Monday, November 12, 2007
AFTER THE END: WHAT? STILL COMING HERE?
By which I mean, thank you very much for reading. Those who have indicated an interest, I will keep you posted as to future developments. Stay strong.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Chapter 64: So It's the End
‘Thank you, thank you, babe!’ said Victoria Beckham, jumping into David’s arms, wrapping her legs around him and kissing him with wild abandon. He tried desperately to push her off him, partly because he was gay, partly because he hated her, but mostly because he saw where I was moving. She said, ‘Why are you always rejecting me, babe, I know you…’ He finally freed one of his hands, and slapped her face. She crumpled off him in shock and he leapt towards me, but he was too late. I was already standing by the pipe-door gaping into the quasi-black hole. I glanced through it only quickly, but this was long enough for me to be dizzied. It was black in a way that made me understand how little I understood how black black can be. I thought of the dead Teacher, and the dead Rollo, and my destiny. I put my foot on the door’s lip.
‘Wait!’ said David Beckham. He held out his hands, gathered himself and put on his easy smile. ‘We can’t stop you if this is really your decision. You know a tranquilliser will probably send you over the ledge, so we can’t do that. There is no point in diving in without thinking about it, is there?’ Behind him were the bright eyes of Victoria, who had realised her mistake, and of Johnny Depp, David Tennant and Billie Piper, who were shackled to the pipe-doors.
‘Don’t listen, Mary Sue!’ called the red-haired angel. ‘Jump in, Mary Sue! I get it now – Rollo died giving you this chance to save us all!’
‘Really?’ said David Beckham. ‘I thought he died trying to kill me, almost certainly because he thought I was the Master.’
‘Aren’t you?’ I asked, edging another fraction closer to oblivion.
‘If you jump,’ he said gently, ‘we don’t open the Gates, but the Master is still alive. Eventually, however long it takes, there will be another Chosen One. Eventually, we will get another chance. And the next Chosen One might be more easily persuaded of our cause. You, with your irrational hatred of us, might therefore be humanity’s best long-term hope. For us, you jumping might be a good thing, in the long term.’
‘No!’ said Johnny Depp. ‘Don’t do what he says! Everything he says is lies. Or,’ and he gulped through the obvious pain of his shattered arm, desperately thinking aloud, ‘most of everything. Don’t be hasty. Think how he might be lying to you!’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe…’
‘Oh!’ gasped Billie Piper. ‘Oh!’ and she looked at me, and then shook her head.
‘What is it?’
‘No. I’m… It’s only that I don’t want you to jump, I’m sure. I can’t bear to lose you again.’
‘But?’
‘I thought, well, this must be wrong but I thought that… I don’t know, but if the Master is, well, we don’t know who he is, but we also don’t know how the Gates of Hell are opened. And Rollo, who only the Teacher knew about, and we only have his word for that, or don’t we? Please tell me if I’m wrong?’ No one said anything. ‘Well, Rollo just went into the void, and he gave you a chance to join him, and maybe THAT’s what the prophecy means by the Chosen One joining the Master?’ She was hanging from her shackles with barely any support from her feet, but she was forcing her head erect so she could look at me. ‘I’m sure it isn’t, but what if it is? Are you sure, do you know that he isn’t the Master? If you say he isn’t, if you KNOW he isn’t, then I believe you, and you must do what is right.’ The effort of speaking brought her next breath out in a sobbing choke, and then she said, ‘I’m very proud of you.’
‘What do you think of that?’ I said to Johnny Depp, and the angels in the cage.
The red-haired angel said, ‘I'm sorry. I don't know. The only thing you can control is going through the door. If you don’t do that, you’re in their hands. There’s nothing anyone of us can do to save you, or stop them. And you know what Victoria will do to you.’
‘That is true,’ said Johnny Depp. The prophecy says you join the Master of your own volition, but if you refuse… There have been many different interpretations of free will over the millennia. A surprising number of them say that if you do something while you are being tortured, you are still acting out of free will because you made the free decision not keep on being tortured.’
‘That’s not very comforting.’
‘I know, Mary Sue. But you asked us, and we are tied up. There’s nothing we can do to help you now except tell you the truth.’
‘I wouldn’t torture you,’ smiled Victoria Beckham, acting as badly as usual. ‘I’d never do that.’
‘You know what real torture is, Victoria,’ I said. ‘In love with a man who hates you, and who is gay.’
‘That’s just media lies!’ she hissed.
‘No it isn’t. I’ve seen him have sex with Matt Damon.’
‘He never did!’ she spat. ‘You’re a filthy liar with a dirty sick mind.’ Her face was contorted, half with anger and half with denial.
‘He loved having sex with Matt Damon. They had both kinds, oral and normal-for-gays.’ And now, at long last, she finally took three enraged steps towards me and away from the pipe doors. I had done it. This was the opening I had been trying to create by taunting her, and it was my last desperate throw of the dice, and I hoped I understood everything I’d seen. My heart started beating even faster, and Victoria took another step towards me, still ranting, ‘It makes me so crazy. If you only knew…’ And that was that for her. Her face froze into a rictus of absolute surprise as David Tennant’s magic glittery sword swept through her tiny neck.
A moment later, I had moved away from the door, and David Tennant had disarmed David Beckham. They pair stood face to face. David Beckham smiled. ‘Tranquillise them both!’ he shouted to the rafters. ‘Quick, do it now!’ But nothing happened.
David Tennant shrugged ruefully. ‘Rollo and I dealt with them a while ago,’ he said. 'Are you alright, Mary Sue?’ I was gasping with relief. When Rollo had told me to move forward rather than slumbering in the tents of my fathers, and held a knife to my neck, and I had STILL trusted him, I had finally understood why. When, under the guise of pummelling David Tennant in a gesture of futile fury against a traitor, I had noticed him surreptitiously loosing David Tennant’s shackles, I’d realised for certain that he was going to sacrifice himself for me, and what that meant. David Tennant turned to David Beckham and watched David Beckham struggling to catch up. Eventually he did so, and David Tennant nodded. ‘Yup,’ he said. ‘Rollo was Mary Sue’s father. He’s always watched over her.’
‘But you!’ he said. ‘You and her!’ he added, gesturing to Billie Piper.
‘Oh that!’ said David Tennant casually. ‘That was just acting.’
‘But…’
Billie Piper was sobbing with relief. ‘Oh my God! Thank God! Thank you, Mary Sue, thank you. Let me go and we can…’
‘I rather think not,’ said David Tennant, and let the silence build before adding, ‘Master.’
‘What?!’ said Billie Piper. ‘It’s not true! It’s not true, Mary Sue! He’s the Master. He’s trying to trick you!’
David Tennant looked her straight in the eyes and said, ‘When Billie Piper, the real Billie, Mary Sue’s mother, was sixteen, the Teacher took Rollo and me to meet with her.’
‘No!' said Billie. 'The Teacher never met me. She never let me see her. I never even knew she was a woman!’
‘We told Billie that the Master was desperate to find her. We had discovered that the Master wanted to take over her identity, however much surgery that required, as a way of getting close to the Teacher, to Mary Sue and to Mary Sue’s father. We told her we could keep her identity secret if she wanted. But, if she was prepared to sacrifice herself, to let herself be taken, then we would always know where the Master was. We could control what the Master knew. And so it came to pass. For a decade, I have played the part of your father while the Master has pretended to be your mother. Rollo has protected you many times, and then today he sacrificed himself for you, and for this world we love, just like your mother, your unbelievably brave, real mother, sacrificed herself a decade ago. And now, all you have to do is press the button and she goes into the vortex.’
‘No!’ said Billie desperately. ‘You can’t possibly believe this! I’m your mother! If anyone is the Master here, it’s David Tennant. He was a demon, and he seduced me! Who would the Master trust to do that? No one, so it must have been the Master himself!’
‘The Teacher was ahead of you,’ said David Tennant. ‘She always has been. Why did you think this would be any different?’
‘They’re trying to make you kill me for no reason!’ shrieked Billie Piper. ‘The Teacher was never ahead of the Master, she was a stupid suicidal lunatic, and here is the proof, me, your poor mother, strung up like a chicken!’ She wasn’t sagging any more. She was straining against the shackles. She saw me take this in and said, ‘No way! This is the strength that comes from being on the edge of death. You cannot be misled by this man. This evil man. If you do this, the world ends.’
Johnny Depp said, ‘If David Tennant is the Master, then where is David Beckham?’ He was gone. Miss Smallbone, and David Tennant, and Rollo and Victoria and probably all the rest of them, could make use of any distraction to appear or disappear. I suppose it’s a very useful skill you can pick up if you have millennia to practice it in. David Tennant instantly formed a human shield between me and the direction David Beckham had presumably vanished into. He said, ‘He won’t try anything, he'll just run. In the end, Beckham's the kind of wordy coward who calls it pragmatism.'
'Then why are you...'
'Better safe than sorry, Mary Sue.’
And I thought of Sir Conn, who said he trusted me. And of the poor, brave Teacher, who said she trusted me. And of Rollo, who said he trusted me. And they had all three also said I would have to trust myself in the end. And I thought of the things I had seen, of who was dead and how they died, and which ones had died to save me. I thought of funny Jeremy Clarkson and valorous Vanessa Paradis, and the others I didn’t have time to know. And I felt David Tennant, his back against my back, who wasn't my father any more, and I looked into the eyes of Billie Piper, and I didn’t see my mother, so I pressed the button, sent her into oblivion, and the world didn’t end.
‘Wait!’ said David Beckham. He held out his hands, gathered himself and put on his easy smile. ‘We can’t stop you if this is really your decision. You know a tranquilliser will probably send you over the ledge, so we can’t do that. There is no point in diving in without thinking about it, is there?’ Behind him were the bright eyes of Victoria, who had realised her mistake, and of Johnny Depp, David Tennant and Billie Piper, who were shackled to the pipe-doors.
‘Don’t listen, Mary Sue!’ called the red-haired angel. ‘Jump in, Mary Sue! I get it now – Rollo died giving you this chance to save us all!’
‘Really?’ said David Beckham. ‘I thought he died trying to kill me, almost certainly because he thought I was the Master.’
‘Aren’t you?’ I asked, edging another fraction closer to oblivion.
‘If you jump,’ he said gently, ‘we don’t open the Gates, but the Master is still alive. Eventually, however long it takes, there will be another Chosen One. Eventually, we will get another chance. And the next Chosen One might be more easily persuaded of our cause. You, with your irrational hatred of us, might therefore be humanity’s best long-term hope. For us, you jumping might be a good thing, in the long term.’
‘No!’ said Johnny Depp. ‘Don’t do what he says! Everything he says is lies. Or,’ and he gulped through the obvious pain of his shattered arm, desperately thinking aloud, ‘most of everything. Don’t be hasty. Think how he might be lying to you!’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe…’
‘Oh!’ gasped Billie Piper. ‘Oh!’ and she looked at me, and then shook her head.
‘What is it?’
‘No. I’m… It’s only that I don’t want you to jump, I’m sure. I can’t bear to lose you again.’
‘But?’
‘I thought, well, this must be wrong but I thought that… I don’t know, but if the Master is, well, we don’t know who he is, but we also don’t know how the Gates of Hell are opened. And Rollo, who only the Teacher knew about, and we only have his word for that, or don’t we? Please tell me if I’m wrong?’ No one said anything. ‘Well, Rollo just went into the void, and he gave you a chance to join him, and maybe THAT’s what the prophecy means by the Chosen One joining the Master?’ She was hanging from her shackles with barely any support from her feet, but she was forcing her head erect so she could look at me. ‘I’m sure it isn’t, but what if it is? Are you sure, do you know that he isn’t the Master? If you say he isn’t, if you KNOW he isn’t, then I believe you, and you must do what is right.’ The effort of speaking brought her next breath out in a sobbing choke, and then she said, ‘I’m very proud of you.’
‘What do you think of that?’ I said to Johnny Depp, and the angels in the cage.
The red-haired angel said, ‘I'm sorry. I don't know. The only thing you can control is going through the door. If you don’t do that, you’re in their hands. There’s nothing anyone of us can do to save you, or stop them. And you know what Victoria will do to you.’
‘That is true,’ said Johnny Depp. The prophecy says you join the Master of your own volition, but if you refuse… There have been many different interpretations of free will over the millennia. A surprising number of them say that if you do something while you are being tortured, you are still acting out of free will because you made the free decision not keep on being tortured.’
‘That’s not very comforting.’
‘I know, Mary Sue. But you asked us, and we are tied up. There’s nothing we can do to help you now except tell you the truth.’
‘I wouldn’t torture you,’ smiled Victoria Beckham, acting as badly as usual. ‘I’d never do that.’
‘You know what real torture is, Victoria,’ I said. ‘In love with a man who hates you, and who is gay.’
‘That’s just media lies!’ she hissed.
‘No it isn’t. I’ve seen him have sex with Matt Damon.’
‘He never did!’ she spat. ‘You’re a filthy liar with a dirty sick mind.’ Her face was contorted, half with anger and half with denial.
‘He loved having sex with Matt Damon. They had both kinds, oral and normal-for-gays.’ And now, at long last, she finally took three enraged steps towards me and away from the pipe doors. I had done it. This was the opening I had been trying to create by taunting her, and it was my last desperate throw of the dice, and I hoped I understood everything I’d seen. My heart started beating even faster, and Victoria took another step towards me, still ranting, ‘It makes me so crazy. If you only knew…’ And that was that for her. Her face froze into a rictus of absolute surprise as David Tennant’s magic glittery sword swept through her tiny neck.
A moment later, I had moved away from the door, and David Tennant had disarmed David Beckham. They pair stood face to face. David Beckham smiled. ‘Tranquillise them both!’ he shouted to the rafters. ‘Quick, do it now!’ But nothing happened.
David Tennant shrugged ruefully. ‘Rollo and I dealt with them a while ago,’ he said. 'Are you alright, Mary Sue?’ I was gasping with relief. When Rollo had told me to move forward rather than slumbering in the tents of my fathers, and held a knife to my neck, and I had STILL trusted him, I had finally understood why. When, under the guise of pummelling David Tennant in a gesture of futile fury against a traitor, I had noticed him surreptitiously loosing David Tennant’s shackles, I’d realised for certain that he was going to sacrifice himself for me, and what that meant. David Tennant turned to David Beckham and watched David Beckham struggling to catch up. Eventually he did so, and David Tennant nodded. ‘Yup,’ he said. ‘Rollo was Mary Sue’s father. He’s always watched over her.’
‘But you!’ he said. ‘You and her!’ he added, gesturing to Billie Piper.
‘Oh that!’ said David Tennant casually. ‘That was just acting.’
‘But…’
Billie Piper was sobbing with relief. ‘Oh my God! Thank God! Thank you, Mary Sue, thank you. Let me go and we can…’
‘I rather think not,’ said David Tennant, and let the silence build before adding, ‘Master.’
‘What?!’ said Billie Piper. ‘It’s not true! It’s not true, Mary Sue! He’s the Master. He’s trying to trick you!’
David Tennant looked her straight in the eyes and said, ‘When Billie Piper, the real Billie, Mary Sue’s mother, was sixteen, the Teacher took Rollo and me to meet with her.’
‘No!' said Billie. 'The Teacher never met me. She never let me see her. I never even knew she was a woman!’
‘We told Billie that the Master was desperate to find her. We had discovered that the Master wanted to take over her identity, however much surgery that required, as a way of getting close to the Teacher, to Mary Sue and to Mary Sue’s father. We told her we could keep her identity secret if she wanted. But, if she was prepared to sacrifice herself, to let herself be taken, then we would always know where the Master was. We could control what the Master knew. And so it came to pass. For a decade, I have played the part of your father while the Master has pretended to be your mother. Rollo has protected you many times, and then today he sacrificed himself for you, and for this world we love, just like your mother, your unbelievably brave, real mother, sacrificed herself a decade ago. And now, all you have to do is press the button and she goes into the vortex.’
‘No!’ said Billie desperately. ‘You can’t possibly believe this! I’m your mother! If anyone is the Master here, it’s David Tennant. He was a demon, and he seduced me! Who would the Master trust to do that? No one, so it must have been the Master himself!’
‘The Teacher was ahead of you,’ said David Tennant. ‘She always has been. Why did you think this would be any different?’
‘They’re trying to make you kill me for no reason!’ shrieked Billie Piper. ‘The Teacher was never ahead of the Master, she was a stupid suicidal lunatic, and here is the proof, me, your poor mother, strung up like a chicken!’ She wasn’t sagging any more. She was straining against the shackles. She saw me take this in and said, ‘No way! This is the strength that comes from being on the edge of death. You cannot be misled by this man. This evil man. If you do this, the world ends.’
Johnny Depp said, ‘If David Tennant is the Master, then where is David Beckham?’ He was gone. Miss Smallbone, and David Tennant, and Rollo and Victoria and probably all the rest of them, could make use of any distraction to appear or disappear. I suppose it’s a very useful skill you can pick up if you have millennia to practice it in. David Tennant instantly formed a human shield between me and the direction David Beckham had presumably vanished into. He said, ‘He won’t try anything, he'll just run. In the end, Beckham's the kind of wordy coward who calls it pragmatism.'
'Then why are you...'
'Better safe than sorry, Mary Sue.’
And I thought of Sir Conn, who said he trusted me. And of the poor, brave Teacher, who said she trusted me. And of Rollo, who said he trusted me. And they had all three also said I would have to trust myself in the end. And I thought of the things I had seen, of who was dead and how they died, and which ones had died to save me. I thought of funny Jeremy Clarkson and valorous Vanessa Paradis, and the others I didn’t have time to know. And I felt David Tennant, his back against my back, who wasn't my father any more, and I looked into the eyes of Billie Piper, and I didn’t see my mother, so I pressed the button, sent her into oblivion, and the world didn’t end.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Chapter 63: The World is Advancing
Rollo’s left arm was over my shoulder and wrapped across my heart, and I could feel his calm steady breathing against my back. Absurdly, my body felt as if it was being protected rather than threatened. I had looked into Rollo’s eyes and, trusting myself to know what I saw, I had trusted him absolutely. But his knife was at my throat! How could I still feel this trust? And then, in a flash of realisation, I understood. I trusted Rollo more than I trusted myself, because I knew he would do the right thing, whatever the cost, whatever he himself wanted, because it was right, and sometimes that would mean he could be strong when other people were weak.
I am writing this, of course, but how do you know when? Or what I am now? Or who?
***
‘Thank God you’re there, whoever you really are,’ said the red-haired angel, her palms white against the transparent wall of her cage. ‘I’m sorry, Mary Sue, but we’ve lost. It’s all we can do.’
‘There’s always hope,’ said Rollo.
‘YOU are the hope,’ said the angel. ‘You’re the insurance policy. Don’t worry about us, just kill her and run.’
‘No!’ shouted Johnny Depp. ‘Don’t kill her! The Teacher never told me to kill her, that was one of Beckham’s lies. Mary Sue hasn’t agreed to join them!’
‘That’s true,’ said Billie Piper, growing paler with every passing moment, as if all the blood was being drained out of her, ragged in my father’s arms. ‘She hasn’t joined them. Don’t kill her. I… All I want is you not to kill my little girl. But I am lost and gone, and was a long time ago. I…’ and her head drooped, too heavy for her neck.
‘Do you want me to deal with him?’ said Victoria Beckham.
‘Don’t be a moron,’ said David Beckham.
‘You can be so hurtful sometimes, even though I know you don’t mean it.’
‘Shut up, Victoria. You couldn’t touch him without killing her. We couldn’t even tranquillise him fast enough.’ He looked at Rollo, hands on hips. ‘It seems we are at an impasse, whoever you are, Rollo is it?, unless you really do want to murder the Chosen One. But I don’t think that’s it. If you did, she’d be dead by now. You gain nothing by playing for time. Surely you realise that you’re never getting out of here alive?’
‘I don’t know. I’m pretty good.’
‘Big words, Rollo, but what is it that you want?’
‘There’s more to life than staying alive,’ said Rollo past my ear as he started to move forward, pushing me in front of him like a shield. ‘Don’t do anything stupid. And I want you to shackle Tennant and Piper.’
‘But…’
‘This isn’t a negotiation. The Teacher was the Teacher because she didn’t take risks, but she grew tired, and the mantle passed to me.’ The two grey-jacketed goons tied up David and Billie, and the Rollo said, ‘I presume you have a tranquilliser gun yourself?’ David Beckham nodded. ‘Shoot both the henchmen.’ He did. ‘Now your wife.’ Victoria crumpled with a dart in her chest. All the time, we were slowly edging towards them.
‘Stop it!’ cried the red-haired angel. ‘What are you trying to do? Kill her! It’s all there is!’
‘No, Red,’ said Johnny Depp. ‘The Teacher didn’t want her dead. The Teacher wanted her to kill the Master, because this was our chance. With no Master, the Gates to Hell will NEVER be opened. It’s a prize worth winning.’
‘You’re a lunatic!’ spat the red-haired angel. ‘You’ve all gone mad! This is a war! We don’t even know who the Master is. We do know the Teacher was deceived. We know that Mary Sue can’t kill the Master anyway unless her parents sacrifice themselves, which they haven’t done. I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’ve lost this one. All we can hope is that tomorrow will not be worse than today, and you can make that happen. The world is fine, and you can keep it fine. Or you can make a mistake, and everything is destroyed. That’s all the options you have, so what are you doing, who are you?’ She was no longer looking at Rollo, she was looking at me. ‘Think about what I’m saying, Mary Sue. Think about it! The only sane thing he can do is kill you, but if he doesn’t kill you, he is either insane, or he isn’t who he said he is. Don’t join them, whatever they say. I’m begging you this: keep tomorrow the same as today!’
‘Tomorrow will not be the same as today,’ said Rollo softly. ‘That’s already gone. The world knows who we are. And the Teacher is gone.’
David Beckham said, ‘Yes! That’s the hard truth, Mary Sue. The world knows us and we are different. They will envy and fear us, you must be able to see that? We will be hunted. We will not be suffered to live. We will be thrown, one by one, into this machine. It will be a genocide.’
‘And nothing so ghastly will happen to humanity if she falls for your lies, and we regain the powers we never had the strength of will to control?’ said Rollo.
‘Of course not,’ said David Beckham. ‘I’ve already made that clear. Once we are returned to our power, what incentive will there be? It would be like mankind conducting a genocide against cattle.’
‘There it is, exactly,’ said Rollo, shaking his head. ‘You will think of them as cattle. You do not seek a relationship of equals, or of mutual progress, or compassion. Those are the things we desire, that we owe this world which has become our home.’
‘This world is not our “home” and we owe it nothing, but I assure you that we will not be tyrannical overlords. We will simply be beyond this petty debate, and deep down you know it, Rollo, and so do you, Mary Sue. Your parents have already accepted the inevitable. And the prophecy is very clear. You join the Master, and the Gates of Hell open.’
‘Unless…’ began Rollo, and we were now ten feet from David Beckham.
‘No,’ said David Beckham. ‘There is no “unless”. There has been no parental sacrifice. Your Teacher was wrong, and the Master was right.’
‘The Teacher was right about one thing,’ said Rollo, gripping more tightly. ‘We must always be ready to move on, to leave things behind us. Slumber not in the tents of your fathers, Mary Sue, for the world is advancing.’ And he looked at me again, said that he loved me, and smiled as if he expected me to understand, and I did at last, and I knew why he needed to do what he was going to do. I nodded to him.
‘Where is the Master?’ I said to David Beckham. ‘If I have to join the Master, then surely I have to know who…’ Rollo swung me behind him and rolled across the floor past the comatose demon guards, sweeping his knife across their throats as he did so. He had almost reached a stunned and scrambling David Beckham when his legs were swept from under him by a bony foot in strappy heels.
‘Ha!’ said Victoria Beckham. ‘Because my David loves me, he shot me in the breast he knows is fake, so I have been pretending to be asleep. We planned this in advance because we are INTIMATE. And now, you will die.’ Rollo fought well, but everywhere he moved, Victoria was faster and more brutal. ‘The Chosen One has to join us, and she will. It’s been explained that it must be voluntary, but I can show her things that will help make her volunteer. You should have killed her when you had the chance. You are weak, like all the angels.’ Rollo stumbled sideways and her next kick landed him on the floor next to David Tennant and Billie Piper. Rollo struggled to his feet, gripping onto David Tennant’s shackled body. Rollo knew he had lost his fight, and he stared at David Tennant, who smiled back, raised his eyebrow and shrugged. In a pathetic gesture, Victoria standing behind him and smirking, Rollo pummelled the helpless David Tennant, landing five thudding blows with his raw right fist. Then he swung himself hopelessly back to face Victoria Beckham, and in the act of swinging, stumbled towards the door through which the Teacher had recently be sent to her awful final death. Victoria kicked out, but for once he was too fast for her, Instead of avoiding her foot, he clung to it as it crashed into his side, and as she strove to free herself, he fumbled at the door’s catch, looked at me once more, and wrenched himself backwards towards the void, Victoria with him. But at the very final moment, David Beckham kicked Rollo’s hands and he let go of Victoria. Rollo teetered one final time, looked at me, and toppled backwards, the echo of his agony as his self was stripped apart joining Miss Smallbone’s in the giant room’s eerie silence.
I am writing this, of course, but how do you know when? Or what I am now? Or who?
***
‘Thank God you’re there, whoever you really are,’ said the red-haired angel, her palms white against the transparent wall of her cage. ‘I’m sorry, Mary Sue, but we’ve lost. It’s all we can do.’
‘There’s always hope,’ said Rollo.
‘YOU are the hope,’ said the angel. ‘You’re the insurance policy. Don’t worry about us, just kill her and run.’
‘No!’ shouted Johnny Depp. ‘Don’t kill her! The Teacher never told me to kill her, that was one of Beckham’s lies. Mary Sue hasn’t agreed to join them!’
‘That’s true,’ said Billie Piper, growing paler with every passing moment, as if all the blood was being drained out of her, ragged in my father’s arms. ‘She hasn’t joined them. Don’t kill her. I… All I want is you not to kill my little girl. But I am lost and gone, and was a long time ago. I…’ and her head drooped, too heavy for her neck.
‘Do you want me to deal with him?’ said Victoria Beckham.
‘Don’t be a moron,’ said David Beckham.
‘You can be so hurtful sometimes, even though I know you don’t mean it.’
‘Shut up, Victoria. You couldn’t touch him without killing her. We couldn’t even tranquillise him fast enough.’ He looked at Rollo, hands on hips. ‘It seems we are at an impasse, whoever you are, Rollo is it?, unless you really do want to murder the Chosen One. But I don’t think that’s it. If you did, she’d be dead by now. You gain nothing by playing for time. Surely you realise that you’re never getting out of here alive?’
‘I don’t know. I’m pretty good.’
‘Big words, Rollo, but what is it that you want?’
‘There’s more to life than staying alive,’ said Rollo past my ear as he started to move forward, pushing me in front of him like a shield. ‘Don’t do anything stupid. And I want you to shackle Tennant and Piper.’
‘But…’
‘This isn’t a negotiation. The Teacher was the Teacher because she didn’t take risks, but she grew tired, and the mantle passed to me.’ The two grey-jacketed goons tied up David and Billie, and the Rollo said, ‘I presume you have a tranquilliser gun yourself?’ David Beckham nodded. ‘Shoot both the henchmen.’ He did. ‘Now your wife.’ Victoria crumpled with a dart in her chest. All the time, we were slowly edging towards them.
‘Stop it!’ cried the red-haired angel. ‘What are you trying to do? Kill her! It’s all there is!’
‘No, Red,’ said Johnny Depp. ‘The Teacher didn’t want her dead. The Teacher wanted her to kill the Master, because this was our chance. With no Master, the Gates to Hell will NEVER be opened. It’s a prize worth winning.’
‘You’re a lunatic!’ spat the red-haired angel. ‘You’ve all gone mad! This is a war! We don’t even know who the Master is. We do know the Teacher was deceived. We know that Mary Sue can’t kill the Master anyway unless her parents sacrifice themselves, which they haven’t done. I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’ve lost this one. All we can hope is that tomorrow will not be worse than today, and you can make that happen. The world is fine, and you can keep it fine. Or you can make a mistake, and everything is destroyed. That’s all the options you have, so what are you doing, who are you?’ She was no longer looking at Rollo, she was looking at me. ‘Think about what I’m saying, Mary Sue. Think about it! The only sane thing he can do is kill you, but if he doesn’t kill you, he is either insane, or he isn’t who he said he is. Don’t join them, whatever they say. I’m begging you this: keep tomorrow the same as today!’
‘Tomorrow will not be the same as today,’ said Rollo softly. ‘That’s already gone. The world knows who we are. And the Teacher is gone.’
David Beckham said, ‘Yes! That’s the hard truth, Mary Sue. The world knows us and we are different. They will envy and fear us, you must be able to see that? We will be hunted. We will not be suffered to live. We will be thrown, one by one, into this machine. It will be a genocide.’
‘And nothing so ghastly will happen to humanity if she falls for your lies, and we regain the powers we never had the strength of will to control?’ said Rollo.
‘Of course not,’ said David Beckham. ‘I’ve already made that clear. Once we are returned to our power, what incentive will there be? It would be like mankind conducting a genocide against cattle.’
‘There it is, exactly,’ said Rollo, shaking his head. ‘You will think of them as cattle. You do not seek a relationship of equals, or of mutual progress, or compassion. Those are the things we desire, that we owe this world which has become our home.’
‘This world is not our “home” and we owe it nothing, but I assure you that we will not be tyrannical overlords. We will simply be beyond this petty debate, and deep down you know it, Rollo, and so do you, Mary Sue. Your parents have already accepted the inevitable. And the prophecy is very clear. You join the Master, and the Gates of Hell open.’
‘Unless…’ began Rollo, and we were now ten feet from David Beckham.
‘No,’ said David Beckham. ‘There is no “unless”. There has been no parental sacrifice. Your Teacher was wrong, and the Master was right.’
‘The Teacher was right about one thing,’ said Rollo, gripping more tightly. ‘We must always be ready to move on, to leave things behind us. Slumber not in the tents of your fathers, Mary Sue, for the world is advancing.’ And he looked at me again, said that he loved me, and smiled as if he expected me to understand, and I did at last, and I knew why he needed to do what he was going to do. I nodded to him.
‘Where is the Master?’ I said to David Beckham. ‘If I have to join the Master, then surely I have to know who…’ Rollo swung me behind him and rolled across the floor past the comatose demon guards, sweeping his knife across their throats as he did so. He had almost reached a stunned and scrambling David Beckham when his legs were swept from under him by a bony foot in strappy heels.
‘Ha!’ said Victoria Beckham. ‘Because my David loves me, he shot me in the breast he knows is fake, so I have been pretending to be asleep. We planned this in advance because we are INTIMATE. And now, you will die.’ Rollo fought well, but everywhere he moved, Victoria was faster and more brutal. ‘The Chosen One has to join us, and she will. It’s been explained that it must be voluntary, but I can show her things that will help make her volunteer. You should have killed her when you had the chance. You are weak, like all the angels.’ Rollo stumbled sideways and her next kick landed him on the floor next to David Tennant and Billie Piper. Rollo struggled to his feet, gripping onto David Tennant’s shackled body. Rollo knew he had lost his fight, and he stared at David Tennant, who smiled back, raised his eyebrow and shrugged. In a pathetic gesture, Victoria standing behind him and smirking, Rollo pummelled the helpless David Tennant, landing five thudding blows with his raw right fist. Then he swung himself hopelessly back to face Victoria Beckham, and in the act of swinging, stumbled towards the door through which the Teacher had recently be sent to her awful final death. Victoria kicked out, but for once he was too fast for her, Instead of avoiding her foot, he clung to it as it crashed into his side, and as she strove to free herself, he fumbled at the door’s catch, looked at me once more, and wrenched himself backwards towards the void, Victoria with him. But at the very final moment, David Beckham kicked Rollo’s hands and he let go of Victoria. Rollo teetered one final time, looked at me, and toppled backwards, the echo of his agony as his self was stripped apart joining Miss Smallbone’s in the giant room’s eerie silence.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Chapter 63: The World is Advancing (teaser)
Rollo’s left arm was over my shoulder and wrapped across my heart, and I could feel his calm steady breathing against my back. Absurdly, my body felt as if it was being protected rather than threatened. I had looked into Rollo’s eyes and, trusting myself to know what I saw, I had trusted him absolutely. But his knife was at my throat! How could I still feel this trust? And then, in a flash of realisation, I understood. I trusted Rollo more than I trusted myself, because I knew he would do the right thing, whatever the cost, whatever he himself wanted, because it was right, and sometimes that would mean he could be strong when other people were weak.
I am writing this, of course, but how do you know when? Or what I am now? Or who?
I am writing this, of course, but how do you know when? Or what I am now? Or who?
Chapter 62: True Love Knows No Reason (Part 2)
The Teacher was shackled to the pipe containing the quasi-black hole, one green button from oblivion. When she gave herself up, Johnny Depp shouted, ‘Don’t do it, don’t do it!’ which he would have had to do whether or not he was a traitor, to keep up the pretence. The other angels had pleaded. The red-haired angel cried, ‘Johnny’s a soldier, Teacher. We’re soldiers. We die for you, you don’t die for us. You’re too important.’ By the end of this, as the two large grey-suited men grabbed hold of Miss Smallbone, who looked lost and alone, the red-haired angels voice was despair.
‘But this is the end,’ the Teacher smiled. ‘No one lives forever, not even… Not even me. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you especially, Mary Sue. Remember: this is the end, but that doesn’t mean we’ve lost, not while David is still out there. I will soon be gone, but I have trained my replacement well. I’m so tired, and this way, if… If we do not lose, David Beckham, then Johnny will survive to see Vanessa again, and they deserve that. And, after the things I have done, I deserve to… I am not proud of all the things I have done. Mary Sue will explain.’ She shook her head, and looked defiantly around her, her voice returning to its natural timbre – simple and utterly commanding. Even though she was cuffed immobile, all of the demons took a half step back and their hands went to their guns. ‘I am confident that Mary Sue will have the chance to explain what I have done, and I hope you will understand, and know that I am sorry. Remember this for then: I am doing this now because…’ She looked again at Johnny Depp. ‘Partly it is because it is the least I owe you, and partly it is because I love you, and I have always loved you.’
Johnny Depp’s eyes suddenly flickered in recognition. ‘You! It’s… I can’t believe it. You survived our expulsion to earth! It was you all this time! I presumed you had…’
‘It was better that way. I’m sorry.’ And she turned her face away from him.
‘Well,’ said David Beckham, ‘that was all very touching. And now I have a little surprise for everyone. You all see how your precious Teacher has given herself up for Johnny Depp, believing he is not a spy? I know, because I know these things, that deep down, you fear that she has made a terrible, catastrophic, final mistake. Well, let me put your mutual minds at rest. Johnny Depp is not our spy.’
‘Who is?’ said the red-haired girl.
‘I am,’ said David Tennant stepping onto a platform above us. ‘I am sorry, Teacher.’
I felt everything falling away. ‘Yes, indeed,' said David Beckham. 'Your precious, deceitful little David Tennant has led the other "rescue party" into its appointed trap. I wouldn’t want you to die thinking there was any hope. Teacher, I cannot understand why the Master was so worried about you.’
‘You’ll learn,’ said Miss Smallbone, quietly and impossibly sad. ‘In the very end, everyone learns. I’m ready.’
‘I doubt that very much. Now let’s see if this black hole works.’ David Beckham pressed the button, and Miss Smallbone swung into the pipe. Her short scream filled the room for a long time, more horrible than anything I and possibly begin to describe, as if someone was scraping a nail down a blackboard in every atom of my body. When I think of that moment, I can still hear and feel the echoes of it. David Beckham, trying to pretend he wasn’t shaken, held a device to the side of the pipe, and said, ‘It works.’
***
David Tennant climbed down the ladder into the main hall. He moved slowly, reluctantly, not as if he’d done something wrong, but as if he were embarrassed. He looked at me, and said, ‘I do love you, Mary Sue. The Teacher didn’t understand. This will be the best thing, in the end.’ I knew other things were happening and being said, but that was all I heard clearly, because my mind was almost filled with him, with wanting to trust him. Dimly I was aware of the vicious fury of the caged angels, and David Beckham’s sardonic replies that there was no help coming, that all their friends were sleeping, and that David Tennant was returning to his real people, the demons he had fought alongside for long millennia, and who he had never really turned away from. Then David Tennant said, ‘No, David Beckham. I turned away from you. I will not have my love for Guinevere belittled. I do love your mother, Mary Sue.’
‘Then why?’ I said.
‘Because I have her,’ said Victoria Beckham, dragging a battered and bleeding Billie Piper onto the platform alongside her husband. It looked as if she was using every piece of her strength simply to breath. ‘Pathetic creature that she is. And David Tennant, like a good dog, knows his master. Don’t you boy.’
‘His master!’ I said. ‘Are you the Master?’
David Beckham guffawed instinctively, and then said, ‘Sorry, Victoria, but that was funny. I mean, you are an idiot.’
‘I know you’re joking, babe,’ said Victoria, ‘but you can be really hurtful sometimes.’
David Tennant was in the middle of the hall. When Billie Piper managed to lift her head to see what was going on, she said, ‘Oh God, no David, no, don’t do it. Don’t do it for me! You should have left me! What have you done?’
‘It’s too late,’ David said rushing to her.
‘No!’ she said, trying to resist him. Then. ‘No, David!’ But her voice was not as emphatic as it might have been, and now she was holding her hands to him, trembling with the need to touch him. They looked into each others’ eyes in the way that should have given the game away long ago, but maybe cameras can’t capture it, in the final analysis, and anyway, there are none so blind as they that cannot see. I didn’t for one second feel like a daughter witnessing her parents in a moment of joy. I felt many other things, which included sadness, anger, rage and jealousy. I think I can be forgiven for having been conflicted. Then David Tennant turned and said to me, and the other angels, all the while keeping hold of my mother’s hand. ‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘They’ve won. Or, I mean, WE’ve won, our RACE has won. But that doesn’t mean the end of all you hold dear. It just means something new is starting. They haven’t killed you because they know that you will be powerful in the new world, the world after the Gate opens. They don’t expect you to agree with them then, they are not morally facile, and they know that life is always conflict, but the time has come for our restoration.’ He seemed to be speaking mostly to me. ‘The prophecy says that for you to kill the Master, your mother and I must sacrifice ourselves for you, Mary Sue, and we haven’t. You WILL join the Master, and it will not be the catastrophe you have been told. Great power can do great good. But you have to agree willingly. That is why you are not caged. That is why everyone is talking to you. We will not use coercion.’ Billie Piper next to him was shaking her head that this was wrong, wrong, wrong, but she couldn’t let him go, and her flank leant towards his. When their hips touched, David Tennant’s eyes closed momentarily, as if his heart had been run though with an invisible sword. His face had a maniacal gleam throughout this speech, a desperate air, as if he knew I wasn’t convinced. I was trying to persuade myself that this was shame at what he had done, but the gleam might just have been the tears in my eyes.
‘What will happen to everyone?’ I said weakly. ‘To us, I mean, to human people?’
‘You will have great influence, Mary Sue,’ he said. ‘You are the Chosen One. All you have to do is to join us, freely.’
‘Mother?’ I asked.
Billie Piper crumpled then and David Tennant had to hold her up. She looked up and said, ‘I don’t know.’ She looked at David and added, ‘They said I would die soon unless you… No. Don’t do it, my daughter, who I love.’ Her knees went again, and she hung in David’s arms, and said, ‘I don’t know anything any more.’
‘We cannot coerce you,’ David repeated. I thought there was almost a note of desperation creeping into his voice.
‘I can, though,’ said Rollo Price, stepping suddenly out of the darkness, faster than anyone could react, and resting a cold blade against my hot neck.
‘But this is the end,’ the Teacher smiled. ‘No one lives forever, not even… Not even me. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you especially, Mary Sue. Remember: this is the end, but that doesn’t mean we’ve lost, not while David is still out there. I will soon be gone, but I have trained my replacement well. I’m so tired, and this way, if… If we do not lose, David Beckham, then Johnny will survive to see Vanessa again, and they deserve that. And, after the things I have done, I deserve to… I am not proud of all the things I have done. Mary Sue will explain.’ She shook her head, and looked defiantly around her, her voice returning to its natural timbre – simple and utterly commanding. Even though she was cuffed immobile, all of the demons took a half step back and their hands went to their guns. ‘I am confident that Mary Sue will have the chance to explain what I have done, and I hope you will understand, and know that I am sorry. Remember this for then: I am doing this now because…’ She looked again at Johnny Depp. ‘Partly it is because it is the least I owe you, and partly it is because I love you, and I have always loved you.’
Johnny Depp’s eyes suddenly flickered in recognition. ‘You! It’s… I can’t believe it. You survived our expulsion to earth! It was you all this time! I presumed you had…’
‘It was better that way. I’m sorry.’ And she turned her face away from him.
‘Well,’ said David Beckham, ‘that was all very touching. And now I have a little surprise for everyone. You all see how your precious Teacher has given herself up for Johnny Depp, believing he is not a spy? I know, because I know these things, that deep down, you fear that she has made a terrible, catastrophic, final mistake. Well, let me put your mutual minds at rest. Johnny Depp is not our spy.’
‘Who is?’ said the red-haired girl.
‘I am,’ said David Tennant stepping onto a platform above us. ‘I am sorry, Teacher.’
I felt everything falling away. ‘Yes, indeed,' said David Beckham. 'Your precious, deceitful little David Tennant has led the other "rescue party" into its appointed trap. I wouldn’t want you to die thinking there was any hope. Teacher, I cannot understand why the Master was so worried about you.’
‘You’ll learn,’ said Miss Smallbone, quietly and impossibly sad. ‘In the very end, everyone learns. I’m ready.’
‘I doubt that very much. Now let’s see if this black hole works.’ David Beckham pressed the button, and Miss Smallbone swung into the pipe. Her short scream filled the room for a long time, more horrible than anything I and possibly begin to describe, as if someone was scraping a nail down a blackboard in every atom of my body. When I think of that moment, I can still hear and feel the echoes of it. David Beckham, trying to pretend he wasn’t shaken, held a device to the side of the pipe, and said, ‘It works.’
***
David Tennant climbed down the ladder into the main hall. He moved slowly, reluctantly, not as if he’d done something wrong, but as if he were embarrassed. He looked at me, and said, ‘I do love you, Mary Sue. The Teacher didn’t understand. This will be the best thing, in the end.’ I knew other things were happening and being said, but that was all I heard clearly, because my mind was almost filled with him, with wanting to trust him. Dimly I was aware of the vicious fury of the caged angels, and David Beckham’s sardonic replies that there was no help coming, that all their friends were sleeping, and that David Tennant was returning to his real people, the demons he had fought alongside for long millennia, and who he had never really turned away from. Then David Tennant said, ‘No, David Beckham. I turned away from you. I will not have my love for Guinevere belittled. I do love your mother, Mary Sue.’
‘Then why?’ I said.
‘Because I have her,’ said Victoria Beckham, dragging a battered and bleeding Billie Piper onto the platform alongside her husband. It looked as if she was using every piece of her strength simply to breath. ‘Pathetic creature that she is. And David Tennant, like a good dog, knows his master. Don’t you boy.’
‘His master!’ I said. ‘Are you the Master?’
David Beckham guffawed instinctively, and then said, ‘Sorry, Victoria, but that was funny. I mean, you are an idiot.’
‘I know you’re joking, babe,’ said Victoria, ‘but you can be really hurtful sometimes.’
David Tennant was in the middle of the hall. When Billie Piper managed to lift her head to see what was going on, she said, ‘Oh God, no David, no, don’t do it. Don’t do it for me! You should have left me! What have you done?’
‘It’s too late,’ David said rushing to her.
‘No!’ she said, trying to resist him. Then. ‘No, David!’ But her voice was not as emphatic as it might have been, and now she was holding her hands to him, trembling with the need to touch him. They looked into each others’ eyes in the way that should have given the game away long ago, but maybe cameras can’t capture it, in the final analysis, and anyway, there are none so blind as they that cannot see. I didn’t for one second feel like a daughter witnessing her parents in a moment of joy. I felt many other things, which included sadness, anger, rage and jealousy. I think I can be forgiven for having been conflicted. Then David Tennant turned and said to me, and the other angels, all the while keeping hold of my mother’s hand. ‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘They’ve won. Or, I mean, WE’ve won, our RACE has won. But that doesn’t mean the end of all you hold dear. It just means something new is starting. They haven’t killed you because they know that you will be powerful in the new world, the world after the Gate opens. They don’t expect you to agree with them then, they are not morally facile, and they know that life is always conflict, but the time has come for our restoration.’ He seemed to be speaking mostly to me. ‘The prophecy says that for you to kill the Master, your mother and I must sacrifice ourselves for you, Mary Sue, and we haven’t. You WILL join the Master, and it will not be the catastrophe you have been told. Great power can do great good. But you have to agree willingly. That is why you are not caged. That is why everyone is talking to you. We will not use coercion.’ Billie Piper next to him was shaking her head that this was wrong, wrong, wrong, but she couldn’t let him go, and her flank leant towards his. When their hips touched, David Tennant’s eyes closed momentarily, as if his heart had been run though with an invisible sword. His face had a maniacal gleam throughout this speech, a desperate air, as if he knew I wasn’t convinced. I was trying to persuade myself that this was shame at what he had done, but the gleam might just have been the tears in my eyes.
‘What will happen to everyone?’ I said weakly. ‘To us, I mean, to human people?’
‘You will have great influence, Mary Sue,’ he said. ‘You are the Chosen One. All you have to do is to join us, freely.’
‘Mother?’ I asked.
Billie Piper crumpled then and David Tennant had to hold her up. She looked up and said, ‘I don’t know.’ She looked at David and added, ‘They said I would die soon unless you… No. Don’t do it, my daughter, who I love.’ Her knees went again, and she hung in David’s arms, and said, ‘I don’t know anything any more.’
‘We cannot coerce you,’ David repeated. I thought there was almost a note of desperation creeping into his voice.
‘I can, though,’ said Rollo Price, stepping suddenly out of the darkness, faster than anyone could react, and resting a cold blade against my hot neck.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Chapter 61: True Love Knows No Reason (Part 1)
I’d been certain we were being followed, and now I knew who by. Miss Smallbone stood still and quiet, looking at David Beckham, who was trying to pretend he wasn’t disconcerted by her sudden appearance and struggling to remember where he knew her from. ‘Who are you?’ said the red-haired girl, her foot shifting on Johnny Depp’s neck. ‘They were waiting for us. Only Johnny knew enough about our plans to tell him enough in advance.’
‘You have to believe her!’ I said.
‘What? Why, who is she?’ demanded the red-haired girl and her fellow angels. I wanted to tell her that Miss Smallbone was the Teacher, who they worshipped and who had saved their lives and millions of others many times over, and that whatever she said was to be trusted, but I also knew that Miss Smallbone was crazy with love for Johnny Depp, which might have forced her into the terrible mistake of coming into the open too early, just to save him, and if she had made that mistake then I wasn’t going to compound it by revealing her super-secret true identity, because that would be an inevitable total disaster.
‘I’m the Teacher,’ said Miss Smallbone.
There was a disbelieving moment, and four thocks as a collection of tranquilliser darts peppered the ground near her feet, bouncing off the transparent neopropylene walls of the cage. ‘Mary Sue knows who I am, and so do you, deep down, Mr Beckham. Who else would be standing so precisely out of the firing lines of your clumsily concealed sharpshooters, and who else would be aware that… Wait a moment.’ In a single, flowing movement, she whipped a pistol from under her jacket, stepped to the right, crouched and shot into the darkness over my shoulder. A body plummeted sixty feet to the ground. ‘Pardon me, he was moving.’
‘She IS the Teacher,’ I said. The red-haired girl began to lift her foot. ‘She saved me when I was in Los Angeles.’
‘You were one of the maids at Harrison Ford’s mansion!’ said David Beckham, his face clearing. ‘I knew I’d seen you before. You’re good. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind telling me…’
‘Nice try, Mr Beckham,’ said Miss Smallbone. She tumbled to her left, shot again, and another body fell from the shadows. Everyone was looking at it as it tumbled, and by the time they turned back to Miss Smallbone, she was gone.
***
‘I cannot believe the Teacher’s a woman,’ said Johnny Depp, rubbing his neck.
‘Why?’ said the red-haired angel.
‘Don’t be angry with me, Red. You were just as surprised as I was.’
‘Fascinating as this is, to be sure,’ said David Beckham, ‘I have things to do. Johnny, the fact that you managed to fool the Teacher as well is interesting to me.’
‘Nice try, Mr Beckham,’ I said. ‘They don’t believe you now.’
‘Nice try, Miss Park,’ he replied smoothly. ‘You hate the thought your precious Teacher might have been wrong, but everyone makes mistakes, even the Teacher. I really do think I want Depp out of there unhurt, so stand away from him.’ One of the angels stepped in front of Johnny and immediately collapsed with a little red dart in his neck. ‘This will be much easier if you cooperate, don’t you think? Stand away from the door.’ David Beckham came to the door as if I was nothing to be afraid of, and opened it. At first Johnny stayed with the others. David nodded and another angel fell. ‘The next time,’ he said, ‘it won’t be a tranquilliser.’ Johnny emerged. David was careful to remain at a distance from him, ignoring me again as he ordered Depp over to the largest of the pipes. A row of crude but effective looking shackles had been freshly welded along the pipe’s side. The shackles were each attached to sort of doors which looked as if they opened into the pipe. Two huge, silent, grey-suited men emerged to bind Depp to one of the doors. David Beckham said something to him, and he replied furiously, and they hissed an angry exchange, but they were too far for us to catch what they were saying. It ended when David Beckham took a foot-long metal stanchion from the floor and swung it into Johnny Depp’s side with a sickening thud. Then he brought it down on Depp’s forearm, which cracked like a dry branch and hung at an appalling angle. David Beckham looked at us with a horrifying light in his face that I hadn’t seen before, and he said, ‘Well, do you know, I think I’ve had an idea.’
‘Don’t listen to him,’ pleaded Johnny, his voice coming in ragged gasps. ‘Don’t listen to anything he says.’
‘Since I KNOW Depp is a traitor, and since the Teacher is so blind to it that she foolishly revealed herself – and a certain kudos attaches for playing on our sexist assumptions that you were a man, Teacher – I can’t help but think she has been blinded by Depp in the same way that some of you, Mary Sue for one,’ and here David Beckham smirked coldly, ‘have always been. It’s pathetic. I myself am immune to love, now.’ He patted the huge pipe. ‘In here, top scientists controlled by us have produced a stable entity extremely like a black hole. Since the only way of killing demons or angels permanently is to put us in a black hole or cut off their heads with your father’s magic sword, this is a very useful thing, don’t you think? But we really do have to test it. We THINK it will kill by ripping the brain apart strand by strand in a way that is objectively fairly instantaneous but will feel like a subjective eternity of slow pain. But who knows? We should certainly test it, and since no one likes a traitor, maybe we will use Johnny. Unless anyone else wants to step forward. Anyone?’ He moved to a control panel. ‘Well then,’ he said, ‘all I have to do is press this big green button, and…’
‘No!’ said Miss Smallbone, standing next to me again. ‘Don’t do it. You can have me.’
‘You have to believe her!’ I said.
‘What? Why, who is she?’ demanded the red-haired girl and her fellow angels. I wanted to tell her that Miss Smallbone was the Teacher, who they worshipped and who had saved their lives and millions of others many times over, and that whatever she said was to be trusted, but I also knew that Miss Smallbone was crazy with love for Johnny Depp, which might have forced her into the terrible mistake of coming into the open too early, just to save him, and if she had made that mistake then I wasn’t going to compound it by revealing her super-secret true identity, because that would be an inevitable total disaster.
‘I’m the Teacher,’ said Miss Smallbone.
There was a disbelieving moment, and four thocks as a collection of tranquilliser darts peppered the ground near her feet, bouncing off the transparent neopropylene walls of the cage. ‘Mary Sue knows who I am, and so do you, deep down, Mr Beckham. Who else would be standing so precisely out of the firing lines of your clumsily concealed sharpshooters, and who else would be aware that… Wait a moment.’ In a single, flowing movement, she whipped a pistol from under her jacket, stepped to the right, crouched and shot into the darkness over my shoulder. A body plummeted sixty feet to the ground. ‘Pardon me, he was moving.’
‘She IS the Teacher,’ I said. The red-haired girl began to lift her foot. ‘She saved me when I was in Los Angeles.’
‘You were one of the maids at Harrison Ford’s mansion!’ said David Beckham, his face clearing. ‘I knew I’d seen you before. You’re good. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind telling me…’
‘Nice try, Mr Beckham,’ said Miss Smallbone. She tumbled to her left, shot again, and another body fell from the shadows. Everyone was looking at it as it tumbled, and by the time they turned back to Miss Smallbone, she was gone.
***
‘I cannot believe the Teacher’s a woman,’ said Johnny Depp, rubbing his neck.
‘Why?’ said the red-haired angel.
‘Don’t be angry with me, Red. You were just as surprised as I was.’
‘Fascinating as this is, to be sure,’ said David Beckham, ‘I have things to do. Johnny, the fact that you managed to fool the Teacher as well is interesting to me.’
‘Nice try, Mr Beckham,’ I said. ‘They don’t believe you now.’
‘Nice try, Miss Park,’ he replied smoothly. ‘You hate the thought your precious Teacher might have been wrong, but everyone makes mistakes, even the Teacher. I really do think I want Depp out of there unhurt, so stand away from him.’ One of the angels stepped in front of Johnny and immediately collapsed with a little red dart in his neck. ‘This will be much easier if you cooperate, don’t you think? Stand away from the door.’ David Beckham came to the door as if I was nothing to be afraid of, and opened it. At first Johnny stayed with the others. David nodded and another angel fell. ‘The next time,’ he said, ‘it won’t be a tranquilliser.’ Johnny emerged. David was careful to remain at a distance from him, ignoring me again as he ordered Depp over to the largest of the pipes. A row of crude but effective looking shackles had been freshly welded along the pipe’s side. The shackles were each attached to sort of doors which looked as if they opened into the pipe. Two huge, silent, grey-suited men emerged to bind Depp to one of the doors. David Beckham said something to him, and he replied furiously, and they hissed an angry exchange, but they were too far for us to catch what they were saying. It ended when David Beckham took a foot-long metal stanchion from the floor and swung it into Johnny Depp’s side with a sickening thud. Then he brought it down on Depp’s forearm, which cracked like a dry branch and hung at an appalling angle. David Beckham looked at us with a horrifying light in his face that I hadn’t seen before, and he said, ‘Well, do you know, I think I’ve had an idea.’
‘Don’t listen to him,’ pleaded Johnny, his voice coming in ragged gasps. ‘Don’t listen to anything he says.’
‘Since I KNOW Depp is a traitor, and since the Teacher is so blind to it that she foolishly revealed herself – and a certain kudos attaches for playing on our sexist assumptions that you were a man, Teacher – I can’t help but think she has been blinded by Depp in the same way that some of you, Mary Sue for one,’ and here David Beckham smirked coldly, ‘have always been. It’s pathetic. I myself am immune to love, now.’ He patted the huge pipe. ‘In here, top scientists controlled by us have produced a stable entity extremely like a black hole. Since the only way of killing demons or angels permanently is to put us in a black hole or cut off their heads with your father’s magic sword, this is a very useful thing, don’t you think? But we really do have to test it. We THINK it will kill by ripping the brain apart strand by strand in a way that is objectively fairly instantaneous but will feel like a subjective eternity of slow pain. But who knows? We should certainly test it, and since no one likes a traitor, maybe we will use Johnny. Unless anyone else wants to step forward. Anyone?’ He moved to a control panel. ‘Well then,’ he said, ‘all I have to do is press this big green button, and…’
‘No!’ said Miss Smallbone, standing next to me again. ‘Don’t do it. You can have me.’
Monday, November 5, 2007
Chapter 60: Best Laid Plans
Before David Beckham had finished his smug little speech, the small red-haired angel was firing at him and the bullets were spattering back off a transparent wall. ‘Bulletproof neopropylene,’ he said. ‘I’m not a complete idiot. Now, as you can imagine, you are covered by a variety of my men who are out of your sight but who will kill you as soon as I ask them to, so please put down your weapons.’ One of the other angels took another shot at the clear plastic wall and crumpled instantly, riddled with bullets. That left eight of us. ‘Please don’t do that again,’ said David Beckham. ‘Honestly, we’d rather not kill you.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re not barbarians, Miss Park, whatever your so-called-friends have tried to make you believe. We do not enjoy killing, and we do not, or most of us do not, think if humans as irrelevant or worthless. All we wish is to return, after long millions of years, to our birthright. If you remembered seeing, and walking, but you had been paralysed and blinded for fifty years, would you not yearn for you sight and your legs? Is it not natural? It would not mean you hate the blind. Now, put down your weapons.’
‘What if we refuse?’
‘We will shoot you all,' and here he raised his voice to speak to his unseen companions, 'WITH TRANQUILLISERS.’
‘But…’
David Beckham nodded, a dull shot barked, and another angel fell, this time with less in the way of sickening finality. ‘I really do not want to do it,’ he said. ‘It’s messy, undignified and unnecessary. So, please?’ We put down our guns. ‘Knives too, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Especially you, Red. Now walk away from them, and round there, and towards me, and you see that door in the neopolypropylene, yes there, come through that and join me.’ When she was ten feet from him, the red-haired girl leapt at David only to thud off another invisible wall. David smiled, ‘It really is incredible stuff,’ he said, ‘Non-glare. The French have some outstandingly good scientists, and some of them are even human.’ I was at the back of the group, and as I walked forward, an almost invisible door was swung shut behind the others but in front of me by a grey-jacketed man who had suddenly appeared. The door was the only relatively visible piece of the cage.
‘How did you know we were here?’ said the red-haired girl, staring at Johnny. ‘How were you waiting for us?’
David laughed. ‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m sorry, precious angels, but you surely knew from very early on that we had spies in your camp? You surely knew as soon as Centrepoint? Well done, Johnny. You’ve done a sterling job.’
Johnny Depp stood with a stunned expression, open-mouthed, but also not quite part of the group, who were all close enough to touch each other, but none of whom was close enough, quite, to touch him. I sensed the angels tense, instinctively preparing to tear him apart. Johnny said,
‘He’s lying. It’s a lie.’
‘But why would I lie, Johnny? You can join us now, can’t you, because we said that’s what would happen at this point! Because we are your true friends, aren’t we? All you need to do is, oh, wait, I see, I’ve clumsily mentioned this just AFTER I put you in the bullet-proof box where we can’t protect you. What a mistake! I could get that door opened, but how would you get to it in time with Red in the way!’ David Beckham smiled and walked to the clear wall where he stood face to face with Johnny Depp, and said, ‘I suppose I must have subconsciously have been thinking that your usefulness to the Master is over now, and that…’ He tailed off, and shrugged. There was a violent flurry, a set of movements I couldn’t follow, at the end of which two angels were nursing themselves while two others held down Johnny and the red-haired girl had her foot pressed on his throat.
‘This isn’t true, Red,’ he gargled. ‘None of this is true!’
‘None of it?’ said David Beckham. ‘Not even the part where we contacted you and Vanessa and told you that if you joined us you would finally be able to be together for all time, rather than being constantly separated by death? And you both officially scorned us, but our people saw you weaken, because you are weak, and so we met up with you privately and explained that as soon as the Gates of Hell are open, all this fighting will be over, and it will be just you and Vanessa forever, and all we asked you to do was get as close to the Chosen One as you possibly could, and tell us of the Teacher’s plans for thwarting us. And here you are, and we were waiting.’
Johnny Depp turned his eyes to me and he said, ‘This is a lie, Mary Sue. You know it is. He’s trying to divide us.’
‘Hmm,’ said David Beckham. ‘But didn’t he get very close to you? Didn’t he?’
He had done, but he said there was nothing in it, really, except it had been hard to… And there had been… I looked at him lying there, and how had David Beckham known about this? Johnny saw what I was thinking, and he looked at me with a betrayed face, then he twisted his eyes back up: ‘You know me, Red!’ he said. He was trying to speak calmly, but there was desperation in his eyes. ‘Think! Why would he be saying this while I’m in here? It would have been easy for me to go in last and stay outside the box.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so,’ said David Beckham. ‘If we’d told you as much about our plans as you told us about theirs. You’re a traitor, and although we’ve used you because we didn’t want to risk any action that might have harmed Mary Sue, we really don’t like traitors. So you stay in the box.’
‘It’s not true. Think, Mary Sue! You were in their house, you know what they’re like! They’re liars, don’t sink to their level! You know they’re liars! They're trying to divide us!’
‘I have no reason to lie any more, Johnny. We’ve won. We’ve got the Chosen One, and she’s safe at last, safe from your precious Teacher. Although she always was safe once the Teacher decided you were the one he could trust to kill her if it became necessary.’ It took a moment for this to register, and then I looked at Johnny on the floor, and then I looked at David Beckham. ‘Oh, come now,’ said David. ‘Surely you realised that the Teacher would have ordered someone to kill you if everything went wrong? To stop the Gate opening? Surely you didn’t think he would take any risk? Johnny was the man, but I dare say that when he didn’t do it, one of the other bright sparks, Red maybe, would have taken matters into their own hands. Wouldn’t you, Red? Just like she’s taken control of the situation now. She’s a warrior. Warriors kill their enemies, and Johnny is most assuredly that, my dears.’ He flicked his eyes upwards, and ran his hands through his hair with a gentle smile. ‘He has led you to the end of all your hopes. It’s time for him to die.’
‘No!’ said a calm, high voice behind me, and Miss Smallbone stepped out from behind a gleaming console, and felled my grey-jacketed guard with a touch of her hand to his side that left him writhing in pain. ‘You are lying. Johnny Depp is not a traitor!’ Her voice was calm, but I was close enough to see that her hands were trembling and her knuckles were white.
‘Why?’
‘We’re not barbarians, Miss Park, whatever your so-called-friends have tried to make you believe. We do not enjoy killing, and we do not, or most of us do not, think if humans as irrelevant or worthless. All we wish is to return, after long millions of years, to our birthright. If you remembered seeing, and walking, but you had been paralysed and blinded for fifty years, would you not yearn for you sight and your legs? Is it not natural? It would not mean you hate the blind. Now, put down your weapons.’
‘What if we refuse?’
‘We will shoot you all,' and here he raised his voice to speak to his unseen companions, 'WITH TRANQUILLISERS.’
‘But…’
David Beckham nodded, a dull shot barked, and another angel fell, this time with less in the way of sickening finality. ‘I really do not want to do it,’ he said. ‘It’s messy, undignified and unnecessary. So, please?’ We put down our guns. ‘Knives too, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Especially you, Red. Now walk away from them, and round there, and towards me, and you see that door in the neopolypropylene, yes there, come through that and join me.’ When she was ten feet from him, the red-haired girl leapt at David only to thud off another invisible wall. David smiled, ‘It really is incredible stuff,’ he said, ‘Non-glare. The French have some outstandingly good scientists, and some of them are even human.’ I was at the back of the group, and as I walked forward, an almost invisible door was swung shut behind the others but in front of me by a grey-jacketed man who had suddenly appeared. The door was the only relatively visible piece of the cage.
‘How did you know we were here?’ said the red-haired girl, staring at Johnny. ‘How were you waiting for us?’
David laughed. ‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m sorry, precious angels, but you surely knew from very early on that we had spies in your camp? You surely knew as soon as Centrepoint? Well done, Johnny. You’ve done a sterling job.’
Johnny Depp stood with a stunned expression, open-mouthed, but also not quite part of the group, who were all close enough to touch each other, but none of whom was close enough, quite, to touch him. I sensed the angels tense, instinctively preparing to tear him apart. Johnny said,
‘He’s lying. It’s a lie.’
‘But why would I lie, Johnny? You can join us now, can’t you, because we said that’s what would happen at this point! Because we are your true friends, aren’t we? All you need to do is, oh, wait, I see, I’ve clumsily mentioned this just AFTER I put you in the bullet-proof box where we can’t protect you. What a mistake! I could get that door opened, but how would you get to it in time with Red in the way!’ David Beckham smiled and walked to the clear wall where he stood face to face with Johnny Depp, and said, ‘I suppose I must have subconsciously have been thinking that your usefulness to the Master is over now, and that…’ He tailed off, and shrugged. There was a violent flurry, a set of movements I couldn’t follow, at the end of which two angels were nursing themselves while two others held down Johnny and the red-haired girl had her foot pressed on his throat.
‘This isn’t true, Red,’ he gargled. ‘None of this is true!’
‘None of it?’ said David Beckham. ‘Not even the part where we contacted you and Vanessa and told you that if you joined us you would finally be able to be together for all time, rather than being constantly separated by death? And you both officially scorned us, but our people saw you weaken, because you are weak, and so we met up with you privately and explained that as soon as the Gates of Hell are open, all this fighting will be over, and it will be just you and Vanessa forever, and all we asked you to do was get as close to the Chosen One as you possibly could, and tell us of the Teacher’s plans for thwarting us. And here you are, and we were waiting.’
Johnny Depp turned his eyes to me and he said, ‘This is a lie, Mary Sue. You know it is. He’s trying to divide us.’
‘Hmm,’ said David Beckham. ‘But didn’t he get very close to you? Didn’t he?’
He had done, but he said there was nothing in it, really, except it had been hard to… And there had been… I looked at him lying there, and how had David Beckham known about this? Johnny saw what I was thinking, and he looked at me with a betrayed face, then he twisted his eyes back up: ‘You know me, Red!’ he said. He was trying to speak calmly, but there was desperation in his eyes. ‘Think! Why would he be saying this while I’m in here? It would have been easy for me to go in last and stay outside the box.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so,’ said David Beckham. ‘If we’d told you as much about our plans as you told us about theirs. You’re a traitor, and although we’ve used you because we didn’t want to risk any action that might have harmed Mary Sue, we really don’t like traitors. So you stay in the box.’
‘It’s not true. Think, Mary Sue! You were in their house, you know what they’re like! They’re liars, don’t sink to their level! You know they’re liars! They're trying to divide us!’
‘I have no reason to lie any more, Johnny. We’ve won. We’ve got the Chosen One, and she’s safe at last, safe from your precious Teacher. Although she always was safe once the Teacher decided you were the one he could trust to kill her if it became necessary.’ It took a moment for this to register, and then I looked at Johnny on the floor, and then I looked at David Beckham. ‘Oh, come now,’ said David. ‘Surely you realised that the Teacher would have ordered someone to kill you if everything went wrong? To stop the Gate opening? Surely you didn’t think he would take any risk? Johnny was the man, but I dare say that when he didn’t do it, one of the other bright sparks, Red maybe, would have taken matters into their own hands. Wouldn’t you, Red? Just like she’s taken control of the situation now. She’s a warrior. Warriors kill their enemies, and Johnny is most assuredly that, my dears.’ He flicked his eyes upwards, and ran his hands through his hair with a gentle smile. ‘He has led you to the end of all your hopes. It’s time for him to die.’
‘No!’ said a calm, high voice behind me, and Miss Smallbone stepped out from behind a gleaming console, and felled my grey-jacketed guard with a touch of her hand to his side that left him writhing in pain. ‘You are lying. Johnny Depp is not a traitor!’ Her voice was calm, but I was close enough to see that her hands were trembling and her knuckles were white.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
WEEKEND TWELVE
Well, well, well. It's literally been a journey. I have done Monday's chapter. It does not resolve everything. That is all I am prepared to reveal at this point.
Now, some housekeeping: I have really enjoyed doing this, ludicrous impracticality aside. I have a strong sense that there will be a sort-of-sequel, by which I mean another story of this type, rather than a continuation of the same story. The likelihood is that this will not happen immediately, but will happen soon. Because you do not want to be checking an unchanging website all the time, waiting, waiting, waiting, be still your beating heart, etc., I will be creating a Mary Sue distribution list, and sending out an email when things start moving again. For you to be on this list, you will have to email me. I promise I will not try to sell you viagra, whatever that is.
It's been a while since I rounded up information from Google Analytics: Japan looks set to beat Canada in what has been a very even battle. It is hard to fully grasp America's place in the grand scheme of things, since I was there for a while and going onto the site, but even if I remove New York, the States definitely have moved into second place. Australia has been respectable, I finally got some South American visitors (who took one look and ran for the hills), but Africa has been utterly absent. Utterly. This might not bother you, but Africa is the land of my fathers.
For no easily explicable reason, I had a visitor-spike on Friday 26th October. These visitors did not come from a new referrer or anything. Or maybe it was one visitor reading everything but doing so late and over the course of a day, from a computer that seemed like a different computer to Analytics every time it logged on. That is the best explanation I can come up with.
Traffic sources - mainly returners, and lots via sites of frequent-commenter-Marie. Of the interesting search terms that brought people, here are some:
"french are crazy"
'i had sex with you"
"blast furnace expression anglaise"
david beckham+maid
david tennant swimming
demon hierarchy
does ewan mcgregor wear a wig?
rich prostitute
nuclear bomb head in paper bag
there is nothing special about me
shagging
what dont you get from meat
Stay strong, people.
Now, some housekeeping: I have really enjoyed doing this, ludicrous impracticality aside. I have a strong sense that there will be a sort-of-sequel, by which I mean another story of this type, rather than a continuation of the same story. The likelihood is that this will not happen immediately, but will happen soon. Because you do not want to be checking an unchanging website all the time, waiting, waiting, waiting, be still your beating heart, etc., I will be creating a Mary Sue distribution list, and sending out an email when things start moving again. For you to be on this list, you will have to email me. I promise I will not try to sell you viagra, whatever that is.
It's been a while since I rounded up information from Google Analytics: Japan looks set to beat Canada in what has been a very even battle. It is hard to fully grasp America's place in the grand scheme of things, since I was there for a while and going onto the site, but even if I remove New York, the States definitely have moved into second place. Australia has been respectable, I finally got some South American visitors (who took one look and ran for the hills), but Africa has been utterly absent. Utterly. This might not bother you, but Africa is the land of my fathers.
For no easily explicable reason, I had a visitor-spike on Friday 26th October. These visitors did not come from a new referrer or anything. Or maybe it was one visitor reading everything but doing so late and over the course of a day, from a computer that seemed like a different computer to Analytics every time it logged on. That is the best explanation I can come up with.
Traffic sources - mainly returners, and lots via sites of frequent-commenter-Marie. Of the interesting search terms that brought people, here are some:
"french are crazy"
'i had sex with you"
"blast furnace expression anglaise"
david beckham+maid
david tennant swimming
demon hierarchy
does ewan mcgregor wear a wig?
rich prostitute
nuclear bomb head in paper bag
there is nothing special about me
shagging
what dont you get from meat
Stay strong, people.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Chapter 59: It's Time for the Denouement
I won’t bore you with the details of how we all stumbled out of bed, hung over and dreadful, stinking and smelling of spent or frustrated lust. Or of how Kylie had been up for two hours making the most amazing breakfast ever served to condemned men, which I took one look at and knew I couldn’t touch. Or of how Freddie Flintoff wandered through the house finding the designated soldiers and expeditionaries and giving us all a little black pill, and how we swallowed them and suddenly felt completely fine, and how we then ate, drank coffee and laughed about last night, and how Katharine and David-Mitchell-the-novelist thought no one could see what they were doing under the table. I won’t bother you with the tedious business of getting suited up with hi-tech weapons, of how we dressed our look-alikes and sent them in blacked-out cars to a meeting at Whitehall which we hoped would fool the enemy, at least for a bit, or of how the incursion team took a tunnel to three streets away where we emerging from a manhole and straight through the floors of three specially-adapted white vans which took us to a small facility in the flats to the east of London’s East End. I won’t explain how we circumvented air traffic control in our pair of stealth-adapted helicopters, or how Miss Smallbone told us to enter French airspace through a gap in their radar coverage that was invisible to their maps and computer systems, and which Miss Smallbone had prepared many years ago, just in case, because you never know what might come in useful further down the line. I will also not go through all the things David Tennant said on the flight, recapitulating exactly what it was we were doing and why. It was pretty complicated, and there’s no point in bothering with you with precisely how the Teacher finally realised that the demons’ plan in taking military control of France was nothing to do with expansionism – that was all just a distraction while they gained control of the whizzo new European particle supercollider, which they were sure could produce, if properly managed, a small black hole. I don’t understand the science, so there would be no point in even beginning to describe why that would be a bad thing, and that there is no such thing, really, as a ‘small’ black hole, and that it would still be the end of everything we know. But, according to one reading of the prophecies, it might also open the Gate to Hell (a bad thing), so long as the Master and the Chosen One were present to manage it. I will not repeat all my arguments, which were vigorous, that I should absolutely not be there, for this very reason, or the counter-arguments, which ran along the lines of: the Chosen One, says another reading of the prophecy, won’t help the Master, but will destroy both him and the Gate to Hell, and thus save the world forever. I won’t go on about how I resisted, even now, when the others asked me to tell them about the Teacher, or how I felt when David Tennant looked at me approvingly when I did so. I won’t describe how we did have plans for blasting our way into the supercollider facility if it was necessary, but how we didn’t have to use those plans because we managed to land unseen in a forest. Or how we trekked for an hour to the perimeter and we disabled the guards, how some of us took their uniforms and how we broke into the main building, which looked like one of those cool new tube stations on the Jubilee Line extension, which seemed rather small for such an apocalyptic showdown, but then when we went inside I gasped because it was just the pimple on the surface, and the underground halls of the supercollider seemed to go on forever with lots of white-suited scientists in little golf-carts. I won’t go on about the strange sense I had all the time that we were being followed. I won’t describe how we wasted twenty minutes walking the wrong direction because Jeremy Clarkson held the map the wrong way, or how Jeremy’s wife laughed at him, or how a guard heard her and there was a fight during which the guard was killed, but so was Jeremy Clarkson, with his wife crying and Jeremy saying, ‘Oh no! Ow, no, don’t try and help me, I’m definitely dying. No, darling, don’t worry about me dying to save your life after you just, no!, don’t cry, I’m joking!, it’s a funny story really, think of it like that and look after the kids and tell them how brave I was, yes!, laugh, that’s better!, ow, it’s got cold, hasn’t it?, and why is everyone talking so quietly, and, oh, I love you and… Oh…’ Or how we eventually found our way to the holy of holies, although by this time, as per our plan, we had split up into two groups, and I was in a group with Johnny Depp and David Tennant was in the other group. I won’t describe any of these things because they are basically irrelevant compared to the fact that, as we peered around the corner into the last deep hole, with huge pipes gleaming in the background, David Beckham was standing there waiting for us, saying, ‘Hello, Mary Sue. We have been waiting for you and your little friends. You really didn’t have to do all that skulking. It was inevitable you’d arrive here, that’s the thing about prophecies. And now, it’s time for the denouement.’
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Chapter 58: In the Orchard II: (Silver)
My friend Morgan is chubby and not unpleasant to look at. He’s averagely funny, but he doesn’t worry about it or try hard, and he laughs with genuine enjoyment at people who care more about things like that. He’s a banker, and he does fine. He has sandy hair, which has always been thin, so I don’t think it’s getting thinner. Girls like him, but they don’t really fancy him unless they are drunk. But for some reason, if they are drunk, Morgan becomes irresistible. No one can explain why this is, it just is, and whenever he’s with us on a night out, one of the most enjoyable bits of the evening is the moment where strange girls start coming over and throwing themselves at him. (We, his close friends, have been mainly inoculated by years and years of contact, but we all had our moments.) Sometimes Morgan has a girlfriend, but usually he doesn’t because it’s hard to have a girlfriend if wherever you go the most beautiful girls in the room start stroking your arm and slipping their numbers into your pocket as if you are film star taking a break from the movies to be a Formula One driver and qualify as a paediatrician.
I sat in the front of the minivan-taxi from Pin Head to Mayfair. Johnny Depp was in the back row with Jeremy Clarkson’s wife, and in the middle row Morgan was sandwiched between Kylie Minogue and the little red-haired angel who drove me to Luton airport what seemed like a lifetime ago. Kylie mumbled, so she had to practically touch Morgan’s ear with her mouth, ‘I can’t believe I normally date larrikins like dancers and models, etc., if bankers are all like you. You are so much more bonza than all those raw prawns, don’t you agree?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Morgan. ‘I’m pretty boring when you get to know me.’
‘You’re so funny,’ said Kylie.
‘I’m really not. I can’t believe you are millions of years old.’
‘That’s not very gallant, you dingo.’
‘I’m sorry, I just meant…’
‘I don’t mind, you pelican. I was just kidding. You learn a lot of things in a million years, especially if you spend a lot of time down under, if you understand what I’m saying?’
‘I do,’ said Morgan. ‘That’s a really funny joke.’
‘Geez, Morgo, none of the drongoes I’ve been ever get my jokes. They don’t think women can be funny. You’re a fair dinkum beaut, etc.’ All this time, the red-haired angel was pressing her futile knee into Morgan’s, unable to resist him but knowing in her heart that she was hopelessly outmatched. But I’d been watching Morgan dance with the red-haired girl all evening, and now I saw him find her hand. Kylie saw her too, and she said, ‘Good decision, mate, I don’t blame you. Red’s the real thing. She’s going with Mary Sue when… I shouldn’t say. She’s amazing, mate.’ In the end, when we got to the house, Morgan and the red-haired girl said Kylie could join them upstairs if she wanted, and Kylie said, ‘Really, mate! That’s totally bonza! You sure you don’t mind? I know I’m just the third, don’t worry. I’ll just help out any way I can.’
I went into the garden, past David-Mitchell-the-novelist and Katharine, who were half-undressed barely out of sight of the kitchen window, and went to the back wall, where I waited for where I knew Johnny Depp would come to join me. He did, and we leaned back against the dry brick looking at the silver trees and held hands. We knew that nothing more than this would happen, and that we should go inside and sleep. But also, with out hands, we acknowledged how much we both wanted to do the things we weren’t going to do. I knew some reasons, and he knew some reasons, and they had to be enough reasons, however drunk we were. Then Johnny said, ‘We might die tomorrow.’ I said nothing, just pressed my side against him. ‘I love Vanessa, Mary Sue. I love her forever. And I know you don’t love me.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘It would just be lust if it happened. Which it won’t.’
My voice was husky because I could remember what it was like with him, which was, well. You either know what I mean or you don’t, and if you don’t I can’t describe it for you, because I’d heard it described enough times but I didn’t understand until Johnny. He said, ‘Yes, it would be wrong. Let’s go inside.’ But I didn’t move, and nor did he. And then he said, ‘I’ve lost her thousands of times, Mary Sue. Don’t think it’s ever easy, but when it happens, I deal with it like I deal with death in war, by denying it until there’s time to cope privately. But that only works when I’m with someone who doesn’t understand what’s happening, because then I don’t have to think about it or pretend, and they can assume they have all of me. But with you, I know you understand, and I also know you’re only doing it because you also can’t have who you want. So we should go inside now. I wouldn’t even be standing here if I wasn’t drunk and if there was no danger that tomorrow would be the end of everything.’ He sounded like he was trying to persuade himself. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he went on, ‘because we’re strong, and we know it would be wrong.’ His hand tightened on mine, but I felt the tightening somewhere else, and I shivered with the force of how hard it was to resist. He was right: we might die tomorrow. What harm could it do? What harm really? Miss Smallbone was jealous, but she could hardly blame… I mean, if this was just about Miss Smallbone being jealous, and not me being in more specific danger then… But Miss Smallbone had fought so hard for so long, and how could I make things worse for her, because if there was one thing I knew, it was that she would know, so… And she’d gone mental a couple of times in the past she said, and the last thing we would need tomorrow was a mental Miss Smallbone… And if Johnny didn’t know about that, and he was just worried about me, then I was the one who really knew where the most pain and danger would be caused, even if it was a thing no one could really help in the long run, and so it was up to me to be strong… But how strong could I be when… But, but, but. I was going to resist him. I knew I was going to resist him. I was almost certainly probably just about to say that we had to go inside when David Tennant called out, ‘Are you alright, Mary Sue?’
‘Yes,’ I called. I’m just coming in.’ I supposed I should have felt like a naughty girl called by her father from her dangerous older boyfriend’s car, but when I saw David, concerned and beautiful, that is not how I felt.
I sat in the front of the minivan-taxi from Pin Head to Mayfair. Johnny Depp was in the back row with Jeremy Clarkson’s wife, and in the middle row Morgan was sandwiched between Kylie Minogue and the little red-haired angel who drove me to Luton airport what seemed like a lifetime ago. Kylie mumbled, so she had to practically touch Morgan’s ear with her mouth, ‘I can’t believe I normally date larrikins like dancers and models, etc., if bankers are all like you. You are so much more bonza than all those raw prawns, don’t you agree?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Morgan. ‘I’m pretty boring when you get to know me.’
‘You’re so funny,’ said Kylie.
‘I’m really not. I can’t believe you are millions of years old.’
‘That’s not very gallant, you dingo.’
‘I’m sorry, I just meant…’
‘I don’t mind, you pelican. I was just kidding. You learn a lot of things in a million years, especially if you spend a lot of time down under, if you understand what I’m saying?’
‘I do,’ said Morgan. ‘That’s a really funny joke.’
‘Geez, Morgo, none of the drongoes I’ve been ever get my jokes. They don’t think women can be funny. You’re a fair dinkum beaut, etc.’ All this time, the red-haired angel was pressing her futile knee into Morgan’s, unable to resist him but knowing in her heart that she was hopelessly outmatched. But I’d been watching Morgan dance with the red-haired girl all evening, and now I saw him find her hand. Kylie saw her too, and she said, ‘Good decision, mate, I don’t blame you. Red’s the real thing. She’s going with Mary Sue when… I shouldn’t say. She’s amazing, mate.’ In the end, when we got to the house, Morgan and the red-haired girl said Kylie could join them upstairs if she wanted, and Kylie said, ‘Really, mate! That’s totally bonza! You sure you don’t mind? I know I’m just the third, don’t worry. I’ll just help out any way I can.’
I went into the garden, past David-Mitchell-the-novelist and Katharine, who were half-undressed barely out of sight of the kitchen window, and went to the back wall, where I waited for where I knew Johnny Depp would come to join me. He did, and we leaned back against the dry brick looking at the silver trees and held hands. We knew that nothing more than this would happen, and that we should go inside and sleep. But also, with out hands, we acknowledged how much we both wanted to do the things we weren’t going to do. I knew some reasons, and he knew some reasons, and they had to be enough reasons, however drunk we were. Then Johnny said, ‘We might die tomorrow.’ I said nothing, just pressed my side against him. ‘I love Vanessa, Mary Sue. I love her forever. And I know you don’t love me.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘It would just be lust if it happened. Which it won’t.’
My voice was husky because I could remember what it was like with him, which was, well. You either know what I mean or you don’t, and if you don’t I can’t describe it for you, because I’d heard it described enough times but I didn’t understand until Johnny. He said, ‘Yes, it would be wrong. Let’s go inside.’ But I didn’t move, and nor did he. And then he said, ‘I’ve lost her thousands of times, Mary Sue. Don’t think it’s ever easy, but when it happens, I deal with it like I deal with death in war, by denying it until there’s time to cope privately. But that only works when I’m with someone who doesn’t understand what’s happening, because then I don’t have to think about it or pretend, and they can assume they have all of me. But with you, I know you understand, and I also know you’re only doing it because you also can’t have who you want. So we should go inside now. I wouldn’t even be standing here if I wasn’t drunk and if there was no danger that tomorrow would be the end of everything.’ He sounded like he was trying to persuade himself. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he went on, ‘because we’re strong, and we know it would be wrong.’ His hand tightened on mine, but I felt the tightening somewhere else, and I shivered with the force of how hard it was to resist. He was right: we might die tomorrow. What harm could it do? What harm really? Miss Smallbone was jealous, but she could hardly blame… I mean, if this was just about Miss Smallbone being jealous, and not me being in more specific danger then… But Miss Smallbone had fought so hard for so long, and how could I make things worse for her, because if there was one thing I knew, it was that she would know, so… And she’d gone mental a couple of times in the past she said, and the last thing we would need tomorrow was a mental Miss Smallbone… And if Johnny didn’t know about that, and he was just worried about me, then I was the one who really knew where the most pain and danger would be caused, even if it was a thing no one could really help in the long run, and so it was up to me to be strong… But how strong could I be when… But, but, but. I was going to resist him. I knew I was going to resist him. I was almost certainly probably just about to say that we had to go inside when David Tennant called out, ‘Are you alright, Mary Sue?’
‘Yes,’ I called. I’m just coming in.’ I supposed I should have felt like a naughty girl called by her father from her dangerous older boyfriend’s car, but when I saw David, concerned and beautiful, that is not how I felt.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Chapter 57: 'Big Deep Breaths, Please, ...
… Johnny Depp. I’m not here to hurt anyone,’ said Rollo, lowering the point of his knife towards the floor, keeping his eyes fixed on Johnny’s. The music had stopped next door. ‘How could I do anything? Look around, there’s only one of me.’
‘Assassins don’t care what happens afterwards.’
‘If I wanted that, Johnny, then I’ve had plenty of chances.’
‘None of us knows anything about you, mate,’ said Johnny. ‘Pardon us for being careful. Pardon us for trying to protect her.’ I was pushing through the others towards them, and Johnny said, ‘Get back Mary Sue. No risks.’
‘I trust him,’ I said. You will think that some piece of me must surely have been thinking, ‘Please, oh please, let me be right about what I saw in Rollo’s eyes. Let me not have been bamboozled by them, because trustworthy eyes are hardly something I can take to the bank, so how can they possibly be something I will risk the world on?’ You will think that, but you will be wrong. I walked to Rollo, took his knife, then his hand, and then I pulled him over to a seat in the corner of the bar. Everyone was staring but I didn’t react to that. If Rollo was here, I reasoned, where he would know what kind of reaction he would get, it must be important. ‘What is it?’
He smiled, and squeezed my hand. His palms were dry, ever so slightly rough and completely comforting. Rollo looked like an ex-public school rugby player, with shiny brown shoes, neat jeans and crisp-collared short poking out from a blue and white round-neck sweater. This is not something I would usually find appealing, but it made Rollo look – it’s hard to put this in a way that doesn’t seem like faint praise, but you have to remember what a nightmare these two weeks had been in terms of trust and upheaval, and how this meant that certain things were unusually important to me – it made him look reliable. And then he said, ‘I’m here to say goodbye, Mary Sue.’
‘But…’
‘I’m sorry it has to be like this.’
‘But you said you were going to protect me.’
‘I will do everything I can, but we both know what’s happening tomorrow, and…’
‘How do you know? We only planned it today. Who are you?’
‘I’m someone you can trust,’ he said.
‘So,’ I said. ‘You think I won’t be coming back?’
‘I’m sure you will.’
‘But…’
‘We don’t have to go on about this conversation. I am not, well, I do not normally talk about these things, but I love you Mary Sue. I have to say it, in case I never get the chance again. I want you to remember that whatever happens, or however you come to think of me in the future, if, well. Just if. We will see each other again before the end, but the circumstances will be difficult, and when that happens, you have to know that I have always loved you as well as I could, after my fashion, and everything I have done in all this has been because you are incredibly important to me. Does that make sense to you?’
‘Not much.’
‘No, I suppose it wouldn’t.’ The music had started again, but there was still a critical mass of people watching us intently. The mood of the room was changed. ‘When that moment comes, very soon, when you see me, you may have some choices to make. At that point, you must remember that I love you, and would do anything for you, and if I tell you to do something, you have to do it, even if it seems, well, whatever it seems might be the result. Do you think you will be able to do that?’
‘Yes,’ I said, and I knew I would, and I didn’t know why. Again, I know, I know, if I were reading this, alarm bells would be going off in my head. Don’t think I don’t realise it now. Don’t think I didn’t realise it then, on some very deep level. Rollo smiled at me, stood up, kissed me gently on the cheek, said goodbye and walked away without looking back. Sir Conn hurried over to replace him, Johnny Depp and Freddie Flintoff at his shoulder, and asked if I was alright, and what Rollo had said, and whether anyone needed to go after and detain him. Sir Conn was holding a gin and tonic. I took it from him, drained it and said, ‘He was saying goodbye, Sir Conn. Let’s go home. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.’
***
Johnny Depp muttered something in the taxi home that came back to me later with particular vividness. He said, intending me to hear, I’m sure, ‘When that bastard broke in, and pulled the knife, where was David Tennant then? If he’s supposed to care about you so much?’
‘Assassins don’t care what happens afterwards.’
‘If I wanted that, Johnny, then I’ve had plenty of chances.’
‘None of us knows anything about you, mate,’ said Johnny. ‘Pardon us for being careful. Pardon us for trying to protect her.’ I was pushing through the others towards them, and Johnny said, ‘Get back Mary Sue. No risks.’
‘I trust him,’ I said. You will think that some piece of me must surely have been thinking, ‘Please, oh please, let me be right about what I saw in Rollo’s eyes. Let me not have been bamboozled by them, because trustworthy eyes are hardly something I can take to the bank, so how can they possibly be something I will risk the world on?’ You will think that, but you will be wrong. I walked to Rollo, took his knife, then his hand, and then I pulled him over to a seat in the corner of the bar. Everyone was staring but I didn’t react to that. If Rollo was here, I reasoned, where he would know what kind of reaction he would get, it must be important. ‘What is it?’
He smiled, and squeezed my hand. His palms were dry, ever so slightly rough and completely comforting. Rollo looked like an ex-public school rugby player, with shiny brown shoes, neat jeans and crisp-collared short poking out from a blue and white round-neck sweater. This is not something I would usually find appealing, but it made Rollo look – it’s hard to put this in a way that doesn’t seem like faint praise, but you have to remember what a nightmare these two weeks had been in terms of trust and upheaval, and how this meant that certain things were unusually important to me – it made him look reliable. And then he said, ‘I’m here to say goodbye, Mary Sue.’
‘But…’
‘I’m sorry it has to be like this.’
‘But you said you were going to protect me.’
‘I will do everything I can, but we both know what’s happening tomorrow, and…’
‘How do you know? We only planned it today. Who are you?’
‘I’m someone you can trust,’ he said.
‘So,’ I said. ‘You think I won’t be coming back?’
‘I’m sure you will.’
‘But…’
‘We don’t have to go on about this conversation. I am not, well, I do not normally talk about these things, but I love you Mary Sue. I have to say it, in case I never get the chance again. I want you to remember that whatever happens, or however you come to think of me in the future, if, well. Just if. We will see each other again before the end, but the circumstances will be difficult, and when that happens, you have to know that I have always loved you as well as I could, after my fashion, and everything I have done in all this has been because you are incredibly important to me. Does that make sense to you?’
‘Not much.’
‘No, I suppose it wouldn’t.’ The music had started again, but there was still a critical mass of people watching us intently. The mood of the room was changed. ‘When that moment comes, very soon, when you see me, you may have some choices to make. At that point, you must remember that I love you, and would do anything for you, and if I tell you to do something, you have to do it, even if it seems, well, whatever it seems might be the result. Do you think you will be able to do that?’
‘Yes,’ I said, and I knew I would, and I didn’t know why. Again, I know, I know, if I were reading this, alarm bells would be going off in my head. Don’t think I don’t realise it now. Don’t think I didn’t realise it then, on some very deep level. Rollo smiled at me, stood up, kissed me gently on the cheek, said goodbye and walked away without looking back. Sir Conn hurried over to replace him, Johnny Depp and Freddie Flintoff at his shoulder, and asked if I was alright, and what Rollo had said, and whether anyone needed to go after and detain him. Sir Conn was holding a gin and tonic. I took it from him, drained it and said, ‘He was saying goodbye, Sir Conn. Let’s go home. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.’
***
Johnny Depp muttered something in the taxi home that came back to me later with particular vividness. He said, intending me to hear, I’m sure, ‘When that bastard broke in, and pulled the knife, where was David Tennant then? If he’s supposed to care about you so much?’
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Chapter 56: They Can Because They Think They Can
At midnight, Kylie took her turn on the decks and the dancefloor began to fill. By the time she started her second set at two, everyone was doing the sort of dancing where they think they are dancing brilliantly, and they might as well be because they are all as drunk as each other and who is made happier by the thought that everyone looks an idiot? I’d stopped hugging my friends by this point. At the start of the evening I did it every five minutes, and they hugged me back, holding me four-drinks-tight because knew that something serious was happening, even if they didn’t know what it was. But now, none of us wanted to be thinking of that, and we were all dancing with celebrities, except Katharine who’d been snogging David-Mitchell-the-novelist since soon after we arrived. ‘I thought he was married,’ I said worriedly to England cricket hero Freddie Flintoff at one point. ‘I hope she doesn’t…’
‘Don’t worry, love. Most angel marriages are best-mate-style long-term partnerships. David-Mitchell-the-novelist’s wife is actually a lesbian at the moment, but when they got married, civil partnerships didn’t properly exist, and it was better for tax.’
‘That was a very full answer, Freddie.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t want you to tell anyone this story later for some reason, and have people not understand that we angels are very moral, but that our situation with all the eternal regenerating means that sometimes, if you describe what we do, it sounds as if we are cheating on wives and partners and everything. That totally isn’t the case. Look, that’s David-Mitchell-the-novelist’s wife over there, dancing with brainy Mariella Frostrup.’
‘But brainy Mariella Frostrup surely isn’t…’
‘Hey, pet,’ said Freddie. ‘When you’ve been around forever, everyone’s a little bit everything.’
‘Okay,’ I said. A bit later, I was being twirled around the dancefloor by Sir Connaught Sampson-Samson, my surprisingly light-footed Head of Chambers. He was mouthing along to that Gilbert O’Sullivan song which keeps saying, ‘I’m a bad dog, baby,’ and I had a sudden, clear vision of how surreal all this was and, just like that, I had my first flash of proper terror about tomorrow, and Sir Conn saw it in my eyes and without saying another word, he whisked me off the back of the dancefloor and through a door which I had been assuming was a cupboard, but which was actually the entrance to a quiet little sub-bar called Pin Head Too.
‘Mary Sue,’ slurred Jeremy Clarkson lumbering into us clumsily. ‘Have you been told not to judge us? Have you? Have you been told that your puny earth morals do not bind us, because we are superbeings.’ Then he broke down giggling.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Freddie told me.’
‘Freddie Flintoff,’ said Jeremy Clarkson, ‘is the best bloke in the world. Best. Bloke. Inthe. World.’
‘He certainly…’
‘Don’t patronise me. You know all my being an arse stuff is just an act. This is my wife,’ he said, waving over a woman who was rolling her eyes. ‘You know that genuinely none of us would ever sleep with anyone except our wives if our wives didn’t allow it?’
‘Or vice versa,’ said Jeremy Clarkson’s wife.
‘You wouldn’t sleep with anyone else because I’ve got such a huge…’
‘Stop it, Jeremy!’
‘I can’t help it. I love being Jeremy Clarkson. He is the funnest person I’ve ever got to be! I was a mediaeval scribe once, not even one who got to do the pictures; and someone who counted weeds in an African lake; and an industrial spy in a pharmaceutical company in Germany, but during a boring bit of German history. I always play whatever part the Teacher needs, but God those ones were boring. I don’t think I’ve ever really got over the weed-counting. And do you know, the thing is now being Jeremy Clarkson is that I’ve genuinely got so I hate speed cameras! At the start, I couldn’t believe people were so touchy, because the cameras can only catch people who are breaking the law, etc., but now I really think there must be something bad going on with them if people agree with all my ranting so much.’ Then his drunk face went serious again. ‘But the key thing to remember is that none of us are love rats, not even David-Mitchell-the-novelist. He’s a great bloke, even though if you’re having a dinner party and need to invite a David Mitchell, I’d invite the other one, because he probably doesn’t spend the whole time crapping on about how he should be the main David Mitchell. But he’s not a love rat, ok?’
‘Why does everyone keep saying this,’ I asked. ‘It’s not as if I’m telling anyone else what you’re getting up to. It’s all so wild and fantastic that everyone would treat it as a joke, and if it’s legal issues we’re worrying about here, then surely that problem would already have been made as bad as it could be, since by now I’d have revealed about David Beckham being gay and a murderer.’
‘Oh,’ said Jeremy Clarkson. ‘Yeah. Totally.’ And then he looked at Sir Conn, and smiled like someone much, much older than he was supposed to be, and also much younger. He said, ‘You know what this is like tonight, don’t you?’ Sir Conn nodded. ‘You know what we need?’ Sir Conn nodded again, without saying anything, and Jeremy dived off to the bar. I thought he might be humouring Jeremy Clarkson, but then I saw that Sir Conn’s eyes were glistening, and so were Jeremy’s, as if they he were about to cry.
‘What is it, Sir Conn? What is this like?’
‘Near death, Mary Sue. When you’re near death, there’s no point in holding back, so you dance. But us, we regenerate. We dance, and some of us are brave, and that’s all very well, but when humans dance on the edge of their void, it really is a void. Jeremy and I once fought alongside some very brave men, and there were parties like this every night because… Well, humans are very inspiring, Mary Sue.’ Jeremy returned with two huge glasses of port. He handed one solemnly to Sir Conn, and the pair of them stood opposite each other, and the intensity with which the looked into each other’s eyes somehow created a bubble of quiet, and they straightened themselves tall, and they intoned together, ‘Aeberhardt, Blake, Boswell, Brinsdon, Burgoyne, Couston, Coward, Cox, Cunningham, Dolezal, Fulford, Haines, Howard-Williams, Jones, Lane, Lawson, MacGregor, Marek, Parrott, Pinkham, Plzak, Roden, Scott, Steere, Sutherland, Unwin, Vokes, Whelan. Nineteen Squadron, friends and brothers, fewest of the few, Possunt quia posse videntur.’ Then they slowly saluted, and they drank their huge glasses of port in great gulps with tears streaming down their faces, and tears were streaming down my face as well.
As my vision cleared, I saw Rollo Price at the door to the little sub-bar, looking at me. I barely had time to register his presence before he was knocked to the ground by Johnny Depp, and the two bounced back to their feet, knives held instinctively and suddenly in front of them.
‘Don’t worry, love. Most angel marriages are best-mate-style long-term partnerships. David-Mitchell-the-novelist’s wife is actually a lesbian at the moment, but when they got married, civil partnerships didn’t properly exist, and it was better for tax.’
‘That was a very full answer, Freddie.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t want you to tell anyone this story later for some reason, and have people not understand that we angels are very moral, but that our situation with all the eternal regenerating means that sometimes, if you describe what we do, it sounds as if we are cheating on wives and partners and everything. That totally isn’t the case. Look, that’s David-Mitchell-the-novelist’s wife over there, dancing with brainy Mariella Frostrup.’
‘But brainy Mariella Frostrup surely isn’t…’
‘Hey, pet,’ said Freddie. ‘When you’ve been around forever, everyone’s a little bit everything.’
‘Okay,’ I said. A bit later, I was being twirled around the dancefloor by Sir Connaught Sampson-Samson, my surprisingly light-footed Head of Chambers. He was mouthing along to that Gilbert O’Sullivan song which keeps saying, ‘I’m a bad dog, baby,’ and I had a sudden, clear vision of how surreal all this was and, just like that, I had my first flash of proper terror about tomorrow, and Sir Conn saw it in my eyes and without saying another word, he whisked me off the back of the dancefloor and through a door which I had been assuming was a cupboard, but which was actually the entrance to a quiet little sub-bar called Pin Head Too.
‘Mary Sue,’ slurred Jeremy Clarkson lumbering into us clumsily. ‘Have you been told not to judge us? Have you? Have you been told that your puny earth morals do not bind us, because we are superbeings.’ Then he broke down giggling.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Freddie told me.’
‘Freddie Flintoff,’ said Jeremy Clarkson, ‘is the best bloke in the world. Best. Bloke. Inthe. World.’
‘He certainly…’
‘Don’t patronise me. You know all my being an arse stuff is just an act. This is my wife,’ he said, waving over a woman who was rolling her eyes. ‘You know that genuinely none of us would ever sleep with anyone except our wives if our wives didn’t allow it?’
‘Or vice versa,’ said Jeremy Clarkson’s wife.
‘You wouldn’t sleep with anyone else because I’ve got such a huge…’
‘Stop it, Jeremy!’
‘I can’t help it. I love being Jeremy Clarkson. He is the funnest person I’ve ever got to be! I was a mediaeval scribe once, not even one who got to do the pictures; and someone who counted weeds in an African lake; and an industrial spy in a pharmaceutical company in Germany, but during a boring bit of German history. I always play whatever part the Teacher needs, but God those ones were boring. I don’t think I’ve ever really got over the weed-counting. And do you know, the thing is now being Jeremy Clarkson is that I’ve genuinely got so I hate speed cameras! At the start, I couldn’t believe people were so touchy, because the cameras can only catch people who are breaking the law, etc., but now I really think there must be something bad going on with them if people agree with all my ranting so much.’ Then his drunk face went serious again. ‘But the key thing to remember is that none of us are love rats, not even David-Mitchell-the-novelist. He’s a great bloke, even though if you’re having a dinner party and need to invite a David Mitchell, I’d invite the other one, because he probably doesn’t spend the whole time crapping on about how he should be the main David Mitchell. But he’s not a love rat, ok?’
‘Why does everyone keep saying this,’ I asked. ‘It’s not as if I’m telling anyone else what you’re getting up to. It’s all so wild and fantastic that everyone would treat it as a joke, and if it’s legal issues we’re worrying about here, then surely that problem would already have been made as bad as it could be, since by now I’d have revealed about David Beckham being gay and a murderer.’
‘Oh,’ said Jeremy Clarkson. ‘Yeah. Totally.’ And then he looked at Sir Conn, and smiled like someone much, much older than he was supposed to be, and also much younger. He said, ‘You know what this is like tonight, don’t you?’ Sir Conn nodded. ‘You know what we need?’ Sir Conn nodded again, without saying anything, and Jeremy dived off to the bar. I thought he might be humouring Jeremy Clarkson, but then I saw that Sir Conn’s eyes were glistening, and so were Jeremy’s, as if they he were about to cry.
‘What is it, Sir Conn? What is this like?’
‘Near death, Mary Sue. When you’re near death, there’s no point in holding back, so you dance. But us, we regenerate. We dance, and some of us are brave, and that’s all very well, but when humans dance on the edge of their void, it really is a void. Jeremy and I once fought alongside some very brave men, and there were parties like this every night because… Well, humans are very inspiring, Mary Sue.’ Jeremy returned with two huge glasses of port. He handed one solemnly to Sir Conn, and the pair of them stood opposite each other, and the intensity with which the looked into each other’s eyes somehow created a bubble of quiet, and they straightened themselves tall, and they intoned together, ‘Aeberhardt, Blake, Boswell, Brinsdon, Burgoyne, Couston, Coward, Cox, Cunningham, Dolezal, Fulford, Haines, Howard-Williams, Jones, Lane, Lawson, MacGregor, Marek, Parrott, Pinkham, Plzak, Roden, Scott, Steere, Sutherland, Unwin, Vokes, Whelan. Nineteen Squadron, friends and brothers, fewest of the few, Possunt quia posse videntur.’ Then they slowly saluted, and they drank their huge glasses of port in great gulps with tears streaming down their faces, and tears were streaming down my face as well.
As my vision cleared, I saw Rollo Price at the door to the little sub-bar, looking at me. I barely had time to register his presence before he was knocked to the ground by Johnny Depp, and the two bounced back to their feet, knives held instinctively and suddenly in front of them.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Chapter 55: Eat, Drink and Be Merry, for Tomorrow...
‘Are you okay, Mary Sue?’ called Johnny Depp, and I could hear that he was now running through the trees. I was stunned into silence staring in his direction, because I didn’t know how he would react to Miss Smallbone, or how I would explain her presence. I needn’t have worried. It can only have been a couple of seconds seconds, but when I turned back to the wall, she was gone. Johnny burst into view, gun in his hand.
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘There’s no one else.’
‘I thought I heard…’ He looked around and said angrily, ‘Why didn’t you reply? You know how important you are! You cannot wander off on your own, is that clear? You said you were going to the restroom.’
I’d almost forgotten my excuse for leaving the endless meeting. All the decisions were made in the first twenty minutes, and after that it was finicking over tiny details for hours and hours, mostly to do with what weapons we would take, and whether we should wear black or dark green. Although I would be a member of the party, I lack military experience on an extreme scale, and I couldn’t see what I was contributing. And also, Johnny Depp was in the room, looking at me, and I thought I might die tomorrow. (And also (II), part of the reason I was thinking of him like that was that it helped me put the twisted feelings I had for David Tennant out of my mind, and why I keep going on about these twisted feelings is beyond me, because I’m not twisted, and I would never do anything about them. Perhaps it’s the same reason that Miss Smallbone told me about Johnny Depp. Against the bright light of oblivion, it’s hard to resist baring your soul.) ‘Is the meeting over?’ I asked.
‘Er…’
‘Just some final details?’ I said. Johnny grinned. It would have been easier if he didn’t get my jokes.
‘Come on, Mary Sue. We’re almost done, I promise, and tomorrow we go to war, so…’
‘Yeah, yeah. We have to get a good night’s sleep.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, we might all be about to die! Tonight we party!’
***
Once, on a work trip to New York, I learned that the cool bars there are ones you have to know about to find, because they look as if they are the toilets of crappy Japanese restaurants or they are through a bead curtain behind the counter of second-hand bookshops. It never even crossed my mind that London was full of similar places, and maybe it isn’t, but there’s one at least. After wolfing down the delicious barbecue Kylie Minogue had been preparing all afternoon, and drinking a beaker each of a drink called Admiral’s Flip with which Freddie Flintoff seemed to be obsessed and I could see why, the mood was festive. We jumped into taxis, and headed to Kilburn. I couldn’t believe there was somewhere to go out that I’d never heard of this close to my home, but Freddie just laughed. He was clearly the leader of the gang. Even Johnny Depp and David Tennant, who were alpha as they come, deferred to him without a second thought in the matter of having a good time.
Because it was, well, because this might be the last time, and the end of everything, and all that jazz, I’d been allowed to call my mates. Jen and the others were waiting outside Cookies & Cream, looking bewildered. I started introducing them to the angels, many of whom they recognised, of course. It was surreal, presenting Jeremy Clarkson and saying things like, ‘Morgan, Jeremy, Jeremy, Morgan,’ or hearing the words over my shoulder, ‘Sorry, we haven’t met, my name’s Kylie.’
The best moment was when I said to Jen and Katharine, ‘Jen and Katharine, this is David-Mitchell-the-novelist,’ and Jen went, ‘What?’ and David-Mitchell-the-novelist said, ‘Yes, I know. I cannot believe the bloody BBC! Even when we gave them the list of angels with it very clearly in stated in brackets that there were TWO Davids Mitchell, they STILL put a picture of David-Mitchell-the-comedian on the screen when they said my name. It drives me up the absolute bloody wall. I mean, I was…’
‘I agree,’ butted in Katharine. ‘It’s ridiculous. I mean, you were famous long before him! I LOVED Gostwritten. And you’re much better looking than he is…’ Jen and I looked at each other and edged away.
Opposite C & C was a furniture shop I must have walked past a hundred times over the years, piled high with ramshackle sofas with bad gilding. The shop entrance was obviously closed, but next to it was an inconspicuous door, with three buzzers. Freddie held his right index finger in the air with great ceremony (I think he might have had two Admiral’s Flips), and pressed the middle one, which was labelled ‘Pin Head’. The bar was not as tiny as I expected, and the dance floor was also perfectly respectable, which boded well. For now, though, the music was at a level we could talk over, and there were eight barmen crowded along the counter, so there was hardly any waiting. ‘This is amazing!’ said Jen, next to me. ‘Daiquiris? I literally do not care how much they cost!’
‘Don’t worry about that, old thing,’ said Sir Connaught Sampson-Samson. ‘I’ve put a million pounds behind the bar.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘There’s no one else.’
‘I thought I heard…’ He looked around and said angrily, ‘Why didn’t you reply? You know how important you are! You cannot wander off on your own, is that clear? You said you were going to the restroom.’
I’d almost forgotten my excuse for leaving the endless meeting. All the decisions were made in the first twenty minutes, and after that it was finicking over tiny details for hours and hours, mostly to do with what weapons we would take, and whether we should wear black or dark green. Although I would be a member of the party, I lack military experience on an extreme scale, and I couldn’t see what I was contributing. And also, Johnny Depp was in the room, looking at me, and I thought I might die tomorrow. (And also (II), part of the reason I was thinking of him like that was that it helped me put the twisted feelings I had for David Tennant out of my mind, and why I keep going on about these twisted feelings is beyond me, because I’m not twisted, and I would never do anything about them. Perhaps it’s the same reason that Miss Smallbone told me about Johnny Depp. Against the bright light of oblivion, it’s hard to resist baring your soul.) ‘Is the meeting over?’ I asked.
‘Er…’
‘Just some final details?’ I said. Johnny grinned. It would have been easier if he didn’t get my jokes.
‘Come on, Mary Sue. We’re almost done, I promise, and tomorrow we go to war, so…’
‘Yeah, yeah. We have to get a good night’s sleep.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, we might all be about to die! Tonight we party!’
***
Once, on a work trip to New York, I learned that the cool bars there are ones you have to know about to find, because they look as if they are the toilets of crappy Japanese restaurants or they are through a bead curtain behind the counter of second-hand bookshops. It never even crossed my mind that London was full of similar places, and maybe it isn’t, but there’s one at least. After wolfing down the delicious barbecue Kylie Minogue had been preparing all afternoon, and drinking a beaker each of a drink called Admiral’s Flip with which Freddie Flintoff seemed to be obsessed and I could see why, the mood was festive. We jumped into taxis, and headed to Kilburn. I couldn’t believe there was somewhere to go out that I’d never heard of this close to my home, but Freddie just laughed. He was clearly the leader of the gang. Even Johnny Depp and David Tennant, who were alpha as they come, deferred to him without a second thought in the matter of having a good time.
Because it was, well, because this might be the last time, and the end of everything, and all that jazz, I’d been allowed to call my mates. Jen and the others were waiting outside Cookies & Cream, looking bewildered. I started introducing them to the angels, many of whom they recognised, of course. It was surreal, presenting Jeremy Clarkson and saying things like, ‘Morgan, Jeremy, Jeremy, Morgan,’ or hearing the words over my shoulder, ‘Sorry, we haven’t met, my name’s Kylie.’
The best moment was when I said to Jen and Katharine, ‘Jen and Katharine, this is David-Mitchell-the-novelist,’ and Jen went, ‘What?’ and David-Mitchell-the-novelist said, ‘Yes, I know. I cannot believe the bloody BBC! Even when we gave them the list of angels with it very clearly in stated in brackets that there were TWO Davids Mitchell, they STILL put a picture of David-Mitchell-the-comedian on the screen when they said my name. It drives me up the absolute bloody wall. I mean, I was…’
‘I agree,’ butted in Katharine. ‘It’s ridiculous. I mean, you were famous long before him! I LOVED Gostwritten. And you’re much better looking than he is…’ Jen and I looked at each other and edged away.
Opposite C & C was a furniture shop I must have walked past a hundred times over the years, piled high with ramshackle sofas with bad gilding. The shop entrance was obviously closed, but next to it was an inconspicuous door, with three buzzers. Freddie held his right index finger in the air with great ceremony (I think he might have had two Admiral’s Flips), and pressed the middle one, which was labelled ‘Pin Head’. The bar was not as tiny as I expected, and the dance floor was also perfectly respectable, which boded well. For now, though, the music was at a level we could talk over, and there were eight barmen crowded along the counter, so there was hardly any waiting. ‘This is amazing!’ said Jen, next to me. ‘Daiquiris? I literally do not care how much they cost!’
‘Don’t worry about that, old thing,’ said Sir Connaught Sampson-Samson. ‘I’ve put a million pounds behind the bar.’
Saturday, October 27, 2007
WEEKEND ELEVEN
Well, I estimate that next weekend will be the last break, and the story will be finished sometime in the week after that. I think I know how to get us to the denouement, and I have liked the end of this week, and the start of next week has got some really nice things in it, but I don't think I will have time to make them work as well as they might, since I have a busy day singing tomorrow. Still, there's that free extra hour stolen from summer, so never say die.
I know how to get us to the denouement - certain aspects of it are still up in the air. But, like I say, I have a WHOLE WEEK, so...
My top moment of this week was witnessing my two top readers (measured in the only available units: comments) meeting each other in a hot busy pub from which, to my certain knowledge, it is easy to have your computer stolen. My other top moment was the small collection of emails from more reticent top readers who didn't want to put their names in public or anything and were very nice about things. Big up them.
(I said at the start that it would be in the region of sixty chapters; it might be. It is a sign of my growing maturity that I will not force it to be sixty, if it needs to be sixty-one. I write to length and deadline. It is like a disease.)
I know how to get us to the denouement - certain aspects of it are still up in the air. But, like I say, I have a WHOLE WEEK, so...
My top moment of this week was witnessing my two top readers (measured in the only available units: comments) meeting each other in a hot busy pub from which, to my certain knowledge, it is easy to have your computer stolen. My other top moment was the small collection of emails from more reticent top readers who didn't want to put their names in public or anything and were very nice about things. Big up them.
(I said at the start that it would be in the region of sixty chapters; it might be. It is a sign of my growing maturity that I will not force it to be sixty, if it needs to be sixty-one. I write to length and deadline. It is like a disease.)
Friday, October 26, 2007
Chapter 54: Don't Go Breaking My Heart
I sat down next to the Teacher. The soft grass still held some of the day’s heat, but the brick wall against my back was starting to cool. Only the top of my head was warmed by the sun, and the garden was painted by Seurat. After what seemed like a long while, Miss Smallbone said quietly, ‘Please don’t tell anyone.’
I looked at her in surprise, hurt that she thought I might betray her confidence, and her eyes were pleading. I was struck suddenly by how young she looked, and although I knew her youth was illusory, the illusion gave me a moment of perspective. ‘You don’t have any friends, do you?’
‘I’m…’ she began. Then she said, ‘It’s too dangerous.’
‘How long have you loved, er, I don’t know what to call him.’
‘Call him Johnny. And I’ve loved him forever. Or as near as makes no difference.’
‘Does he know?’
‘Of course not,’ the Teacher said fiercely. ‘It wouldn’t, I mean, he’s in love with Vanessa. I’ve always known it.’
‘Always?’
‘Always. There have been… No. No, he has always loved her, and I have always known it.’
She hung her head, hands folded again in her lap. Sometimes, you know somebody doesn’t want to speak to you, but sometimes you know they are desperate to be forced. I said, ‘Really? Over thousands of generation, you’ve never tried, or said anything? Not at all?’ The flush rose up her neck, stronger this time, and I carried on, ‘Now is your chance to talk to a friend you can trust. You might not get another one.’ So she told me her story.
***
‘I have tried,’ said Miss Smallbone, in a voice that in a normal person would not have sounded emotional, but which I knew by now was the highest pitch of drama she would let herself express. ‘And I knew it was madness, I always knew. It’s just, oh!’ Instead of thudding her hands into the grass by her side, she held them still for a moment and then smoothed a non-existent crease from the front of her skirt. ‘It’s been so long! When I was very young, and we were still on our home planet, I fell in love with who you call Johnny Depp. But he loved Vanessa, who is wonderful. I wanted to kill myself then, and many times after, but it was only when got here that I…’
‘What?’
‘No. I didn’t kill myself because there was a war, and it would have been selfish to waste a life that our side could use somehow, and so I entered the military and found, I was surprised, that I possessed certain aptitudes. Perhaps my aptitude was not caring about death. Later, only a very few of us survived the destruction and exile, and fewer still who had been trained as I had been. I watched unseen at the beginning, wary of traitors, thinking it would be the easiest time for the enemy to infiltrate us. When I discovered that Johnny was another I was elated, but then I knew she had survived also, and I realised I could not bear the proximity of being known. The details of how I became the Teacher, and how I have maintained the illusion of continuity through the changing generations, need not concern us here. I thought it would pass, but it never did.’
‘You said you tried?’
‘Sixty million years is a long time, Miss Park. There were periods of less activity from the demons, and there were periods when I was weak. There are episodes of which I am ashamed.’
‘You don’t have to…’
‘I know.’ Miss Smallbone’s voice was small and clear, nothing so fragile or ringing as crystal, and certainly not dull. It was metal, sharp not jagged. ‘As you well know, Johnny is not continent when he and Vanessa are not of an age. For thousands of years I did nothing about this, although it was difficult.’
‘But?’
‘Tens of thousands of years, Miss Park. I am not proud of the things I did, but I understand myself. And I have paid for it, many times.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I, there were times when, more than that was necessary, I put Vanessa in the way of danger.’ She said it so calmly that it barely registered until I realised she was looking for my look of horror, and then I was horrified.
‘You…’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I knew she would regenerate, of course, but more than once, I split her from her one true love for my selfish purposes.’ Now I was close enough to the metal to hear its jagged edges. Nothing is ever smooth close up. Her neck was dark and her eyes shone. ‘I understand what you must think, and it was shameful, but… I can’t apologise to him, and so I’m apologising to you.’
‘What happened?’
‘I pretended to be… I can barely say this Miss Park,’ and now the metal was both jagged and brittle. ‘I know Johnny’s tastes. I waited until I looked like … what he would like, and then I, well. Then I was with him.’
‘What was it like?’
‘You know what it was like. I’d watched him often enough, seen the effect. It is not experience, your husband had as much experience, I don’t know what it is that he has. It made it worse, because I knew he didn’t care.’
‘Really?’
‘I knew he cared something for the person I was pretending to be, but I knew also what he was holding back, and that he would hate me if he knew what I truly was. I would have known if he ever forgot Vanessa, ever stopped waiting for her, and he never did or will.’
I stood up, and looked through the trees towards the house. ‘How often did you kill yourself?’ I asked.
She looked into my face, saw there was no point. ‘Many times. I am weak, Mary Sue, self-indulgent like a teenager, throwing myself off a cliff so it can be a few more years before the ache is strong again. Is that what you want me to say?’
‘No. It’s just…’
‘It’s true.’
‘And Johnny never knew?’ I asked. ‘I know he never knew WHO you were, but did he never even knew WHAT you were?’
‘I am very good at hiding the eternal part of myself, Miss Park. I have to be.’ I reached to hold her hand but she shook me off. A tear was in the corner of her eye. ‘Millions of years, Miss Park. Of course I TRIED. I tried everything. ‘She couldn’t stop herself, but she wouldn’t look at me. ‘There were other times, when Vanessa was waiting for him to be of an age, when I went to her, with her. I tried to learn what she did, what kept him so enthralled, and I tried to remember, and then later I tried the things she did, but of course I was not… And don’t think I didn’t know that this would never work. Of course I knew, but I had to try because it was either try or go mad. Though of course, it was madness anyway, and it harmed our cause. You cannot understand the humiliation that this was, or how humiliating it is to tell you.’
‘Why are you telling me?’
‘Like you said, there may not be another chance. And also, it pertains. I said you and Johnny would be a disaster because I know he likes it more with you than he liked it with me, and I was jealous. It was not because he is the Master.’ She was withdrawing, and her voice was smooth again. ‘I was jealous, that’s all. You see, Mary Sue, there really are very few stories, and mine is one of the most banal.’
‘No, Teacher …’
‘No, Mary Sue. Time does not dignify it, or excuse the things I’ve done. But I have paid. They have been together almost all this time, and the fractions I have stolen have only made things worse. I wish you will not sleep with him again, because he is not the one for you, but I know how hard he can be to resist.’
‘Mary Sue!’ shouted Johnny Depp from near the house. ‘Who are you talking to?’
I looked at her in surprise, hurt that she thought I might betray her confidence, and her eyes were pleading. I was struck suddenly by how young she looked, and although I knew her youth was illusory, the illusion gave me a moment of perspective. ‘You don’t have any friends, do you?’
‘I’m…’ she began. Then she said, ‘It’s too dangerous.’
‘How long have you loved, er, I don’t know what to call him.’
‘Call him Johnny. And I’ve loved him forever. Or as near as makes no difference.’
‘Does he know?’
‘Of course not,’ the Teacher said fiercely. ‘It wouldn’t, I mean, he’s in love with Vanessa. I’ve always known it.’
‘Always?’
‘Always. There have been… No. No, he has always loved her, and I have always known it.’
She hung her head, hands folded again in her lap. Sometimes, you know somebody doesn’t want to speak to you, but sometimes you know they are desperate to be forced. I said, ‘Really? Over thousands of generation, you’ve never tried, or said anything? Not at all?’ The flush rose up her neck, stronger this time, and I carried on, ‘Now is your chance to talk to a friend you can trust. You might not get another one.’ So she told me her story.
***
‘I have tried,’ said Miss Smallbone, in a voice that in a normal person would not have sounded emotional, but which I knew by now was the highest pitch of drama she would let herself express. ‘And I knew it was madness, I always knew. It’s just, oh!’ Instead of thudding her hands into the grass by her side, she held them still for a moment and then smoothed a non-existent crease from the front of her skirt. ‘It’s been so long! When I was very young, and we were still on our home planet, I fell in love with who you call Johnny Depp. But he loved Vanessa, who is wonderful. I wanted to kill myself then, and many times after, but it was only when got here that I…’
‘What?’
‘No. I didn’t kill myself because there was a war, and it would have been selfish to waste a life that our side could use somehow, and so I entered the military and found, I was surprised, that I possessed certain aptitudes. Perhaps my aptitude was not caring about death. Later, only a very few of us survived the destruction and exile, and fewer still who had been trained as I had been. I watched unseen at the beginning, wary of traitors, thinking it would be the easiest time for the enemy to infiltrate us. When I discovered that Johnny was another I was elated, but then I knew she had survived also, and I realised I could not bear the proximity of being known. The details of how I became the Teacher, and how I have maintained the illusion of continuity through the changing generations, need not concern us here. I thought it would pass, but it never did.’
‘You said you tried?’
‘Sixty million years is a long time, Miss Park. There were periods of less activity from the demons, and there were periods when I was weak. There are episodes of which I am ashamed.’
‘You don’t have to…’
‘I know.’ Miss Smallbone’s voice was small and clear, nothing so fragile or ringing as crystal, and certainly not dull. It was metal, sharp not jagged. ‘As you well know, Johnny is not continent when he and Vanessa are not of an age. For thousands of years I did nothing about this, although it was difficult.’
‘But?’
‘Tens of thousands of years, Miss Park. I am not proud of the things I did, but I understand myself. And I have paid for it, many times.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I, there were times when, more than that was necessary, I put Vanessa in the way of danger.’ She said it so calmly that it barely registered until I realised she was looking for my look of horror, and then I was horrified.
‘You…’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I knew she would regenerate, of course, but more than once, I split her from her one true love for my selfish purposes.’ Now I was close enough to the metal to hear its jagged edges. Nothing is ever smooth close up. Her neck was dark and her eyes shone. ‘I understand what you must think, and it was shameful, but… I can’t apologise to him, and so I’m apologising to you.’
‘What happened?’
‘I pretended to be… I can barely say this Miss Park,’ and now the metal was both jagged and brittle. ‘I know Johnny’s tastes. I waited until I looked like … what he would like, and then I, well. Then I was with him.’
‘What was it like?’
‘You know what it was like. I’d watched him often enough, seen the effect. It is not experience, your husband had as much experience, I don’t know what it is that he has. It made it worse, because I knew he didn’t care.’
‘Really?’
‘I knew he cared something for the person I was pretending to be, but I knew also what he was holding back, and that he would hate me if he knew what I truly was. I would have known if he ever forgot Vanessa, ever stopped waiting for her, and he never did or will.’
I stood up, and looked through the trees towards the house. ‘How often did you kill yourself?’ I asked.
She looked into my face, saw there was no point. ‘Many times. I am weak, Mary Sue, self-indulgent like a teenager, throwing myself off a cliff so it can be a few more years before the ache is strong again. Is that what you want me to say?’
‘No. It’s just…’
‘It’s true.’
‘And Johnny never knew?’ I asked. ‘I know he never knew WHO you were, but did he never even knew WHAT you were?’
‘I am very good at hiding the eternal part of myself, Miss Park. I have to be.’ I reached to hold her hand but she shook me off. A tear was in the corner of her eye. ‘Millions of years, Miss Park. Of course I TRIED. I tried everything. ‘She couldn’t stop herself, but she wouldn’t look at me. ‘There were other times, when Vanessa was waiting for him to be of an age, when I went to her, with her. I tried to learn what she did, what kept him so enthralled, and I tried to remember, and then later I tried the things she did, but of course I was not… And don’t think I didn’t know that this would never work. Of course I knew, but I had to try because it was either try or go mad. Though of course, it was madness anyway, and it harmed our cause. You cannot understand the humiliation that this was, or how humiliating it is to tell you.’
‘Why are you telling me?’
‘Like you said, there may not be another chance. And also, it pertains. I said you and Johnny would be a disaster because I know he likes it more with you than he liked it with me, and I was jealous. It was not because he is the Master.’ She was withdrawing, and her voice was smooth again. ‘I was jealous, that’s all. You see, Mary Sue, there really are very few stories, and mine is one of the most banal.’
‘No, Teacher …’
‘No, Mary Sue. Time does not dignify it, or excuse the things I’ve done. But I have paid. They have been together almost all this time, and the fractions I have stolen have only made things worse. I wish you will not sleep with him again, because he is not the one for you, but I know how hard he can be to resist.’
‘Mary Sue!’ shouted Johnny Depp from near the house. ‘Who are you talking to?’
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Chapter 53: The Orchard: Gold
I wandered through the orchard in the golden dusk. Sun dappled through the leaves but it was too low to reach over the buildings and down as far as the grass, which was mown but not freshly or obsessively, the tree trunks ringed with deeper grasses and some white flowers which my mum would be embarrassed I can’t name. The angels’ replacement London headquarters were in a mansion in one of those Mayfair terraces where, because you only walk up and down the streets, you don’t realise some of the houses back onto significant pieces of land. The front of the house was grand enough, though it was thinly camouflaged by a row of buzzers that made it look like flats, but inside and out the back, it was amazing. The orchard had officially been planted in an attempt to defeat prying eyes in the overlooking houses and flats, but really it was because everyone likes fruit.
I’d slipped out of the interminable conference indoors on the pretext of needing the loo, and I stepped outside for a moment, and I suddenly felt a million miles from the chaos I had sparked. The French government was enraged, obviously, but the French people were ominously sullen. Britain was more or less convinced, which wasn’t surprising given that le Pen tried to obliterate London. Around the world, the angelic revelations had been met with either incredulity or outright disbelief. But any huge mental shift takes time, and at least we’d convinced the jury and David Tennant was free. David Tennant, who hugged me at the verdict, and who I hugged back tight, and who looked at me with his crooked smile and shook his head ruefully. David Tennant, who felt like the other half of me, because he was half of me. David Tennant, my father, who was inside the house volunteering for a suicide mission so he could protect me. And Johnny Depp was in there too, who was, well, who was who he was. Johnny was why I came outside, really. Every time he spoke or looked at me, I forced my face into a mask, but I don’t suppose it worked. My feelings about him were very mixed, and when I say that I don’t mean it: my feelings about him weren’t serious, in the final analysis, but they were powerful, clear and simple, and I felt them whenever I saw him, even though I knew it wasn’t right or couldn’t last, but my head would overcome my feelings. I knew this was important because the Teacher had said…
‘Hello, Mary Sue,’ said Miss Smallbone. She was sitting quietly against the rude red-brick wall at the back of the orchard, her legs straight in front of her in a long, light lilac skirt that reached almost to her sensible, anonymous trainers. Her round face was tilted sideways, and just caught the lowest edge of bright sun as she looked up at me.
‘Teacher,’ I said.
‘You did well, I think. Or at least, David is free. And now we can get to the end of this.’
‘You look tired.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It wasn’t a criticism, Teacher.’ I moved to stand beside her, leaning against the wall. It was hot late summer, and I wearing my small olive shorts and black vest. My friends say this makes me look like a commando, I say I wear it because it’s so comfortable, and we all know I actually where it because I’m half-Korean and slim, and it’s a really good look for me that also makes it look as if I’m not trying. The brick was warm and rough against the skin of my shoulders and arms, and I pressed my neck back into it, wanting the roughness against the bones of my spine, all the way to the skull. To get that, I had to tilt my chin into my chest, pushing till I had felt each vertebra touch against the brick. It took me some time, and then I sat down in front of Miss Smallbone. ‘Can we save my mother?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘What about me? Will I survive?’
‘I don’t know. It took me too long to realise what the Master was planning. Forgive me. But all we can do is try.’ I nodded. ‘Tomorrow night, Mary Sue, as soon as the shadows fall. Are you sure you’re ready?’
‘Of course I’m not ready.’
‘Of course.’ She wasn’t chastened.
‘Why would it be so bad, me and Johnny Depp?’
‘I’ve told you it would be bad.’
‘Please, Teacher. If he isn’t the Master, and you swear he isn’t, then I can’t understand why it would be so dangerous? I know he doesn’t love me, but, I mean, I don’t love him either, it’s just… I mean, this is the end of the world! Surely there’s no harm in, I mean, I might die, and everything is basically a nightmare, and this was one thing which was amazing, even if, well, it’s just sex obviously, but…’ and I was looking at the Teacher’s face while I was saying this, and she was looking at her hands, and I understood. ‘You love Johnny Depp,’ I said.
She didn’t move, but the skin of her neck darkened.
I’d slipped out of the interminable conference indoors on the pretext of needing the loo, and I stepped outside for a moment, and I suddenly felt a million miles from the chaos I had sparked. The French government was enraged, obviously, but the French people were ominously sullen. Britain was more or less convinced, which wasn’t surprising given that le Pen tried to obliterate London. Around the world, the angelic revelations had been met with either incredulity or outright disbelief. But any huge mental shift takes time, and at least we’d convinced the jury and David Tennant was free. David Tennant, who hugged me at the verdict, and who I hugged back tight, and who looked at me with his crooked smile and shook his head ruefully. David Tennant, who felt like the other half of me, because he was half of me. David Tennant, my father, who was inside the house volunteering for a suicide mission so he could protect me. And Johnny Depp was in there too, who was, well, who was who he was. Johnny was why I came outside, really. Every time he spoke or looked at me, I forced my face into a mask, but I don’t suppose it worked. My feelings about him were very mixed, and when I say that I don’t mean it: my feelings about him weren’t serious, in the final analysis, but they were powerful, clear and simple, and I felt them whenever I saw him, even though I knew it wasn’t right or couldn’t last, but my head would overcome my feelings. I knew this was important because the Teacher had said…
‘Hello, Mary Sue,’ said Miss Smallbone. She was sitting quietly against the rude red-brick wall at the back of the orchard, her legs straight in front of her in a long, light lilac skirt that reached almost to her sensible, anonymous trainers. Her round face was tilted sideways, and just caught the lowest edge of bright sun as she looked up at me.
‘Teacher,’ I said.
‘You did well, I think. Or at least, David is free. And now we can get to the end of this.’
‘You look tired.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It wasn’t a criticism, Teacher.’ I moved to stand beside her, leaning against the wall. It was hot late summer, and I wearing my small olive shorts and black vest. My friends say this makes me look like a commando, I say I wear it because it’s so comfortable, and we all know I actually where it because I’m half-Korean and slim, and it’s a really good look for me that also makes it look as if I’m not trying. The brick was warm and rough against the skin of my shoulders and arms, and I pressed my neck back into it, wanting the roughness against the bones of my spine, all the way to the skull. To get that, I had to tilt my chin into my chest, pushing till I had felt each vertebra touch against the brick. It took me some time, and then I sat down in front of Miss Smallbone. ‘Can we save my mother?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘What about me? Will I survive?’
‘I don’t know. It took me too long to realise what the Master was planning. Forgive me. But all we can do is try.’ I nodded. ‘Tomorrow night, Mary Sue, as soon as the shadows fall. Are you sure you’re ready?’
‘Of course I’m not ready.’
‘Of course.’ She wasn’t chastened.
‘Why would it be so bad, me and Johnny Depp?’
‘I’ve told you it would be bad.’
‘Please, Teacher. If he isn’t the Master, and you swear he isn’t, then I can’t understand why it would be so dangerous? I know he doesn’t love me, but, I mean, I don’t love him either, it’s just… I mean, this is the end of the world! Surely there’s no harm in, I mean, I might die, and everything is basically a nightmare, and this was one thing which was amazing, even if, well, it’s just sex obviously, but…’ and I was looking at the Teacher’s face while I was saying this, and she was looking at her hands, and I understood. ‘You love Johnny Depp,’ I said.
She didn’t move, but the skin of her neck darkened.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Chapter 52: High Wire
At the very moment David Tennant revealed his magic sword to the courtroom, revealing to the demons that he and I were about to reveal the hidden truth that angels and demons walk amongst us, a crack team of undercover secret commando angels were breaking into the demons’ Paris headquarters, the address of which I’d found when I was scurrying furtively around their Master’s mansion trying not to be shot by R Kelly, David Beckham, et al. When it became clear to the Teacher that I was definitely going to reveal all in the courtroom, she had snapped into her usual brisk efficiency. ‘You will need proof, Miss Park. It will seem like madness. What proof do you propose to give?’
‘I expected you to be able to think of something.’
‘How rash of you.’
‘And yet I see you have an idea.’
‘Touche, Miss Park,’ and she gave a wintry smile. ‘The demons cleared out their London office in preparation for the bomb, but Paris will be occupied. To extract anything will be costly. Some will die, maybe many, but it is the last days, and I can see no other way.’
‘If…’
‘No, Miss Park. You are the Chosen One. This strategy of yours is naturally uncomfortable to me, after these millennia of secrecy, but it is what we have, for good or ill. You do your part, and I will do mine.’
***
Of the sixteen angels that broke into the Paris headquarters, only seven survived, but they escaped with plans, details, lists and more.
The world’s press had treated the previous day’s revelations as more or less a joke – an extraordinary claim in a soap opera celebrity trial that was distracting the world, ludicrously, from the sabre-rattling between military-law France and the rest of Europe. But then we started giving evidence on le Pen’s career, and the careers of other demons in the French armed forces. The prosecution said, ‘France is not on trial! This is irrelevant. All that is relevant is whether David Tennant killed Gavin Wishton.’
‘My client killed Gavin Wishton. I thought you had established that clearly?’
‘But…’
‘Your honour, as we established, Mr Tennant’s innocence rests on his claim that murder is a crime committed by humans. We must be allowed to prove to the court that no such crime was committed.’
‘This trial is a farce…’ began the judge.
‘Yes!’ said the prosecuting counsel. ‘The defence is…’
‘Hear me out! The evidence submitted for my consideration this morning should be seen and will be seen. I have been informed by the defence that the newspapers will be presented with it, but I have also been assured that this will not happen until it is seen in court. In light of this…’
‘We object most strongly! The jurisdiction of this court…’
‘You will not interrupt me again and remain in the room, counsel, is that clear?’ The prosecuting counsel sat mutinous. ‘This is my courtroom. Extraordinary times make certain demands, and while I am yet to be convinced, I am impressed by the defence’s restraint in not having forced my hand by feeding their tales to the press, and the defence’s clear desire to allow the jury to decide on the basis of evidence unmediated by public hysteria. I am perfectly sanguine about the possibility that what happens today may be overruled, but I will not stop the defence from presenting its case.’
The atmosphere was electric. The evidence we had gathered was absolutely convincing proof that le Pen was the product of a conspiracy which had also placed France under his military control. It also demonstrated that Vladimir Putin was part of the same conspiracy, which underpinned his shock decision to sign a non-aggression pact with France. But as the prosecution kept pointing out, it did NOT prove that the conspirators were timeless regenerating demons. ‘How can you stand here denying the humanity of David Tennant, who has been examined by a variety of medical experts over the course of his professional career, for insurance purposes, as we can demonstrate, and who has never once been told he cannot be insured because he is not human.’ My witnesses repeated what David had said about the sword. The science that allowed the angels and demons to blend with the world was sufficiently advanced that from our human perspective, it seemed like magic. The judge emphasised that the jury were only debating the merits of this case. If they thought David Tennant and Gavin Wishton were human, it must be murder. The jury nodded wisely.
We showed a video of the battle for Centrepoint, which claimed five lives, including brave Davina McCall. The jury were duly horrified. And then I called Boris Johnson to the stand. After all, our defence was all about theatre. ‘Are you an angel?’ I asked.
‘Of course I am, old thing. Always have been, always will be. Fight the good fight.’
‘Can you prove it?’
‘Afraid not. We lost access to the science of our ancestors when we arrived on this planet. This is not about proof. This is about reasonable doubt.’
‘Objection! It’s not Mr Johnson’s job to tell…’
‘Objection sustained.’
‘Your honour,’ I said. ‘All I have is enormous volumes of circumstantial evidence. I am convinced the jury will believe it, and I will keep presenting it as long as you allow me. May I please ask Mr Johnson some questions which will allow us to explain more quickly?’
‘On the condition that he does not try to do my job for me.’
Boris was funny, eloquent and charming. He gave details of his life as Churchill, including where to find a graffito in one of the toilets at Blenheim that showed a scratched picture of a black dog widdling on Hitler. He also handed over a key to a safe-deposit box where, as Churchill, he had deposited a diary of every crucial decision in World War II which had been based on work done secretly by the angels. It was a story of heroic sacrifice which paralleled rather than diminished the heroism of the known story. ‘We should perhaps have revealed ourselves many years ago, but secrecy became a habit, and we feared prejudice. We are so few, and we are the last of our kind. We only reveal ourselves now because le Pen and his monsters want to start a new war, and the world must know what it faces.’
As we knew when we started, fine points of law were nothing to do with the jury’s eventual decision. When Boris revealed that no nuclear weapons would work any more because the angels had disarmed them for fear that they might end up under demon control, as indeed had now happened, there was almost a cheer. From that moment, we knew we had won.
Of course, victory was only the beginning.
‘I expected you to be able to think of something.’
‘How rash of you.’
‘And yet I see you have an idea.’
‘Touche, Miss Park,’ and she gave a wintry smile. ‘The demons cleared out their London office in preparation for the bomb, but Paris will be occupied. To extract anything will be costly. Some will die, maybe many, but it is the last days, and I can see no other way.’
‘If…’
‘No, Miss Park. You are the Chosen One. This strategy of yours is naturally uncomfortable to me, after these millennia of secrecy, but it is what we have, for good or ill. You do your part, and I will do mine.’
***
Of the sixteen angels that broke into the Paris headquarters, only seven survived, but they escaped with plans, details, lists and more.
The world’s press had treated the previous day’s revelations as more or less a joke – an extraordinary claim in a soap opera celebrity trial that was distracting the world, ludicrously, from the sabre-rattling between military-law France and the rest of Europe. But then we started giving evidence on le Pen’s career, and the careers of other demons in the French armed forces. The prosecution said, ‘France is not on trial! This is irrelevant. All that is relevant is whether David Tennant killed Gavin Wishton.’
‘My client killed Gavin Wishton. I thought you had established that clearly?’
‘But…’
‘Your honour, as we established, Mr Tennant’s innocence rests on his claim that murder is a crime committed by humans. We must be allowed to prove to the court that no such crime was committed.’
‘This trial is a farce…’ began the judge.
‘Yes!’ said the prosecuting counsel. ‘The defence is…’
‘Hear me out! The evidence submitted for my consideration this morning should be seen and will be seen. I have been informed by the defence that the newspapers will be presented with it, but I have also been assured that this will not happen until it is seen in court. In light of this…’
‘We object most strongly! The jurisdiction of this court…’
‘You will not interrupt me again and remain in the room, counsel, is that clear?’ The prosecuting counsel sat mutinous. ‘This is my courtroom. Extraordinary times make certain demands, and while I am yet to be convinced, I am impressed by the defence’s restraint in not having forced my hand by feeding their tales to the press, and the defence’s clear desire to allow the jury to decide on the basis of evidence unmediated by public hysteria. I am perfectly sanguine about the possibility that what happens today may be overruled, but I will not stop the defence from presenting its case.’
The atmosphere was electric. The evidence we had gathered was absolutely convincing proof that le Pen was the product of a conspiracy which had also placed France under his military control. It also demonstrated that Vladimir Putin was part of the same conspiracy, which underpinned his shock decision to sign a non-aggression pact with France. But as the prosecution kept pointing out, it did NOT prove that the conspirators were timeless regenerating demons. ‘How can you stand here denying the humanity of David Tennant, who has been examined by a variety of medical experts over the course of his professional career, for insurance purposes, as we can demonstrate, and who has never once been told he cannot be insured because he is not human.’ My witnesses repeated what David had said about the sword. The science that allowed the angels and demons to blend with the world was sufficiently advanced that from our human perspective, it seemed like magic. The judge emphasised that the jury were only debating the merits of this case. If they thought David Tennant and Gavin Wishton were human, it must be murder. The jury nodded wisely.
We showed a video of the battle for Centrepoint, which claimed five lives, including brave Davina McCall. The jury were duly horrified. And then I called Boris Johnson to the stand. After all, our defence was all about theatre. ‘Are you an angel?’ I asked.
‘Of course I am, old thing. Always have been, always will be. Fight the good fight.’
‘Can you prove it?’
‘Afraid not. We lost access to the science of our ancestors when we arrived on this planet. This is not about proof. This is about reasonable doubt.’
‘Objection! It’s not Mr Johnson’s job to tell…’
‘Objection sustained.’
‘Your honour,’ I said. ‘All I have is enormous volumes of circumstantial evidence. I am convinced the jury will believe it, and I will keep presenting it as long as you allow me. May I please ask Mr Johnson some questions which will allow us to explain more quickly?’
‘On the condition that he does not try to do my job for me.’
Boris was funny, eloquent and charming. He gave details of his life as Churchill, including where to find a graffito in one of the toilets at Blenheim that showed a scratched picture of a black dog widdling on Hitler. He also handed over a key to a safe-deposit box where, as Churchill, he had deposited a diary of every crucial decision in World War II which had been based on work done secretly by the angels. It was a story of heroic sacrifice which paralleled rather than diminished the heroism of the known story. ‘We should perhaps have revealed ourselves many years ago, but secrecy became a habit, and we feared prejudice. We are so few, and we are the last of our kind. We only reveal ourselves now because le Pen and his monsters want to start a new war, and the world must know what it faces.’
As we knew when we started, fine points of law were nothing to do with the jury’s eventual decision. When Boris revealed that no nuclear weapons would work any more because the angels had disarmed them for fear that they might end up under demon control, as indeed had now happened, there was almost a cheer. From that moment, we knew we had won.
Of course, victory was only the beginning.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Chapter 51: Trial By Jury
On the first day of the trial, witness after witness attested to seeing David Tennant cut off my husband’s head. I cross-examined none of them. There was a sense of anti-climax the first time, but since David Tennant had pleaded not guilty, the anti-climax quickly translated itself into tension as to what trickery we must have up our sleeve. The prosecution lawyers were clearly disconcerted. They started pontificating, ‘Of course, the defence will try to say your eyewitness testimony doesn’t matter,’ or, ‘Some clever expert will appear to explain how this was a group delusion, simply because we can’t find the weapon.’ Everyone had expected a duel, but they were getting a phony war. That first evening, various legal pundits on the telly blustered to imagine what rabbit we would pull out of what hat.
Rabbit-and-hat is appropriate, actually. On day two, the prosecution introduced a couple of stage magicians to explain how they could have given the impression of holding a sword and then, five minutes later, ta-da!, no sword. Thus, they hoped, any defence which rested on such trickery would be doomed.
I knew, as did the demons on the prosecution team, that David Tennant’s sword had disappeared because it was literally magic (or born of powers beyond our technology’s ability to comprehend, powers lost by the demons and angels aeons ago, and so the difference between these powers and magic, as far as present purposes were concerned, was semantic). You couldn’t tell the jury that, of course.
***
‘So, Mr Tennant,’ I asked, ‘the so-called sword. Would you say it was impossible for it to have disappeared?’
‘Objection!’ said the dutiful prosecution counsel. ‘We have clearly established several methods by which the sword could have appeared to disappear.’
‘My question, your honour, is as to whether the sword could ACTUALLY have disappeared. It is central to the defence case.’
‘Carry on, Miss Park,’ said the judge. Like all judges unless television is lying, he was a very dignified black man.
‘So, Mr Tennant, could that sword have literally disappeared?’
‘Yes.’
‘Objection!’
‘Dismissed. Carry on, Miss Park.’
‘How would that be possible, Mr Tennant? Would you explain to the court, please? It flies in the face of our understanding of science.’
‘I’m afraid,’ said David Tennant, ‘you must rethink some of your fundamental beliefs about science.’
‘Objection!’ said my opposite number, panic and disbelief mingling in his voice. He understood now. ‘This is completely outside the remit of the courtroom.’
‘Your honour,’ I said, ‘I must be allowed to defend my client.’
‘Well, Miss Park,’ said the judge gravely, ‘I don’t know where this going, but you may continue for now.’
I thanked him, and asked David Tennant what he meant. He delivered his answer straight to the jury. ‘I’m sorry to be doing this. It’s only because I have been forced to. The world is full of crackpots pretending that evolution didn’t happen, or that dried camel’s brain and honey will cure epilepsy. They are deluded, of course. There are other crackpots who see conspiracies everywhere. Most of these conspiracists are lunatics screaming into the void, hungry to blame shadowy forces for their own inadequacies, but some of them, a tiny few, have been right all along. Humans are not the only intelligent life on this planet. Another race of humanoids have existed alongside you for millennia. I am one of them. We once possessed science of extraordinary power, but we warred and were exiled from our own planet. We are not more powerful than you – one thing about our exile was that we resemble you in every measurable way – and our former power and knowledge survives only as fragment and prophecy.’ The room was stunned into silence by this obvious speech, which they all knew was insane. But it was thrilling to be listening to David Tennant say it in a courtroom, like being in a story, and they had all heard things very like it from David Tennant’s lips when he was playing the Doctor. The unreality of his speech combined with his fictional persona to give him, while his momentum was unbroken, a fragile credibility. It would fall apart as soon as he stopped, surely, except he now said, ‘One of the few artefacts that remains to us is this! ‘And suddenly he was holding the sword, three-feet long and glittering in the courtroom sun. The policeman behind him seized him round the waist and grabbed for his arm, very bravely I thought, but the sword was gone.
The room erupted. Courtroom artists were feverishly trying to sketch what they were sure they had seen, the prosecution was objecting to anything it could think of, and the judge fixed me with a steely glare. ‘I very much hope you can explain this trickery, Miss Park, because I do not like trickery in my courtroom.’
‘Mr Tennant,’ I said. ‘Was that a trick?’
David Tennant smiled. ‘According to Sherlock Holmes,’ he began, ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, has to be true. That is fair enough, so far as it goes, but it is unimaginative. Very, very often in their history, humans have been wrong about what is or isn’t possible, so their initial assumptions can make them believe things which they know for a fact are incredibly improbable. In those cases, the probability of them being wrong about what is impossible is much higher than the probability of the thing they are trying to persuade themselves to believe is the only possibility. For instance, in this case, it is much more probable that I have an artefact so advanced as to seem like magic than that you have all had the same collective delusion about me holding a sword – the same collective delusion that took hold of all yesterday’s witnesses.’
‘Miss Park,’ interrupted the judge, ‘Is the root of your case going to be that your client is not human?’ I nodded. ‘In which case, I am going to order a recess until tomorrow to prepare myself for the implications. I will not have this room turned into a circus. Good afternoon.’
Rabbit-and-hat is appropriate, actually. On day two, the prosecution introduced a couple of stage magicians to explain how they could have given the impression of holding a sword and then, five minutes later, ta-da!, no sword. Thus, they hoped, any defence which rested on such trickery would be doomed.
I knew, as did the demons on the prosecution team, that David Tennant’s sword had disappeared because it was literally magic (or born of powers beyond our technology’s ability to comprehend, powers lost by the demons and angels aeons ago, and so the difference between these powers and magic, as far as present purposes were concerned, was semantic). You couldn’t tell the jury that, of course.
***
‘So, Mr Tennant,’ I asked, ‘the so-called sword. Would you say it was impossible for it to have disappeared?’
‘Objection!’ said the dutiful prosecution counsel. ‘We have clearly established several methods by which the sword could have appeared to disappear.’
‘My question, your honour, is as to whether the sword could ACTUALLY have disappeared. It is central to the defence case.’
‘Carry on, Miss Park,’ said the judge. Like all judges unless television is lying, he was a very dignified black man.
‘So, Mr Tennant, could that sword have literally disappeared?’
‘Yes.’
‘Objection!’
‘Dismissed. Carry on, Miss Park.’
‘How would that be possible, Mr Tennant? Would you explain to the court, please? It flies in the face of our understanding of science.’
‘I’m afraid,’ said David Tennant, ‘you must rethink some of your fundamental beliefs about science.’
‘Objection!’ said my opposite number, panic and disbelief mingling in his voice. He understood now. ‘This is completely outside the remit of the courtroom.’
‘Your honour,’ I said, ‘I must be allowed to defend my client.’
‘Well, Miss Park,’ said the judge gravely, ‘I don’t know where this going, but you may continue for now.’
I thanked him, and asked David Tennant what he meant. He delivered his answer straight to the jury. ‘I’m sorry to be doing this. It’s only because I have been forced to. The world is full of crackpots pretending that evolution didn’t happen, or that dried camel’s brain and honey will cure epilepsy. They are deluded, of course. There are other crackpots who see conspiracies everywhere. Most of these conspiracists are lunatics screaming into the void, hungry to blame shadowy forces for their own inadequacies, but some of them, a tiny few, have been right all along. Humans are not the only intelligent life on this planet. Another race of humanoids have existed alongside you for millennia. I am one of them. We once possessed science of extraordinary power, but we warred and were exiled from our own planet. We are not more powerful than you – one thing about our exile was that we resemble you in every measurable way – and our former power and knowledge survives only as fragment and prophecy.’ The room was stunned into silence by this obvious speech, which they all knew was insane. But it was thrilling to be listening to David Tennant say it in a courtroom, like being in a story, and they had all heard things very like it from David Tennant’s lips when he was playing the Doctor. The unreality of his speech combined with his fictional persona to give him, while his momentum was unbroken, a fragile credibility. It would fall apart as soon as he stopped, surely, except he now said, ‘One of the few artefacts that remains to us is this! ‘And suddenly he was holding the sword, three-feet long and glittering in the courtroom sun. The policeman behind him seized him round the waist and grabbed for his arm, very bravely I thought, but the sword was gone.
The room erupted. Courtroom artists were feverishly trying to sketch what they were sure they had seen, the prosecution was objecting to anything it could think of, and the judge fixed me with a steely glare. ‘I very much hope you can explain this trickery, Miss Park, because I do not like trickery in my courtroom.’
‘Mr Tennant,’ I said. ‘Was that a trick?’
David Tennant smiled. ‘According to Sherlock Holmes,’ he began, ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, has to be true. That is fair enough, so far as it goes, but it is unimaginative. Very, very often in their history, humans have been wrong about what is or isn’t possible, so their initial assumptions can make them believe things which they know for a fact are incredibly improbable. In those cases, the probability of them being wrong about what is impossible is much higher than the probability of the thing they are trying to persuade themselves to believe is the only possibility. For instance, in this case, it is much more probable that I have an artefact so advanced as to seem like magic than that you have all had the same collective delusion about me holding a sword – the same collective delusion that took hold of all yesterday’s witnesses.’
‘Miss Park,’ interrupted the judge, ‘Is the root of your case going to be that your client is not human?’ I nodded. ‘In which case, I am going to order a recess until tomorrow to prepare myself for the implications. I will not have this room turned into a circus. Good afternoon.’
Monday, October 22, 2007
Chapter 50: Duty-bound
‘You have to tell me about Rollo Price,’ I repeated. David Tennant still said nothing. ‘I’ve asked over and again, and the Teacher, and every time, you tell me not to worry, and Miss Smallbone has told the others that there’s nothing to worry about, but the time is coming and Rollo is part of it, and I don’t know what part. I need to understand what he’s doing in my story.’
‘I can imagine that,’ said David. ‘If I were in your position, it’s something that I would really want to know.’ And then he stopped.
‘Nice try!’ I said. ‘The Teacher tried to turn me against him, and now she says I don’t have to worry about him, but she gives me no reason, and neither do you. It’s ridiculous. It’s like he’s this shadowy figure in the background, obviously important, but no one’s ever bothered to explain him properly.’
David Tennant picked up the Evening Standard I’d brought in with me, and folded it so the only thing showing was the main headline: BARMY BORIS SLAMS FRANCE-RUSSIA PACT. HOUSE PRICE CRASH AHEAD? He wasn’t looking at it, just fiddling. He smoothed the paper, and I watched his hands, wanting to hold them. I had some faint memory about prisoners not getting nail scissors because they might turn them into those knives made out of toothbrushes (I’ve never been clear on the details) but David was perfectly neat. Eventually, he tapped his right knuckles twice gently on the table and asked me, ‘What do you know about the Unattached?’ Nothing. ‘I thought so. After our people were cast upon this planet in the giant explosion that killed the dinosaurs, etc., we divided more or less down the middle, and we have fought ever since. The angels try to save the earth, the demons seek to destroy it. But there were some who refused to pick sides, and over the millennia, others have joined them. They are the Unattached. We do not know precisely who or how many they are, a few score perhaps. Some of them, concentrating on very long-term investments, are incredibly wealthy and powerful; some are more monastic; some have gone what you might call crazy – like missionaries left too long alone. The Teacher is certain that at least some of the Unattached collaborate to maintain the status quo. They are, therefore, loosely on the side of the angels. Rollo is a part of your story, very clearly. The Master has watched him because he has been around you too often for it to be a coincidence. Perhaps the simplest reading of the Rollo situation is that he is one of the Unattached who has assigned himself to you as a Guardian, or been assigned. If he were an assassin, you would be long dead.’
‘How could he have found out about me?’
‘The Unattached have great resources, as I said.’
‘Could he have told the Master? Is that how the Master found me?’
‘I doubt it. The Unattached have joined us several times, but they have never fought on the side of the demons. They are like Switzerland. They engage only to protect themselves, and if the fate of the world is in the balance, they would join those trying to save it. Almost certainly.’
‘You are telling me half truths.’
David grinned and said, ‘You’re beautiful when you’re angry, and you learn very fast, but know this, I have told you nothing untrue.’ And he leaned forward, folded my hands in his, and said, ‘I would do anything to protect you. Anything. I…’ He exhaled. ‘I look forward to the end. You understand that I must do what the Teacher thinks is best? She has always done the right thing. It is very hard to be a leader. She loves you very much, Mary Sue. And she loves this planet very much. It’s been her whole life.’
***
I knew he thought he was doing the right thing, but I had had enough. Without another word I strode from the interview room to where I knew Rollo would be standing like a woolly-suited sentinel. I grabbed him by the arm and said, ‘Enough, Rollo. I’ve been told not to have this conversation, and I think you have too, but we’re going to have it. Come with me.’
Half an hour later, in a greasy spoon round the corner from the station, Rollo looked at me with his disconcerting eyes and said, ‘Ok. What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Tricky. May I start by saying that I’m here to protect you? That’s my job. I’m…’
‘No, Rollo. That’s all the Teacher ever says, and David Tennant, and then it’s just guff about Unattacheds, complications and prophecies no one understands. You need to tell me something that I can get to grips with, because at the moment, I don’t trust you, and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to trust anyone. You are the key to this whole story in some mysterious way, and I need to know how.’
‘The Teacher told you I was an Unattached?’ he asked.
‘Don’t!’ I said. ‘Don’t repeat what they say. I want to know the truth.’
‘No you don’t. What you want is to look into my eyes, and to know for certain that you can trust me.’
‘No, I don’t. I want to…’
‘This is me, Mary Sue. No one knows you better than I do. Look into my eyes.’ He said it with such, I don’t know exactly, but depth might be part of how to explain it, that I instantly locked my eyes on his, and I looked through him almost, and I knew I would trust him with my life, absolutely, without any question.
I worry that I’ve made him sound creepy, like some circus mesmerist, but I can’t help that because I have never been very good at describing. Believe me when I say that I had, from that moment on, no doubt that Rollo would do anything to protect me. I said, ‘I trust you,’ and he squeezed my hand, and it was not like when David Tennant squeezed it. I didn’t feel any confusion – I just knew he was the best friend I’d ever have. I know I’ve said this badly. I really do know it. You’ll be thinking, ‘How could she possibly trust him after THIS. He has said literally NOTHING that I would regard as trustworthy!’ All I can say is that you didn’t look in his eyes, so you don’t understand. Those were eyes that loved me, absolutely, without exception, without consideration of time or pain. I bet no one has ever looked at you like that.
‘I can imagine that,’ said David. ‘If I were in your position, it’s something that I would really want to know.’ And then he stopped.
‘Nice try!’ I said. ‘The Teacher tried to turn me against him, and now she says I don’t have to worry about him, but she gives me no reason, and neither do you. It’s ridiculous. It’s like he’s this shadowy figure in the background, obviously important, but no one’s ever bothered to explain him properly.’
David Tennant picked up the Evening Standard I’d brought in with me, and folded it so the only thing showing was the main headline: BARMY BORIS SLAMS FRANCE-RUSSIA PACT. HOUSE PRICE CRASH AHEAD? He wasn’t looking at it, just fiddling. He smoothed the paper, and I watched his hands, wanting to hold them. I had some faint memory about prisoners not getting nail scissors because they might turn them into those knives made out of toothbrushes (I’ve never been clear on the details) but David was perfectly neat. Eventually, he tapped his right knuckles twice gently on the table and asked me, ‘What do you know about the Unattached?’ Nothing. ‘I thought so. After our people were cast upon this planet in the giant explosion that killed the dinosaurs, etc., we divided more or less down the middle, and we have fought ever since. The angels try to save the earth, the demons seek to destroy it. But there were some who refused to pick sides, and over the millennia, others have joined them. They are the Unattached. We do not know precisely who or how many they are, a few score perhaps. Some of them, concentrating on very long-term investments, are incredibly wealthy and powerful; some are more monastic; some have gone what you might call crazy – like missionaries left too long alone. The Teacher is certain that at least some of the Unattached collaborate to maintain the status quo. They are, therefore, loosely on the side of the angels. Rollo is a part of your story, very clearly. The Master has watched him because he has been around you too often for it to be a coincidence. Perhaps the simplest reading of the Rollo situation is that he is one of the Unattached who has assigned himself to you as a Guardian, or been assigned. If he were an assassin, you would be long dead.’
‘How could he have found out about me?’
‘The Unattached have great resources, as I said.’
‘Could he have told the Master? Is that how the Master found me?’
‘I doubt it. The Unattached have joined us several times, but they have never fought on the side of the demons. They are like Switzerland. They engage only to protect themselves, and if the fate of the world is in the balance, they would join those trying to save it. Almost certainly.’
‘You are telling me half truths.’
David grinned and said, ‘You’re beautiful when you’re angry, and you learn very fast, but know this, I have told you nothing untrue.’ And he leaned forward, folded my hands in his, and said, ‘I would do anything to protect you. Anything. I…’ He exhaled. ‘I look forward to the end. You understand that I must do what the Teacher thinks is best? She has always done the right thing. It is very hard to be a leader. She loves you very much, Mary Sue. And she loves this planet very much. It’s been her whole life.’
***
I knew he thought he was doing the right thing, but I had had enough. Without another word I strode from the interview room to where I knew Rollo would be standing like a woolly-suited sentinel. I grabbed him by the arm and said, ‘Enough, Rollo. I’ve been told not to have this conversation, and I think you have too, but we’re going to have it. Come with me.’
Half an hour later, in a greasy spoon round the corner from the station, Rollo looked at me with his disconcerting eyes and said, ‘Ok. What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Tricky. May I start by saying that I’m here to protect you? That’s my job. I’m…’
‘No, Rollo. That’s all the Teacher ever says, and David Tennant, and then it’s just guff about Unattacheds, complications and prophecies no one understands. You need to tell me something that I can get to grips with, because at the moment, I don’t trust you, and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to trust anyone. You are the key to this whole story in some mysterious way, and I need to know how.’
‘The Teacher told you I was an Unattached?’ he asked.
‘Don’t!’ I said. ‘Don’t repeat what they say. I want to know the truth.’
‘No you don’t. What you want is to look into my eyes, and to know for certain that you can trust me.’
‘No, I don’t. I want to…’
‘This is me, Mary Sue. No one knows you better than I do. Look into my eyes.’ He said it with such, I don’t know exactly, but depth might be part of how to explain it, that I instantly locked my eyes on his, and I looked through him almost, and I knew I would trust him with my life, absolutely, without any question.
I worry that I’ve made him sound creepy, like some circus mesmerist, but I can’t help that because I have never been very good at describing. Believe me when I say that I had, from that moment on, no doubt that Rollo would do anything to protect me. I said, ‘I trust you,’ and he squeezed my hand, and it was not like when David Tennant squeezed it. I didn’t feel any confusion – I just knew he was the best friend I’d ever have. I know I’ve said this badly. I really do know it. You’ll be thinking, ‘How could she possibly trust him after THIS. He has said literally NOTHING that I would regard as trustworthy!’ All I can say is that you didn’t look in his eyes, so you don’t understand. Those were eyes that loved me, absolutely, without exception, without consideration of time or pain. I bet no one has ever looked at you like that.
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