Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl - the time paradox

That’s not to say that travelling through the time stream is a consistent experience. Never the same journey twice. The demon warlock Qwan, who was the planet’s most experienced time-travelling fairy, wrote in his bestselling autobiography, Qwan: My Time is Now, that ‘riding the time stream is like flying through a dwarf’s intestine. There are very nice free-flowing stretches, but then you turn a corner to find the thing backed-up and putrid. The problem being that the time stream is largely an emotional construct, and it absorbs ambient feelings from the real time it flows around. If you happen across a stretch of foul-smelling gunk, you can bet that the humans are killing something.’

Artemis and Holly were being dragged through a foul-smelling stretch that corresponded with an entire ecosystem being destroyed in South America. They could sense the animals’ terror and even smell the charred wood. Artemis felt, too, that Holly was losing herself in the maelstrom of emotions. Fairies were so much more sensitive to their environments than humans. If Holly lost concentration, her atoms would dissipate and be absorbed by the stream.

Focus, Holly, Artemis broadcast into the stream. Remember who you are and why we are here.

It was difficult for them both. Their particle memory had already been weakened by the Limbo journeys and the temptation to meld with the stream was strong.

Artemis conjured a picture of his mother in his consciousness to bolster his determination.

I know when and where I want to be, he thought. Exactly when and where …

FOWL MANOR, NEARLY EIGHT YEARS AGO

Artemis and Holly exited the time stream and entered ten-year-old Artemis’s study. Physically, this was a gentle enough experience, like jumping from a low wall on to thick carpet, but emotionally this particular trip was like a ten-minute blitz of the worst memories of their lives. The time stream: never the same ride twice.

Holly cried for her mother for a minute, but eventually the persistent chiming of a grandfather clock reminded her of where and when she was. She stood shakily and looked around her to find Artemis lurching towards the wardrobe. The sight of him cheered her a little.

‘You have really let yourself go,’ she said.

Artemis was rummaging through the clothes on the rail.

‘Of course nothing will fit,’ he muttered. ‘All too small.’

Holly elbowed past him. ‘Not for me,’ she said, pulling a dark suit from its hanger.

‘My first suit,’ said Artemis fondly. ‘For the family Christmas postcard. I had no idea really how to wear it. I remember fidgeting throughout the fitting. It’s a Zegna bespoke.’

Holly tore off a protective polythene wrap. ‘So long as it fits.’

It was only then that Artemis’s emotions settled enough for him to register Holly’s comment.

‘What do you mean I have let myself go?’

Holly swung the wardrobe’s door, so that its mirrored side faced Artemis.

‘See for yourself,’ she said.

Artemis looked. In the mirror he saw a tall, slender boy, his head all but invisible under a wild mop of shoulder-length hair, and even some bristles on his chin.

‘Ah. I see.’

‘I’m surprised you do,’ said Holly. ‘Through all that hair.’

‘Accelerated ageing. A side effect of the time stream,’ Artemis hypothesized, unconcerned. ‘When we return, the effects should be reversed.’ He paused, catching sight of Holly’s reflection. ‘Perhaps you should check yourself in the mirror. I am not the only one who has changed.’

Holly elbowed him aside, certain she was being kidded, but the half-smile died on her lips when she saw the fairy in the looking glass. It was her own face, but different, missing a few scars and a few decades’ wear and tear.

‘I am young,’ she gasped. ‘Younger.’

‘Don’t be upset,’ said Artemis briskly. ‘It is temporary. All this is nothing more than dress-up. My physical maturity, your youth. In a moment or two we will be back in the stream.’

But Holly was upset. She knew how this had happened.

I was thinking of Mother. Of our last hours together. Of how I was then.

And so that was how she had changed.

Look at me. Just out of the Academy. In human terms, barely older than Artemis.

For some reason, this was a disturbing thought.

‘Get some trousers on,’ she snapped, buttoning a crisp white shirt to her neck. ‘Then we can discuss your theories.’

Artemis used his extra inches to reach up and tug a large box from the top of the wardrobe. In it were neatly folded layers of clothes destined for one of Angeline Fowl’s charity shops.

He tossed a silver wig to Holly.

‘Seventies fancy-dress party,’ he explained. ‘Mother went as a star-ship trooper, I seem to remember. Now cover those pointy ears.’

‘A hat would be easier,’ said Holly, pulling the wig over her auburn crew-cut.

‘No such luck, I’m afraid,’ sighed Artemis, selecting an old tracksuit from the box. ‘This is not exactly Harrods; we will have to make do.’

Artemis’s old loafers fitted Holly well enough, and there was a pair of his father’s trainers in the box that stayed on his feet when the toes were stuffed.

‘Always good to be dressed when you’re stealing monkeys,’ said Holly.

Artemis rolled up the tracksuit sleeves. ‘There’s no need to dress at all really. We simply wait for a few minutes until my mother almost catches Butler sneaking upstairs with the lemur. I remember him sliding the cage through the doorway, then I brought it back upstairs. The moment that cage comes in here, we grab it, take off these ridiculous clothes and wish our way back to Number One.’

Holly checked herself in the mirror. She looked like a presidential bodyguard from another planet. ‘That sounds so simple.’

‘It was simple. Will be. Butler never even entered the study. All we need to do is stand here and wait.’

‘And how did you find this particular moment?’

Artemis swept a sheaf of black hair back from his brow, revealing mismatched sorrowful eyes.

‘Listen,’ he said, pointing upwards, towards the ceiling.

Holly tucked strands of silver hair behind one ear, cocking her head to one side to focus her considerable sense of hearing. She heard the grandfather clock, and the time travellers’ beating hearts, but above them there was a strident, hysterical voice.

‘Mother,’ said Artemis, eyes downcast. ‘It was the first time that she did not recognize me. She is at this moment threatening to call the police. In a moment she runs downstairs to the phone and discovers Butler.’

Holly understood. How could any son forget a moment like that one? Finding it again must have been easy and painful.

‘I remember it clearly. We had just returned from Rathdown Park, the private zoo, and I thought I should check how she was feeling before flying to Morocco. In a month from now she won’t be able to look after herself any more.’

Holly squeezed his forearm. ‘It’s fine, Artemis. This is all in the past. In a few minutes your mother will be back on her feet. She will love you as she always has.’

Artemis nodded glumly. He knew it was probably true, but he also knew that he would never fully escape the spectre of this bad memory.

Upstairs, Angeline Fowl’s voice moved from her bedchamber to the upper landing, trailing shrill notes behind her.

Artemis pulled Holly back against the wall.

‘Butler will be on the stairs now. We should keep to the shadows just in case.’

Holly couldn’t help a flutter of nerves. ‘You’re sure he stays outside? The last time I faced Butler as an enemy, I had the entire LEP on my side. I don’t relish the thought of meeting him armed with nothing more than a silver wig.’