London, the Tower

The other prisoner's last name was like a catalyst to SC-80's curiosity. He did not know of many people with the last name Bucket, save of course for the heir to the company…he longed to ask the question that was gnawing at him, only he feared the consequences. After a brief moment of wrestling with himself, he finally decided that he would ask the thing that he so longed to…at worst, the General might think him crazy. But considering that we're locked in here, both about to be interrogated and quite possibly shot, leaving a bad impression hardly matters. "You wouldn't be related to a Charlie Bucket, would you?"

Instantly, the General's smile froze, and SC-80 knew that he had hit upon something. The older man's eyes narrowed sharply. "You told me you weren't a spy. You didn't lie to me now, did you?"

"No, sir. It's just that your last name is somewhat uncommon…and so naturally I wondered if there was a connection…"

"Charlie was my son. But why the devil are you asking me this? Did you know him?"

"A long time ago," SC-80 said, improvising wildly. "I…I was just a boy, and I found myself in a situation involving a very large and nasty dog. Charlie helped me, probably saved my life, and I never forgot him for it. I wasn't supposed to be outside the Wonka factory…if my parents had found out, they would have killed me. Naturally, Charlie was surprised to meet such a tiny young boy as myself, and I made him promise to keep it a secret."

"That sounds like my Charlie," Bucket said sadly, running a hand through his hair. "Always helping someone in need…always keeping a promise."

"If I may ask, sir, what happened to him?"

Bucket looked down at his hands. "Back when the Party was just getting its start, I'm sure you remember the young hoodlums joining up into 'Youth Brigades' to show their support? Well, one evening a bunch of them cornered a girl…threatening, suggesting she was disloyal to England, saying lewd things and whatnot. Anyway, I don't know whether she was actually in any danger or not, but Charlie certainly thought so. He stepped in and, in the course of the fight, one of the thugs stabbed him. He took them on six against one, can you believe that? He was seventeen."

A chill ran up SC-80's spine. Charlie Bucket was still dead in this reality, but he had died much younger. What if this is what we changed? He stepped a bit closer to the energy bars, feeling genuine sympathy at the older man's pain. "Sir, I don't mean to pry, but I wonder if you will tolerate one more question. Did your son ever find a Golden Ticket?"

Bucket's sorrow disappeared in a roar of harsh laughter. "That's what you want to know, after finding out that he's dead?"

SC-80's expression did not change. "You misjudge me, sir. Lest you forget, I only met him once, and that was one of the things we spoke of. I hinted that I lived in the Wonka factory, and naturally he was fascinated. I knew of the tickets, of course…my parents talked about the contest…and I just wanted to know if Charlie ever got the thing he wanted. I remember how eager he was." SC-80 felt guilt at leading Bucket on, but he also needed to know. The earth-shattering revelation that he was sitting in prison across from Charlie Bucket's father…the father who had gone on to become a part of this Resistance, whatever it was…such an opportunity could not be wasted.

Bucket smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, my friend. I just…you can understand that this is a sensitive subject, I'm sure." SC-80 nodded. Bucket sighed. "No, he never did find one of those damned tickets; if he had, things would have…well, it doesn't matter now. My poor boy…he was always so quiet, so polite…but I knew how desperately he wanted one of those Golden Tickets. It was his only dream, really; we were so poor that he couldn't afford to dream much. All he ever wanted was to see that wonderful factory. And I bought a Wonka bar every time I had money, which wasn't very often…there was never a ticket inside, and I couldn't even give my son the candy afterward because then he would know what I had done and how terrible I felt for him."

SC-80 felt weak. That's what we changed. Somehow…and then he thought again of the ten-pound note sticking out of the snow. Charlie Bucket was poor. He didn't have pocket money. He would have picked up that cash and he would have purchased the Wonka bar that held the final Golden Ticket…probably at the exact candy shop that we were in. Charlie Bucket is the key. Somehow, changing his destiny sent the entire world to hell. Astonishment, disbelief, and something like horror crashed over SC-80 in waves; a thousand questions buzzed around in his mind like angry bees. "Are you all right?" General Bucket asked, his voice seeming to come from a thousand miles away. "You don't look well."

"I'm…I'm fine," the Captain said. He looked up and smiled weakly. "It's nothing. I'm sorry that your son never found his Golden Ticket; I…I think that the Fuhr…that Mr. Wonka would have liked to meet him." Pushing aside the troubling information that he had just learned, the Captain decided to dig a bit further. "What about you, sir? How did you become part of the Resistance?"

Bucket shrugged. "There was nothing else to do. I lost my job in the big economic crash, just when it seemed like we Buckets had finally caught a break…you know, I used to be a repairman for this one particular machine that screwed caps onto tubes of toothpaste? Talk about another life…anyway, it wasn't the first time I had lost a job…before that I used to screw the caps on the toothpaste myself, and then the factory laid me off when they bought the machine. I'm getting off the subject. Point is that I lost my job as a repairman and we were as bad off as ever. So what could I do? I joined the Army thinking only to keep a steady stream of checks going home…then the War started, and the rest was history.

My son was murdered while I was away on basic training...all of this was back when the Party was still just a fringe group of nuts, before they took over the military and Parliament…my wife and unborn daughter died while I was stuck out in a muddy field in Poland. And somehow the promotions just kept coming. I made colonel in just a couple of years, if you can believe it. They kept posting me to theaters where all the officers were getting killed…I inherited a series of consecutively larger commands, and then I kept them because there was no one else for the generals to give them to. I had a talent for command, it seemed, which was news to me. Here I was, the great soldier…and I had never even held a gun before I enlisted. Well, things went on; naturally when the Party took charge of the government, I was among the dissenters, who quickly became the rebels. Most of the big generals were already dead by this time, what with the war and everything else. After Childs was assassinated, I was left as the highest-ranking rebel officer. Officially, I'm not a general…I never have been. But after Childs' murder, they put me in as the new supreme commander. The rebellion went underground, and I've been leading it ever since. Now I've been captured, of course, and it won't be but a couple of days before they execute me on live television in front of the entire world."

SC-80 stared. "Considering what's at stake, you don't seem overly upset."

General Bucket only smiled. "I don't give up until the fight is over."