“That once upon a time, your kind enslaved my kind, treating them as toys and playthings, until finally – after the Great Machine blew up and laid waste your entire civilisation – we rose up, burnt what was left of your cities to the ground and slaughtered you by the million, until there were so few of you left that you wandered into the woods and mountains and reverted to wild, senseless animals. Well?”
“The first bit, yes,” Theo said. “Sorry about that, by the way. The other bit, um, not yet.”
The donkey looked at him. “Not yet?”
“Not where I come from.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. All this happened hundreds of thousands of years ago.”
“Um,” Theo said.
The donkey stared at him for a moment, then suddenly nodded. “Multiverse theory.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re from a different—”
“Yup.”
“Ah.” The donkey looked faintly relieved. “So what you mean is, you’re from somewhere that might, if a highly speculative theory is correct, be a universe parallel to our own in certain respects, but which almost certainly differs from it in others, and might therefore differ in regard to the existence of Christopher Robin and the historical reality of the so-called Age of Degradation. Yes?”
“I suppose so.”
“Excellent.” The donkey cheered up immediately. “So long as it’s just a theory, I can more or less live with it. Right, let’s get moving. We haven’t got all day, you know.”
They followed a winding path down to a long, broad, sandy beach. Behind it a steep granite cliff reared up to the sky, from which a cruelly hot sun beat down on them. They walked across the sand for about a mile, and came to the mouth of a cave.
“In there,” the donkey said, nodding his head at the cave mouth. “Right, this is where I leave you.” He hesitated, then added: “Good luck.”
“What about you?” Theo said. “You can’t go back. What are you going to do?”
The donkey shrugged. It was the gesture he’d been born for. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s only me, after all. I expect I’ll wander aimlessly around for a bit and then I’ll die.”
Instinctively Theo reached out a hand to give the donkey a consoling pat, but it shrank away and scowled horribly at him. “Don’t even think about it, human,” it growled.
“Sorry. I was just—”
“Yeah, right. Next thing you know, you’ll be wanting me to sleep on your pillow. Now get out of my sight, before I decide to turn you in to the authorities.”
Theo lowered his hand. “I understand,” he said. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t think. Thank you,” he said. “You’re a true scientist, Eeyore.”
The donkey’s lower lip quivered. “You’re just saying that because I sacrificed everything to save your worthless life.”
“Yes.”
“Think nothing of it,” the donkey said gravely. “Well, so long.”
Theo turned quickly away and plunged into the cave. It was dark, and it took him a while for his eyes to adjust. Eventually he saw a rocky floor and a roof fringed with stalactites. And a suitcase.
He blinked. It was a nice suitcase; pigskin, with chromed buckles. It had been around. There were scuff marks, and a couple of flight labels. On the lid, level with the handle, were initials in gold: MCB.
The C stood for Cornelius.
A little voice in his head said: I really wish I wasn’t wearing a pink nappy at this point. He ignored it, cleared his throat and said, “Max?”
No reply. He took a step forward and tried to open the suitcase, but it was locked. He sighed and, feeling suddenly and comprehensively weary, sat down on the floor.
“Theo.”
He jumped up and spun round. A tall, thin figure stepped out of the shadows at the back of the cave. There was a sudden dazzling flare of flame, clouded by drifting blue smoke. The man had lit a cigar.
“Max?”
“Hi, Theo. What kept you?”
Max stepped forward. He was wearing an elegant white silk suit, a white shirt and two-tone fawn and brown shoes. His hair – a trifle longer than it used to be – was beautifully cut and combed, but uniformly silver-grey. It suited him, of course. Everything always suited Max. If he slipped and fell in a slurry pit, it’d only be a matter of time before slurry started featuring heavily in the latest collections from Diesel and Ralph Lauren. A cigar the size of a torpedo jutted out of the corner of his mouth.
“Max.”
“Theo.”
“You fucking evil fucking bastard,” Theo said. “Why aren’t you dead?”
Max removed the cigar and smiled at him. “Pleased to see