“Very good and because you’ve all learnt a life lesson, you can have some orange squash and a snack and maybe watch a bit of the magic box for a few minutes, while I try and work out what to do. And remember what we said?” Billy asked, looking at everyone.
“MR SHOUTY IS NOT WELCOME IN THE GARDEN,”
they all chanted back to Billy.
“That’s right, because Mr Shouty may well alert the neighbours, and that would be bad, wouldn’t it, because then who might come round?” Billy asked again.
“Mr Policeman,” everyone said.
“Exactly!” Billy smiled. “I realize that you probably don’t know what one of those is, but trust me, in this dimension, they’re bad news. Right, someone help me with the KitKats.”
Far away, beyond the city, in a darkened room, in a secret bunker under a mountain, an important discussion was taking place between a crack team of scientists.
“Should we go Chunky, or traditional?” Professor Jones asked her colleague as she adjusted her enormous glasses.
“Well, both varieties of KitKat are good, but for dunking purposes, it has to be Chunky every time.”
“Dunking?” another person joined in.
“We’ve been over this, Marjory. Dunking isn’t wrong. It’s a perfectly acceptable way to behave around chocolate and hot beverages.”
“Well, I think you’re mistaken, Dave—”
“Err, guys?” another voice interrupted.
“Not now, Derek. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something important?!” Professor Jones snapped.
“Yes, but—”
“Very well, Derek. Where do you stand on dunking?” Professor Jones asked. “You can say – there’ll be no reprisals. We have Marjory and Dave on very different sides of the argument here and I’m undecided.”
“Well, I suppose … no wait, I don’t care!” Derek said, changing his mind. “I have something really important to tell you!”
“FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE, WHAT?”
Professor Jones shouted.
“You know why we’re all here?” Derek began.
“Yes…” the other scientists replied in unison. “To find proof of inter-dimensional travel,” they all repeated, parrot fashion.
“Well, I think I have it!” Derek said, waving a piece of paper at them. “Look at this printout from the computer!”
“This isn’t like the time you thought you’d found proof of life on another planet, but it turned out to be a sneeze on the chart, is it? Do you remember, Derek? We had to have words, serious words,” Professor Jones said sternly.
“This ain’t no sneeze,” Derek said seriously, showing the Professor the printout.
“You know we’re not in an American film, don’t you? There’s no need to say ‘ain’t’. Have you been bingeing on Netflix again?”
“Sorry, Professor Jones,” Derek said self-consciously. “Anyway, something’s wrong – there’s been a shift in the cosmos … a wobble in time!”
“And are you sure it’s not the toilet? When someone does a big flush, it makes the whole place shake. I don’t want to go to the Prime Minister claiming we’ve unlocked the secret to inter-dimensional travel, when all it is is Dave trying to flush a big one after too many eggs for breakfast. Not again…”
“I SAID I’M SORRY…”
came a sad voice from the back of the room.
“No, look!” Derek said, pointing to the numbers.
“My goodness!” Professor Jones yelped, standing up and knocking the KitKats off the plate. “This is unheard of! Why didn’t you show me this earlier?” she said, looking at the printout, littered with readings that were off the charts. “This may be the greatest discovery since the—”
“KitKat Chunky?” Marjory offered.
“Well, let’s not go bonkers … but it’s certainly up there. If this is correct, it looks like a wormhole – a way to travel between the future, past or even to other galaxies – is real, and it’s right here in … uh … Clapham. To the science-mobile so we can get there before anyone else finds it!” Professor Jones squealed with delight. “I have spent my life trying to prove the impossible, waiting for the day I can claim my Nobel Prize. Nothing is going to stop us now!”
“Actually, we had to sell the science-mobile so we could afford the coffee machine,” Derek added.
“Oh, yes, of course. Well, to the Number Thirty-Five bus then and ring every TV station in the world on the way. This is going to shake the earth to the very core!”
6 p.m.
“So, talk one through this again?” Victoria said in utter shock.
“Well, it’s very simple. You put the bread in here, pull this lever and wait for it … wait for it … and – POP! – you have toast.” Billy beamed. He felt like he was showing cavemen fire for the first time.
“One will not lie to you, that has utterly blown one’s mind, and I am Queen, so I’ve seen a lot of wacky stuff. And whot does one call this tin of wonder? Is it called a Victoria? Most things are these days. One can barely get through a day without something being named after me: waterfalls, cakes … bits of Australia.”
“No, it’s called a toaster, on account of it making toast.” Billy grinned.
“This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” Atticus gasped. “I mean, I didn’t even know what toast was until a few minutes ago, but I’m fairly certain it should be worshipped as a god. We have a god for most things these days – love, war, victory … more war – why not one for hot bread?” The other soldiers grunted in agreement.
Billy’s plan had worked perfectly; everyone was so distracted making toast that he could now get on with the business of figuring out how to fix the wormhole. He picked up the landline and dialled.
“Hello? Yes, is this Pete the Reliable Plumber? Great! I have a leak, well, it’s more of a hole than a leak, but things are definitely leaking out of it – not water so much, but historical figures mainly … no, you heard me right … no, it’s in the garden … hello? Are you still there?” Billy put down the phone. “Oh great, well that’s just perfect. You, Pete, are about to get a savage review on Trusted Tradesman dot com.”
He turned to Shakespeare, who gazed up at him obediently. “I’m running out of ideas, boy, so here goes nothing.”
Billy, followed by Shakespeare, marched straight past the toast factory in the kitchen, past a sleeping Nan, towards the bottom of the garden – grabbing the bin lid as he went – past the big spiky bush and, with one swift movement, slammed the dustbin lid down over the hole.
“Right, let that be an end to it!” Billy shouted. “No more Queens, or soldiers, please, wormhole. I command you to leave me in peace!” There were a few seconds of silence. Billy sighed with relief. Then there was a rumble and, slowly, the familiar orange beam began to spill out from under the lid. Shakespeare started to whimper.
“Oh, perfect!” Billy mumbled, edging away from the wormhole. There was a crack of thunder and the sound of metal being punched as the dustbin lid flew off and a huge flash of orange light filled the sky. Maybe he’d made the wormhole angry – could wormholes get angry? Then the light disappeared again and Billy could make out the figure of a lone man walking slowly towards him, like a gunslinger from an old Western, ready to take down the sheriff.
“PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!”
Billy cried. “I’m really sorry about the bin lid thing!” He decided that now was probably a good time to do some running, but it can be hard to run away when you’re wearing over-sized wellies.
“These stupid things!” Billy yelled as he struggled in the mud.
“Hey, you!” a voice boomed from behind him.
“AAAAAARGH!”
Billy screamed.
“Are you all right?” the figure asked in a friendly voice and extended his arm towards him. “Those are ridiculous shoes for a person your age; the ratio is all out of whack, you silly noodlehead!”
Billy turned around and took a good look at the perso
n staring back at him. “It’s … it’s you!” he said, laughing. “You’re you! This is fantastic!”
“Everyone! Everyone! Can I have your attention, please?” Billy yelled as he came back into the kitchen.
“STOP PLAYING WITH THAT STUPID TOASTER!”
Billy bellowed. Any pretence of keeping quiet for Nan had all but gone out of the window. Frankly, Billy had bigger inter-dimensional fish to fry.
“Take that back!” Atticus said, pulling out his sword. “The toaster is not stupid!”
“Oh, do give it a rest, dear,” Victoria said, pushing Atticus’s sword down. “It’s Billy’s toaster. If anything, you should be worshipping him. I, on the other hand, have decided to make lunch. Who wants toast and marmalade? It’s awfully good, and one has had seventeen slices so far. I’m seeing if one can power on through to twenty-five rounds.”
“Yes, well done,” Billy said. “Anyway, I’ve got someone else I’d like you all to meet.”
“Oh, goody! Another time tourist. Who have we got now?” Victoria asked.
“Einstein!” Billy grinned.
“Never heard of him. Would you like a slice of toast, Mr Einstein? One has rather run out of bread, so one is using something called Weetabix now. It’s harder to get in, but it’s totally worth the effort.”
“My name is Atticus,” the Roman centurion interjected. “I am a soldier to Caesar, a husband to Mary, a worshipper of the God of Toast.”
“Yes, yes, do put a sock in it…” The Queen sighed, rolling her eyes.
“HICCCUUUUUUUUUP!”
she belched. “Oh, golly, one feels very strange.”
“Einstein,” Billy said, trying his best to emphasize the name, “is a genius.”
“Is he?”
“Am I?” Einstein responded.
“Yes!” Billy said. “Well, if you’re not yet, you soon will be.”
“OK. Well, that’s groovy.” Einstein smiled. “So, who wants to tell me what’s going on and why and how I’m here?” he continued, pulling a pen and notebook out of his jacket pocket, ready to take notes.
“Not a problem,” Billy said. “I’ll put the kettle on and then you can figure out how to get everyone home.”
7 p.m.
“Aren’t we going to look a bit weird?” Derek asked. “I mean, a group of scientists all catching the bus, in full protective suits, carrying portable laser guns?”
“They are not guns!” Professor Jones snapped. “They are very sophisticated laser expulsion units.”
“What are the lasers for?”
“To shoot anything scary that comes out of the wormhole. It could be an alien race; it could be the Loch Ness Monster; it could be Jeremy Clarkson – who knows what horrors may be out there!”
“So they are guns?” Marjory asked.
“They’re science guns!” Professor Jones mumbled. “It’s not the same.”
“Are they legal?” Dave asked.
“Legal-ish.” Professor Jones shrugged. “Look, I must say that this isn’t the response I was hoping for. We are the only four people in the world who are trained to deal with what happens if inter-dimensional travel is discovered. We are on the front line of science. We are warriors and, if needs be, defenders of this planet. What did you think this job was about when you signed up for it?” the Professor said, looking around at her colleagues.
“Well…” Marjory began.
“I just thought…” Derek started.
“Yeah, me too…” Dave agreed.
“WHAT?!” Jones barked.
“Well, we didn’t ever expect to find anything … I just wanted a quiet life – you know, away from real work.”
“Real work?” Professor Jones said, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. “Let me get this straight. Does anyone care about time travel, or did you all take this job because you wanted a quiet life?”
There was silence.
“None of you thought that time travel really existed, did you?”
“I did!” Derek said. “I thought it was real, but then it turned out to be a giant sneeze…” He trailed off.
“Well, this is very disappointing. All those years we spent looking for anomalies in space and time and you lot were just phoning it in.” Professor Jones’s shoulders slumped in sadness.
“Yeah, but we believe in it now,” Marjory said. It was hard to see her smile from behind the protective suit.
“You’re just saying that to cheer me up,” Professor Jones whimpered.
“No, it’s true! I mean, we were a little sceptical at first, but we all believe you now,” Dave added.
“We’re all super excited about our mission,” Derek said, offering his support. “Thanks for the guns, Professor. They’re well cool.”
“Science guns,” Professor Jones added. “And you’re welcome. Now, do we have the coordinates of where we’re going?” she asked her team. They all nodded back at her. “Great! Here comes the bus,” she said, sticking out her hand. The crack team of scientists slowly shuffled on board.
“Now, where did I put my Oyster card?” Professor Jones mumbled. “The trouble with protective suits is that once they’re on, it’s difficult to get to my purse,” the Professor said to the driver as she tried to find the right zip.
The driver looked up from the wheel to see four faceless bright white suits holding enormous space guns crowding around him and had a teeny tiny panic.
“YOU CAN GO FOR FREE! JUST DON’T SHOOT ME!”
the driver cried as he tried to climb out of the window.
“Oh no, this isn’t a gun! It’s a laser expulsion device. Look, it doesn’t even fire real bullets,” Professor Jones said, accidentally pulling the trigger.
“So, basically, that’s the long and short of it. I found a wormhole and you fell through it. Here, take a seat, won’t you?” Billy smiled at Einstein. “Stop me if this is getting too technical for you.”
“This is amazing!” Einstein laughed and sat down.
BRRRRAAaaaAAAaaA!
A huge farting sound bellowed out from under Einstein.
“I’m so very sorry,” Victoria said, doubled over with laughter. “One just thought we could all do with a chuckle. So sorry. Do carry on.”
Einstein cleared his throat. “As I was saying, this is amazing. It may well mean the end of the world and probably the universe as we know it, but, apart from that, this is truly an astonishing discovery. You have proven the unprovable. You’ve rewritten the entire history of everything. Nothing will ever be the same again.”
“Yay me?” Billy said, doing a very small fist bump. “I’m interested in something you said a second ago, all that stuff about the end of the world. What does that mean? Give it to me in simple terms…”
“Well, to put it another way … imagine a vacuum cleaner—”
“I’m going to stop you there, Albert. Most people in the room don’t know what that is, but fortunately I have one to demonstrate,” Billy said, nipping to the understairs cupboard.
“Is the noise going to wake the old lady?” Einstein asked, craning his neck to check for any movement in the living room.
“I think we’ll be all right. The end of the world could actually happen and Nan would probably sleep through it. Just as long as the TV is on, we’ll be fine,” Billy said.
“OK,” Einstein said, grabbing the vaccum cleaner and turning it on. “I need something I can suck up,” he said, looking around.
“Oh, hang on,” Billy said, grabbing Queen Victoria by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. “Sorry, Your Majesty,” he apologized as crumbs rained down from her toast binge.
“So, we have the wormhole and things have been falling through it, yes?” Einstein asked.
Everyone nodded.
“This is like the vacuum cleaner. Everything is being sucked into it,” Einstein said, hoovering up the crumbs. “But, a wormhole gets bigger and more powerful all the time, so it would be like this vacuum cleaner but – how you say? – the nozz
le getting bigger and stronger. The vacuum would start to pull up the carpet, then the furniture and eventually it would eat…”
“Itself…” Victoria said.
“Exactly! Gold star to the Queen. A wormhole will eventually destroy itself and, in doing so, the world would be sucked into a never-ending loop of destruction, where every single atom would explode with the power of a nuclear bomb.”
“Okey-dokey … so a bin lid isn’t going to cut it then?” Billy said, clarifying things. At that very second the room started to shake, slowly at first, but building all the time.
“QUICK! EVERYONE HIT THE GROUND!”
Einstein yelled as the toaster rattled uncontrollably on the kitchen counter. Shakespeare bolted out of the kitchen to the living-room window and started barking furiously. Billy crawled along the floor, past a still-sleeping Nan, and stared out into the garden. A swirling tornado of orange light danced round and round between the hedges just beyond the blackberry bush. There was a clap of thunder, the clouds began to bubble and the sky turned a menacing purple colour, as if the sun was being stolen from it. Then there was a terrifying crash and a roar from the bottom of the garden.
“Is this it? Is this the end of the world?” Billy whimpered.
8 p.m.
“Nope, not the end of the world … it’s just a dinosaur. Well, actually it’s half a dinosaur,” Billy said, peering out of the window. There in the garden, a Diplodocus’s neck was sprouting out of the ground like a palm tree. “Crikey Mikey with a side helping of wowzers,” Billy muttered.
The Day I Found a Wormhole at the Bottom of the Garden Page 3