Terry Pratchett - Johnny and the Bomb

He shuffled round nervously. He was wearing a broadbrimmed hat, shoes with soles like two bumper cars parked side by side, and tight trousers. At least, what could be seen of the trousers looked tight.

"Is that an overcoat?" said Johnny critically.

"It's called a drape jacket," said Yoless.

"Bright red," said Kirsty. "Yes, I can see no-one will notice you at all. And those trousers ... you must have had to grease your feet to get them on."

"It looks a bit ... stylish," said Johnny. "You know ... jazzy.

"The man in the shop said it's about right for the period," said Yoless defensively.

"You look like you're about to play the saxophone," said Johnny. "I mean ... well, I've never seen you looking so ... you know ... cool."

"That's why it's a disguise," said Yoless.

Kirsty turned to Bigmac, and sighed.

"Bigmac, why is it I get this feeling you've missed the point?"

"I told him," said Yoless. "But he wouldn't listen."

"The man said they wore this in 1941," said Bigmac defensively.

"Yes, but don't you think that people might notice it's a German uniform?"

Bigmac looked panicky.

"Is it? I thought Yoless was trying to wind me up! I thought they had all swastikas and stuff!"

"That's the Gestapo. You're dressed up like an ordinary German soldier."

"I can't help it, it's the only one they had left, it was this or chain mail!"

"At least leave the jacket and helmet off, all right? Then it'll probably look like any other uniform."

"Why've you wearing that fur coat, Kirsty?" said Johnny. "You always say that wearing the skins of dead animals is murder."

"Yeah, but she only says it to old ladies in fur coats," muttered Bigmac under his breath, "Bet she never says it to Hell's Angels in leather jackets."

"I took some care," said Kirsty, ignoring him. She adjusted her hat and shoulder bag. "This is pretty accurate."

"What, even the shoulders?"

"Yes. Shoulders were being worn wide."

"Do you have to go through doors sideways?" said Yoless.

"Let's get on with it, shall we?"

"What's worrying me is when old Wobb ... I mean, old old Wobbler ... said we've got to do the right things to bring him back," said Yoless. "What things?"

"We'll have to find out," said Johnny. "He didn't say it was easy."

"Come on," said Bigmac, opening the door. "I miss old Wobbler."

"Why?" said Kirsty.

"Cos I don't throw straight."

The keep-fit people had long ago staggered home. Johnny shoved the trolley into the middle of the floor, and stared at the sacks. Guilty was still asleep on a couple of them.

"Er ... " said Yoless. "This isn't magic, is it?"

"I don't think so," said Johnny. "It's probably just very, very, very strange science.

"Oh, good," said Yoless. "Er ... what's the difference?"

"Who cares?" said Kirsty. "Get on with it."

Guilty started to purr.

Johnny picked up a bag. It seemed to wriggle in his grasp. With great care, he loosened the string.

And concentrated.

It was easier this time. Before, he'd just been dragged along like a cork in a current. This time he knew where he was going. He could feel the time.

Minds moved in time all the time. All the sacks did was let your body come too, just like Mrs Tachyon had said.

Years spiralled into the bag like water down a plughole. Time sucked out of the room.

And then there were the pews, and the scent of highly polished holiness.

And Wobbler, turning around with his mouth open.

" What-?"

"It's all right, it's us," said Johnny.

"Are you all right?" said Yoless.

Wobbler might not have been the winner of the All-Europe Uptake Speed Trials, but an expression of deep suspicion spread across his face as he looked at them.

"What's up?" he said. "You're all looking at me as if I'd gone weird! And what're you all dressed up for? Why's Bigmac wearing a German uniform?"

"See?" said Yoless triumphantly. "I said so, and does anyone listen?"

"We've just come back to fetch you," said Johnny. "There's no problem."

"That's right. No problem at all," said Yoless. "Everything's fine."

"Yeah, fine. Everything's fine," said Bigmac. "Er ... you're not feeling ... old, are you?"

"What? After five minutes?" said Wobbler.

"I've brung you something," said Bigmac. He took a square, flat shape from his pocket. It was rather battered, but it was nevertheless the only Styrofoam box currently existing on the planet.

It was a BigWob ... One with Everything.

"Did you nick that?" said Yoless.

"Well, the old bloke said he wasn't going to eat it," Said Bigmac. "So it'd only get chucked away, all right? It's not stealing if it'd only get chucked away. Anyway, it is his, isn't it, because-"

"You're not going to eat that, are you?" said Kirsty quickly. "It's cold and greasy and it's been in Bigmac's pocket, for heaven's sake."

Wobbler lifted out the bun.

"I could eat it even if a giraffe's licked it," he said, and bit into the cold bread. "Hey, this isn't bad! Whose is it?" He looked at the face printed on the box. "Who's the old fart with the beard?"

"Just some old fart," said Johnny.

"Yeah, we don't know anything about him at all," said Bigmac.

Wobbler gave them a suspicious look.

"What's going on here?" he said.

"Look, I can't explain now," said Johnny. "You're ... stuck here. Er. Apparently, er, something's gone wrong. Er. There's been a snag."

"What kind of snag?"

"Er. Quite a big one."

Wobbler stopped eating. It was that serious.

"How big?" he said.

"Er. You're not going to be born ... er."

Wobbler stared at him. Then he stared at the half eaten burger.

"Am I eating this burger? Are these my teeth marks?" he demanded.

"Look, it's perfectly simple," said Kirsty. "You're alive here, yes, but when we first came back, something must have happened which changed history. Everything anyone does changes history. So there's two histories. You were born in one, but things have been changed and when we got back it was into a different history where you weren't. All we have to do is put things back the way they should be, and then everything will be all right."

"Hah! You haven't got a shelf of Star Trek videos as well, have you?" said Wobbler.

Kirsty looked as though someone had hit her.

"Well, er, I don't, er, what?" she said. "Er ... one or two ... a few ... not many ... so what, anyway? I hardly ever look at them!"

"Hey," said Yoless, brightening up, "have you got that one where a mysterious force-"

"Just shut up! Just shut up right now! Just because the programme happens to be an accurate reflection of late 20th century social concerns, actually, it doesn't mean you can go around winding people up just because they've been taking an academic interest!"

"Have you got a Star Trek uniform?" said Yoless.

Kirsty started to go red.

"If any of you tell anybody else there'll be big trouble," said Kirsty. "I mean it!"

Johnny opened the door of the church. Outside, Wednesday afternoon was turning into Wednesday evening. It was raining gently. He took a deep breath of 1941 air. It smelled of coal and pickles and jam, with a hint of hot rubber. People were making things. All those chimneys ...

No-one made anything in Blackbury in 1996. There was a factory that put together computers, and some big warehouses, and the Department of Road Signs regional headquarters. People just moved things around, or added up numbers.

"So I watch some science fiction films," said a plaintive voice behind him. "At least I do it in a spirit of intelligent deconstruction. I don't just sit there saying "Cor, lasers, brill!"

"No-one said you did," said Yoless, managing to sound infuriatingly reasonable.

"You're not going to let me forget this, are you?" said Kirsty.