This was always going to happen, you know. That there would eventually come a point in time when genetics, circumstance, opportunity and doner meat combined to produce the perfect darts specimen. It’s a simple enough skill and the barriers to entry are invitingly low. Statistically speaking, there have probably been humans born who were as naturally talented at darts as Luke Littler. All that was required was for one of them to realise it.

And now he’s a world championship quarter-finalist at the age of 16, and he’s a little beamish, and he’s a little bewildered, but – crucially – he’s not in the least bit surprised. Nothing about his demeanour or his carriage suggests he didn’t see all this coming at some point. Maybe not now, but then again why not? After all, he’s always known how good he is. He’s been feeling the tactile thunk of a treble bed since before he could properly walk. It’s everyone else who needed to get up to speed.

Which, it’s fair to say, they are now doing. It’s been quite a few days in the Littler universe since the Big Bang against Christian Kist in round one. The initial explosion in interest. The viral tweets. The interviews on daytime television. The picture of him holding aloft a kebab and a copy of the Sun. The subsequent apology for the picture of him holding aloft a kebab and a copy of the Sun. The subsequent backlash to the apology for the picture of him holding aloft a kebab and a copy of the Sun. Everything is discourse. Everything is content.

Gary Anderson reckoned the media had already “ruined” Littler, and that the callous vultures of the press should just let him play. Of course, you are welcome to question whether the best way of complaining about sensationalised media coverage is via the medium of headline-grabbing comments in a press conference, but in many ways it’s a moot point. Littler has already been mobbed at the Emirates Stadium and asked for an autograph by Declan Rice. The Sunday Times have sent their chief feature writer to cover this last-16 match. This thing has already started.

And if it’s going to come off the rails, you feel like tonight might be the night. Raymond van Barneveld is not just a legend of the sport, but a proud and prickled legend: enjoying this late ray of sunlight in a gently listing career, even if the glare is to a large extent reflected. He milks his walk-on for everything it’s worth. The crowd rise to acclaim him. You remember – largely because it’s been plastered over social media all day – that Littler wasn’t even born when Van Barneveld beat Phil Taylor in that classic 2007 world final.

But of course Littler does not come off the rails. The walk-on is a little gauche and the post-match interviews are gawky and charming, but in between, on that stage, he’s as old as wine. The switching and cover-shooting is smooth and unthinking. The darts thud the board with authority, fidelity and grouping. He rises to the big moments in the same way that Taylor did, that Michael van Gerwen did, or perhaps still does. The four legs with which he clinches his four sets are won in 11, 12, 13 and 13 darts.

You can’t imagine, and nor can I, the stress of playing against this. The cumulative strain of knowing your opponent can beat you from pretty much any position, of knowing no out-shot is safe, of knowing a lead of 100 is really no lead at all. Weaknesses? Of course they must exist, but you won’t find them, because even he hasn’t yet. Van Barneveld played a fine game. He averaged almost 100 and hit 45% of his doubles. That’s world-class. And still he lost 4-1.

And now, just as Emma Raducanu found the 2021 US Open draw opening out deliciously in front of her, Littler sees fate bending in his direction. Anderson’s sensational defeat to Brendan Dolan takes out the highest remaining seed in his section. After Dolan on Monday, the red-hot Chris Dobey or the resurgent Rob Cross in the semis. Late in the day Luke Humphries beats Joe Cullen in a sudden-death classic to secure a quarter-final against Dave Chisnall, with Van Gerwen still lurking dangerously.

Any of them could beat Littler. But to do so would require defeating not just an opponent but a movement, pushing back something that feels like it is already being willed into existence. As if to prove the point, Littler is asked afterwards when he last lost a darts match. He can’t remember.