What to do then, now? Should he plunge into oblivion once more? Everything Aunt Bessie had foretold, although only in his dreams, had proven to be correct. Whether that fact made for a truth though was anyones guess. And why did she not say a single word on the subject during waking hours. It all made for one strange concept indeed and that was the only sure and true matter of it. 

This bracelet, around his ankle since childhood, now activated a year ago had performed as she predicted, vibrating and shimmering on the occasions when he tested it, on the dates suggested would produce a response. If the truth be known, and much against his better judgement it had to be said, he had gone along with the trials but still could not believe this science could pinpoint an exact time slip. The question now however was whether or not the world to be met if he had traversed any of those divides would have been the one expected, and that was altogether another question because up to now he had not dared invite the answer. And now was his chance, especially if he wanted the ultimate proof and an end to this aggravation. 
Not accepted as yet at any table of discussion with them, the hierarchy, not until he made his decision, to take his offered place, he could not help but wonder if he should ignore the whole idea and just be satisfied with his life here, not bother at all on what Margaret’s time was about. After all Sal was his first love and the two of them, no now three, were so happy that nothing could be allowed to jeopardise that. 

“As long as you keep the timeframe correct Mac,” he lectured himself. “Just test the handheld’s message arrives at the twenty five year marker then you’ll know it works.” Why was he even tempted, what lure did that other world have for him? “Turn around and forget it.”
“The membranes at the bridge will be available for the next two weeks Mac.” Aunt Bessie’s words from his dream three nights since reverberated about his mind. “Have the message ready. Follow it through. Resend the message to return.”
That dream! Suddenly he was immovable, cemented to the spot of ground he stood upon. That dream! It now occurred to him. Was this time he occupied here and now simply a continuation of that same imagining? Was he asleep at this very moment, still involved with it all?
Shaking his head of fair hair from side to side he tried to dispel the torment. “No! Not at all. It can’t be,” he argued out loud with himself.
Time seemed to be passing normally. A year had gone by in fact. He could recollect every day of it, the waiting, the frustration, the happiness, anguish, the normality, oddities, yes all of that and every last day he knew it all. No this was definitely the here and now and being that meant the obvious. He had waited that year to be able to cross back, test the handheld message set up for twenty five years hence. If that was realised then it would prove the theory of absolute time placement could be achieved, and if that came to be the case, and his travel so precise then by setting his handheld to follow the line of communication, well then he could visit any coordinate at any given time he wanted, realise his ambitions, be at one with his dilemma, sort out Walt’s problem and be able to bring to account the wrongs of their world. He had a vested interest as well now, he did recognise that, with all that was true in their universe, but going forward twenty five years would have to be done unnoticed, out of sight, and he would have to return back quickly so as not to mess anything up. Yes once this travel was proven to be possible well the opportunities it would afford were endless. 
Full of fear and longing he stood under the arch once again. This stone bridge, not special in any way, shape or form to anyone else, but a lifeline to him. This bridge of stone, stood here above this leafy cutting since built centuries ago, in this place it spanned a rural walkway, in Margaret’s a railway line. 
The bracelet around his ankle was shimmering, pulsating, warming. Looking to his handheld he sent the message, tapped the screen and sent it. Then he began to walk, quite lazily actually, one foot after the other making his way under the stonework. 
No furore as before on this expedition through the portal though, no sensation of any kind that was out of the ordinary. But by the other side he had been successful, of that he was certain. He had moved universes. The flora and vista were changed on this side of the bridge, and that annoying subliminal noise was there once more. The railway lines had gone too, and that was a welcome relief, no trains to have to negotiate. Twenty five years must have seen them removed 
“Ya back then,” came a voice. These words made him start. For a moment no one was obvious. Then a brown and cream spaniel came into view from around the edge of the bridge wall. “Come t’ see ya we ‘ave ain’t we Toby?” It was the old man and his dog again.
Mac looked bewildered. How could this elder be the same age as before? “But how, what d’ya mean?”
“Don’t fear me young Mac Arthur, and don’t think any more on it.”
“But! You’ve known all along? How could you?”
The gent was having none of this questioning. Lifting his walking stick he gestured for silence. “All’ll be obvious in a mo lad.”
Mac’s handheld beeped a tone he knew. The message! The reminder sent forward twenty five years. It was here, arrived on time.