Julius and the Watchmaker by Tim Hehir

said. ‘Springheel, or should I say Charles Vivian, has been found and Shelley’s pocketwatch will be returned to the Guild.’
    â€˜What’s the key for then, Professor?’ asked Julius.
    â€˜It was Lord Byron’s idea,’ said the professor. ‘He is a friend to the Guild of Watchmakers, like Mr Flynn here. He thought we should have a special hiding place for the watch so he arranged it all. Where do you hide the most valuable thing in England? I’ll tell you: somewhere in the middle of London, in full view of any beggar or baronet and yet as safe as if it were buried under a mountain. It takes a poet to think of things like that.
    â€˜Byron placed this key into my hand as we stood at Shelley’s funeral pyre on that windswept beach in Italy. It was he who put me onto Charles Vivian. He didn’t trust the boy, and when Vivian’s body didn’t wash up he knew the boy had stolen the timepiece.
    â€˜As the flames consumed Shelley’s body, I vowed to Byron that I would retrieve the pocketwatch and hide it until a new Watchmaker could be found—one who would be a worthy successor to Shelley.’
    â€˜So the key has been under that rock since 1822?’
    â€˜Precisely, Julius.’
    â€˜But, you gave it to me not two days ago. So, how can you be only finding it now?’
    â€˜He’s a sharp one, Professor,’ said Mr Flynn and chuckled.
    The professor winced. ‘Um, perhaps we could leave that question until—’
    â€˜And, anyway, if you really are time-travellers, as you say you are, then why don’t you just go back in time to nab Mr Springheel before he causes all this vortex trouble, before he even steals the pocketwatch, so that none of this ever happens?’ said Julius.
    â€˜I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that,’ said the professor.
    â€˜Why ever not?’
    The professor scratched his chin. ‘Julius, my boy, this might be an opportune moment to explain one or two things about the intricacies of time-travel.’
    â€˜Oh, no, he’s going to give you the “time is like a tablecloth” lecture now, young fella,’ said Mr Flynn, giving Julius a reassuring pat on the shoulder
    â€˜Precisely, Danny. You see, Julius, time is like a tablecloth—not an arrow as you would naturally think,’ said the professor, turning to face the sun and the vast rolling plains.
    â€˜I would?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said the professor. ‘You see, we think of time as stretching out before us and behind us like the trajectory of an arrow. The arrow flies through time from the past, through the present and into the future. Simple? Well, it’s not. You see, if we were to go back and sort out Mr Springheel we would be altering the space-time continuum—we would be producing another present. We may stop the villain from interfering in other realms but what else might we inadvertently change that would alter the flow of time? We time-travellers only interfere in the course of human history when time-criminals like Springheel interfere with it. Usually we would—’
    â€˜We? You keep referring to time-travellers as if there were more. More than only you and Mr Flynn?’
    â€˜I’m not a time-traveller, Julius, more of a time-passenger,’ said Mr Flynn.
    â€˜We’ll get to that at a later date,’ said the professor, as he paced back and forth. ‘For now, simply know that we are many. Now back to time as a tablecloth . Imagine a tablecloth stretched over a table. It has two dimensions—its length and its breadth. Imagine this, Julius, if you will—take a pen and dip it in some ink. Make a dot in the centre of the cloth. That is now — actual reality . If you draw a line a few inches along the breadth of the tablecloth that will represent time following its traditional course into the future. Each step onto the future becomes a present as it occurs. Do you