Sarajevo, June 28, 1914

The crowds that lined the Appel Quay were much quieter than they had been earlier in the day. They had come out onto the streets to wave flags and cheer and catch a glimpse of royalty. They had been looking forward to it. It was meant to be a big party, a proud moment, something to tell the grandchildren about but the carnival atmosphere had turned sour. People stood around in huddles exchanging nervous rumours about the attack. Rumour had fragmented the truth into a thousand different stories as it always does but the gist was clear enough. Someone had tried to kill the city's illustrious visitor. Some young fool had chucked a bomb at the Archduke. Thankfully his highness hadn't been hurt. Dozens of bystanders had been injured but by some miracle nobody had died. The more thoughtful citizens of Sarajevo wondered if the assassins would try again.

Just round the corner Gavrilo Princip was chatting with an old friend. He was finding it hard to keep track of the conversation. It is very hard to concentrate on small talk when you have a cyanide capsule in your mouth and you're just failed to assassinate a world leader. That idiot Cabrinovic had mucked up the bombing. He hadn't even managed to kill himself properly. How hard is it to bite down on a cyanide capsule for God's sake? As for jumping in the river how could he have failed to notice that it was only a few inches deep? Sometimes Princip wondered if he wasn't wasting his life fighting for the Black Hand. The secret group of so-called patriots couldn't even kill one stupid politician.

Tom wandered down the street trying to look as if he belonged there. So far everything had happened as it was meant to. He had been worried that his presence might make the Black Hand change its plans. After all things only had to change a tiny bit for him to lose his one real advantage. So far everything had gone by the book. The bomb had failed, Cabrinovic had been arrested, the Archduke's car had just taken the fateful wrong turn and ah yes there was Gavrilo Princip standing outside Moritz Schiller's food store chatting to a friend.

Tom broke into a run as the Archduke's car glided pass him. Either he was running slightly late or they were slightly early. Either way it was a problem. If his plan was going to work everything needed to be timed to the last second. The car came to a halt right outside Schiller's shop. They had realized that they were on the wrong street and they were about to turn back but it was a very bad place to stop. Gavrilo was now just a few feet away from his sworn enemy. He pulled out his gun and fired at the Archduke. At the last moment Tom flung himself in front of the bullet and crumbled onto the ground.

Tom waited for Gavrilo to run off then he got up and walked towards the car. He calmly reassured the terrified royal couple that he was fine.
'I am all right. The gun must have backfired or something. This is going to sound strange but this is a list of the conspirators. I am afraid I can't explain how I got hold of their names but I'm relying on the hope that I have done enough to prove my loyalty.'
Without waiting for an answer he forced the list into the Archduke's hands and then disappeared into the darkness. He figured it was better that way. It wasn't a personal thing. He hadn't risked his life to save the Archduke out of love for the man or loyalty to him. His motives had been deeper. He would have felt like a fraud if he'd stayed around to accept the great man's thanks. Also the bulletproof vest would have been hard to explain.

London, 11th February, 2007

'Citizen Thomas Sebastian Banks you stand accused of crimes against the people, namely repeated willful attempts to undermine public morale and to weaken the peoples' faith in the Party and the state. The lesser crimes of identity theft and attempting to break into a state research facility will also be held against you. Crimes against the people carry the death penalty. How do you plead?'
Tom blinked and tried to shield his eyes with his hands. After the darkness of his cell the neon glare of the courtroom was blinding. He had spent so long in solitary confinement that he could barely remember how to speak. The judge impatiently repeated her question.
'How do you plead Citizen Banks?'

While struggling to marshal his thoughts he experimentally swirled his tongue around and opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Ah yes talking, that was how it was done. There didn't seem to be much point in saying anything really. Whatever happened here he would still be trapped in this nightmare; Sophie was the only one who could get him out of it. Despite everything he managed a weak smile at the thought of his former cellmate. He'd somehow managed to convince her that he wasn't just a madman. She knew where the machine was and the resistance would be able to get her into the research facility. If she failed then the world he had known was gone for good and he was a dead man. If she succeeded then this sham trial would never have happened but here and now he had to live through it.

'I refer you to my original statement. I don't recognize the authority of this court. Its existence is a mistake.'
The judge smiled triumphantly.
'The traitor condemns himself. The only defence he offers is to refer us to his previous crazed ramblings. I remind you that those ramblings are the very reason he is here before us today. Citizen Thomas Sebastian Banks. This court finds you guilty of crimes against the people. You are hereby sentenced to death by firing squad. The sentence will be carried out immediately.'
Tom looked startled.
'Wasn't that a bit quick? I knew it was going to be a show trail but it was only about two minutes long. That isn't much of a show.'
Nobody paid any attention to his complaint. Two heavily armed guards dragged him out of the court and back into the darkness.

Sarajevo, June 28th, 1914

Gavrilo Princip ran until his body couldn't run any more and then he kept running. He had to get away. He had steeled himself to die for his country but he was damned if he was going to throw his life away on that day's shambolic failure. Despite all their careful planing the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was still alive. Who was that madman who took a bullet for the Austrian tyrant? Suddenly there was a flash of blue light and a woman landed at his feet with a thud. She seemed to have just fallen out of thin air. The woman stood up dusted herself off and then lunged at Gavrilo.
'Perfect landing. You must be Gavrilo Princip. You better be or we are all in deep trouble. What time is it?'
He told her. She responded using language that convinced him that although she had fallen from the heavens she definitely wasn't an angel. She mumbled something about being 'too late'. Once she'd finished cursing she seemed to silently debate something with herself for a while.
'Ok Gavrilo we are going to have to go to plan B. Tom said things might go back to something approaching normal if your buddy Franz dies on the right day. Not that I have much idea what normal is supposed to be like anyway but we can't do a worse job than Tom. Don't look so worried amigo. I'm here to help you. We are going to assassinate the Archduke Franz Ferdinand.'

London, 24th December, 2006

Tom picked himself up off the floor. He had just fallen face first onto concrete and parts of his body were trying to tell him that they were in pain but he ignored them. A smile played across his face. It had actually worked. He'd planned everything down to the last little detail but he still couldn't believe that it had all gone so smoothly. He was back home in good old London in the year 2006 but thanks to him history was now entirely different. He breathed in a huge lungfull of crisp winter air. He'd chosen Christmas Eve as his return date. It meant that he'd missed a couple of months of 2006 but that didn't really matter and that date somehow seemed appropriate. Thanks to him fewer of the Christmases of the last century had fallen horribly short of the ideal of a season of peace and goodwill.

He spent some time wandering around the streets of this new London soaking in the atmosphere and trying to get some idea of what the world had become. In some ways the old town didn't seem to have changed all that much. It was still recognizably the city he had grown up in. On the other hand there were lots of differences. The streets seemed a lot cleaner. There was no litter and there didn't seem to be any homeless people. The newer buildings were all glistening webs of steel and glass twisted into weird geometric shapes. Tom began to whistle to himself. This was the world he had made. A clean, prosperous, peaceful world that had no inkling of the horrors it had been spared.

Sarajevo. June 28th 1914

Sophie dragged Gavrillo into a nearby café. He still seemed to be in shock. Secretly she was a bit disappointed. She'd been hoping for an all-action hero like the revolutionaries in the public edutainment films she had grown up on. She shook herself; this wasn't some corny movie. In the real world the future was in the hands of this nervous, sickly looking young man sitting there sipping coffee and staring at her as if he thought she was about to sprout wings and fly away. She decided to take control of the situation.
'Ok Gavrilo. Do you know where he is going to be for the rest of the day?'
Gavrilo looked confused. 'He?'
'The Archduke, our boy Franz. Remember? The man this is all about.'
He looked thoughtful for a second but it didn't really seem to matter.
'We can't do anything today. We'll have to regroup and rethink.'
His mysterious companion reached across the table, grabbed his head and pulled it towards her. Her face was just a few inches away from his now and he could see the terrible intensity burning in her eyes, a look of fierce, unshakable determination.
'No! Listen to me you stupid fool. He has to die today and you have to kill him. Everything and I mean everything depends on that.'

London, 24th December 2006

After wondering around for a bit Tom found himself walking along streets that he knew well. As a child he'd lived just round the corner. He thought about having a look at his old home but almost unconsciously he ended up heading in a different direction. He smiled to himself as he opened the little gate into the park and slipped back into a place that was full of happy memories. Very little had changed. The old play park was still there. The swings seemed to be a different colour but they would have needed a fresh coat of paint since his childhood even if he hadn't changed history. The pigeons were still making a nuisance of themselves. The ducks on the pond still quacked expectantly at him, hoping for some bread. The park had hardly changed at all. He hadn't really expected it to be drastically different so what strange impulse had brought him there? Suddenly he realized what he'd come to see. He realized what was wrong. That should have changed, that had to change. That was the whole point.

Sarajevo, 28th June 1914

Sophie was worried. Gavrillo had brought her to a Black Hand safe house but things weren't going well. The Austro-Hungarian authorities had moved fast. Most of his co-conspirators had already been rounded up. Gavrillo assured her that none of them would betray the cause but she wasn't at all convinced that the police weren't about to smash down the door. She took another look at their plan. It wasn't brilliant, actually it was suicidal and full of holes but time was short and there was a lot at stake.

Gavrillo tried to get his head round what she wanted to do but he found himself wondering what the hell he was doing. Why was he taking orders from this strange girl? She could be anyone. She could easily be an enemy agent. The corrupt, crumbling empire wasn't above playing weird tricks on those it oppressed. She clearly wasn't Serbian so what did she know about his people's struggle?

The whole thing was ridiculous. He decided to slip away at the first opportunity. If the Black Hand still wanted to kill the Archduke they would do it in their own time without the help of dubious allies. His thoughts of escape were interrupted by a knock at the door; it was the secret knock. Thank God one of his comrades had escaped the clutches of the law. He rushed to the door and threw it open. To his surprise Gavrillo didn't recognise the man. Even more strangely the visitor didn't come inside, instead he simply gave the password, shoved a bit of paper into Gavrillo's hand and then ran off into the darkness.

Gavrillo read the note and then screwed it up into a ball. He had been a fool. It was all so obvious now. He wasn't a cold-blooded man but he knew what he had to do. He took a knife out of his pocket and ran its blade along his finger to make sure it was sharp. He didn't want her to suffer unnecessarily even if she was a spy. He went back into the living room and swiftly put an end to her treacherous little plan.

The visitor ran round the corner. Once he was sure that he was out of sight he disappeared in a flash of blue light.

London, December 24th 2006

Tom ran towards the war memorial. Maybe it was something else; maybe it just looked the same. He sank down onto his knees and tried to take in the inscription.

'Errected in eternal remembrance of those whose lives were thrown away in the Imperialist War 1918-1922

Never Again

And

In undying gratitude to those who gave their lives for our freedom and the peace of the world during the Revolution. 1922 ' 1925'

Beneath these was the familiar grim roll call of the dead. He hadn't rubbed it out, if anything it seemed longer.

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