“Certainly. All of everything came into existence simply because it wanted to be. The big bang wasn’t so much a big bang as a hasty dash toward an opportunity to trade nothingness for somethingness. The main contributory factor to the entire universe was a momentary effect in need of a cause. And in that split second, everything that wanted to have existence—which is everything—came racing through in one huge hot mass. They’ve been trying to sort themselves out ever since.”

“Kind of like a Harrods sale?” I suggested. “When the doors suddenly open?”

“Exactly like that. Only with six quintillion shoppers all trying to get to the knockdown perfume counter in a trillionth of a second—and through a garden hose.”

“I’m sure this is going somewhere,” said Friday, “but I’m not sure where.”

“It’s about cause and effect and how the two can be separated and even entangled. Often it can become tricky to see which cause leads to which effect—or even which effect leads to which cause. And in cases like that, you need to let go and do as your spirit guides you.”

“That’s pretty deep,” said Friday.

“I have a lot of time to think,” said the Manchild, “and a unique brain that can understand the complexity of the very simple. Uh-oh,” he sniggered, “fart. And it’ll be a stinky one.”

And after cracking one off in a childish manner, he giggled about it for several minutes.

“Right,” I said when he had recovered his composure, “so Friday will kill Gavin?”

“He will and he won’t. It’ll work out, you’ll see. You must have faith and remain true to the guiding principles within you. You didn’t get to be the director general of the ChronoGuard by luck. It was by your sense of justice, your selflessness—and being able to gauge cause simply by viewing the effect. Not one in a trillion can do that.”

“I don’t understand,” said Friday.

The Manchild rested his child’s hand on his visor. “You will, if only fleetingly. Sometimes we do our best work without even knowing it.”

“We’ve got to go,” I said, glancing at the battery indicator in my suit.

“I need to know more,” said Friday. “How does this have anything to do with averting HR-6984?”

“Everything. You’ll figure it out. Take a bottle of twelve-year whiskey with you and don’t worry too much about prison—the alternative is unthinkable. The other fourteen will thank you— or won’t, as it turns out. Oh, well,” he added, “time waits for no man, as they say.”

And he hobbled rapidly off. We watched him walk faster and faster as he moved past the cars and down the T-gradient toward where the main time engines were located, then vanished through some double doors.