Sex and Drugs and Sausage Rolls

Together. Well, three of them, at least.

  ‘It’s all Porkie’s fault,’ they said.

  Tripper shook his head. ‘And who built Porkie? Scientists, that’s who. I’m afraid, gentlemen, that we are in the brown stuff here. If we can’t come up with something to please the man in the street very very fast, we are in the biggest brown stuff there is.

  ‘And that’s OFFICIAL!’

  2

  PORKIE TO THE RESCUE

  ‘Anyone for golf?’ asked Dr Trillby.

  ‘Golf?’ said Tripper. ‘Golf?’

  ‘And why not?’

  ‘I would have thought that was patently obvious.’

  Dr Trillby made a breezy face and spoke in an airy manner. ‘We cannot stop what cannot be stopped. We are scientists and as scientists we must adopt a detached attitude. Even to our own extinction.’

  ‘Poo to that,’ said Clovis.

  ‘I tend to agree with Clovis on this occasion,’ said Blashford.

  ‘And so do I,’ said Dr Trillby. ‘But then I have known Tripper for more years than our cat’s had an interesting disease that I programmed into its genes to entertain my daughter. Look at that big smug smile on his face. You know a way out of this mess, don’t you, Tripper?’

  ‘I may do.’

  ‘Then we’re all saved!’ Blashford cheered. ‘Tripper’s got a new idea. Three cheers for Tripper.’

  Tripper fondled his cuffs. ‘It’s not a new idea,’ he said. ‘In fact it’s a very old idea. But I think it’s going to do the trick.’

  Dr Trillby glanced towards the window. ‘The sun rises higher,’ he said. ‘I shall be late for my round.’

  Blashford grinned at Tripper. ‘Tell us all about it, old buddy,’ said he.

  ‘You creep,’ said Clovis. ‘You fatty fatty creepy creepy creep.’

  ‘And it’s not my plan,’ said Tripper. ‘It’s Porkie’s plan. But if all goes successfully, as I’m sure it will, I will have no hesitation in taking all the credit.’

  ‘And if all goes poo-shaped?’ asked Dr Trillby.

  ‘As I said, it’s Porkie’s plan.’

  ‘I thought we’d agreed that we couldn’t blame it on Porkie,’ said Blashford.

  ‘Do shut up, lad,’ said Dr Trillby. ‘Let’s hear what Tripper has for us. It’s going to be very good, isn’t it, Tripper?’

  ‘Very good indeed, sir, yes.’

  ‘Then go on, lad. Let’s have it.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Tripper preened at his lapels. ‘The answer to all our problems can be found in two words,’ he said.

  There was a moment of hushed expectation.

  ‘Time travel,’ said Tripper.

  There was a moment of terrible groaning.

  ‘We’re all doomed,’ said Dr Trillby. ‘I really should have guessed.’

  ‘Please hear me out.’ Tripper knotted tiny fists. ‘I know what you’re going to say.’

  ‘That time travel is impossible? Well there, I’ve said it. I’ve said it before, if I recall.’

  ‘But it’s not, sir.’

  ‘But it is, Tripper. Time travel is impossible. If it hadn’t been impossible we would have come up with it before THE END.’

  ‘But we did, sir. I did, sir. Well, Porkie did, sir.’

  ‘Porkie did what?’

  ‘If you’d read my report, sir. It was all in there. Porkie’s final innovation. His final gift to mankind, before THE END. He must have been working privately on it for centuries. Having projected precisely when THE END would come and what the consequences would be, our murders and his own destruction—’

  ‘Porkie’s destruction?’

  ‘The mob, sir. When the mob has done with us, they do with Porkie too.’

  ‘But if they destroy Porkie, that will be the end of mankind.’

  ‘So many ends all in a single week, sir. I don’t think it can be coincidence, do you?’

  ‘Saint Charlie’s beard!’ said Dr Trillby.

  ‘Language, sir,’ said Tripper.

  ‘So you’re telling me that Porkie has come up with a method of travelling through time?’

  ‘That’s what Porkie says.’

  ‘And how does it work?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Tripper. ‘Well, Porkie wouldn’t tell me that.’

  ‘He’ll tell me,’ said Dr Trillby. ‘I’m the director of the Institute.’

  ‘Were, sir. We’re all out of a job now. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘But I…but I…’ Dr Trillby huffed and puffed.

  ‘There’s really no problem, sir. Porkie has agreed that one of us can test the system to make sure that it’s safe, before he puts it online for everyone.’

  ‘Everyone?’ Dr Trillby clutched at his heart. ‘Everyone?’

  ‘The man in the street,’ said Tripper. ‘Time travel will keep the man in the street happy for centuries to come. For ever, probably.’

  ‘No no no!’ Dr Trillby sank into his chair and fanned himself with an unread report. ‘This is madness, madness.’

  ‘Why, sir?’

  ‘Because, because, oh, come off it, Tripper. You know why because. How many books have been written on the subject of time travel? Thousands, millions. Not to mention theoretical papers. Not to mention plays and movies. How many Terminator sequels have there been?’

  ‘Several hundred,’ said Blashford, ‘and all of them killers. Although they have tended to get a bit samey over the past few years.’

  ‘My point is this,’ said Dr Trillby. ‘We all know the drill. If someone from the present was to go back into the past, anything they did, anything at all, would affect the future. The very fact of them being there would affect the future. And that’s just one person. Think about those geeky fan-boy types who sit all day at their home terminals discussing old music with their online cronies. Imagine what damage even one of them might do.’

  ‘That’s why it has to be tested, sir. To make sure it’s safe. But Porkie says that it is safe. According to Porkie, the past is fixed. It cannot be altered.’

  ‘And if Porkie is wrong?’

  ‘Perhaps the mob would settle for Blashford.’

  ‘What?’ said Blashford.

  ‘Just my little joke. But I trust Porkie, sir, and frankly I don’t think we’ve got any choice.’

  Mournful sounds issued from the face of Dr Trillby. They came through his mouth and they quite upset his colleagues.

  ‘Come on, sir,’ said Tripper. ‘Porkie’s planned it all out. One of us makes the trip and attempts to make a tiny alteration to the past and—’

  ‘Hold on there,’ said Dr Trillby. ‘It has just occurred to me that we keep talking about the past. What about the future?’

  ‘Can’t be done, sir. Porkie says that the past is fixed and nothing exists beyond the present.’

  ‘But Porkie has already managed to predict the future. The number nine iron up the…and suchlike.’

  ‘Those are just projections, sir. Of what will happen given certain circumstances. The future is not fixed. Only the past.’

  ‘It all smells,’ said Dr Trillby. ‘But go on with what you were saying. Someone attempts to make a tiny alteration to the past.’

  ‘Yes, sir, and then returns to the present and we all check to see whether anything has changed.’

  ‘And what if it has? What if there are disastrous consequences?’

  ‘Then that same person returns to the past and undoes what he has done. Arrives back a minute earlier than the time before, waits for his original self to arrive and then tells him not to do the thing he was originally going to do.’

  Clovis rolled his rosy eyes. ‘Now what could possibly go wrong with a plan like that?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Tripper. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘Hold on again.’ Dr Trillby raised his hands again. ‘What is all this, trust me? You are not under the mistaken apprehension that you will be making this trip, are you? If anyone is going to make this historic journey that someone will be me.’

 
‘Your bravery is an example to us all, sir. That’s settled, then.’

  ‘Hold on, hold on, hold on.’ Dr Trillby flapped his hands about. ‘You’re not putting up much of a struggle.’

  ‘Why should I, sir? Once you’ve proved it’s safe, which is to say once you’ve survived the journey with mind and body intact, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to take as many trips as I like.’

  ‘Hm.’ Dr Trillby made the face of thought. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you made the first journey,’ he said. ‘After all, it is your project.’

  ‘That’s settled, then.’

  ‘Eh?’ said Dr Trillby.

  ‘Snookered,’ said Clovis.

  Blashford said, ‘Perhaps we should put it to a vote.’

  Dr. Trillby shook his head. ‘Let’s just get on with it,’ he said. ‘How do you propose to run this test, Tripper?’

  ‘Very simply and very safely, sir.’ Tripper rootled in his furry briefcase. ‘I have here today’s newspaper.’

  ‘Anything new in it?’ Blashford asked. ‘Any new news?’

  ‘None whatsoever.’ Tripper held the paper up for all to see. Its headline read, NO NEWS AGAIN: AND IT’S OFFICIAL.

  ‘Are you thinking of changing that, then?’ Dr Trillby asked.

  ‘No.’ Tripper returned the newspaper to his briefcase and placed his briefcase on the table. ‘My intention is to travel just two hours into the past and waylay the newspaper boy before he delivers the newspaper to my house. If I return from the past with the newspaper in my hand, then it will mean that the past can be changed and we shall have to abandon the whole thing.’

  Dr Trillby nodded. ‘Seems safe enough,’ he said.

  ‘I see a flaw in this,’ said Blashford.

  ‘Shut up, lad. Go on, then, Tripper, explain the mechanics of the thing. Is there a time machine you travel in?’

  ‘Time machine!’ Clovis rolled his rosy red’ns again.

  ‘It’s all done with this.’ Tripper displayed the lifespan chronometer on his scrawny wrist. ‘Porkie will download the program into the chronometer. All I have to do is set the coordinates and the time and date and press ‘send’. Simple as making a telephone call.’

  ‘What are these coordinates?’ Dr Trillby asked.

  ‘Of the place where I wish to materialize in the past. I can’t just materialize here, can I? Two hours ago the Earth hadn’t reached this spot in space. The coordinates have to be absolutely precise for the journey there and the journey back. Porkie has worked it all out. It’s all in the program.’

  ‘Porkie thinks of everything,’ said Blashford. ‘But—’

  ‘No buts,’ said Dr Trillby. ‘How do you download the program, Tripper?’

  ‘Simple as can be. I just type into my chronometer the words DOWNLOAD TIME TRAVEL PROGRAM and wait thirty seconds.’ He did so and they waited. ‘There,’ said Tripper. ‘I’m on line. So now I type in time and date and projected location.’ He did this also. ‘And I’m ready for the off.’

  ‘Will you vanish in a puff of smoke?’ Clovis asked.

  ‘Don’t be sarcastic,’ Dr Trillby told him. ‘This is a historic moment.’

  ‘It won’t work,’ said Clovis. ‘This is all a wind-up.’

  ‘Ignore him, Tripper,’ said Dr Trillby. ‘Go on, do your stuff’

  ‘But, sir.’ Blashford made pleadings. ‘Please listen, sir. There is a serious flaw.’

  ‘Do it, Tripper,’ said Dr Trillby.

  And do it Tripper did.

  Geraldo paused in his tale and rattled his empty pint glass on the table.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ said Jim. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Well,’ said Geraldo, ‘what do you think happened next?’

  Jim thought about this. ‘That’s a tricky one,’ he said. ‘If he did come back with the newspaper, that would have proved that the past could be changed, so they would have had to abandon the project. But if they had, then you wouldn’t be here. But you are here. But according to you, the past can be changed…’

  ‘Go on,’ said Geraldo.

  ‘Well,’ Jim continued, ‘if he didn’t come back with the newspaper that would have proved that the past couldn’t be changed. So they would have gone ahead with the project. Which they must have done, because otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘But the past can be changed,’ said Geraldo.

  ‘So did he come back with the newspaper, or didn’t he?’

  ‘Both,’ said Geraldo. ‘Or possibly neither.’

  ‘Both, or possibly neither?’

  ‘Things got a little complicated. Allow me to explain. You see, Tripper travelled back into the past and tried to get the newspaper. But the newspaper boy wouldn’t give it to him. In fact he punched Tripper on the nose. So Tripper returns to Institute Tower with a bloody nose and no newspaper. He explains what’s happened and Dr Trillby says he’s a stupid boy and to go back and try again. So Tripper travels back into the past again, making sure that this time he arrives a bit earlier, so he can sneak up on the paper boy from behind. And he’s just doing this when he sees his original self materialize in front of the paper boy.’

  ‘This is the Tripper who got the bloody nose,’ said Jim.

  ‘That’s right. We’ll call him Tripper number one.’

  ‘So the other one is Tripper number two.’

  ‘And so on.’

  ‘And so on?’

  ‘Allow me to explain. Tripper number one sees Tripper number two creeping up behind the paper boy and he thinks, Ah, this must be the plan I worked out in case something went wrong. This is myself coming back to tell me not to get the newspaper. So Tripper number one backs off, resets his chronometer and zips into the future. Meanwhile Tripper number two has grabbed the newspaper when the paper boy isn’t looking and is about to zip into the future when Tripper number three arrives on the scene.’

  ‘Who’s Tripper number three?’

  ‘He’s Tripper number one, who’s returned from the future where Dr Trillby has told him that he’s a stupid boy too, and to go and have another try at the newspaper.’

  ‘And does he have the bloody nose?’

  ‘No, because he never got punched.’

  ‘But if he didn’t get punched—’

  ‘He does get punched. By Tripper number two.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Jim.

  ‘Because he tries to grab the newspaper off him. And that’s when Tripper number four gets into the fight.’

  ‘Who’s Tripper number four?’

  ‘He’s Tripper number three, who goes back further into the past to find a stout stick to defend himself against Tripper number two. Are you sure you want me to go on with this?’

  ‘No,’ said Jim. ‘I don’t. How many Trippers were there in the end?’

  ‘Dozens. Coming and going and going and coming. I counted at least six of them fighting in the solar lounge at one time. But, do you know, I never did see whether any of them had the newspaper.’

  ‘So I assume that the time travel project was abandoned.’

  ‘Sometimes it is,’ said Geraldo. ‘And sometimes it isn’t. Things have become a little unstable in the future.’

  ‘But they did put it online?’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Geraldo. ‘They never actually put it online.’

  ‘This is all beyond me.’ said Jim. ‘If they didn’t put it online, how did you get here?’

  ‘I stole it,’ said Geraldo proudly. ‘As I said, I watched and heard everything, because I had hacked into Porkie. So when Tripper explained how to download the program, I hastily downloaded it as well.’

  ‘But after you saw all the chaos, how could you even think of using it?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you have done the same?’

  ‘Well,’ said Jim, ‘the prospect of time travel is very appealing. I could certainly win a lot of money on the horses.’

  ‘Yeah, and screw up the future. We took a vow to change nothing. We’re fan-boys and all we wanted to do was travel back to
the twentieth century and see all the great bands play. All the originals.’

  ‘Like the Beatles, for instance?’

  ‘Exactly. We agreed to meet up at different gigs. But Wingarde never showed up here, and now I know why. He’s been travelling about through time, saving famous rock stars from early deaths.’

  ‘It’s a very noble thing to do,’ said Jim.

  ‘It’s chaos,’ said Geraldo. ‘And it’s all my fault. I should never have trusted him.’

  ‘You weren’t to know,’ said Jim.

  ‘Yes, but I should have known. It’s in his genes, you see. He can’t help the way he is. His father was the same and his grandfather before that. All trying to live down the family name.’

  ‘Why?’ Jim asked.

  ‘Because they had an ancestor in the twentieth century who made a fortune.’

  ‘What’s so bad about that?’ Jim asked.

  ‘It was the way he made it. He cheated and so his name became a household word, meaning, a dirty rotten scoundrel.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jim. ‘It wasn’t Branson by any chance, was it?’

  ‘No,’ said Geraldo. ‘It was Pooley. The scoundrel who pulled off The Pooley.’

  9

  ‘Stone me,’ said Jim Pooley.

  ‘And that’s the God’s honest truth, I’m telling you,’ said Geraldo, rattling his empty glass once more.

  Jim considered the phrase ‘You are a lying git’ but dismissed it as redundant. The tale simply had to be true. He had never told anyone about The Pooley. Certainly all who knew him knew of his quest for the six-horse Super-Yankee. But he had wisely refrained from mentioning the name he intended to give it.

  Jim finished his pint and set down his glass. The health-farm glow had fled from his cheeks and he felt far from well.

  ‘I need the bog,’ he said.

  ‘Then give me the cash and I’ll get in the round.’

  Jim fumbled in his pocket and dragged out a oncer. ‘Take it,’ he said. ‘Get a pint for yourself and a vodka for me.’

  ‘Fair enough. No, wait just a minute.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Jim, making haste to his feet. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

  ‘But this pound note. Is it all right? Who’s this bearded bloke on the front?’

  Jim took to flapping his hands as he ran to the bog. Generally in moments of acute agitation he flapped his hands and turned around in small circles. But this time he had to flap on the hoof.