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.”