The scene unfolding in Elmo’s home was a beguiling one. Three people remained inside: the unconscious form of Holi lay on the sofa, Elmo, whose time this was, crouched over her, trying to revive his fainted wife. There was Future-Elmo who had created the bedlam that had just occurred, he was having somewhat more success reviving an injured rat. Then, of course, there was the rat itself, not actually a rat, but Elmo from another time, from the original time, if such a thing made sense any more, trapped in a rat body. Future-Elmo had placed it on the kitchen worktop in the recovery position where it lay breathing weakly. This Rat-Elmo coughed and gasped for breath, winded and bruised, if not broken, by one of the largest buttocks imaginable. So, four people really.

  Then, all four froze as a fourth Elmo seemed to fade into existence. This most recent arrival crouched on the broken table, looked at the others, flickered just once like it had a minor electrical fault and then wasn't any kind of Elmo anymore. It was sniffing the air where moments before, a huge yellow-suited behemoth had inexplicably appeared and vanished. This not-Elmo was shifting form, darkening and becoming hairier, turning a pin in its fingers. Rat-Elmo just knew it was the thing from Past-Elmo's ear. It contorted and twisted, leaning forward toward the very location of the ‘supping’ sound left momentarily by the disappearance of the giant, table-shattering intruder. Snuffling and sniffing deeply, the creature's face found the point it was seeking. Looking less human, more bovine, it appeared to sniff itself away into the very fabric of the air.

  This disappearance though was not akin to its appearance. Whilst the thing in Elmo's form had faded easily into the room like a TV picture fading in from nothing, it didn't so much fade out as squeeze. The thing struggled into empty air, emitting a cow-like grunt. The results of this horrific, sluggish motion were surely emerging into some other reality, somewhere unseen by the grateful eyes of those left in the kitchen. As the latter parts of the body vanished, any semblance of Elmo was utterly transmogrified; a hoof, a coarse, tufted tail were the final parting features and it was gone.

  The rat sat up and Future-Elmo rubbed his tiny shoulders with his fingers.

  "That feels good," the rat panted feebly.

  "Save the rat," muttered Future-Elmo under his breath. "Keep him safe. Not just a rat. What ever was that thing?"

  The Elmo who belonged here gazed at the space previously occupied by the not-Elmo in utter disbelief. He then gazed similarly at the pair on the work surface. They were clearly less disturbed than he was. The rat was wriggling its upper back and shoulders in circles whilst Future-Elmo poked his thumbs caringly into his lumbar muscles, working the body back to action. When he could bear it no longer, the Elmo who belonged here cut in, "I hate to disturb whatever is going on there, but would you help me with Holi?"

  Future-Elmo helped to drag Holi in the direction of the bedroom. "Careful, you're knocking her head!" said one.

  "That wasn't me," the second objected. One Elmo knelt beside her, touching her forehead until he was sure she was okay. The other checked her pulse. "We'd better talk," one said, realising that Holi's lack of consciousness might be best for a short while.

  Back in the kitchen a useful discussion got underway. Each of the participants explained his position, each amazed and astounded at their differing revelations. Future-Elmo was shocked that the rodent recovering slowly before him was actually the Elmo that he had met in the woods and sent back just ten minutes, an event that was still future in this reality. Elmo who belonged here was shocked by everything, not least that the shape-shifting thing they had watched exiting via the kitchen had earlier come from his ear - summoned by his device. Rat-Elmo was seriously annoyed that his plan to secretly follow Elmo from this time to Yorkshire had been ruined. Their pooling of information, at least, was useful. They could work together. They had a device: the Elmo who belonged in this time still had his stashed safely now in a cupboard. All they needed was a plan. How could they untangle this mess?

  *****

  Meanwhile, having left the gloom of the auditorium, Number 2 sat in his private antechamber.

  His bright, piercing orange eyes stared grimly at the others gathered around him.

  "It's time to see if we can bring the ‘rogue’ in," he intoned.

  "Yes, sir," a subservient Elmo agreed. "Bring him in."

  "He's made enough mess. We know he vanishes. We need to find out what he knows, then mop up that moronic phage incident. Perhaps we can make some actual progress."

  His voice lingered on 'moronic', whiskers twitching in mock approval, an unsubtle jab at the collective incompetence of those standing around him.

  "Don't make me have to chase you on this, you know how I hate exertion!" The annoyance in his tone was undisguised, and anyone who dared to look might well notice the irate twitching of his ears and swishing side-to-side motion of his long, pink, naked tail. Number 2 rose and left. Nobody had the rank disrespect to let their eyes linger on the long snaking tail trailing from the rear of his cloak.

  *****

  In the kitchen, Elmo from this time and Rat-Elmo wanted to know what time ‘Future-Elmo’ had come from, but he seemed reluctant to offer much enlightenment. So, they turned their minds to look ahead, to plot a course for the future (or more accurately 'a' future) when a crashing noise came from the cupboard. It sounded like someone was suddenly in there. The door was full-sized like a door to another room. Nevertheless, a cupboard was all that there was behind that door. There was a heavy stumbling sound and the door opened just a crack.

  "Who's there?" a voice whispered through the crack.

  "We might ask the same thing," Past-Elmo returned.

  "Are there three of you? Are you together? Is the device secret, is it safe?"

  "Yes, yes, and yes - what are you doing there in my cupboard?" Elmo was on his feet and slowly edging forward to get a peep round the door.

  "Listen to me, all of you, you don't have much time." The voice sounded familiar but the speaker clearly didn't want to be seen.

  A further scrabbling and shuffling indicated a large person in a small space, struggling to get comfortable.

  "If I can just get this broom handle…"

  "Gum?" said Rat-Elmo.

  "Never mind, there's not time," the tightly-confined visitor went on. "Events are unfolding beyond control, and we need to get that control back."

  "That's what we were talking about," Future-Elmo added.

  "Which one of you is from the future?" the possibly Gum voice called.

  All turned to look at Future-Elmo, but he was silent, as if experiencing some sudden internal pain.

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  "Quickly…" the voice from inside the cupboard urged. "Which one?"

  But Future-Elmo was fading before their eyes, vanishing away into a mist of nothingness.

  "Save the rat, save the world!" insisted the closeted stranger.

  "I did didn't I?" came the wispy reply, then Future-Elmo was gone.

  "Too late again," the figure behind the door sighed. Then with fresh urgency, "Do you still have your device? Listen carefully. You have to get out of here and take the device to Gum's place. Get it to him. Tell Holi she fell onto the table and hit her head. Make her believe that what she saw was simply the result of the blow. Don't get her involved, trust me, you don't want her knowing about rat versions of yourself and the rest of it."

  The manoeuvering with handles and plumbing stopped as swiftly as it had begun. The room returned to quietness. Elmo who belonged in this time looked at Rat Elmo and shrugged, "It's a plan at least," he said with a grimace.

  *****

  Rogue-Elmo felt woozy after being extracted from the kitchen and returned to the clinic. He was not allowed to recover his senses before being hoisted up by two tight-suited Elmos and led off down the sterile, semi-elliptical corridor that approached the New Ward. The upward-shining blue lights at regular intervals in the floor made him squint as they went by. Barely aware of the journey, he was deposited in a chair in a room near the enigmatic Number 2's quarters. He had never seen him up close, few had. You only got this close if it was really important.

  Questioning by the two spigot-suited Elmos was sharp and methodical. Yes, he had arrived back there in 2009. Yes, he had met the very Elmo who it all began with. No, he couldn't say who sent him. He seemed most anxious when questioning turned to just how events had unfolded. His purpose had been to change the history of the domino-type series of events of that day - but he secretly feared that he might actually have caused them. Sounding mysterious and warning Elmo to go back had sounded like a great plan when he initially came up with it, but now they were asking him what exactly had happened. How had a rat got involved? Best to tell them some of the truth, but not all of the truth.

  “I did as instructed,” Rogue-Elmo explained defensively, “I remained concealed and used my wits to get Elmo of 2009 to go back.”

  The Elmo who seemed to be the senior of the two probed, “And how exactly did you do that? How did you involve yourself?”

  “I... er... I hid myself in the undergrowth and called out to go back - ‘Go Back!’ I said. I made my voice all mysterious.”

  The inquisitors exchanged glances. “And did he go back?”

  Rogue was sweating - what was he to say? He had imagined that he would have plenty of time to get his story together before being questioned, but now he was having to think on his feet. Elmo of 2009 had not gone back, worse, he had come forward.

  “Yes, he did,” he fibbed, “He went back.” That covered one botch up, but how to handle the rat matter?

  The slight look of uncertainty on the faces of his seniors emboldened Rogue-Elmo and ideas began to jump from brain to mouth.

  “He went back, but he tricked me! I watched him go - he looked all scared and he ran, I think... yes, he ran. But when I was packing up and getting ready to come back he must have sneaked up on me, because he grabbed my mechanism and tried to run off with it! I tried bravely to subdue the trickster, but he had a rat with him and he set it on me! The thing bit me! That was when he somehow activated the mechanism and he and the rat escaped. But don't worry - he didn't get away with the mechanism.” That should do it. The questioners looked at him puzzled, wondering where the device was now.

  “Oh... I realised I had to hunt that Elmo down, and his pet rat, and make sure they didn't cause further trouble. So what I did was...” Rogue was really struggling to extemporise, making things up on the spot was dangerous, but he had no choice - if they found out that he had sent Elmo back, that he was possibly the cause of this whole sorry mess... that he had created the whole rat lineage…

  “I... er, er... I sent myself back in time, because I had cleverly worked out where he had gone.” He pointed an index finger to his right temple at this juncture and tapped it lightly, nervously indicating his own ingenuity. “I followed him back in time, but he fooled me by changing places with his pet rat! He had teamed up with the Elmo from that time line by the time I got there. They overpowered me and stole my mechanism! I fought back though, I had the rat by the throat and the past Elmo in a neck hold. I demanded they return my device whilst I decide how to punish them both. I was just about to make my move when pffft!” He shrugged, held his palms out.

  Behind him, a voice he hadn't heard until now spoke. “So, you were told to make Elmo 2009 go back?”

  “Yes. Don't we all want him to go back? Wait, I’m not supposed to be speaking about this.”

  “Tell me, what number are you?” the big, pale Rat squeaked.

  “Number Two!” he gasped, “That is to say, I'm number 501.”

  *****

  "I heard the duck got away," said 679.

  "I can't say I'm especially surprised, nothing ever seems to go according to plan," 352 grumbled, "It drives me mad! But I understand someone has a new plan for her in there."

  679 looked at the figure floating in the cryo-cylinder, suspended in glowing green gel. She gazed dreamily back at him. He couldn't tell if she was really conscious of her surroundings or not.

  "We've been instructed to get her down to the green room for some reason."

  "Isn't that where they've started doing those dodgy nibblin experiments?" 679 asked suspiciously.

  "Yes, it is," said 352.

  "You don't suppose they intend to try it on her?” 679 asked. "Surely they wouldn't go that far."

  At that moment, both 352 and 679 were rudely interrupted by the combined sounds of crashing metal, tumbling body parts and thick fabric being sucked into a conveyor belt, all of which was displayed on a large, wall-mounted video monitor.

  It had been caused by an ogresome creature that had lost its balance whilst running on a treadmill. The mishap had sent him sprawling head-first, down onto the moving floor of the machine.

  The treadmill in turn had flipped over beneath the great weight of the clumsy creature causing the loud crashing sound that had startled the two men. Caught up in the tangled mess was part of the ogre’s trousers which were now being sucked into the still-moving treadmill belt! The ogre let out a shriek as he tried desperately to free himself from the fast-moving machinery.

  “Oh - I do very say! Steady on! One is not accustomed to such frivolous happenings during a perfectly dignified workout. Ouch! Not a good turn of events.”

  He freed himself with one final yank that sent him rolling head over heels towards the camera which shook violently with the impact. “Aargh! This feels like impact week,” the creature mumbled, his face appearing in extreme close-up on the screen.

  “This is exactly what I’ve been talking about,” snapped 352, staring at the giant form on the screen. He glared at his subordinate and continued, “I’ve told you to put some proper systems into place. I told you to get that treadmill out of here. That’s the third time he’s fallen off it.”

  The ogre creature was looking sheepishly around him. “And what about that stupid simulator?” Number 352 stabbed an accusatory finger in the direction of a second monitor displaying a deep-yellow image, “Has that helped him? We can’t keep going around in circles like this!”

  “Well, the bottomless glass cylinder cracked, causing some yellow gel to leak during emotional submergence. He was trying to eat himself out but mistakenly bit into the cylinder,” the junior replied with a look displaying elements of both excitement and uncertainty.

  “And just how did he do that? That’s not possible, is it? It’s made of glass and it’s curved. I don’t know... I’m not sure this invasive associative psychology treatment works. The inane idea that finding the bottom of a seemingly bottomless vat can somehow cause him to reveal the profound workings of his psyche sounds utterly ridiculous,” 352 muttered shaking his head, “You’re just doing any old thing in here!”

  The junior doctor lowered his voice so the behemoth on the screen might not hear, “Yes, but Number Two agreed it would be a good treatment when we put it to him.”

  “I’m not questioning his judgment. All I’m saying is that Grimmbros cannot get to the bottom of his own subconscious by finding the bottom of something else - even if he does seem to like that stuff. How can less bottom equal more bottom?”

  The spluttering Number 352 was floundering. He was aware that the subject on the monitor had undergone a traumatic experience in his own world, having fallen to a beest that he should never have met. This would inevitably stir some very deep emotions. The ordeal of the once-confident champion finding himself ignominiously bested was already developing into a creeping despondency that was in danger of becoming a sullen negativity, potentially rendering him worthless. And right now, he was the best hope for catching up with the beest and preventing it from doing the inevitable. But subjecting him to a series of bizarre exercises to help him retain his self-esteem and foster self-respect? The theory was that if he could experience a series of successes here, under carefully controlled conditions whilst his body slept in his own world... It was altogether preposterous! This wasn’t science it was lunacy!

  The junior 679 cut in enthusiastically, “He needs to find a bottom where there is none. The idea of the treatment is for him to realise that the cylinder must somewhere have a bottom even though he believes it, for now, to be bottomless. Once he discovers the bottom, he will embrace it, even celebrate it. In fact, the whole idea of the thick, custard-like yellow gel is ...”

  The senior doctor had a look of disgust on his face and interjected, “I think we should change the subject.”

  Is There Hope for a Coherent Conclusion? As this tale veers ever further into the unknown, we ask: do you think there's still hope for a coherent conclusion in the future? Will the twists and turns eventually tie together, or are we left to embrace the chaos?