[Shit. He's pretty sure his coma-dream imaginary James Bond shouldn't be allowed to catch on to him. He's pretty sure that's a rule -- or that it should be. And now he has a couple of options, none of which make him seem any less suspicious.

Time to get theoretical, he supposes. Best chance as any. Charlie takes a long drink.]

It's what I was saying earlier: that whole bit about evil twin universes being what it is - physics, you know. In one universe, you're you and in mine you're-- well, you're still you. Just a little less... [He makes a vague motion with his hands, screws up his face. Wonders for a moment what Bradbury would think of telling someone they're fictional constructs.] Tangible, let's go with. So yeah, "previous knowledge." You could say that.