Artemis Fowl: the time paradox

to go. They would never make it. The gorilla was advancing, pulverizing each spittle lantern as he passed it, roaring with bloodlust. Artemis swore he saw a flash of teeth.

The tunnel seemed to shudder with each blow. Large sections collapsed. Mud and rock clattered down on Artemis’s head and shoulders. Dirt pooled in Holly’s eye sockets.

Mulch’s cheeks ballooned and he opened his lips the merest fraction to speak. ‘OK,’ he said in a helium voice. ‘The tank is full.’

The dwarf gathered Artemis and Holly in his burly Popeye arms and vented every bubble of air in his body. The resulting jet stream propelled the group down the length of the tunnel. The trip was short, jarring and confusing. The breath was driven from Artemis’s lungs and his fingers were stretched to cracking, but he would not let go of Holly.

He could not let her die.

The unfortunate gorilla was blown head-over-rump by the windstorm, yanked back up the tunnel as though tethered to an elastic cable. It whooped as it went, digging its fingers into the tunnel wall.

Artemis, Holly and Mulch popped from the tunnel mouth, bouncing and skittering along the ditch in a tangle of limbs and torsos. The stars above them were speed-streaked and the moon was a smear of yellow light.

An old famine wall halted their progress, crumbling under the impact of three bodies.

‘For more than a hundred and fifty years this wall stood,’ coughed Artemis. ‘Then we come along.’

He lay on his back feeling thoroughly defeated. His mother would die and Holly would soon hate him when she worked out the truth.

All is lost. I have no idea what to do.

Then one of the notorious Rathdown pylons sharpened in his vision — more specifically, the figures clambering along its service ladder.

The lemur has escaped, thought Artemis, and is climbing as high as it can.

A reprieve. There was still a chance.

What I need to save this situation is a full LEP surveillance and assault kit. Perhaps I will have Number One send one back for me.

Artemis disentangled himself from the others and decided that underneath the pillar’s cornerstone would be a secure spot. He pulled off the remaining stones stacked on top, wiggled his fingers under the final boulder and heaved. It came away easily, revealing nothing but worms and damp earth. No package from the future; for whatever reason, that particular trick would only work once.

So. No help. I must make do with what is available.

Artemis returned to where Holly and Mulch lay. Both were moaning.

‘I think I split a gut getting rid of that wind,’ said Mulch. ‘There was a bit too much fear in the mix.’

Artemis’s nose wrinkled. ‘Will you be OK?’

‘Give me a minute and I’ll be plenty strong enough to carry that huge amount of gold you promised me.’

Holly was groggy. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to pull herself out of it and her arms flopped like fish out of water. Artemis did a quick pulse and temperature check. Slight fever but steady heartbeat. Holly was recovering, but it would be several minutes before she could control her mind or body.

I must do this on my own, Artemis realized. No Holly, no Butler.

Just Artemis versus Artemis.

And perhaps an Omnitool, he thought, reaching into Holly’s pocket.

The Rathdown electricity pylons had been featured in Irish news headlines several times since their erection. Environmentalists protested vehemently that the appearance of the gigantic pylons blighted an otherwise beautiful valley, not to mention the possible detrimental effect the uninsulated power lines could have on the health of anyone or anything living below their arcs. The national electricity board had countered these arguments by pleading that the lines were too high to harm anything and that constructing smaller pylons around the valley would blight ten times more land.

And so a half a dozen of these metal giants bridged Rathdown Valley, reaching a height of one hundred metres at their zenith. The pylon bases were often ringed by protesters, so much so that the power company had taken to servicing the lines by helicopter.

On this night, as Artemis raced across the moonlit meadow, kicking up diamond dewdrops, there were no protesters ringing the pylons, but they had planted their signs like moon flags. Artemis slalomed through this obstacle course while simultaneously craning his neck to track the figures above.

The lemur was on the wire now, silhouetted by the moon, scampering easily along the metal cable, while Artemis the younger and Butler were stranded on the small platform at the pylon’s base, unable to venture any further.

Finally, thought Artemis, a stroke or two of luck.

Stroke one was that the lemur was suddenly up for grabs. Stroke the second was that while his young nemesis had chosen to follow the silky sifaka directly up the pylon the animal was scaling, he himself could go up the adjacent pole, which just happened to be the service pylon.

Artemis reached the pylon’s base, which was secured by a cage. The heavy padlock submitted instantly to a quick jab from the Omnitool, as did the steel equipment locker. Inside were various tools, walkie-talkies and a Faraday suit. Artemis tugged on the heavy overalls, wiggling his fingers into the attached gloves, tucking his long hair inside the hood. The flame-retardant and steel-thread suit had to enclose him completely to act as a protective Faraday cage. Otherwise he could not venture out on the wires without being burned to a criminal-mastermind cinder.

More luck. An elevator platform ran up the side of the pylon. It was locked and key-coded. But locks quailed when faced with an Omnitool, and a key code was of little value when it was a simple matter to unscrew the control panel and activate the pulley manually.

Artemis held tight to the safety rail as the tiny elevator shuddered and whined its way into the night sky. The valley spread out below him as he rose and a westerly wind crept over the hills, tugging a strand of hair from his hood. Artemis gazed north, and for a fanciful moment imagined he could see the lights of Fowl Manor.

Mother is there, he thought. Unwell now and unwell in the future. Perhaps I can just talk to my younger self. Explain the situation.

This thought was even more fanciful than the last. Artemis had no illusions about what he had been like at the age of ten. He had trusted no one completely but himself. Not his parents, not even Butler. At the first mention of time travel, his younger self would have his bodyguard shoot a dart first and ask questions later. A lot of questions and at great length. There was no time for explanations and debate. This battle would have to be won by wits and guile.

The elevator grated into its brackets at the top of the pylon. A skull and crossbones sign was riveted to the tall safety gate. Even if Artemis had not been a genius the sign would have been difficult to misinterpret, and just in case a total idiot did manage to scale the pylon there was a second sign depicting a cartoon man being zapped by electricity from a cartoon pylon. The man’s skeleton was clearly visible, X-ray style.

Apparently electricity is dangerous, Artemis might have commented had Butler been by his side.

There was yet another lock on the safety gate, which delayed Artemis about as long as the first two. Outside the safety gate was a small platform covered with wire mesh, with twin power lines humming directly beneath.

There are half a million volts running through those lines, thought Artemis. I do hope there are no rips in this suit.

Artemis squatted low, peering along the line. The lemur had paused halfway between the two pylons and was chattering to itself as if weighing up its options. Luckily for the small creature, it was only touching one line, so no current flowed through its body. If it put so much as a toe on the second line the shock would spin it thirty metres into the air and it would be stone dead before it stopped revolving.

On the far pylon, Artemis the younger scowled at the animal, while simultaneously trying to tempt it back