to seriously disrupt his sponsor, the Goliath Corporation. Without them, his power is zero. To do that we need to ensure . . . that Swindon wins the Superhoop.'

'How is that going to work?'

'It's a causality thing. Small events have large consequences. You'll see.'

'No, I mean, how am I going to get Swindon to win? Apart from Kapok and Aubrey Jambe and perhaps 'Biffo' Mandible, the players are, well, crap — not to put too fine a point on it. Especially when you compare them to their Superhoop opponents, the Reading Whackers.'

'I'm sure you'll think of something, but keep an eye on Kapok — they'll try to get to him first. You'll have to do this on your own, Sweetpea, I've got my own problems. It seems Nelson getting killed at the beginning of the battle of Trafalgar wasn't French History Revisionists after all. I talked to someone I know over at the ChronoGendarmerie and they thought it amusing that the Revisionists should even attempt such a thing; advanced timestream models with Napoleon emperor of all Europe bode very poorly for France — they're much better in the long run with things as they are meant to be.'

'So who is killing Nelson?'

'Well, it's Nelson himself. Don't ask me why. Now, what did you want to see me about?'

I had to think carefully.

'Well. . . nothing, really. I met you three hours ago and you said we'd spoken so I came here to find you, then I suppose I should ask you to figure out who's trying to kill me this morning, which you wouldn't have been able to do if I hadn't met you this morning, and I only met you this morning because I've just told you right now I might be assassinated . . .'

Dad laughed.

'It's a bit like having a tumble dryer in your head, Sweetpea. Sometimes I don't know whether I'm thening or nowing. But I'd better check this assassin out, just in case.'

'Yes,' I said, more confused than ever, 'I suppose you should.'

9 Eradications Anonymous

GOLIATH BACK KAINE AND WHIG PARTY

The Goliath Corporation yesterday renewed its support for Chancellor Kaine at a party to honour England's leader. At a glittering dinner attended by over 500 heads of commerce and governmental departments, Goliath pledged to continue its support of the Chancellor. In reply Mr Kaine gratefully acknowledged their support and announced a package of measures designed to assist Goliath in the difficult yet highly desirable change to faith- based corporate status, as well as funding for several ongoing weapons programmes, details of which have been classified.

Article in The Toad, 13 July 1988

Hamlet and I arrived home to find a TV news crew from Swindon-5 waiting for me outside the house.

'Miss Next,' said the reporter, 'can you tell us where you've been these past two years?'

'No comment.'