Free Blackout by Andrew Cope Page B

instinct taking over. ‘We don’t want your biscuits. We just want our cat back,’ he demanded.
    ‘And our diamond,’ gasped the professor, stumbling into the room. ‘The big one that was round the cat’s neck. Long story, but it’s not really ours …’
    ‘Maximus,’ smiled Maude. ‘So good to see you again. But I’m afraid you’re too late to save the world. Maybe you’d like a nice cup of tea instead?’
    Shakespeare ran to Sophie and leapt up into her arms, the little girl squealing in delight.
    ‘Where’s the diamond?’ demanded the professor. ‘And can you please tell me why there are dozens of pensioners at the top of the Shard?’
    ‘We’re having a bit of a do,’ said one of the old ladies. ‘Aren’t we, Gladys?’
    ‘We’re going back to the good old days,’ agreed Edna. ‘When I was your age,’ she said, looking at the children, ‘television was called books. The world today …’ she began, before cutting herself off with a sigh, ‘… is ruined.’
    ‘The world isn’t ruined,’ said Ben. ‘It’s just different.’
    The man who was tending to a machine stood up and everyone fell silent.
    He’s clearly in charge
, thought Shakespeare.
    ‘We rather like the world as it was,’ he said calmly. ‘In the good old days. So I’ve invented a time machine that is going to take us back to the last millennium.’
    ‘Good heavens,’ spluttered Professor Cortex. ‘You’ve worked out a way of distorting the space-time continuum? Did you have to reverse the polarities of the modulating flux capacitors or did you …’
    ‘A
sort of
time machine,’ interrupted the old man. ‘But Maude’s right. You are too late.’ His bony fingers stretched towards a big red button. The room began to shake as the huge glass windows started to slide apart and the top floor
of the Shard opened up like a tulip on a summer’s day. In less than a minute the sides had slipped away and the top floor had become an open-air apartment.

    The wind whipped up and Edna lost her wig. Hundreds of jigsaw pieces scattered upwards and away into the London sky.
    Barry had received the nod. He bent down and yanked at the lawnmower cord. The engine spluttered but failed to start. The Past Master looked frustrated. He nodded again and Barry yanked even harder; this time the engine spluttered into life and the Past Master fiddled with the machinery while it whirred into action.
    Professor Cortex and the children had no idea what was going on.
This is my moment
, thought Shakespeare.
I have thirty-six seconds to save the western world from an Internet blackout
. The wind was howling and the old people were hanging on to their hats and dresses. Dorothy pulled her cardigan tighter.
    The glitter ball had already begun to glow as Shakespeare launched himself from Sophie’s arms. It wasn’t so much a plan as an instinct.
I can’t stop the machine
, he thought, but he remembered the Past Master saying that precision was
everything. He knew that the satellites would be aligned in a few seconds, but that the slightest nudge would send the laser beams off track.
    ‘Shakespeare!’ yelled Sophie as she watched her cat take a running jump at the glitter ball. The little girl’s hair swirled in the wind as he leapt higher than she thought possible. The glitter ball was glowing as Shakespeare hit it. He yowled in agony, the smell of singed fur blowing across the open-plan apartment, and his body landed in a heap. Ben held Sophie back as the ball grew brighter and a dozen beams of bright light shot harmlessly into the sky.
    Shakespeare peered into the clouds, hoping he’d hit the ball with enough force to divert the lasers. He righted himself. His fur was smouldering, but he was very much alive. He ran to Sophie and curled himself round her ankles, the little girl crying with joy.
    The Past Master looked up at the sky, horrified. ‘You’ve ruined my plan,’ he cursed, pointing a bony finger at Shakespeare. ‘You’ve sent