“Me,” said the other Will. “I am now in control of all this, and you should be upon your knees.”
“Never,” said Will, but was struck from his feet by a nearby terrific figure.
“That’s more like it.” The other Will strode forward, stepped into the circle of prostrate pinch-faced women and stood above Count Otto Black.
“Why?” asked Will. “Why, and how?”
“Why?” Will’s other self cast Will a withering glance. It withered the rose Will wore in his buttonhole, not that the rose had been mentioned before. “You ask me why, after all I’ve been through? Growing up in a future as the Promised One. Doomed from my very birth to die back here. And then, when I arrive here, captured by these.” The other Will booted the nearest pinch-face, who moaned and pressed her face closer to the sawdust. “Tortured and tormented for a year, made to knit macrame plant pot holders. And fed upon rats, don’t forget that.”
“Nasty,” said the lady in the straw hat.
“They’re not so bad,” said the Elephant Man, “if you have them pan-fried with plenty of garlic”
“Silence!” Will’s other self raised his hand, and a heavy silence fell. He cast another withering glance that became a withering stare. “I have suffered as no man should suffer, but I will suffer no more. I have travelled into the past and into the future. Not the future you came from, nor the one I came from, but another future entirely. The future that I will create for myself tonight.”
“How?” Will managed to ask. “How did you travel through time?”
“I think I know,” said Barry. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”
“In here,” the other Will tapped at his forehead, “I have communion and conversation with my Holy Guardian. Tonight we will put the world to right. The world that this man,” and he pointed at Rune, “that this man has put to wrong.”
“Me?” quoth Rune. “I mean, I? I mean, one?”
“You,” said the other Will. “You are responsible for all of this, the Victorian super technology that should never have existed. You changed the course of history by introducing Mr Babbage to the Queen at the Great Exhibition.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do,” said Rune. “And it was.”
“So that it should benefit you. You, with your Book of Rune that predicted future events, that would find you worshipped in the future I grew up in, as some kind of messiah.”
“That was hardly my intention.” Rune dusted down his raiment. “But praise where praise is due, I suppose.”
“And yet you still live,” the other Will made fists, “even though I hacked you to pieces.”
“You?” managed Will.
“Me,” said the other Will. “And those Whitechapel whores. I wasn’t lying when the police found me covered in blood. I was a trifle overexcited. But then, being Jack the Ripper was a rather exciting experience.”
“I knew it was him,” said Sherlock Holmes to Dr Watson.
“No shit, Sherlock,” the doctor replied. “You knew it was him?”
“Everybody knows it was him,” said the lady in the straw hat. “I was at his trial and it was in all the papers. There’s a big reward for his capture, but I don’t fancy making a citizen’s arrest. Has anyone seen that big bargee?”
“Why?” Will managed once more.
“You really are monosyllabic,” said his other self. “And really stupid, too. But then, if it hadn’t been for you getting me drunk for the first time in my life I would never have acquired the knowledge and conversation of my Holy Guardian.”
“It’s Larry, chief,” said Barry. “My wayward brother. This is all his fault.”
“Why?” asked Will once more. “Why did you murder those women?”
“All part of this.” The other Will threw wide his arms. “This isn’t just any old anti-gravitational flying circus powered through the wireless transmission of electrical energy, you know. This is a very special construction. And it wasn’t so much built, as grown, in my new improved future, for this very special moment. All of this.” He twirled about upon his heels, and did a bit of a moonwalk. “Even now it evolves.” He stamped his feet. “No noise,” said he. “No sound. Nothing more enters, nothing leaves. A closed system, Will. The past will change and so will the future, but this little system will not. It is immune. Advanced technology, founded upon magical principles, created by myself, with the aid of my Holy Guardian helper, to ensure that mankind gets the future it really deserves. Which is to say, the future I deserve.”
“You deserve a smack,” said Will.
“But not from you. Allow me to explain just what is going to happen, what this ‘Doomsday Programme’ is really all about. It has nothing to do with altering the past. That is something which I will deal with personally. The programme will, how shall I put this, spread a little love. In fact it will spread a whole lot of love. Which is why my Holy Guardian is so enthusiastic. It will spread love all around the world.”
“I suspect that it will do a great deal more than that,” seethed Will.
“Well, just a tad.” The other Will placed a hand upon his heart and made an angelic upturned face. “It will spread the world’s love towards me. I have been so unloved, you see. But no more. From the moment that the spell is activated, anyone who meets me will love me. Isn’t that wonderful? And so fair, considering all that I’ve been through. I will be the object of love for everyone. And everyone will want to please me. I shall become the most popular and all-loved leader of all time. The most popular and loved world leader. The first ever world leader. King of the world, ma.”
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” said Barry. “Larry’s fouled it up big time, this time.”
“You’re insane,” Will seethed a little more. “And if all you want is love, why did you have to murder those women?”
The other Will smiled. “It’s the question that everybody wants to know the answer to, isn’t it? Why did Jack the Ripper do what he did? Here, come and let me whisper.”
Will took faltering forward steps. He leaned towards his other self, but not too closely. He hadn’t forgotten about what happened to David Warner in Time Cop. How two yous must never, upon any account, come into contact, for fear of terrible cosmic consequences.
The other Will whispered words into Will’s ear.
“And that’s it?” said Will.
The other Will nodded.
“But it’s so obvious. Hideous and fiendish, but obvious.”
The other Will shrugged. “But no one ever figures it out.”
“What did he say?” Barry asked. “I didn’t catch it.”
“Tell you later,” said Will.
“Regretfully not,” said Will’s other self. “Because there will be no later for you. When Colonel William Starling dies, you will cease to exist.”
“You too,” said Will.
“No, not me. I have worked it all out. Only you will cease to exist. One hundred years from now SF enthusiasts will still be debating over exactly how I worked it out. But work it out, I did. And—” He perused his wristwatch. It wasn’t a Babbage, it was a Casio. “Less than a minute to go; time to make the sacrifice and employ the Millennial Love Bug.”
“It’s a Centennial Love Bug,” said Tim.
“What?” the other Will glared at Tim.
“Nothing,” said Tim. “It’s just that I haven’t had anything to say for a while. Where is your computer, by the way?”
“My computer?” The other Will laughed, loudly, wildly, madly, in the manner that super-criminals so often do. “I have control here,” he said. “Control of these,” and he booted another pinch-faced woman. “Because they fear me. They fear my supernatural powers, that I can be here.” And the other Will was here. “Or there.” And he was suddenly over there.
“Larry showing off,” said Barry. “And he’s cheating all over the place. The Big Figure is going to be very upset about this. I wouldn’t even be surprised if He chose to intervene.”
“A deus ex machina ending,” said Will. “That will do for me.”
“What did you say?” The other Will was now here again.
“Nothing,” said Will. “Pray continue with your most interesting narrative.”
“Nice line,” whispered Holmes to Watson. “Make a note of it.”
“I know you’ve had spies looking for the computer system,” said the other Will. “But they won’t have found it, nor the programme that I formulated in my new, improved future. The programme is here,” and he plucked a tiny disc from his pocket.
“And the computer?” Tim asked. “I did ask about the computer.”
“Right here.” Will’s other self beckoned Count Otto to his feet, tore off the showman’s great fur hat, and then tore off the top of his head.
The crowd did gaspings.
“I still haven’t the faintest idea what’s going on,” said the lady in the straw hat. “But that was unexpected.”
“The real Count Otto had to go,” said the other Will. “There can be only one King of the witches. So I deposed him.”
“You mean, you murdered him.” Will ground his teeth.
“Not all of him.” The other Will grinned. “I removed his brain and replaced it with a computerised system. The rest of him is all still him, although,” the other Will sniffed at Count Otto, “he’s beginning to hum a bit.”
“You fiend.” Will did further tooth-grindings.
“I know.” Will’s other self grinned some more.
Lights flickered from within the open cavity of Count Otto’s head, lines of computer language moved across his eyeballs.
“I’ve been back and forwards in time,” said Will’s other self, “adjusting this, changing that, killing those, failing to kill him.” Once more he pointed at Hugo Rune. “And I have chosen my allegiance. I have taken the King of the Underworld’s shilling, signed up to the dark side of the Force. The deal is done, the pact is made, I will rule the world in my new future. Much work has gone into this. But now all is complete.” And he slotted the computer disc into Count Otto’s open cranium, snapped back the top of his head and gave it a little pat. “Millennium Love Bug, Centennial Love Bug, Love me Love me Love me Programme engaged,” said he. “Engaged,” and he tweaked Count Otto’s nose. “Activated. And counting down.”
The other Will did further grinnings. “And while it’s counting down, there is one other important matter that I need to take care of.”
And with that said, he vanished.
44
It was the day before the day before the day before yesterday, and it was raining.
The rain peppered the glass rooftops of the Great Exhibition. The Great Exhibition was in its original location, Hyde Park. The year was eighteen fifty-one.
A horse-drawn hansom moved sedately along the Kew Road towards Brentford. The cabbie turned up the collar of his ulster coat against the rain. His passenger closed an open window and lightly tapped his cane upon the floor. The cane was of ebony with a silver skull-shaped mount.
At length the hansom came to a halt before an elegant Georgian house upon Brentford’s historic Butts Estate. The cabbie climbed down from his mount, opened an umbrella and then a passenger door. The passenger emerged, a large and noble-looking gentleman, clad in a fashionable Westbury coat of green Boleskine tweed, with matching double-brimmed topper. He stepped down from the cab and sheltering beneath the umbrella, he addressed the cabbie.
“Put the cost of this journey on my account,” said he.
“But sir,” the cabbie protested. “Your account now stands at twenty guineas.”
“Due to the generosity of my tipping,” said the gentleman. “Shelter my person beneath your brolly to yonder doorway and then take your leave without further complaint. Lest I take my business elsewhere in the future.”
The cabbie did as he was bid and returned grumbling to his cab. The gentleman stood in the porch of the elegant Georgian house and perused the brass doorplate. Inscribed upon it were the words
CHARLES BABBAGE
Mathematician and Inventor
The gentleman rapped upon the door with his cane and presently the door was opened.
An attractive young woman looked out at the gentleman. She had a head of glowing auburn hair and a most remarkable pair of Charlies.
The gentleman’s eyes strayed towards these Charlies.
“Mr Rune,” said the attractive young woman. “My husband is away upon business and has not returned home yet. I understood that your appointment with him was at three. You are more than an hour early.”
“A wizard is never early,” quoth Hugo Rune. “Nor is he ever late. He is always where he should be, when he should be. Time, dear lady, is everything. Time is the name of the game.”
“Quite so, Mr Rune. Then will you come inside?”
“I will, dear lady, I will.”
The rain continued to fall and time continued to pass.
At two-thirty of that rainy afternoon clock, Mr Charles Babbage returned home. He did not knock upon his own front door. He entered by using his key, and he used this key with stealth. And it was also with stealth that he crept up the stairs towards his marital bedroom, and with stealth that he turned the knob on the door, before he flung the door open – to reveal an erotic scene that caused him considerable distress.
“Mary,” cried Mr Charles Babbage. “Mary, my love, how could you?”
The sexual position that Mr Babbage’s wife Mary was presently engaged in with Mr Hugo Rune was, and is still, known as Taking Tea with the Parson. You won’t find it catalogued in the Kama Sutra; it is somewhat too advanced for that.
“It’s not what you think,” cried the fragrant Mary, disentangling her limbs with considerable difficulty. “It’s—”
“A Tantric massage to relieve tension,” said Mr Hugo Rune, seeking his undergarments.
“It is what it is.” The face of Mr Babbage was now the colour of a smacked bottom. It matched the colour of his wife’s smacked bottom. “You, you swine!” Mr Babbage addressed Mr Rune, who was now struggling into his trousers. “You have betrayed me, sir. Betrayed my trust. You promised me an introduction to Her Majesty the Queen, God bless Her, to gain royal patronage for my Analytical Engine. You told me that my computer would change the world as we know it.”
“And it will, sir, it will.” Rune now sought his shirt.
“It was all a trick, so that you could defile my wife.”
“I assure you sir, it was not. Your inventions will change the world.”
“Not through any help of yours, you rogue. Out of my house. I never wish to see your face again.”
“No, I beseech you.” Rune was now in his coat and putting on his hat. “Your inventions will change the world. Do not let this unfortunate and trifling incident deprive the world of your genius.”
“No more!” Mr Babbage waved his hands about. “No more work upon calculating engines for me. This is all my fault, leaving my wife alone, whilst I worked upon my machines. My darling, please forgive me.”
“Oh,” said the fragrant Mary. “Then consider yourself forgiven. But don’t let it happen again.”
“No,” cried Rune. “This must not be.”
“Out of my house, sir. I am done with science. It all ends here.”
“No,” cried Rune once more.
But Mr Babbage ushered him from the house, with no small force and many angry words.
The rain continued to fall and Hugo Rune now stood in it.
“Damned bad luck,” said a voice.
Rune turned to view a lad who lounged in the porch, a tall thin lad, dressed all in black with a blondy head of hair.
“And who are you?” Rune asked.
“Starling,” replied the lad. “Will Starling.”
“Away about your business, boy.”
“But you are my business,” said the lad. “Or were. You have failed, Mr Rune. Failed in your attempt to introduce Babbage to the Queen, to gain royal patronage f
or his inventions that would alter the Victorian age and advance it into a technological super future.”
“What?” went Rune.
“Ah, ‘what’, is it? Just like my other self. I have come from the future. I arranged for Mr Babbage to return home early, to catch you doing what comes so naturally to you. You never could resist the ladies, could you, Rune? So simple a downfall. And now I say farewell to you. My work here is done.”
“Why have you done this?” Rune asked.
“You’ll know that in forty-nine years, on the eve of the twentieth century. Will it seem like forty-nine years, or simply a second or two?”
And with that said, the blondy haired lad vanished away.
“No,” cried Hugo Rune. “No and no and no.”
45
And “No!” once more cried Hugo Rune in the sawdust ring of Count Otto’s flying circus.
“But yes,” said Will’s other self, all present once again.
“What has happened?” Will asked Rune. “What did he do?”
“He returned to the past. He changed history. He stopped me from introducing Babbage to Her Majesty the Queen. He’s effectively wiped out every piece of Victorian supertechnology as if it never existed.”
And all over London the lights were going out, the electric lights. And one by one the Tesla towers and each and every bit of technology that had come into being through the work of Charles Babbage vanished away and was gone. And then the lights of London returned, the gaslights of London, that is.
“Do something, Barry,” whispered Will.
“Take you home, chief? It’s all I can offer you.”
“Take me back in time. Let me put this right.”
“No can do, chief, not in my remit. You know that.”
“Mr Rune,” Will whispered. “Now would be the time for you to finally demonstrate your magic”
“Yes,” said Rune. “Indeed,” and he twiddled his thumbs.
Will’s other self took the athame from Count Otto’s hand, knelt over the Colonel and cried aloud, “Great Satan, God of this world, accept the sacrifice and hearken to these words. The future is yours through me. I will be your power on Earth. The Loved One, adored by all. I will cast down every other church but yours. Hearken to these words, these perfected words. Accept the sacrifice and bring the love to me.”
The Witches of Chiswick Page 41