Behind a section of skirting board, a mouse sighed. "I can't believe they did the burglary joke. Particularly not as the first joke of the story."
  "I know," said his mate, "Although it's not even really a joke, it's just exposition to establish the fact that the characters are moving into a new house. Quite poorly done I thought."
  "Yes, but it eases the reader into the story. I mean, if they'd just walked in and found the bonsai tree straightaway it would be no fun, would it. You have to set the scene."

  "Did you say there was nothing left?" Sonson asked as she wandered about upstairs.
  "I didn't see anything," Fizban called from downstairs. "Why?"
  "I just found this plant on the window sill."
  Sonson had no idea how he managed it. It seemed that in an instant he was upstairs and examining the discovery. "It looks a bit like a fledgeling bonsai," he commented.
  "Boom! A Noising Fart!" said a voice.
  "Pardon?" Sonson and Fizban both said, looking at each other.
  "Don't look at me, I never said a word," they replied in unison.
  "Boom! A Noising Fart!" came the voice again.
  They both looked down. "It's the tree!" Fizban exclaimed.
  "But that's daft," Sonson replied. "Trees can't talk."
  "Tell it that."
  "I must greeting you," said the tree, "like a friendly."
  "Er, Hello," Fizban said awkwardly, reaching out and shaking a tiny branch.
  "Fizban," Sonson said sternly, "you're talking to a tree."
  "It's okay, it's talking back."
  "But you're only encouraging it."
  "Aren't you the least bit interested in the fact that it can talk?"
  The stern look softened. "Well," Sonson replied, smiling sheepishly, "maybe." She stroked the tree's leaves gently. "He's a cute little fella, don't you think?"
  "Er, maybe," Fizban said, confused at the sudden change of attitude. He took the tree from her and placed it back on the window sill. "We've got a bit of unpacking to do. We can investigate the tree later." He turned and left the room. "Who'd have thought it," he muttered to himself as he walked downstairs, "a talking tree. Ha! The next thing you know we'll be travelling in time or something!"

  "Oh, that was terrible," the mouse complained. "Worse than the burglary joke. Mind you, I'm surprised there haven't been any in-jokes yet."
  "The story is still young," his mate replied. "You think the first one will be a Babylon 5 one? That would be fairly typical."
  "Probably. Star Wars is flavour of the moment though, what with the new film on the way and all. I guess we just wait and see."

  By the end of the day they had unpacked all but three of the lorries that stood outside. Fizban's computer complex was now set up, and Sonson was currently demonstrating to the neighbours why no composer has ever used the word pianissimo when writing saxophone music. It was only the non-essentials such as the bed, sofa, pots and pans that still remained to be unpacked. While she was playing, Fizban sat in his newly established study with the bonsai tree.
  "Where did you come from then, my little friend. And how can you talk?" he muttered idly.
  "I must be a unique? Like a special?" the tree asked.
  "Well, I've never met a talking tree before. I doubt David Attenborough has either, He'd have made a programme about it if he had. Which I guess means yes, you're probably unique. I couldn't comment on the special part though. Not yet, anyway," Fizban smiled.
  The tree's branches seemed to sag. "Unique, a loneing plant." it said sadly.
  "There's no need to be sad. Just cause you're unique, doesn't mean you have to be lonely. And I might be able to help you, anyway." Fizban reached across his desk and switched on his computer. The lights dimmed briefly as it powered up. "I think I know someone who might be able to find out if there are others like you out there somewhere. She's got access to a lot of information. It's best not to ask where she gets it from though."
  "She can finding out about me, like a private eye super sleuth?"
  "Something like that, yes."
  "Boom! A Noising Fart!" the tree exclaimed enthusiastically.
  "Yeah, whatever." He turned to the computer and started sending queries across the internet, muttering to himself as he did so. "Come on, Mnemosyne, respond." He shamelessly sent a series of alarm signals to his friend's computer, hoping to get her attention. It wasn't long before a response appeared.

  "That was so contrived," said the mouse.
  Its mate was similarly unimpressed. "Yes, I thought in-jokes were meant to flow with the rest of the story. That one seemed to be just stuck on top, and a bit wonkily at that."
  "Still, a useful arrangement to have - a kid superhero serving as a transatlantic grocery boy." The mouse smirked, gaining a look of disdain from its mate.

  The next morning, Fizban awoke early. At least, by his reckoning, it was a bit early. Most specifically, he felt that it was a bit early in the year for the clocks to go forward and him to lose an hours sleep. To be fair though, he probably would have felt that if the change had been left until 31st December. He got up and went to his computer, switching it on and then signalling Mnemosyne to see if she had any info for him.

  "So, was Mnemosyne any help?" Sonson asked as they ate breakfast.
  "A bit. She found out a few things about where the tree came from but I'm going to have to go and look some things up for myself. She's sending someone over to help out."
  "So she didn't say anything about tomatoes or cucumbers, or breaking into a top secret lab?" Sonson asked cheekily.
  Fizban felt himself blushing. A look of horror took firm control of his face. "How did you know?"
  "Fizban my dear, when you are talking on that thing a bomb could go off behind you and you wouldn't notice." She smiled. "I was standing behind you most of the time. Good thing too, otherwise you'd have gone running off this morning and probably ended up in no end of trouble, and I'd have been none the wiser."
  "So does this mean-" Fizban began.
  "Of course," Sonson interrupted. "I'm coming with you."
  "But-"
  "Someone's got to keep an eye on you. Besides, I want to know why Mnemosyne said we have to go and see this lab. She's up to something, and that's got me intrigued."
  "OK," Fizban said, hugging Sonson, "We'll both go."
  "You're agreeing with me already? Wow, this moving in together business is great. After only one night you're visibly more sensible. What are you gonna be like after a week?"
  Fizban grinned impishly. "What about you. You want to come on some excursion that neither of us fully understand the reasons for. You're at least twice as daft as you were yesterday."
  Sonson smiled. "In other words, if we continue at this rate, we'll meet in the middle in, ooh, say, ten years."
  Fizban spent the rest of time before the visitor arrived trying to work out if he should be insulted or flattered by Sonson's last remark.

  The visitor didn't have time to ring the doorbell before Fizban opened the door. This was not surprising, since he had spent the past half hour pretending not to be watching out for someone arriving.
  "Hi," said the visitor, a woman clad in a tight-fitting leather outfit that would have had most imaginations taking the afternoon off, there clearly being no more work to be done for the rest of the day. "My name is Virginia Evermore, Mnemosyne sent me."
  "Hupubulalalala," said Fizban's tongue, which was the best it could manage when his brain was telling it to say "Hello, I'm Fizban," and his libido was telling it to throw social niceties to the wind and shout out "Phwoar!" Thankfully Sonson was there to save the moment.
  "Pleased to meet you," said Sonson, shaking Virginia by the hand. "This is Fizban, I'm Sonson."
  "Most people call me Virgin."
  Sonson looked her up and down, and raised an eyebrow.
  "Oh don't worry," Virgin replied happily, "I'm not."
  Sonson felt the urge to roll her eyes, but out of politeness managed to supress the impulse, making a mental note to do it later when Virgin wasn't about.
  "Hello," said Fizban, whose brain had temporarily routed his libido, but was taking no chances on it regrouping and felt it was best to get the conversation over and done with as soon as possible. "When do we get going?"
  "As soon as you're ready," Virgin said. "Can I see the tree first though?"

  "She's not like she was in those other stories," commented the mouse's mate. "Seems to lack that edge that made her so much fun."
  "Probably just customer relations. Just wait until they go off to the lab, then I'm sure we'll see the nastier side of her," replied the mouse.
  "Still, you never can tell with time travellers. One minute they've got one personality, then, all of a sudden 'whoosh!' - a few cheap special effects and they're a completely different person."
  "That's only cause the actor changes on TV. You don't get that happening in written stories."
  "Whatever. Anyway, things are starting to happen now, we'd better pay a bit more attention."

  "Here it is," Fizban said, leading Virgin into his study.
  "Boom! A Noising Fart!" the tree said happily.
  "That seems to be its favourite phrase," Fizban explained. "It certainly doesn't have any qualms about saying it when its stuck for something else to say."
  "Oh dear," said Virgin. "Just as I thought. I've seen this tree before."
  "Sexy babe must be talking shite!" the tree exclaimed. "I does never meeting her."
  "It's not something that would make sense if I tried to explain it to you, so I won't bother," Virgin said, as if this was the end of the matter.
  "You cannot making sense?" the tree asked, "Like a confusing temporal muddle?"
  "Now what's it on about?" Fizban complained.
  "I wouldn't worry." Virgin said firmly. "Just don't get any ideas about bringing it with us. I don't want to go through all that again."
  "Now just a minute," Sonson butted in, "This tree says it's never seen you before, and I'm more inclined to believe it than you."
  "Tough shit," Virgin replied, before pressing a button on a small box attached to her belt. There was a bright flash of light, and she vanished, along with Fizban and Sonson.
  "Hahaha that's bugger." the tree commented.

  "Where are we?" Sonson asked, rubbing her eyes. "What happened?"
  "We're in the research lab." Virgin replied, as if that should have been obvious.
  Sonson and Fizban looked around. They were both surprised at their surroundings. For a place that had been sealed below ground for ten years it looked surprisingly dust-free, smelt surprisingly un-stale, and, as the line of strip lights along the corridor proved, was surprisingly well supplied with electricity. "I thought this place was empty." Sonson asked.
  "Not exactly," Virgin replied, "but that's not important. We don't have a lot of time."
  "Oh for goodness sake," Sonson snapped, "I've had enough of you pushing us around. It's time you did some explaining."
  As Virgin turned around to stare at Sonson angrily the sound of distant footsteps could be heard coming from one end of the corridor. There were several points along it where other corridors crossed. "OK, I'll explain," Virgin fumed, "Those footsteps we can hear are probably patrolling guards. We are in a top secret research facility, so they will be authorised to shoot to kill at any intruders." She pointed at a set of double doors a few feet away. "In there, now!"
  Neither Sonson or Fizban gave any thought to disagreeing. Both lunged through the doorway simultaneously. Virgin followed them calmly, pausing only to pull a twin barrelled sawn-off shotgun from her jacket.

  "Wow! This is great!" Fizban exclaimed once the guards had past the doors. "A real genetics laboratory."
  Sonson sat and watched as he ran around examining the equipment that was arrayed around the room. It wasn't that she approved of him meddling with things he didn't understand, she just knew that anything she said to try and deter him wouldn't work. Instead, she confronted Virgin again. "Do you always carry a shotgun with you?"
  "I try to. It's quite useful in my line of work. If I want to be discreet though I only take the semi-automatic pistol."
  "Oh great," Sonson muttered. "Anyway, what is your line of work."
  "People hire me to make sure things happen. Quite often these are things that other people don't want to happen."
  "And that's where the guns come in?" Sonson asked disapprovingly.
  "Not really. I've never shot anyone. I just like waving them around. Besides, it makes people feel a lot better if something they don't want to happen happens while someone is waving a gun at them rather than having to accept that it will happen anyway out of historical imperative."
  "Hey! Look at this!" Fizban shouted from the back of the room. "'ACME Gene Splicer' it says on it. Great! I'm gonna splice me some genes."
  Sonson paused thoughtfully, replaying the past few conversations in her head. "We've travelled in time, haven't we?" she asked Virgin.
  Fizban rummaged around next to the machine he had found. He found a collection of vials that seemed to be exactly the right size to fit into a couple of small holes in the top of the splicer. He grabbed two vials at random.
  Virgin shrugged in reply to Sonson's question.
  "Look me in the eye and tell me we're not in 1989," Sonson challenged.
  The two vials in Fizban's hands were both labelled. One label said simply 'Bonsai Sap'. The other label was a bit larger. It read 'Blood found in stomach of Prehistoric Mosquito trapped in Amber - Species unknown.' He dropped a vial into each hole and switched the machine on.
  "OK, you got me," Virgin replied.
  "And Fizban is about to create the bonsai tree, isn't he. We're the three mystery intruders, aren't we?"
  "Yes. What are you going to do about it? If you stop him, history will unravel. I'm sure you wouldn't want that on your conscience."
  A small seed dropped out of the side of the machine. "Cool!" Fizban exclaimed, and reached for two more vials. This time the labels read 'Spider Plant' and 'Gemini Strain'.
  "Of course not," Sonson replied. "But I think there is something that I need to do. Something we've overlooked."
  Two seeds fell from the machine. Fizban began to systematically work his way through the remaining vials.
  "And what is that?" Virgin asked, slightly worried.
  "This," Sonson said, lunging across the room at a large red button on the wall, labelled 'Intruder Alert' in huge conspicuous letters. Lights began to flash in the corridor outside, and a number of sirens started sounding.
  "What did you do that for?" Fizban asked, turning round. "I was just starting to have fun."
  Sonson shrugged and smiled at Virgin. "Historical Imperative," she said. "I didn't have a lot of choice."
  There was a loud metallic click from the door. The three looked at each other, all realising at the same time what had happened. "We're locked in," they all commented.
  "Virgin," Fizban began, "can't you just press that box and flash us out of here, the same way we came in?"
  "No," she replied.
  "Why not?"
  "Because we haven't been caught on camera yet," Sonson explained.
  "Eh?" Fizban uttered, confused.
  "I'll explain when we get back," she reassured him. "Now, how can we get through the door?" She looked around the lab. "Ah."
  Fizban turned to see what she was looking at. "Oh no," he said, eyeing the red fruit. "You can't be serious."
  Sonson shrugged. "It might not work. After all, the entire crop was supposed to have been destroyed. It might just be an ordinary tomato."
  "OK," Fizban sighed. "I'll do it. You two take cover at the back of the room." He walked over and picked the tomato up carefully. As he threw it at the door and dived towards the back of the room, he wondered how stupid he was going to feel if the next sound he heard was a pathetic wet thud. He was almost relieved when a painfully loud bang echoed around the room.
  They surveyed the damage as they got up, dusting themselves off. There was little evidence that the doors had ever existed. Most of the equipment towards the front of the lab was irrepairably damaged, and half of the ceiling had fallen in.
  "Oh for God's sake Fizban," Sonson reprimanded him, "You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!"
  "It was only one tomato." he said sheepishly. "Remind me never to eat salad again."
  "Can we get out of here now?" Virgin asked, impatiently.
  "Sure," Fizban replied.
  They ran.

  "So now you know where the bonsai tree came from," Sonson explained after Virgin had left them back in their own house, in their own time. "You created it, by mucking around with some top secret equipment after travelling back in time ten years."
  "Cool! Wait until I tell Mnemosyne about this!" Fizban said excitedly.
  Sonson sighed. "She already knows. She had us taken back in time to make sure it was created. Somehow, she knew from what she found out that it was us who broke into the lab and meddled with the experiments."
  "But what if-"
  "Don't think about it dear," Sonson advised him. "It'll only give you a headache. Come on, let's finish unpacking." She took him by the hand and lead him out to the three remaining lorries.

  "I thought that went quite well in the end," the mouse's mate commented. "Took a while to get to the point, but didn't mess around once it got there.
  "But they only went back in time to create the bonsai tree because they found it in the house in the first place." the mouse complained.
  "It's a perfect loop. No definite beginning or end, just a cycle of events that are all dependent on each other."
  "But everything's got to start somewhere. Doesn't make sense otherwise."
  "You'd be wise to take notice of what Sonson said. You'll give yourself a headache if you think about it too much."
  "Aaaargh!" the mouse squeaked, clutching its head in pain, "I hate time travel stories!"