Wow, this really should have come out a lot sooner. I've been distracted by exams and other such real life events. Still, I received top marks, so the time spent revising was well worth it. ^_^

Chapter 6: Layton's Hidden Memories

Layton was standing in the centre point of a large clock face, inside a circular chamber made entirely of stone. The minute hand and hour hand were both pointing up from where he stood. Instead of numbers around the dial, however, there were pictures of animals painted at each of four points, like those of a compass.

Luke was nowhere to be seen, and he frowned, hoping that the boy would be all right by himself in Infinity... or whatever that world of white was. Shivering a little, he turned around slowly with his head slightly down, keen archaeologist's eyes scanning the ground for clues. The four animal paintings matched the animals from the Ouroboros' statement. A green dragon to the north, a white tiger to the south, a golden griffin to the west, and a green and purple snake to the east.

A puzzle of some sort?

"Welcome... Hershel Layton..."

Layton whirled right around in a circle, expecting to see someone beside one of the points of the clock, but he saw nothing. He clenched his fists, tensing for trouble, and took one step forward.

"Who's there?"

"Someone... who... needs your help."

Although the voice was echoing around the room, it also seemed to be wavering in and out, like a radio transmission losing its signal.

"You are the person in control of Polly?"

"Correct..."

"And you are responsible for sending Polly through time?"

"Also correct..."

"Well, then, before I can help I must ask a very pertinent question. Who are you?"

"I cannot... tell you. Events within the time stream... have changed too much... I am running out of power... and time. I created... this illusory place... from memories… therein lie the clues… I think…"

He had created an illusory world from memories? Was that even possible? The machine that Descole had created, the Detragan, had possessed the ability to copy a person's consciousness into another vessel. Perhaps this mysterious person had access to similar technology?

Suddenly, an image flashed before Layton; a memory of the last time he had seen Claire before she had left for the laboratory. He remembered how excited she had been, how her eyes had lit up when she had talked about her work at the Polydimensional Institute. So full of hopes for the future... He tried hard to quash the feeling of sadness that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him, and didn't quite succeed, though to the outside observer he would have looked as calm as ever.

Claire...

It seemed the unseen man had a mind-reading device as well, because he said, "Please… it was the only way… to make sure… that you would believe... that what… you were seeing… is true… You are a very sceptical man."

This was true, Layton was forced to admit.

It was funny how ten years had passed since Claire's death, and yet he still felt as irrational as ever when it came to remembering anything to do with his old flame. The feeling of powerlessness and guilt had never really left, they'd just been filed away to the bottom of his mind – not least because there were so many unanswered questions surrounding the experiment that took place that day. Unless he found out the real truth, he couldn't let go of Claire, because he felt that that would be doing a disservice to her and everything she had strived for while she had been alive.

"But," he said, slowly, "I wasn't present during that event. I only arrived after the explosion had happened…"

"That was an important moment…"

"Why?"

There was no answer, and Layton thought about his own question for a moment. If this was the same person that had teleported him to the time of the fateful explosion, then there had to be a reason for it. Was there something about that day? What was it?

Perhaps it was those very same answers that the other man was looking for.

"Do you want me to change the future?"

"I need you... to plug the hole... to Infinity... that Dimitri... will open... otherwise space-time… will…"

The voice left the sentence trailing, but it was easy to see where it was going.

Hmm, so I must stop Dimitri from completing his project at all costs.

"But how? What is it you want me to change?"

"The Time-error... to Infinity... The pivotal moment... Moment... must be restored..."

The man's voice was very weak now; he appeared to be speaking with the utmost of effort in a desperate attempt to be heard.

"Wait!" said Layton. "Please. You must tell me everything you know. If I am to assist you, then I must have more information."

"Out of power..." said the voice, straining hard. "Time-error... Must be closed... Time, running out... To assist you... I have… left you clues... You must figure… the… rest… own…"

Suddenly, there was nothing, and Layton felt the temperature of the chamber rise. The voice had left. But he now noticed a bright green glow to his right, and turning his head, he saw that it was coming from the dragon picture to the north.

The dragon shows faith, he thought. With the voice gone, there was nothing more to do but to investigate the picture. He followed the clock hands, and stepped onto the dragon...

... and entered Folsense. This was the old Folsense, before he and Luke had shattered the grand illusion while on the trail of Pandora's Box. The buildings, flats and shops were lit up brightly, like a colourful shining casino at night, and yet an eerie darkness permeated the air. He was outside the old antiques shop, where an antiques stall stood in the middle of the road. He seemed to remember serving someone a cup of Dream Spice tea here.

"Greetings, Mr Layton."

The smooth voice made Layton turn around, and when he did so the surroundings immediately changed to that of a grand, luxurious room, as though someone had changed the background of a film set from spooky town to spooky castle. Duke Anton, master of the castle, was walking towards him, as youthful as he was before Layton had dispelled Folsense's illusion. His eyes gleamed red and his smile revealed two pointy teeth: a vampire.

In the real Folsense, Anton had not truly been a vampire. Folsense had been teeming with hallucinogenic gas that leaked through the very ground, which could cause you to lose all sense of reality. In Folsense, if you believed in something strong enough, it would actually come true. But Layton suspected that this current Folsense was part of the illusion created by the mysterious voice, simply because he knew the truth for what it was. He didn't believe in vampires, and he knew what Anton's true form looked like. It wasn't this.

"Do you believe I exist?" said Anton, tilting his head, and still with the cat-like smile.

That was quite a philosophical way to start a conversation. Layton hesitated, remembering for a moment that prior to this endeavour he had been in some kind of dream dimension where none of the laws of physics had made sense anyway, and then said: "You exist in the sense that you are standing in front of me. The true question is whether I created you as part of Folsense's illusion, whether you are someone else's creation, or whether you are the real Anton and have existed all along."

"Does it really matter, where I came from?"

"No, I suppose it doesn't," said Layton. If this was a test of faith, given to him by the unknown man, then he had to believe that what he seeing was really there, no matter how much his logical self resisted such an idea - at least for now. He could get to the bottom of the hows and whys later. "Whatever the circumstances surrounding your origins, the thing that matters most is that you are in front of me right here and now."

"Very good," said Anton, nodding. "In that case, I can tell you that you are responsible for my existence. You created me with the power of your mind."

Layton paused, surprised at how calm this faux Anton was while uttering this simple but astounding piece of information. "And... you're aware that you are a creation?"

"Of course. I am a hidden memory from deep within your subconscious, given form. This place is an illusion made up of memories."

"So, this is the work of the mysterious man, then."

Anton nodded again. "Your memories, and other people's memories, are being used to travel back in time," he said. "The mysterious man is searching for clues across different times. He wants to give you a message. He needs your help. That's why you went back in time to see the explosion that caused Claire's death. That moment is the key to everything."

"But who is this man?" said Layton, who felt that the answer to that question was important to understanding everything about this thus far. "Is he a time traveller, perhaps? An older Dimitri from further in the future? Descole? Myself?"

"I don't know. I am just a part of your subconscious. I am only telling you what you've already figured out. I can't tell you anything you don't already know. To find out more, you will have to look around, I expect."

In a flash of light, Layton was back in the clock face chamber. Looking around, he saw that he was once more alone. To his surprise, he discovered that he was holding a tattered piece of parchment, torn around the edges. He unfolded it, and inside, written in cursive writing, were the following words:

Beware the man in the black top hat

He is in truth Schrödinger's Cat

Heart of steel, yet with a soul

To live or die is his true goal

Ah.

A clue. And a cryptic one at that. Oddly enough, the sight made him feel a little more at ease, because here was something more within his remit. He was much more prepared to deal with clues in the form of a riddle as opposed to clues in the form of a person created from his own mind.

Let's see, he thought. Schrödinger's Cat: the paradoxical experiment in which a cat was placed inside a box with radioactive material. The cat would either live or die, depending on whether the material decayed or not. The paradox was that the two possible outcomes - life or death - existed simultaneously, until you opened the box and the cat's outcome was finally observed.

The first line obviously referred to him. But he was quite sure his own 'goal' was not to live or die, so the entire riddle must have, in fact, been referring to his future self. Perhaps his future self was a paradox? Was that what needed to change?

It was at this point that the tiger picture began to glow. Slowly, and with some trepidation, Layton walked towards it. He was beginning to see the pattern, and was now wondering which memory the mysterious man's illusory world would take him to next.

Clive was in a strange place - still within the laboratory, he supposed, but at the same time he was unable to make sense of his surroundings and couldn't confirm whether he was still actually in the lab. He felt very confused. His eyes were closed and, with his mind swimming round and round in circles, he couldn't think straight at all. He felt the strong sensation that both his movements and his thoughts had slowed down to a crawl.

He couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't, what was thought and what was spoken out loud. The world outside was light and bubbly, and so he kept his eyes shut. Much safer that way. There was no way he could get up, not with his head feeling as dizzy as it was. So he stayed in bed.

Time blurred dreamily. Hours? Days? Weeks? He didn't know.

He heard footsteps, and he opened his eyes halfway. A baby Tyrannosaurus Rex walked towards him through the clouds, but when he blinked it turned out to be a man in a top hat walking through the laboratory. The man undid the wires that were connected to him, while a brown-haired lady in yellow and with a red bow tie approached his bed from the other side.

"Hello, Clive," said the man.

Clive struggled to reply. His brain was acting as though it was a video playing in slow motion, but after a lot of straining it did eventually supply him with the name of the man. Wasn't he the Prime Minister?

"Hello... Mr Layton..."

"Are you able to stand?"

Clive didn't feel that he could, but for some reason his mind couldn't grasp the idea of not complying with this man. The thought, Can't get up, was there... but he couldn't quite reach the thought to turn it into a reality, and so his brain chose another option, which was to make his body stand up right away, instead.

Idea number two was not a good idea at all, because then the world swirled round.

The lady with the bow tie caught him before he fell, and bent down, fastening something around his arm. "Easy there, tiger. Let me just attach these to you, steady you a bit... We're going to get you out of this awful place."

Clive blinked slowly at Layton. Everything was running so slow. He couldn't even open his eyelids the whole way. He felt so sleepy that he was ready to drop straight back into bed. "You... want me... to go with you?"

"Yes."

"Is that lady my fairy godmother?"

More of a pause this time. "...Yes."

With much more effort than it should have taken, he blinked at her, too. "Can you... magic me... back home? The Dimitri fairy... he won't let me leave."

The two adults exchanged glances.

"You're... very heavily sedated, my boy."

Clive's response was to collapse on the floor.

[ - Hidden Memory #5 - ]

Few things satisfied like a puzzle solved, but enacting revenge on the person that had torn the light out of his soul - taken the love of his life - and turned him into this abominable shadow... that would be most satisfying indeed.

Layton smiled dreamily at the thought. He would make Bill pay for what he'd done.

Of course, he couldn't have Luke involved in this depravity. Nor Flora. They wouldn't understand this deepest of dark desires. It was better that he cut all ties. Predictably, Luke had been upset when his father had asked him to go home prematurely. Little did the boy know that Layton himself had been directly responsible...

The tiny part of his mind that had retained a modicum of rationality cried out, trying to reason with this madness - this disturbingly pleasing overindulgence in plotting the deaths of several human beings, but it was swiftly silenced.

He wanted to utterly break Hawks, and that would take a plan so cunning and ruthless that only a genius mind like his would be able to both devise and implement it.

He already had the beginnings of such a plan, thanks to the schematics he had appropriated from Descole. Now all he had to do was mould Dimitri into doing exactly what he wanted... which would be easy enough. Dimitri wanted revenge on Bill as well.

He forced himself to hold a neutral expression as he entered the Chinese restaurant through the secret back entrance. He couldn't let on to Dimitri that something was amiss. He gave the Family thug guarding the door a subdued, but frosty look.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, ignoring the machine gun that was pointing towards him. "I have a proposition for your boss."

From the back of the room, Dimitri folded his arms, and tilted his head, looking somewhat surprised. "It's fine," he said, "let him through."

[ - 5 - ]

Having stepped onto the tiger pattern adorning the giant clock face, Layton looked around at his new surroundings. Old memories stirred from the depths of his mind and rose quickly to the surface as he recognised the road he was on, one from a long time ago. It was called Sutherland Street, and it was situated near Victoria Station, in central London. It was where he had grown up as a child, and he was standing right outside his old house. Looking around, none of the mechanical gears or industrial pipes were installed here, and there were ordinary cars parked along the edges of the road, so this could not have been the future. But at which point in the past, then, was this Sutherland Street?

He walked up the stone stairs to the house, and reached for the door knocker, curiosity gnawing at his insides, and then he paused. If this was indeed in the past, would he meet his own past self here?

There was another flash of white light, and now he was in the lounge, on the first floor of the house. It was a well-furnished room, with red, intricately decorated carpet on the ground, and matching curtains framing the window on the far side. Just as he remembered it. On one side of the room was an ornate wooden cabinet, with tiny dolls and animals made of crystalline glass on the top shelf; and with books about the great composers, and about ancient civilisations - the Greeks, the Romans, the Egyptians - stacked neatly on the bottom shelf.

On the other side of the room was a Steinway upright piano. And there was his younger self, a child of about six sitting on the piano stool, grumbling a little as he hit a bum note. Next to the boy, on a wooden chair, was his mother.

She was very much the spitting image of her son, except that her brown hair was long, and tied in a pony-tail; and her face was a great deal more expressive. When she smiled, everything around her lit up.

They didn't seem to notice his presence, even though they have clearly been able to see him, made apparent when she suddenly rose to pour herself a glass of water. It was as if he were a ghost. On this day, she had been trying to teach him the scale of F major, though he had been finding it difficult today, quite distracted by the thought of building the model dinosaur his father had bought for him earlier that day.

Another flash of light brought Layton to an excavation site, with various people working around the stony remains of an old Roman fort. This was not London, but Kent, roughly fifteen years later. He could see himself amongst the hubbub, still a student at this point in his life. Strangely enough, he could smell the dust and freshly dug up earth as though he was really there once more, and more memories, of his life at university, came to the top of his mind.

Layton was half-expecting to see an incarnation of his mentor, Dr Schrader, as another hidden memory taken from within his mind. But rather shockingly, a green dinosaur crawled out of the hole in the earth directly in front of him instead. It was huge, towering over Layton, and with an S-shaped neck, a crocodile head, and cone-shaped teeth.

It was a Baryonyx, which... sort of made sense, in a nonsensical way. It was at this very excavation site where Layton had discovered the fossil of its claw, years ago. Perhaps this was the next memory brought from his subconscious.

The Baryonyx growled softly, clawing at the ground with its right foot, and then said: "You. Hershel Layton. Seeker of knowledge. Listen well."

Layton thought: The tiger represents power. "I am listening."

"Your future self is responsible for my existence. I am formed from a memory that both exists and yet does not exist."

This sounded suspiciously like the Schrödinger's Cat scenario, so Layton decided to cut to the chase.

"Do you have a riddle for me to solve, perchance?" he said.

"I have a question," the dinosaur replied, "though you need not answer it. You need only listen." It had a surprisingly gentle voice, almost floating on the wind.

"Very well," said Layton, nodding.

"You thirst for knowledge, seek it out to the ends of the earth, even tear the earth asunder to fill your insatiable curiosity. There is no end to your inquisitiveness. But what would you do if you were to discover the end of all ends, the grand puzzle beyond time, space, and all existence - the answer to the greatest question of all?"

Without waiting for an answer, the Baryonyx went on: "If you were given knowledge of how the universe came to be; how lifeless atoms themselves conspire to make life; how the forces that drive the planets and create stars are able to work in the way that they do, what would you do with all that knowledge?

"Would you use it to help others, or would you use it to further your own cause?

"To save a woman you loved - and still love - dearly... how far would you go?"

This struck Layton hard, and he recoiled as if an invisible person had punched him in the gut.

Claire...

Would his future self have done such a thing?

"Your future self chose power," the Baryonyx confirmed. "What will you choose?"

Layton blinked slowly, and took in a deep breath, before looking back at his younger self, who was still taking part in the excavation work intently. He thought back to his life as a child. It would have surprised Luke greatly to know that his gentlemanly mentor had been quite the unruly child in the past. Even at an early age, Hershel's mind had always been full of questions, and while that was true of most kids, not every child would try to take their own home apart in order to come up with the answers.

The house would be full of what his mother called "little home-made projects", but the thing about young Hershel's home-made inventions was that they really were home-made. While he'd come up with, say, a small lighter-than-air aircraft for delivering post, or a machine dedicated to the manufacture of the perfect cup of tea, the maid would find that the oven had suddenly stopped working, the long dining room table had caught on fire, and that curtains, cutlery, doorknobs and the odd piece of jewellery had gone for mysterious walkies. At school, he'd somehow managed to make his classroom explode using only copper wire, cotton wool and a pair of tweezers, at which point his father had pulled him to one side, shoved a thick, heavy book in his hands and said: "Here, son. See if you can solve these puzzles."

That heralded the beginning of a more bookish Hershel. During his teenage years he mellowed out substantially, developing more of an interest in the theory behind the sciences and indeed the history behind them, and behind humanity itself, though he still enjoyed building somethings out of nothings from time to time. It was at university that his best friend had persuaded him to take up archaeology as a full-time subject.

"In order to build the future," he'd said, "you have to understand the past. You have to understand how humans work, how culture develops and grows." He'd added (with a wry grin and a nudging elbow), "Besides, it's safer for the rest of humanity if you don't blow up the entire universe trying to figure out how it works!"

Of course, his friend had been joking all those years ago... but what if some time in the future, that was exactly what his future self had done? Or was about to do? Or was in the process of doing?

A flash of light signalled his return to the clock room, and he was holding another piece of parchment, though he didn't open it straight away, feeling rather troubled by the most recent hidden memory experience. The dinosaur's question was not so much a question, as a warning of things to come... And yet, the creature had seemed to imply that he had a choice - that there was still a way to avoid disaster.

He sighed, unravelling the paper, and therein lay another rhyming riddle.

The masked man searched for a mind that's lost

He gained control - but at what cost?

A crow reveals the mask's true sin

A wolf conceals the lie within

This riddle snapped him out of his brooding thoughts. It could only be referring to Descole.

Flora woke up, and found herself in a completely different place to where she'd collapsed. This bed was soft and large, and had a pleasant just been washed fragrance. She must have been moved from the Baryonyx airship while she had been asleep.

She didn't really care. She didn't even want to get up. Actually, she did, but though her brain was telling her body to move, her body wasn't listening. So she stayed in bed.

Over the next two weeks, she walked around what she'd been told was a recovery centre for people with her 'condition'. She ate well, and had a luxurious room to herself, so she saw no reason to complain. There was a TV, a piano and some snooker tables in the lounge for her and the other 14-16 year olds. There was even a gym on the first floor.

It never occurred to her that there was anything odd about all this. Nor did it occur to her that, surely, Future Luke would have come to visit. It didn't even cross her mind, that her own Layton and Luke should have come to rescue her - that she was, in fact, a prisoner.

It was roughly two weeks after she had first arrived when her situation changed. Flora was in her well-kept room, combing her hair, and there was a knock on the door. She opened the door, believing it to be one of the staff asking if she wanted breakfast. Instead, a figure with a flowery shawl appeared, grabbing her and covering her mouth with a cloth.

All Flora could think was, Oh, fiddlesticks, not another kidnapping, before she passed out.

The griffin picture had taken Layton to the River Thames. And, with cape billowing in the wind, Descole stood on the south side of the river, seeming to stare at the full moon. Once again, Layton's superb knowledge of London came to his aid. This area was called Rotherhithe. You could see Tower Bridge to the west from here.

Once more, Layton was surprised by the identity of the hidden memory. It was Ward of the Family who came to stand beside him. He was still looking as smug as he'd been when they'd first met.

He said: "I'm not your hidden memory, nor am I your future self's. But I've been brought forth to question you, all the same."

"Question me?" said Layton.

Ward held an index finger up. "Wait. Watch over there, first."

The next person to arrive on the river's banks surprised Layton even more. It was another Professor Layton. This couldn't have taken place that long ago - three to four years at the most - because Descole recognised the other Layton straight away.

He saw himself brandishing a sword, uncharacteristically snarling at Descole while charging at his foe, and Layton frowned deeply. There was a huge problem with this situation. Unlike all the other situations that had been presented to him, this was not his memory.

"I don't remember this," he told Ward quietly. "I never fought Descole by the River Thames. This never happened to me."

Ward harrumphed. "I already told you. This is someone else's hidden memory."

"But I'm still there," Layton whispered, uncomfortable with seeing himself lose his self-control in such an ungentlemanly way. "If this isn't my memory, then why am I there fighting Descole? It doesn't make any sense."

"Would you like to know whose subconscious created me?" said the fake Ward.

"Yes..." said Layton.

With a white flash, the scene changed once more, and now Layton was standing in a giant underground lab, with a battery-shaped machine that took up half the room. It had a giant clock face at one end. Descole was working hard on this huge mechanical device, typing commands into an interface of sorts. So this was Descole's hidden memory? Why was the mysterious person showing him this? What significance did this particular event have?

Ward had travelled with him. "I have a challenging question to ask," he said, "but I think you now might know what it is I am about to ask."

"Yes, I believe so," said Layton, "if this illusion is supposedly an illustration of courage."

"The griffin represents inner courage," said Ward, adjusting his glasses. "It's the courage from deep within, the courage to face what you fear the most. And so: do you have the courage to face yourself? To look deep within yourself, and question what it is that makes you you?"

This time, when presented with the unsettling question from the clock face hidden memory, Layton was more sure of himself. "Yes," he replied, with great conviction. "I will stop myself."

The world flashed white, and Layton was in the clock face room again. He looked at the parchment, which this time read:

Two brains collide inside an eye

And then - a battle! above the sky

Sun and sea and stars in song

Time must fix where time went wrong

This rhyming riddle was quite a bit more obscure. But suddenly Layton knew exactly what the mysterious man wanted him to do. Even if he didn't yet know how he would do it, it didn't matter any more. He would find a way to stop himself and Dimitri, no matter what.

The room became colder once more, and he looked at the snake picture. There, on the picture, stood Polly the parrot.

"I'm ready," Layton told him.

"Good..." said the voice, still weak. "With last... ounce... energy... will... take you... back... to... future..."

Suddenly, Layton was back on the streets of mechanical London again, and both Luke and Polly had returned with him. It was evening now, the sky just beginning to turn darker, the streets lit up by a glow of oranges and whites, and there were not as many people about.

They were not outside Gressenheller University any more, but back at Russell Square. The park at Russell Square was almost exactly as Layton remembered it in his own time; apparently his future self had not seen the need to change it in any way.

Polly was back to normal, on the ground preening his green feathers with his beak as though nothing had happened. In fact, this time Layton didn't feel the usual disorientation and nausea associated with the time-skips, and Luke was looking quite chipper as well, if a little panicked. He guessed that Cuthbert's gyroscope was doing its job.

"This is really weird, Professor!" said Luke, shaking his head nervously. "I really do think Polly's being possessed. I know you don't believe in that sort of thing, but... I don't know how else to explain it."

That wasn't even the weirdest part about all this, Layton thought. Did we really visit a place where all space-times meet? And did I really just visit a world comprised solely of memories?

He checked his pockets. There were all three parchments inside. Proof that something had happened, at the very least.

"Look, Professor. Someone's coming this way."

The square of Russell Square was diagonal against the points of the compass, and the corner they had arrived at was the northern most tip. A man approached them from the south east. He was wearing a helmet, as well as camouflage overalls, and Layton's first thought was: A military pilot?

The man's eyes were narrowed, and very focused on something just beyond them in the air, and his lips were set hard into a firm frown that marred his youthful appearance. So distracted was he by the sky that he didn't notice them at first, but when he did he gasped and put one hand over his mouth.

"My word," he said, his eyes widening. He hesitated, almost as if he were afraid to come any further, lest he shatter a delicate illusion. "It really is you, Professor."

Layton took special note of the fact that this was the first person to address him as professor since they had arrived in the future. "Forgive me for asking, but... do I know you?"

"Don't you recognise me, Professor? It's me... Luke Triton."