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Friday, 6 April 2007
Tonedeaf: Part 5
We interrupt our regular broadcast to +++ NO SIGNAL +++ foreign broadcast of unknown origin interfering with the Harmony +++ NO SIGNAL +++ stay where you are while we restore balance +++
Kay tripped over her feet as she ran out of the Feathered Crown. Her head felt like it was being curdled. Through watery eyes she saw Mac walking ahead of her down the street. Around her the ground was littered with broken glass, cars ground to a halt and people were just standing around looking upwards while this unholy scream was thumping out of every Amplifier.
“Wait!” Kay called after Mac. Her body didn't seem to be working properly, she felt like she was going to collapse from exhaustion. Frantically, she wondered what the scream was doing to her.
She felt a hand under her arm. Mac lifted her to her feet and started to guide her down the street forcibly."You're quite determined, aren't you?"
**
The Herald was standing in the courtyard at the front of the Monastery. Erith watched from the shadows as the giant moved around, examining the flowerbeds and the wishing well.
Do you know what I miss most of all?
Erith's heart leaped into his throat as he scrambled back into the shadows. Was he talking to him? There was a murmur from the other side of the courtyard - Erith squinted - he couldn't see who was talking.
Green.
Erith breathed a sigh of relief. There was another murmur.
Everything green. Plants I particularly like. I will enjoy building a garden and filling it with flowers and trees.
Erith shimmied around at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was Brother Pica, looking shaken and distracted.
"Y-your excellency," he stammered, looking resolutely at the ground. Pica looked terrified. Erith wondered what it took to un-hinge the great Brother.
Good. How are your Brothers?
"Recovering in the chapel, Herald."
You will all have to be adjusted. Your reaction to the Call was most disappointing.
"I don't understand."
Don't you remember the Texts, Brother? You embarrass yourself. The Herald was running his hands across the flowers, sampling their fragrance. 'And the faithful will be singled out by the great Call and rewarded with Paradise. Those who fall will be Damned.'
Erith watched as Brother Pica wilted visibly, the strength seeming to fall from his shoulders.
You understand now, good Brother? You have strayed from the path that was laid out for you. You left the City that your gracious Masters gave to you. This Monastery you have founded has made you weak. You have all broken the Dictates of Harmony.
"We wanted to strengthen our faith by removing distractions - we thought this was what they wanted." Brother Pica replied, his voice hollow.
All They want is for their children to live in Harmony. You disobeyed, and you have paid the price.
"Forgive us," Brother Pica muttered, his voice hushed. He was sobbing.
Forgiveness. That I cannot grant, our mutual Masters have very particular ideas concerning right and wrong.
"W-What will you do?"
I will do what needs to be done.
There was a long, drawn out silence between the Herald and Pica. In a burst of anguish, Pica broke down and fell to his knees. "I beg you -forgive me! Please. I'll do anything. Let me, please. I will do anything you ask!"
I believe you, Brother. The Herald walked over to the wishing well and picked a penny out of the water. You will be forgiven, if you submit to an adjustment.
"Anything - anything," Pica muttered, blubbering in the dirt. Erith looked away, he couldn't bear to look at the man degrade himself.
Good.
**
Mac closed the man-hole cover behind Kay as they both descended into the sewers. He held her under the shoulders as they advanced into the network of tunnels. She found it increasingly difficult to walk through the sludge beneath her feet.
Mac eventually led her to a junction where they stopped. How long it had taken them to get there, she wasn't sure. Every now and then she seemed to fade in and out of reality. Every time she realised where she was, the smell would hit her she'd begin to convulse. Several times Mac jammed something in between her clenched teeth and forced her to swallow.
Slowly, sanity returned to her and the fever began to pass. Although what replaced it felt like euphoric drunkenness.
"What have you done to me?" She whispered, deliriously.
"Jacked you up on Din, isn't that what you wanted?" Mac replied, concentrating on the wall in the low, gloomy light. "You'll thank me in a little while."
Suddenly, the wall swung open and a new tunnel was revealed. It was strongly lit with intense blue lights and the smell of bleach cut through the excrement like a knife.
Mac maneuvered Kay into the new tunnel and followed her in. Safely inside, the door swung closed. They were standing in a knee high bath of cleaning solution.
"Step forward." A voice over an intercom instructed. They did as they were told. The tunnel then proceeded to clean them with a series of showers. Sufficiently drenched and recovered by the end of the experience, Kay was just about ready to kill when she was handed a fluffy warm towel and some clean clothes.
After changing, she was led into a low-ceilinged chamber where a group of assembled misfits were gathered on mess hall benches and tables. They were all watching her. Mac stepped forward.
"Welcome," he said, scratching his head.
"And you say she'd built up a partial resistance?" A gruff looking man eyed her skeptically but spoke to Mac.
"She chased me down the street while everyone else stared up at the sky like morons. Yeah, she resisted all right." Mac replied.
"What's going on?"
"Can't you guess? We're the face of evil. The scum who've been polluting the streets and lower nests with Din and raves and debauchery and sin." Mac replied, stepping forward. "We're what classical literature refers to as a 'resistance cell'."
Kay nodded, "I know this might sound like a really stupid question, so forgive me in advance, but... a resistance to what?"
"Spoken like a true sheep." The gruff man spat, standing up and walking off.
"Sorry - what's a sheep?"
"Have you ever wondered where the Harmony comes from, or what it does? Have you ever read too much into the Texts and found strange links between words which were supposedly written thousands of years ago, and now? Well, you're looking at all the people who ever did." Mac waved at the people standing around him. "We were demoted, fired, seconded, downgraded - all in an effort to shut us up. Over the years we've taken stock of our situation, gathered resources and paved the way for a Brighter Future." He continued with an ironic smile.
"A Brighter Future..."
"One of the many slogans we're fed on since birth, as our resident Psychologist will tell you. He was silenced for conducting research into what were deemed 'heretical theories'; or, in other words, whether or not the Harmony is brainwashing us." Mac continued.
Kay sat down on one of the benches. The screech had left her weak, but the realisation that these people were her only hope made her feel worse.
"We've been preparing for this day for a very long time; working with the outsiders to get people out of the city. Unfortunately, the young were the only people who paid any attention to our 'wild theories'. That did nothing for our PR, I can tell you." Mac said, sitting down next to her. "What all this boils down to is this: we think the Ancient Texts are bit too prophetic to be just prophecy. There is evidence to support the theory that our civilisation has been staged. By whom, we don't know, there are theories for that too. The screaming we heard earlier - we believe that is what the Texts refer to as the Call. If this is true, then the Herald has arrived on Earth and what comes next is the Last War."
"An Age of Prophecy," Kay whispered, thinking of all the bill-boards advertising new estates. All those slogans.
"The Harmony, as far as we're concerned, is a means of controlling the masses."
"What if you're wrong?"
"Then we'll all look very stupid."
The ground shook - what sounded like thunder could be heard in the distance. Dust fell from the ceiling.
"You aren't wrong, are you?" Kay asked, meekly.
"We don't think so." Mac smiled, patting her on shoulder gently.
**
It was night and the stars were out, framed by the circle of trees in the clearing. Jon was staring up. The full moons were bright tonight, Luna One glowing white and Luna Two glowing grey.
Jon looked down at the ruins of the Museum. The people of the camp were gathered within its broken walls, fires were lit and the feeling of excitement and dread in the air was palpable.
"Come on, let's get her out," Walter muttered. Jon and Sol turned to the off-road beast and grabbed the ends of the enormous cryo tube. As they slid it out, the moonlight shone down onto the pale, round face of the girl sleeping within. A countdown was flashing on the mounted panel, ticking down to when the tube was ready to open.
They carried her across the clearing towards the gathering. The crowd hushed down as they approached and watched as they placed her unevenly on the foundation stone.
Walter took a step forward to address the gathering.
"We all know why we're here." He began, scanning the crowd. "This day hardly needs any introduction. If the Rain of Fire wasn't hint enough, then the noise we heard across the Harmony earlier was proof. The Call has gone out and now decisions must be made."
Jon looked at Sol who was standing very near Walter as he addressed the audience. Beyond, faces flickered in the crowd, lit by the light of the fires.
"If we're right, then what will come next is the Swift Justice. It's too late to consider loved ones back in the city, chances are the Harmony has done its job and now they are beyond our immediate help." Walter, who had at times seemed very sanctimonious to Jon, was a natural leader. "We will do what we can for them in time, but now we need to consider ourselves. As I see it, we have two choices. We can either stay here and re-establish contact with our people in the city and fight; or we can run, establish a colony elsewhere and begin a new life."
"We can't go anywhere," a face called from the crowd, one of the older ones, "We can't run. We have to stay. There is nowhere for us to go."
The crowd murmured its agreement. Walter smiled, nodding along with them, "I had a feeling that would be your reaction. However, there is something to consider. We all know of the Texts and their significance. We have argued over their truth as prophecy, coincidence or deliberate knowledge of the future. But as some of you know, there is another Text. One that was found in the Wilderness. One which speaks of the individual known as Din."
Jon felt all the eyes in the crowd turn to him, he looked down at the girl in the glass coffin and thought of her, while everyone else wondered about him.
"There are other players too that we are aware of, what their roles may entail we do not know. However, it is my belief that these people should go. We can barely protect ourselves out here." Walter gestured around to the ruins, the trees and the open sky. They were exposed, on the run. Ultimately, they would be found.
"How would we escape? Where would these people go?" The inevitable question was asked by another face in the crowd.
"We found another bunker today," Walter stepped back and stood next to the cryo tube, "In it we found this young lady. Who she is, where she comes from - when she comes from. We do not know. But, we did find a ship with her. A very advanced ship, but one of human design. We think. We believe that an escape could be made in this ship." The crowd was abuzz with chatter and hands went up to speak, Walter waved them down. "The forgotten Text refers to a Red Frontier. We believe that the ship could be made to go there. Wherever it is."
The crowd broke into shouting and talking, Walter struggled to control them but ultimately failed. One of the older ones, a woman with a lined face - Jon recognised her as one of the original team of explorers sent out into the wilderness. "Your plan is very nice Walter, but there are things we need to consider here. Who would go? Who should go? What are the people who stay going to do? And, crucially, I feel, because we're hardly an able body of people - who is going to fly your ship?"
There was a silence, Walter looked around to Jon, who shrugged.
"I will."
The crowd's attention spun to entrance of the ruin. Captain Nithes was standing in the firelight, his arms wrapped around Cho's shoulder. "I'll fly your gods-damned ship."
**
Erith was sitting cross legged in the field, with his back against the wall. He'd been sitting there all day. He'd lost contact with his backside and lower legs a long time ago. All bodily concerns seemed to slip away. This was the turning point. Here was the proof he'd longed to see all these years. Hard evidence was sitting in front of him in the form of the ship the Herald had landed in. Why did he feel empty, then? Why wasn't he euphoric? Perhaps it had something to do with the psychotic effect he had on Pica. Maybe it was the hatchery buried beneath the Monastery and the endless sea of giant eggs. Maybe he just didn't believe after all.
He heard the rejoicing coming from over the wall. They'd broken out the ceremonial wine, it seemed, forgotten their vows for a few hours in celebration of the Call. But why had they all fallen - were they all damned? What did it mean?
The door to the garden burst open and a Monk appeared, one of the young brothers. Not used to alcohol, Erith thought, remembering his school days and the behaviour that had prompted his parents to send him here.
The Brother was clutching his stomach, gasping. The party was going on behind him, louder now. He'd be sick, Erith thought, then stumble back to the party.
But the Brother wasn't sick, he just stood there, clutching his stomach. Erith leaned in - he was shaking. Suddenly, another figure appeared in the doorway.
"There you are," Pica muttered, his voice unmistakable. Erith's blood turned cold. Pica pulled out a long implement. The Brother fell into the dirt, pleading and crying out. But Pica loomed over him, the weapon raised. It was a knife - Erith could see it, but his mind stumbled to comprehend what he was seeing. With swift violence, Pica plunged the knife down into the chest of the Brother while he screamed in the dirt.
There was a moment, an eternal image in Erith's mind where he saw Pica's shoulders rising up and down, his breath heavy and guttural.
"Run Erith."
For a second, Erith didn't register that he'd spoken. But this wasn't the voice of a murderer. This was a scared man.
"Run boy." He spat again. In an instant, Erith was on his feet, stumbling and fleeing into the night. He didn't think, he didn't look back. He just ran.
**
Is that all of them?
"Yes."
Good. You will be adjusted. I'm proud of you Pica, your faith is very strong.
"Thank you."
Now come, we have an appointment to keep with the City.
Pica stood in the moonlight, shaking. Beneath him, the gound seemed to swell deflate. From below, raucous cries could be heard from the earth. Behind him, from the Monastery, he heard the enormous Birds bursting up from the catacombs and taking to the sky. As creature after creature took flight the Monastery fell in on itself burying the dead and swallowing Pica's life with it.
**
"Is this how you treat all of your women?" Kay asked as they moved through the sewer complex.
"Only the ones worth saving."
"How comforting. I'm honoured." She replied making sure her hand never left his.
There was something going on above - the ground hadn't stopped shaking. They didn't have time to wonder what it was. All they could do was run.
"How long do we have?" Mac asked one of the people up ahead.
"About five minutes," The grumpy man replied, referring to a piece of paper covered in scribbles and equations.
"Until what?" Kay asked, dreading the answer.
"One of the little features we found out about the city. Ever wondered why the architecture is all uniform?"
"Not really."
"Well, we did. The city has a funky design feature - it reacts to certain frequencies in different ways. It, like everything else is designed to work in Harmony. The Call, it seems has activated the most esoteric function."
"Dare I even ask?"
Mac laughed, "The city is closing everything down. Locking all the doors, sealing all of the holes. We suspected at first it was designed to be implemented if another city attacked us. We were wrong. Naturally, we planned for this eventuality, but it isn't without its shortcomings."
Kay shuddered.
"Four minutes people - lets move!" Shouted the man up ahead, his voice ringing down the cramped space.
**
Below him, through the transparent bottom of the Herald's ship, Pica could see the city of Avian One. One half jutting into the sea, the other surrounded by the dense Wilderness, ringed in its entirety by the enormous perimeter wall.
Magnificent. The Herald muttered.
Pica looked down at his hands. They were dull red, his sleeves soaked up to the elbows, his habit splattered and messy with blood.
Underneath the ship, descending in formation were the Birds. It was then that he noticed that the City itself was moving, smoke and dust rising into the sky.
"What's happening?"
The people will be judged tonight Brother Pica; their faith tested. We have taken total control of the Harmony. The city is now ours.
"Why is it moving?"
To leave no stone unturned, so that the sinful cannot hide. Pica looked up at the cowled, technicolour beast.
"Why are you doing this?"
The Herald did not respond, it was clear that he was watching the Birds land on rooves, in the streets.
Why? The Herald laughed softly, Because I want my planet back.
**
"You wont have long," Walter shouted back to them as he sat down at the console in the Bunker. Behind him, the ones who were leaving flooded into the cylindrical silo and stared at the ship. "Get everything on board now."
Volunteers swept past - Jon was overseeing the cryo tube with Syd; Captain Nithes was helping Cho mount the gantry into the belly of the ship, others were carrying supplies.
"So much for going back to the city." Jon muttered. Syd looked up and smiled.
"Don't worry. We'll see them again." Syd replied. Jon nodded, lifting the cryo tube onto the gantry and into the ship.
"It all seems to be on a timed, auto setting Captain," Walter spoke into the intercom. There was a short silence.
"I see it."
"Can you work the controls?" Walter asked. There was another silence.
"Yes."
Syd emerged from the belly of the ship and smiled. "Everything is onboard." He nodded.
The ship began to shake as the engines warmed up. "You might want to get out." Captain Nithes's voice boomed over the intercom.
Jon appeared at the hatch and launched himself across the gantry. "You don't escape that easily." He grabbed Syd and bear hugged him. "Take care of him." Jon said, looking at Walter intently. "I've lost him once already."
Walter nodded and Jon let go of his brother. Syd backed away. Jon shook them both by the hand and bid them farewell. "I'll send you a postcard from the Red Frontier." He smiled before disappearing back into the ship.
Onboard, Jon climbed into his seat in the spacious cockpit and strapped himself in. "You ready?" Nithes asked, not waiting for a reply. The ship fired its ignition and began its rapid ascent.
"Are you doing this?" Jon shouted over the noise.
"It's all pre-programmed. I barely have any control." The Captain shouted back.
"Is that good or bad?"
"We'll soon find out."
**
Syd and walter jumped back into the off-road beast as the ship thundered into the heavens overhead.
"They'll be fine." Walter said, without much conviction.
Syd didn't reply, he just followed the ship with his eyes until all that could be seen was a trail of vapour and smoke.
**
Kay and the others emerged from a low tunnel onto a plateau that overlooked the City. They watched as the Birds landed; they watched as the Herald's silver ship landed somewhere in the upper nests; they heard the curious thundering noise rising into the sky and saw the trail of smoke that it left.
They all stood in silence and awe. It took a moment for Kay to realise that they were out in the Wilderness. It was so absurd she had to laugh.
After a moment she lost control of herself and the hilarity of the entire situation dawned of her. The world was coming to an end - certainly her life as she knew it was over - her parents were in the city, her brothers were dead. And all she could do was laugh.
Slowly, the resistance moved its way into the forest, leaving Kay and Mac on the lip of the plateau.
"You're crazy." Mac muttered fondly.
"You're a drug dealer and a scoundrel," Kay replied, wiping the tears from her eyes, chuckling.
They both looked up as the Birds in the city looked up and as one, leaped into the air and flew overhead into the Wilderness.
"Where do you think they're going?" Kay asked.
"The same place we are. To find the other half of the Resistance." Mac replied grimly. He turned around and walked into the forest, leaving Kay with a funny, niggling thought in her head.
"Wait. What other half?" Kay demanded. Spinning around, she followed him into the undergrowth and disappeared after him. Mac's booming laugh could be heard up ahead, growing fainter and fainter.
**
The beast ground to a grassy halt in the clearing. There was no one there.
Syd and Walter leaped out of their seats and looked around. The fires were dying out. There was nothing. No one.
"Where-"
"Sshhhh!" Walter hissed, looking around.
There was a fluttering sound in the darkness - a chirrup.
"Who's there?" Walter asked, stepping forward.
He was answered by a burst of chatter - high, bird-like sounds.
"The Harmony?" Syd whispered.
Walter shook his head. Pairs of yellow, glistening eyes appeared in the darkness. Forked feet stepped forward in the dirt and into the low moonlight. Syd looked down at the ground and saw trails of blood and ominous forms, lingering in shadow.
Walter's hand slipped into Syd's as the Birds advanced towards them.
"Nice knowing you."
"You too."
**
Good Morning Avian One, this is the new voice of the Harmony speaking. You will stay in your homes and await further instructions. Today is a bright new day and we look forward to working closely with you to build a Brighter Future. We are living in an Age of Prophecy and things are changing, but there is no need to be afraid. You will have questions to ask; all of these will be answered in time. We hope you have a nice day.
++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++
Kay tripped over her feet as she ran out of the Feathered Crown. Her head felt like it was being curdled. Through watery eyes she saw Mac walking ahead of her down the street. Around her the ground was littered with broken glass, cars ground to a halt and people were just standing around looking upwards while this unholy scream was thumping out of every Amplifier.
“Wait!” Kay called after Mac. Her body didn't seem to be working properly, she felt like she was going to collapse from exhaustion. Frantically, she wondered what the scream was doing to her.
She felt a hand under her arm. Mac lifted her to her feet and started to guide her down the street forcibly."You're quite determined, aren't you?"
**
The Herald was standing in the courtyard at the front of the Monastery. Erith watched from the shadows as the giant moved around, examining the flowerbeds and the wishing well.
Do you know what I miss most of all?
Erith's heart leaped into his throat as he scrambled back into the shadows. Was he talking to him? There was a murmur from the other side of the courtyard - Erith squinted - he couldn't see who was talking.
Green.
Erith breathed a sigh of relief. There was another murmur.
Everything green. Plants I particularly like. I will enjoy building a garden and filling it with flowers and trees.
Erith shimmied around at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was Brother Pica, looking shaken and distracted.
"Y-your excellency," he stammered, looking resolutely at the ground. Pica looked terrified. Erith wondered what it took to un-hinge the great Brother.
Good. How are your Brothers?
"Recovering in the chapel, Herald."
You will all have to be adjusted. Your reaction to the Call was most disappointing.
"I don't understand."
Don't you remember the Texts, Brother? You embarrass yourself. The Herald was running his hands across the flowers, sampling their fragrance. 'And the faithful will be singled out by the great Call and rewarded with Paradise. Those who fall will be Damned.'
Erith watched as Brother Pica wilted visibly, the strength seeming to fall from his shoulders.
You understand now, good Brother? You have strayed from the path that was laid out for you. You left the City that your gracious Masters gave to you. This Monastery you have founded has made you weak. You have all broken the Dictates of Harmony.
"We wanted to strengthen our faith by removing distractions - we thought this was what they wanted." Brother Pica replied, his voice hollow.
All They want is for their children to live in Harmony. You disobeyed, and you have paid the price.
"Forgive us," Brother Pica muttered, his voice hushed. He was sobbing.
Forgiveness. That I cannot grant, our mutual Masters have very particular ideas concerning right and wrong.
"W-What will you do?"
I will do what needs to be done.
There was a long, drawn out silence between the Herald and Pica. In a burst of anguish, Pica broke down and fell to his knees. "I beg you -forgive me! Please. I'll do anything. Let me, please. I will do anything you ask!"
I believe you, Brother. The Herald walked over to the wishing well and picked a penny out of the water. You will be forgiven, if you submit to an adjustment.
"Anything - anything," Pica muttered, blubbering in the dirt. Erith looked away, he couldn't bear to look at the man degrade himself.
Good.
**
Mac closed the man-hole cover behind Kay as they both descended into the sewers. He held her under the shoulders as they advanced into the network of tunnels. She found it increasingly difficult to walk through the sludge beneath her feet.
Mac eventually led her to a junction where they stopped. How long it had taken them to get there, she wasn't sure. Every now and then she seemed to fade in and out of reality. Every time she realised where she was, the smell would hit her she'd begin to convulse. Several times Mac jammed something in between her clenched teeth and forced her to swallow.
Slowly, sanity returned to her and the fever began to pass. Although what replaced it felt like euphoric drunkenness.
"What have you done to me?" She whispered, deliriously.
"Jacked you up on Din, isn't that what you wanted?" Mac replied, concentrating on the wall in the low, gloomy light. "You'll thank me in a little while."
Suddenly, the wall swung open and a new tunnel was revealed. It was strongly lit with intense blue lights and the smell of bleach cut through the excrement like a knife.
Mac maneuvered Kay into the new tunnel and followed her in. Safely inside, the door swung closed. They were standing in a knee high bath of cleaning solution.
"Step forward." A voice over an intercom instructed. They did as they were told. The tunnel then proceeded to clean them with a series of showers. Sufficiently drenched and recovered by the end of the experience, Kay was just about ready to kill when she was handed a fluffy warm towel and some clean clothes.
After changing, she was led into a low-ceilinged chamber where a group of assembled misfits were gathered on mess hall benches and tables. They were all watching her. Mac stepped forward.
"Welcome," he said, scratching his head.
"And you say she'd built up a partial resistance?" A gruff looking man eyed her skeptically but spoke to Mac.
"She chased me down the street while everyone else stared up at the sky like morons. Yeah, she resisted all right." Mac replied.
"What's going on?"
"Can't you guess? We're the face of evil. The scum who've been polluting the streets and lower nests with Din and raves and debauchery and sin." Mac replied, stepping forward. "We're what classical literature refers to as a 'resistance cell'."
Kay nodded, "I know this might sound like a really stupid question, so forgive me in advance, but... a resistance to what?"
"Spoken like a true sheep." The gruff man spat, standing up and walking off.
"Sorry - what's a sheep?"
"Have you ever wondered where the Harmony comes from, or what it does? Have you ever read too much into the Texts and found strange links between words which were supposedly written thousands of years ago, and now? Well, you're looking at all the people who ever did." Mac waved at the people standing around him. "We were demoted, fired, seconded, downgraded - all in an effort to shut us up. Over the years we've taken stock of our situation, gathered resources and paved the way for a Brighter Future." He continued with an ironic smile.
"A Brighter Future..."
"One of the many slogans we're fed on since birth, as our resident Psychologist will tell you. He was silenced for conducting research into what were deemed 'heretical theories'; or, in other words, whether or not the Harmony is brainwashing us." Mac continued.
Kay sat down on one of the benches. The screech had left her weak, but the realisation that these people were her only hope made her feel worse.
"We've been preparing for this day for a very long time; working with the outsiders to get people out of the city. Unfortunately, the young were the only people who paid any attention to our 'wild theories'. That did nothing for our PR, I can tell you." Mac said, sitting down next to her. "What all this boils down to is this: we think the Ancient Texts are bit too prophetic to be just prophecy. There is evidence to support the theory that our civilisation has been staged. By whom, we don't know, there are theories for that too. The screaming we heard earlier - we believe that is what the Texts refer to as the Call. If this is true, then the Herald has arrived on Earth and what comes next is the Last War."
"An Age of Prophecy," Kay whispered, thinking of all the bill-boards advertising new estates. All those slogans.
"The Harmony, as far as we're concerned, is a means of controlling the masses."
"What if you're wrong?"
"Then we'll all look very stupid."
The ground shook - what sounded like thunder could be heard in the distance. Dust fell from the ceiling.
"You aren't wrong, are you?" Kay asked, meekly.
"We don't think so." Mac smiled, patting her on shoulder gently.
**
It was night and the stars were out, framed by the circle of trees in the clearing. Jon was staring up. The full moons were bright tonight, Luna One glowing white and Luna Two glowing grey.
Jon looked down at the ruins of the Museum. The people of the camp were gathered within its broken walls, fires were lit and the feeling of excitement and dread in the air was palpable.
"Come on, let's get her out," Walter muttered. Jon and Sol turned to the off-road beast and grabbed the ends of the enormous cryo tube. As they slid it out, the moonlight shone down onto the pale, round face of the girl sleeping within. A countdown was flashing on the mounted panel, ticking down to when the tube was ready to open.
They carried her across the clearing towards the gathering. The crowd hushed down as they approached and watched as they placed her unevenly on the foundation stone.
Walter took a step forward to address the gathering.
"We all know why we're here." He began, scanning the crowd. "This day hardly needs any introduction. If the Rain of Fire wasn't hint enough, then the noise we heard across the Harmony earlier was proof. The Call has gone out and now decisions must be made."
Jon looked at Sol who was standing very near Walter as he addressed the audience. Beyond, faces flickered in the crowd, lit by the light of the fires.
"If we're right, then what will come next is the Swift Justice. It's too late to consider loved ones back in the city, chances are the Harmony has done its job and now they are beyond our immediate help." Walter, who had at times seemed very sanctimonious to Jon, was a natural leader. "We will do what we can for them in time, but now we need to consider ourselves. As I see it, we have two choices. We can either stay here and re-establish contact with our people in the city and fight; or we can run, establish a colony elsewhere and begin a new life."
"We can't go anywhere," a face called from the crowd, one of the older ones, "We can't run. We have to stay. There is nowhere for us to go."
The crowd murmured its agreement. Walter smiled, nodding along with them, "I had a feeling that would be your reaction. However, there is something to consider. We all know of the Texts and their significance. We have argued over their truth as prophecy, coincidence or deliberate knowledge of the future. But as some of you know, there is another Text. One that was found in the Wilderness. One which speaks of the individual known as Din."
Jon felt all the eyes in the crowd turn to him, he looked down at the girl in the glass coffin and thought of her, while everyone else wondered about him.
"There are other players too that we are aware of, what their roles may entail we do not know. However, it is my belief that these people should go. We can barely protect ourselves out here." Walter gestured around to the ruins, the trees and the open sky. They were exposed, on the run. Ultimately, they would be found.
"How would we escape? Where would these people go?" The inevitable question was asked by another face in the crowd.
"We found another bunker today," Walter stepped back and stood next to the cryo tube, "In it we found this young lady. Who she is, where she comes from - when she comes from. We do not know. But, we did find a ship with her. A very advanced ship, but one of human design. We think. We believe that an escape could be made in this ship." The crowd was abuzz with chatter and hands went up to speak, Walter waved them down. "The forgotten Text refers to a Red Frontier. We believe that the ship could be made to go there. Wherever it is."
The crowd broke into shouting and talking, Walter struggled to control them but ultimately failed. One of the older ones, a woman with a lined face - Jon recognised her as one of the original team of explorers sent out into the wilderness. "Your plan is very nice Walter, but there are things we need to consider here. Who would go? Who should go? What are the people who stay going to do? And, crucially, I feel, because we're hardly an able body of people - who is going to fly your ship?"
There was a silence, Walter looked around to Jon, who shrugged.
"I will."
The crowd's attention spun to entrance of the ruin. Captain Nithes was standing in the firelight, his arms wrapped around Cho's shoulder. "I'll fly your gods-damned ship."
**
Erith was sitting cross legged in the field, with his back against the wall. He'd been sitting there all day. He'd lost contact with his backside and lower legs a long time ago. All bodily concerns seemed to slip away. This was the turning point. Here was the proof he'd longed to see all these years. Hard evidence was sitting in front of him in the form of the ship the Herald had landed in. Why did he feel empty, then? Why wasn't he euphoric? Perhaps it had something to do with the psychotic effect he had on Pica. Maybe it was the hatchery buried beneath the Monastery and the endless sea of giant eggs. Maybe he just didn't believe after all.
He heard the rejoicing coming from over the wall. They'd broken out the ceremonial wine, it seemed, forgotten their vows for a few hours in celebration of the Call. But why had they all fallen - were they all damned? What did it mean?
The door to the garden burst open and a Monk appeared, one of the young brothers. Not used to alcohol, Erith thought, remembering his school days and the behaviour that had prompted his parents to send him here.
The Brother was clutching his stomach, gasping. The party was going on behind him, louder now. He'd be sick, Erith thought, then stumble back to the party.
But the Brother wasn't sick, he just stood there, clutching his stomach. Erith leaned in - he was shaking. Suddenly, another figure appeared in the doorway.
"There you are," Pica muttered, his voice unmistakable. Erith's blood turned cold. Pica pulled out a long implement. The Brother fell into the dirt, pleading and crying out. But Pica loomed over him, the weapon raised. It was a knife - Erith could see it, but his mind stumbled to comprehend what he was seeing. With swift violence, Pica plunged the knife down into the chest of the Brother while he screamed in the dirt.
There was a moment, an eternal image in Erith's mind where he saw Pica's shoulders rising up and down, his breath heavy and guttural.
"Run Erith."
For a second, Erith didn't register that he'd spoken. But this wasn't the voice of a murderer. This was a scared man.
"Run boy." He spat again. In an instant, Erith was on his feet, stumbling and fleeing into the night. He didn't think, he didn't look back. He just ran.
**
Is that all of them?
"Yes."
Good. You will be adjusted. I'm proud of you Pica, your faith is very strong.
"Thank you."
Now come, we have an appointment to keep with the City.
Pica stood in the moonlight, shaking. Beneath him, the gound seemed to swell deflate. From below, raucous cries could be heard from the earth. Behind him, from the Monastery, he heard the enormous Birds bursting up from the catacombs and taking to the sky. As creature after creature took flight the Monastery fell in on itself burying the dead and swallowing Pica's life with it.
**
"Is this how you treat all of your women?" Kay asked as they moved through the sewer complex.
"Only the ones worth saving."
"How comforting. I'm honoured." She replied making sure her hand never left his.
There was something going on above - the ground hadn't stopped shaking. They didn't have time to wonder what it was. All they could do was run.
"How long do we have?" Mac asked one of the people up ahead.
"About five minutes," The grumpy man replied, referring to a piece of paper covered in scribbles and equations.
"Until what?" Kay asked, dreading the answer.
"One of the little features we found out about the city. Ever wondered why the architecture is all uniform?"
"Not really."
"Well, we did. The city has a funky design feature - it reacts to certain frequencies in different ways. It, like everything else is designed to work in Harmony. The Call, it seems has activated the most esoteric function."
"Dare I even ask?"
Mac laughed, "The city is closing everything down. Locking all the doors, sealing all of the holes. We suspected at first it was designed to be implemented if another city attacked us. We were wrong. Naturally, we planned for this eventuality, but it isn't without its shortcomings."
Kay shuddered.
"Four minutes people - lets move!" Shouted the man up ahead, his voice ringing down the cramped space.
**
Below him, through the transparent bottom of the Herald's ship, Pica could see the city of Avian One. One half jutting into the sea, the other surrounded by the dense Wilderness, ringed in its entirety by the enormous perimeter wall.
Magnificent. The Herald muttered.
Pica looked down at his hands. They were dull red, his sleeves soaked up to the elbows, his habit splattered and messy with blood.
Underneath the ship, descending in formation were the Birds. It was then that he noticed that the City itself was moving, smoke and dust rising into the sky.
"What's happening?"
The people will be judged tonight Brother Pica; their faith tested. We have taken total control of the Harmony. The city is now ours.
"Why is it moving?"
To leave no stone unturned, so that the sinful cannot hide. Pica looked up at the cowled, technicolour beast.
"Why are you doing this?"
The Herald did not respond, it was clear that he was watching the Birds land on rooves, in the streets.
Why? The Herald laughed softly, Because I want my planet back.
**
"You wont have long," Walter shouted back to them as he sat down at the console in the Bunker. Behind him, the ones who were leaving flooded into the cylindrical silo and stared at the ship. "Get everything on board now."
Volunteers swept past - Jon was overseeing the cryo tube with Syd; Captain Nithes was helping Cho mount the gantry into the belly of the ship, others were carrying supplies.
"So much for going back to the city." Jon muttered. Syd looked up and smiled.
"Don't worry. We'll see them again." Syd replied. Jon nodded, lifting the cryo tube onto the gantry and into the ship.
"It all seems to be on a timed, auto setting Captain," Walter spoke into the intercom. There was a short silence.
"I see it."
"Can you work the controls?" Walter asked. There was another silence.
"Yes."
Syd emerged from the belly of the ship and smiled. "Everything is onboard." He nodded.
The ship began to shake as the engines warmed up. "You might want to get out." Captain Nithes's voice boomed over the intercom.
Jon appeared at the hatch and launched himself across the gantry. "You don't escape that easily." He grabbed Syd and bear hugged him. "Take care of him." Jon said, looking at Walter intently. "I've lost him once already."
Walter nodded and Jon let go of his brother. Syd backed away. Jon shook them both by the hand and bid them farewell. "I'll send you a postcard from the Red Frontier." He smiled before disappearing back into the ship.
Onboard, Jon climbed into his seat in the spacious cockpit and strapped himself in. "You ready?" Nithes asked, not waiting for a reply. The ship fired its ignition and began its rapid ascent.
"Are you doing this?" Jon shouted over the noise.
"It's all pre-programmed. I barely have any control." The Captain shouted back.
"Is that good or bad?"
"We'll soon find out."
**
Syd and walter jumped back into the off-road beast as the ship thundered into the heavens overhead.
"They'll be fine." Walter said, without much conviction.
Syd didn't reply, he just followed the ship with his eyes until all that could be seen was a trail of vapour and smoke.
**
Kay and the others emerged from a low tunnel onto a plateau that overlooked the City. They watched as the Birds landed; they watched as the Herald's silver ship landed somewhere in the upper nests; they heard the curious thundering noise rising into the sky and saw the trail of smoke that it left.
They all stood in silence and awe. It took a moment for Kay to realise that they were out in the Wilderness. It was so absurd she had to laugh.
After a moment she lost control of herself and the hilarity of the entire situation dawned of her. The world was coming to an end - certainly her life as she knew it was over - her parents were in the city, her brothers were dead. And all she could do was laugh.
Slowly, the resistance moved its way into the forest, leaving Kay and Mac on the lip of the plateau.
"You're crazy." Mac muttered fondly.
"You're a drug dealer and a scoundrel," Kay replied, wiping the tears from her eyes, chuckling.
They both looked up as the Birds in the city looked up and as one, leaped into the air and flew overhead into the Wilderness.
"Where do you think they're going?" Kay asked.
"The same place we are. To find the other half of the Resistance." Mac replied grimly. He turned around and walked into the forest, leaving Kay with a funny, niggling thought in her head.
"Wait. What other half?" Kay demanded. Spinning around, she followed him into the undergrowth and disappeared after him. Mac's booming laugh could be heard up ahead, growing fainter and fainter.
**
The beast ground to a grassy halt in the clearing. There was no one there.
Syd and Walter leaped out of their seats and looked around. The fires were dying out. There was nothing. No one.
"Where-"
"Sshhhh!" Walter hissed, looking around.
There was a fluttering sound in the darkness - a chirrup.
"Who's there?" Walter asked, stepping forward.
He was answered by a burst of chatter - high, bird-like sounds.
"The Harmony?" Syd whispered.
Walter shook his head. Pairs of yellow, glistening eyes appeared in the darkness. Forked feet stepped forward in the dirt and into the low moonlight. Syd looked down at the ground and saw trails of blood and ominous forms, lingering in shadow.
Walter's hand slipped into Syd's as the Birds advanced towards them.
"Nice knowing you."
"You too."
**
Good Morning Avian One, this is the new voice of the Harmony speaking. You will stay in your homes and await further instructions. Today is a bright new day and we look forward to working closely with you to build a Brighter Future. We are living in an Age of Prophecy and things are changing, but there is no need to be afraid. You will have questions to ask; all of these will be answered in time. We hope you have a nice day.
++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++ ++ We apologise for the disruptions. Normal service will now resume. Thank you. ++
The Fifth Housemate: Part 3
February 10th
Four Days Before the Aliens
1:25pm
"Gone in four days, then?" said Jeremy.
"That's what he said," replied Laoren.
"Lao, I don't think you're taking this entirely seriously."
"Could you possibly panic more, please, Jeremy?" asked Laoren. "You haven't quite reached the point of distressed hysteria yet."
"We're sheltering an illegal alien."
"I don't think immigration laws apply to extra terrestrials."
"I just think we should tell someone," said Jeremy. "Or at least come up with a back-up plan. Like, get him to agree that if we get in trouble, we get to say he threatened us."
"We'll do no such thing," said Laoren. "Come on, Jeremy – I told you because I thought you'd back us up. Help us out."
"How can I possibly help?"
"Keep Mel and Greg off the scent," said Laoren. "Come on." She sighed. "We've got a day in hand, anyway, since Greg's got another of his safety training things. I was hoping we could use today to plan the next three."
"So we're going to casually have an alien around the house, hidden from our down-to-earth housemates?" asked Jeremy. "You realise that was the premise of a seventies sitcom, yes?"
"Mate," said Laoren. "Don't be so mental. This isn't weird – this is cool. We've got an alien guest. From a completely different culture. Think about what we could learn."
"I suppose there is that ..." said Jeremy. "Hey, I could show him my Doctor Who collection! Find out whether human sci-fi is good enough for him." Jeremy nodded decisively. "Yes. Treat him as a human being. That's the way. He speaks English and uses toilets. He's practically human."
"He's got blue skin, you know."
"Shut up."
-10001-
2:05pm
"Is this what all television is like?" asked Trenavass.
"This is just the Hartnell era," said Jeremy. "From Pertwee onwards, it's in colur."
"Does the ... screen stay this shape?"
"It's in widescreen from the Eccleston era onwards ..."
"And what's widescreen?"
"Well. Like this screen, but wider."
"Still a rectangle?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
Jeremy frowned.
"Alright, what shape are televisions on YOUR planet?"
Trenavass mumbled something.
"What?" asked Jeremy.
"I'm not sure I want to say now."
"Alright, I'm sorry," said Jeremy gently. "What shape are your technologically advanced and no-doubt superior TV screens?"
"That shape," said Trenavass, indicating Jeremy's glasses. "Only, joined in the middle. Fills the maximum eye space that way."
-10001-
2:15
"I don't understand why those teachers have barged into the spaceship," said Trenavass.
"Sixties plotting for you," said Jeremy.
"And why does the spaceship look like a blue box?"
"That gets explained."
-10001-
2:25
"That was exciting," said Trenavass. "I wonder where they are."
"You'll see now."
They waited as the credits rolled, and finally ...
"What's special about that year?" asked Trenavass.
"It's the time of the cavemen," said Jeremy. Seeing that Trenavass had turned his head to look at him, he added, "Back then, we lived in caves. Hence, cavemen."
"I know little about them," said Trenavass. "This programme will be an interesting learning experience."
"Probably best mention that this programme takes a few liberties with the facts, then ..."
-10001-
7:25
"Are you STILL watching Doctor bloody Who?" asked Laoren, entering the room.
"Actually, we were about to put it off," said Jeremy.
"Good."
"Because the Marco Polo story doesn't exist anymore, but I've got a CD with the soundtrack ..."
"Cancel that," said Laoren. "I've got supplies of organic food, and I'm making a feast."
As they followed her into the kitchen, Trenavass turned to Jeremy.
"How is it that the story does not exist?" he asked.
"The copies were destroyed," said Jeremy. "Back in those days, they didn't think to keep them."
"Interesting," said Trenavass. He paused for a moment. "You know, we've been intercepting human signals for decades. We probably have all of these stories on record."
Jeremy froze.
"In fact, we have a lot of your science fiction, in order to study human space lore," he said. "It's why I was so surprised that Laoren had never seen a spaceship. Your television suggests that they're many and varied."
"You have ... the Doctor Who missing episodes."
"That's right."
"Take me back with you."
-10001-
8:40
Laoren placed the plates on the table.
"Grub's up," she said.
Trenavass and Jeremy sat by their plates. Trenavass examined his with some trepidation.
"I'm not sure I can eat this like this," he said.
"What's wrong?" asked Laoren, concerned.
"Normally," said Trenavass, "It's necessary to remove my helmet before eating."
Laoren looked towards Jeremy. Jeremy seemed unsure at first, but eventually nodded.
"Fine," he said. "But you'd better have part four of The Tenth Planet."
-10001-
9:30
"That was delicious," said Trenavass. "I must say, human cuisine is bizarre – I've never tasted of the ingredients, let alone the recipe."
"Strange that you like it, then," said Laoren. "It normally takes an average of eleven exposures for people to develop a taste for new foods."
"Can you grow beards?" asked Jeremy.
"Yes, we can," said Trenavass. "In fact, I had one until very recently."
"Did it look like your hair?"
"Wavier," said Trenavass.
"Anyway," said Laoren. "Greg'll be back soon, so we need you hidden. And we'll need to decide what to do tomorrow."
"Is there anywhere outside where we could go?" asked Trenavass.
"There's a beach I like to walk to," said Laoren. "Hard to get to, so there's never anyone there. Although I can't imagine how we'd get through the town."
"I could cloak myself briefly," said Trenavass.
"Cloaking?" said Jeremy. "Like, invisibility?"
"Yes," said Trenavass. "Only works on my suit and spaceship, though – can't cloak anything else."
"Still, that's some cool alien technology."
Four Days Before the Aliens
1:25pm
"Gone in four days, then?" said Jeremy.
"That's what he said," replied Laoren.
"Lao, I don't think you're taking this entirely seriously."
"Could you possibly panic more, please, Jeremy?" asked Laoren. "You haven't quite reached the point of distressed hysteria yet."
"We're sheltering an illegal alien."
"I don't think immigration laws apply to extra terrestrials."
"I just think we should tell someone," said Jeremy. "Or at least come up with a back-up plan. Like, get him to agree that if we get in trouble, we get to say he threatened us."
"We'll do no such thing," said Laoren. "Come on, Jeremy – I told you because I thought you'd back us up. Help us out."
"How can I possibly help?"
"Keep Mel and Greg off the scent," said Laoren. "Come on." She sighed. "We've got a day in hand, anyway, since Greg's got another of his safety training things. I was hoping we could use today to plan the next three."
"So we're going to casually have an alien around the house, hidden from our down-to-earth housemates?" asked Jeremy. "You realise that was the premise of a seventies sitcom, yes?"
"Mate," said Laoren. "Don't be so mental. This isn't weird – this is cool. We've got an alien guest. From a completely different culture. Think about what we could learn."
"I suppose there is that ..." said Jeremy. "Hey, I could show him my Doctor Who collection! Find out whether human sci-fi is good enough for him." Jeremy nodded decisively. "Yes. Treat him as a human being. That's the way. He speaks English and uses toilets. He's practically human."
"He's got blue skin, you know."
"Shut up."
-10001-
2:05pm
"Is this what all television is like?" asked Trenavass.
"This is just the Hartnell era," said Jeremy. "From Pertwee onwards, it's in colur."
"Does the ... screen stay this shape?"
"It's in widescreen from the Eccleston era onwards ..."
"And what's widescreen?"
"Well. Like this screen, but wider."
"Still a rectangle?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
Jeremy frowned.
"Alright, what shape are televisions on YOUR planet?"
Trenavass mumbled something.
"What?" asked Jeremy.
"I'm not sure I want to say now."
"Alright, I'm sorry," said Jeremy gently. "What shape are your technologically advanced and no-doubt superior TV screens?"
"That shape," said Trenavass, indicating Jeremy's glasses. "Only, joined in the middle. Fills the maximum eye space that way."
-10001-
2:15
"I don't understand why those teachers have barged into the spaceship," said Trenavass.
"Sixties plotting for you," said Jeremy.
"And why does the spaceship look like a blue box?"
"That gets explained."
-10001-
2:25
"That was exciting," said Trenavass. "I wonder where they are."
"You'll see now."
They waited as the credits rolled, and finally ...
"What's special about that year?" asked Trenavass.
"It's the time of the cavemen," said Jeremy. Seeing that Trenavass had turned his head to look at him, he added, "Back then, we lived in caves. Hence, cavemen."
"I know little about them," said Trenavass. "This programme will be an interesting learning experience."
"Probably best mention that this programme takes a few liberties with the facts, then ..."
-10001-
7:25
"Are you STILL watching Doctor bloody Who?" asked Laoren, entering the room.
"Actually, we were about to put it off," said Jeremy.
"Good."
"Because the Marco Polo story doesn't exist anymore, but I've got a CD with the soundtrack ..."
"Cancel that," said Laoren. "I've got supplies of organic food, and I'm making a feast."
As they followed her into the kitchen, Trenavass turned to Jeremy.
"How is it that the story does not exist?" he asked.
"The copies were destroyed," said Jeremy. "Back in those days, they didn't think to keep them."
"Interesting," said Trenavass. He paused for a moment. "You know, we've been intercepting human signals for decades. We probably have all of these stories on record."
Jeremy froze.
"In fact, we have a lot of your science fiction, in order to study human space lore," he said. "It's why I was so surprised that Laoren had never seen a spaceship. Your television suggests that they're many and varied."
"You have ... the Doctor Who missing episodes."
"That's right."
"Take me back with you."
-10001-
8:40
Laoren placed the plates on the table.
"Grub's up," she said.
Trenavass and Jeremy sat by their plates. Trenavass examined his with some trepidation.
"I'm not sure I can eat this like this," he said.
"What's wrong?" asked Laoren, concerned.
"Normally," said Trenavass, "It's necessary to remove my helmet before eating."
Laoren looked towards Jeremy. Jeremy seemed unsure at first, but eventually nodded.
"Fine," he said. "But you'd better have part four of The Tenth Planet."
-10001-
9:30
"That was delicious," said Trenavass. "I must say, human cuisine is bizarre – I've never tasted of the ingredients, let alone the recipe."
"Strange that you like it, then," said Laoren. "It normally takes an average of eleven exposures for people to develop a taste for new foods."
"Can you grow beards?" asked Jeremy.
"Yes, we can," said Trenavass. "In fact, I had one until very recently."
"Did it look like your hair?"
"Wavier," said Trenavass.
"Anyway," said Laoren. "Greg'll be back soon, so we need you hidden. And we'll need to decide what to do tomorrow."
"Is there anywhere outside where we could go?" asked Trenavass.
"There's a beach I like to walk to," said Laoren. "Hard to get to, so there's never anyone there. Although I can't imagine how we'd get through the town."
"I could cloak myself briefly," said Trenavass.
"Cloaking?" said Jeremy. "Like, invisibility?"
"Yes," said Trenavass. "Only works on my suit and spaceship, though – can't cloak anything else."
"Still, that's some cool alien technology."
Dylan
Today's the day. Yes. Today. Valentine's Day. Could it be more appropriate?
Well, not if she says "no", it wouldn't. That wouldn't be very appropriate at all, would it? You idiot. Turned down on Valentine's Day.
But COULD she say "no"? Surely not. Not on Valentine's Day.
Of course she could if she didn't bloody want to. And she should – you don't want to go out with someone because they don't want to ruin the day.
Oh, sigh. Ho-hum. Bored now. Just want to get it over with.
No! Not bored! Scared out of my sodding mind! Jump up and down. Slap your face. Wash your face.
Wait, no, don't just wash your face. Have a shower. Use a million of your mother's tiny bottles of shampoo. And shave! Not that there's much to shave, but every little helps. Damn, if only Clearasil worked faster.
Shower shower shower. Come on. Think what you're going to say.
"Ffion, I fancy you."
No! Nobody says "fancy" in a serious conversation.
"Ffion, I think I'm in love with you."
Argh, far too strong. What's halfway between "fancy" and "love"?
"Ffion, I find you very attractive, and I think you've got a damned decent personality. And impeccable taste in bags. Love the colour."
Yes, that's probably the one. Can't say that, though. Obviously.
Should probably have breakfast. Nothing that stinks, though. A banana, maybe. They smell nice. Oh, God, what if she hates bananas? Right, skip breakfast. Brush your teeth, though. And do a bloody good job of it too.
Right. Let's think. Can't just dive straight into it. Got to build up to it.
"Ffion, can we talk?"
Right. That's good. Only one answer, really.
"Of course we can, Dylan."
God, what if she says we can't? She won't. No. As long as you say it in a serious tone of voice, she'll know it's important.
So. You take her to one side ... and if her friends follow ... Well, tough for them, they'll just have to be there too.
"I quite like you, Ffion. Quite a lot, actually."
It sounds crap. And that makes it sound unplanned! Only an idiot would PLAN to say that. Oh, bugger, you can't say that.
"Since it's Valentine's Day –"
You should have got her a card! Too late now. Unless you make one ... You CAN'T BLOODY MAKE ONE, you retard. What would you use? Pages ripped from your homework diary.
Dammit, your gums are bleeding. Don't worry, there's ... three hours to go before school.
Wait, three hours? You're up too early, you idiot. Damned stress kept you awake.
Right. Clear head. You could do it via ... No, not via e-mail. You tool. No successful relationship EVER started online.
Maybe you could talk to her mate first. Whatsername – Stephanie. Get some advice. Or find one of the boys who already have girlfriends. See what they did. Hmm, can you really imagine Dan Simmons or Phillip Jones talking about their emotions, though? Okay, scrap that idea.
Right, get dressed, and make sure your clothes are clean and ironed.
Ironed? Really? Will she notice? Maybe she'd prefer someone with a more laid back, baggy attitude. Although her dad's a lawyer ... But then, your dad's a vet, and look at what that says about you.
Headache now. Glass of water. Aren't you meant to have eight glasses of water a day? You don't drink enough. Probably why you're covered in spots. And why you're so pale.
Did you shave? Yes, you did, don't panic. Shit, what if she likes stubble? Well, bum-fluff's hardly stubble, mate.
Alright, you can't make her a card, but maybe you can get her a gift. Flowers or chocolates. At six in the morning? Tesco's is probably open. But you can't go to Tesco's before school. There must be some rule.
Should you really do this today? Yes! Of course you should. Fool. If you don't do it today, you'll never do it.
You've fancied her for, like, three years, though. That's ... 20% of your life.
Don't start on the maths. That's probably the most unattractive thing ever. Apart from your skin and, more recently, your bleeding gums.
Right. Clear your head. Forget everything for a moment. Let's get some perspective.
Open the curtains. Look out – sunny or raining?
Dear God – is that a spaceship?
Jesus. Sodding aliens. And they bloody WOULD choose Valentine's Day.
Well, not if she says "no", it wouldn't. That wouldn't be very appropriate at all, would it? You idiot. Turned down on Valentine's Day.
But COULD she say "no"? Surely not. Not on Valentine's Day.
Of course she could if she didn't bloody want to. And she should – you don't want to go out with someone because they don't want to ruin the day.
Oh, sigh. Ho-hum. Bored now. Just want to get it over with.
No! Not bored! Scared out of my sodding mind! Jump up and down. Slap your face. Wash your face.
Wait, no, don't just wash your face. Have a shower. Use a million of your mother's tiny bottles of shampoo. And shave! Not that there's much to shave, but every little helps. Damn, if only Clearasil worked faster.
Shower shower shower. Come on. Think what you're going to say.
"Ffion, I fancy you."
No! Nobody says "fancy" in a serious conversation.
"Ffion, I think I'm in love with you."
Argh, far too strong. What's halfway between "fancy" and "love"?
"Ffion, I find you very attractive, and I think you've got a damned decent personality. And impeccable taste in bags. Love the colour."
Yes, that's probably the one. Can't say that, though. Obviously.
Should probably have breakfast. Nothing that stinks, though. A banana, maybe. They smell nice. Oh, God, what if she hates bananas? Right, skip breakfast. Brush your teeth, though. And do a bloody good job of it too.
Right. Let's think. Can't just dive straight into it. Got to build up to it.
"Ffion, can we talk?"
Right. That's good. Only one answer, really.
"Of course we can, Dylan."
God, what if she says we can't? She won't. No. As long as you say it in a serious tone of voice, she'll know it's important.
So. You take her to one side ... and if her friends follow ... Well, tough for them, they'll just have to be there too.
"I quite like you, Ffion. Quite a lot, actually."
It sounds crap. And that makes it sound unplanned! Only an idiot would PLAN to say that. Oh, bugger, you can't say that.
"Since it's Valentine's Day –"
You should have got her a card! Too late now. Unless you make one ... You CAN'T BLOODY MAKE ONE, you retard. What would you use? Pages ripped from your homework diary.
Dammit, your gums are bleeding. Don't worry, there's ... three hours to go before school.
Wait, three hours? You're up too early, you idiot. Damned stress kept you awake.
Right. Clear head. You could do it via ... No, not via e-mail. You tool. No successful relationship EVER started online.
Maybe you could talk to her mate first. Whatsername – Stephanie. Get some advice. Or find one of the boys who already have girlfriends. See what they did. Hmm, can you really imagine Dan Simmons or Phillip Jones talking about their emotions, though? Okay, scrap that idea.
Right, get dressed, and make sure your clothes are clean and ironed.
Ironed? Really? Will she notice? Maybe she'd prefer someone with a more laid back, baggy attitude. Although her dad's a lawyer ... But then, your dad's a vet, and look at what that says about you.
Headache now. Glass of water. Aren't you meant to have eight glasses of water a day? You don't drink enough. Probably why you're covered in spots. And why you're so pale.
Did you shave? Yes, you did, don't panic. Shit, what if she likes stubble? Well, bum-fluff's hardly stubble, mate.
Alright, you can't make her a card, but maybe you can get her a gift. Flowers or chocolates. At six in the morning? Tesco's is probably open. But you can't go to Tesco's before school. There must be some rule.
Should you really do this today? Yes! Of course you should. Fool. If you don't do it today, you'll never do it.
You've fancied her for, like, three years, though. That's ... 20% of your life.
Don't start on the maths. That's probably the most unattractive thing ever. Apart from your skin and, more recently, your bleeding gums.
Right. Clear your head. Forget everything for a moment. Let's get some perspective.
Open the curtains. Look out – sunny or raining?
Dear God – is that a spaceship?
Jesus. Sodding aliens. And they bloody WOULD choose Valentine's Day.
Thursday, 5 April 2007
Tonedeaf: Part 4
Good Morning, here are today’s headlines. The clean-up operation is in its thirty-first day since the Meteor Shower. Efforts across the city are said to be going well with communities pulling together to clear neighbourhoods of the devastation left in the wake of the shower. A memorial will take place for the astronauts of the Falcon later this day; the Space Programme gave a press conference last week commending the crew posthumously for their efforts. Psychologists from the University of Avian One are still studying the effect of the disaster on the survivors. Of particular interest is the phenomenon that saw many people try to escape the city by climbing the Perimeter Wall. Global Harmonics today will be reduced due to technical difficulties – expect interrupted service throughout the d—
Adept Erith tapped the side of the Amplifier and adjusted the tone control as the signal spluttered.
“Leave it.” Brother Pica muttered irritably.
Erith jumped. Brother Pica was standing in the doorway of his nest, he was frowning. “Come. We have work to do in the fields.”
Erith tidied his habit and followed the Brother out of the nest and down the central corridor of the Monastery towards the gardens.
This was the third week of his mentorship under Brother Pica. The decision to partner him with the strictest Brother hadn’t come as a surprise to Erith. He lacked structure, perception and most worryingly, faith. Apparently.
He believed in the Gods, which was important, but he still asked questions, which was bad. Brother Pica’s reputation as a stern taskmaster, however, was an understatement. His knowledge of the Texts was flawless and he expected the same standards from all of the Adepts.
“Today we’ll be covering the word of the Gods on the law of the land.” Pica instructed as Erith followed close to the Brother’s heels. “Maybe working with the earth and seeing the truth of their wisdom in the most elemental of tasks will strengthen your floundering faith.”
“Yes, Brother.” Erith responded mechanically.
Outside, Pica found him a hoe and a basket and led him out into the gardens. The grounds of the Monastery were divided into different sections, ornamental, kitchen and economic.
“We’ll start with the economic section,” Pica said as they walked through the busy kitchen garden. They came to an ancient wall, half reclaimed by nature with a large gate set into it. On the other side was the field where they grew wheat and barley to be sold in the city on their rare visits.
“The Gods told us that the land is the key to maintaining the heavens. Without it, the sky doesn’t exist and it is necessary to separate the Gods from people. That said, its maintenance is uppermost in their regard. The ground must be tilled and worked to produce fruit as it supports Gods and People alike.”
Erith listened. He knew all of this, it wasn’t like he was an idiot – he just had issues with elements of the Texts which the others seemed to take for granted. They didn’t seem to realise that this had nothing to do with his faith. As far as he was concerned the Gods existed and that was that. The problem he had was that the texts were written by people not the Gods, and, therefore must have imperfections.
“Ah! But the Gods were speaking through the individuals who wrote the Texts.” He was constantly rebuked. Largely speaking he kept his mouth shut these days, it wasn’t worth bothering with an argument. The older Brothers though interpreted his reticence as proof of his stupidity.
“We’ll begin with the Dictates of Seed. As we know, the Gods were born of eggs, just like their earthly replications – birds. Seeds, like eggs, are the origins of life. So, seeds are sacred and have an inherent right to be planted and become life. To control life is to commit the greatest of sins. This is why we reject technology beyond that which is necessary to maintain the harmony. These free thinkers, with their good intentions of controlling nature will doubtlessly burn in the Last War.”
“Yes, Brother.”
Erith looked back at the Monastery of Chimes, so called because its cone-like structure channelled the wind through it creating an approximation of the Great Harmony.
“Next to the Dictate to Live in Harmony, the Dictate of Seed is the most important of our fundamental social rules. This is why you are going to plant an entire crop of barley by hand, by your self.”
Erith sighed. He had a feeling something like this was going to happen. “Until you learn that ‘Living in Harmony’ doesn’t just include gluing your ears to the Amplifier from the city, you will be made to perform menial tasks so that you understand the severity of your undertaking.” The Brother continued, without breathing. Erith began to scatter seeds from the basket, combing over the soil with the hoe. He wondered whether Brother Pica realised that he spoke in monologues.
The wind began to pick up and it became harder to scatter the seeds. Erith’s habit began to flap and a nasty draft threatened to expose him. He looked up and saw that Brother Pica, normally the picture of habit perfection was struggling too.
The wind got stronger and stronger, and a thunderous sound from above was swelling, getting closer. The Amplifiers scattered around the field, normally pumping out gentle Harmonic tones, began to spit and curse with static.
A shadow was approaching, sweeping across the fields towards them – Pica and Erith looked up and saw a great winged creature approaching. It was as big as the monastery and had long silver wings growing from a sleek curved body. Arms grew from its underbelly, extending out like fingers. As it got closer it slowed down and gently began to lower itself down onto the field.
Brother Pica was staring agape at the beast before him. “The Chariot!” He shouted, prophetically.
The image came into Erith’s mind instantly. The Great Vessel that would deliver to earth the messenger of the Gods. The Herald.
A black hole appeared on the underbelly of the beast. Behind him, Erith heard the other Brothers and Adepts pouring through the gate into the field.
Footsteps were distinctly audible over the noise as a figure appeared in the hole. Underneath its feet, steps appeared. The light revealed a tall human figure swathed in a technicolour cloak. A hood was pulled over its head; the whole thing covered in a coat of coloured feathers.
The figure approached the assembled Monks and stood before them, a clear foot taller than even the tallest Brother.
I am the Herald. I believe you know what I want.
Erith blinked and looked around, uncertain whether or not what he thought had happened had actually happened. The Herald spoke in pure Harmony - it was like feeling, tasting, smelling and feeling words all at once.
Brother Pica stammered forward, “Yu-yes – come with me. I will show you the way.”
Splendid.
The figure strode forward and past the assembled Monks, who had to almost leap out of its way. Erith was stunned. It was true – the Texts were actually correct. There was no question of it.
“While the doubtful till the land, the Herald will arrive to awaken the faithful.” He muttered under his breath. As the other Brothers and Adepts followed the Herald and Brother Pica, Erith was left wondering exactly how the Herald planned to ‘awaken the faithful’.
**
Ten minutes twenty, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four –
The sweat was beginning to gather on Kay’s forehead. Her body was knotted with concentration as she sat, crossed legged in the darkness. Her thoughts began to blur and she found counting increasingly difficult, she clenched her teeth and forced her mind to pinpoint the numbers as they rattled on.
- thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine, forty, forty one, forty two, forty three, forty –
As her consciousness swirled about her, Kay switched on and her foot shot forward and kicked the door in front of her. In a sudden the Harmony flooded back into the room and she found herself on her back gasping for breath. She began to laugh and stood up, grabbed the towel next to her and wiped herself down.
Sipping from a bottle of water she walked into the next room, out of the padded ‘sound-proof’ chamber she’d created in her pantry. She looked out of the window and saw the city. Ten minutes and forty four seconds. It was a new record for her, but it still wasn’t good enough. She needed to be able to last longer if she was going to stand any chance with what had to be done.
She’d never considered herself religious, but there were things you just took for granted. The dependence on the Harmony was just part of life – wasn’t it? Were would we be without it? Rang the glorious slogans adorning every other street corner. If her brother could live without it, then why couldn’t she? Besides, there were things she was beginning to question. The shootings at the Perimeter Wall. What had driven so many people to actually try and escape? Even to her, the thought was difficult to consider.
She turned from the window and sat at her desk. Laid out before her were photos and news clippings. These were all of the missing people – lists of their families, contact details, notes. A vast, methodical network of people. For the past weeks she’d been moonlighting as her brother’s secretary, using his name as a means of asking them questions. When was the last time you saw your daughter? How was she then? How did she feel?
Throughout, one name recurred over and over. One friend seemed to link most of these youths. Mac a’Denu. She knew in an instant that she'd found their dealer, the one who supplied them all with Din. Now she had to find him, because he might be the key she needed to develop a resistance to the Harmony.
**
Jon stepped down into the down straw building. He was carrying two bowls of soup. Within, Amplifiers were set up around two beds in the centre of the room. Light streamed through tiny slit windows around the room, blocking the sight of the trees beyond. Jon took a deep breath and smiled.
“Good morning Captain,” Jon said.
Captain Neor Nithes stood up from his bed and backed away from the door. Jon set down the bowls within the Amplifier circle and then stepped back. In the other bed was the comatose woman. Captain Nithes was protecting her like a mother bear and her cub.
“What’s that?”
“Broth – soup. I’m afraid the people here have nothing more exciting.”
Captain Nithes picked the bowls up tentatively. He sniffed them.
“They aren’t poisoned – well, they have Din in them, but in your position that’s a good thing, it’ll help you adjust.” Jon stammered. Captain Nithes took a deep breath as he sat down next to the woman. Jon wondered what had become of his social skills.
“Where are we?” Captain Nithes asked quietly, turning his attention to the woman.
“Well, we’re about fifteen miles from Avian One. Beyond that, it’s hard to say. It’s just the Wilderness.” Jon shrugged. Nithes was spooning soup into the woman’s mouth. “What’s her name?”
Captain Nithes gave Jon a cool side-long gaze. The man was about fifteen years older than Jon, but he seemed an entire generation older. He was part of the generation that looked to the stars, he was one of the first people into space. The good Captain held himself differently – he was a man who didn’t slouch, he was reserved and calm.
“Chordata Diomedea, or Cho, to her friends.”
“Very pretty.” Jon replied glibly. Neor was still spooning broth into her mouth steadily. “How is she?”
“Still in a coma. The shock after the crash…” He stopped for a second, “The silence was astonishing. I can’t remember carrying her through the forest.”
“We found the shuttle. We’ve brought back the other bodies, so they can be buried when you’ve both recovered.”
“Bodies? Those people were my friends.”
“Sorry.” Jon looked away, quietly he edged his way towards the door.
“She isn’t going to wake up.” Captain Nithes said clearly, but without looking around. Jon looked down and backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
**
Jon tapped on the door and Sol opened it. “How are they?”
“Captain Nithes is as stoic as ever and his friend is, well she’s in a coma.” Jon replied, stepping into the Harmonic Outpost.
The Outpost was filled with Amplifiers and consoles displaying different signals being picked up from different directions. Walter was sitting in the centre of the room surrounded by all the machinery. At their feet, snakes and coils of wires linked the computers to the receivers outside.
“Look, I can’t stay – this place is giving me a headache. I was wondering whether it would be possible to return to the pyramids in the hills.”
"Forget the pyramids. We’ve found something.” Sol replied, excitedly. “A strange sound has cropped up. Just recently – since the Meteor Shower, in fact.” Sol looked away sheepishly.
Walter turned around, “We heard about you on the Harmony – your discovery, that is.”
“Yes, well. Someone else discovered the sound, I was just able to go down and dig it up.” Jon replied.
“Yes, but that’s the point. Those ruins underground wouldn’t have been found without you.” Walter said.
“Nothing’s stopping you from investigating this.”
Walter spun around and smiled, “Of course. But you’re quite welcome to come along.”
**
“Mac?”
“Who’s asking?” The surly man countered. He was sitting at the bar of the Feathered Crown. Kay hopped up on the stool next to him and ordered two drinks.
“Does it matter?”
“No, I suppose not.”
Kay kept her voice low, she felt incredibly stupid. “I’m wondering whether you can help me?”
“You haven’t done this before, have you?” Asked the drunk Mac.
“Er, no.”
“I should think not – why would a pretty girl like you be interested in what I’ve got, eh?”
“Look – I just need some Noise – you get me?” Kay stumbled over the slang, blushing. Mac laughed. “Be quiet, will you?” She hissed, terrified that someone might guess what she was doing and report her.
“You really are green, aren’t you?” Mac chuckled, “Look lady, you seem nice, so I’ll give you some free advice. Walk out of this bar and don’t come back. It’s over. Go home.”
“What do you mean?”
“Crack down. Sources have dried up. The game’s over.” Mac replied, belching.
“Look. I know you’ve got what I want. All I need is a little bit – I’ve got money.”
“I don’t doubt it, but you don’t seem to understand. I’m not in the business any more.”
Kay knocked back her drink. It seemed she had a choice. She could either press him further or walk out of the bar now with her dignity and reputation in tact. Thoughts of her brothers came into her mind. She necked the second drink and raised her finger.
“Listen to me. I know you’ve got what I want and I’m not leaving until I get it.” She was about to launch into a tirade when she heard a sound. The patrons of the bar looked to the windows – they’d all heard it too.
“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” Mac muttered, downing the last of his drink. “It was nice meeting you. See you in another life, eh?”
Kay got up to follow him as the windows exploded.
**
The doors to the Catacombs swung open and the Herald strode through and down the dusty staircase. Behind him, the Brothers of the Monastery followed. Erith squeezed his way through his brother Adepts and tried to keep Pica in sight. The crowd was buzzing with chatter. Harmonic waves seemed to flow from the Herald. It was like he was on fire and they could feel the heat emanating from him. Erith shook his head and woke up from the trance they seemed to be walking under. It was strange, no one was blinking, no one was looking around. They were talking, but no one seemed to be able to look away from the Herald.
The Catacombs hadn’t been opened in an age. Some of the Brothers had lit lanterns and torches. The strange orange glow danced over the walls illuminating passages of text carved straight into the wall. Erith squinted – it was all from the Book of Prophecies. It talked of the Awakening and how the faithful would be saved from the Last War. Erith shuddered.
The staircase opened out into a large bowled chamber. The lights were swallowed by the darkness as the group of Monks crossed a stone bridge. Before them was a central column, below was darkness. Erith looked over the edge and thought he saw round objects in the gloom.
The Herald strode up to the column. As he approached it he emitted a strange, low sound. The Monks kept their distance and watched. Brother Pica loomed closer than anyone else. Erith watched as the column shook, dust and dirt was loosened from above, a crack of light appeared and grew as the column rose into the ceiling. Like everyone else, Erith leaned forwards to get a closer look. The herald stretched out his hand and for the first time they could see his marbled blue skin as it hovered above a jewelled egg, sitting in a gold nest and bathed in light.
The Herald lowered his hand and touched the egg and an unholy scream filled the chamber.
Cracks of light appeared in the ceiling as the room shook, the Monks all fell to the ground, their hands covering their ears. The light from above revealed the contents in the pit beneath the bridge. A sea of pearly shelled eggs.
**
Neor leaped to the edge of the circle. Cho was sitting bolt upright and screaming at the top of her lungs. All around the Harmony was going crazy, the Amplifiers peaking and cracking under the strain.
Even with his hands clamped over his ears, Neor could still feel the scream tearing into his head. Through watering eyes, he watched as Cho sat up from the bed and began to walk, zombie-like towards the door. She passed out of the range of the Amplifiers as Neor darted forward to stop her. When he looked up again, she was gone. Bracing himself, he grabbed one of the Amplifiers, tore it out of the ground and kicked down the door. Outside, he was surrounded by trees, a wall of greenery pressing in on him. Delirious, he pushed on, stumbling through the dirt towards the blurry shape of Cho up ahead.
She was entering a clearing – other figures were appearing from the forest, crowding her. She was still screaming. Neor knew that she would stop if only he could get close, but he was slipping. The Harmony was weakening and all he could hear was the scream. His knees buckled and he fell to the dirt. - -
**
The off-road beast skidded through the undergrowth. Walter was driving, with Sol in the passenger seat. Jon sat behind, trying to hold on to his lunch.
Then they heard it – in the distance, an explosion. Walter slammed on the breaks and they came to a stop. There was silence, followed by the sound of birds fleeing the canopy together in fright.
“Do you hear something?” Sol asked, he could hear a distant whine growing in intensity. Walter shook his head. Sol looked back to ask Jon – but Jon was on the back seat fitting, his legs and arms spasming erratically.
Sol immediately jumped in the back and held him down. The whine was growing into a throbbing screech, louder and louder with every second.
“How far away are we?” Sol shouted.
“Not far.” Walter replied, he jerked the beast into gear and then floored the throttle.
**
The heavy steel door groaned open, its hinges rusted and worn. Walter stumbled through the gap, followed by Sol who was supporting his brother. When they were all in, Walter slammed the door shut.
"I'm fine - I'm fine," Jon muttered feverishly. Sol ignored him and wiped his brow with his sleeve. "Bollocks you are." He replied under his breath.
"Where are we?" Jon asked, teeth chattering.
"One of the many bunkers littered throught these hills. They're Harmony-proof - which is why we haven't done much exploration. Most people at the camp sleep better with the Amplifiers whispering in the dark. It's in these places that you truly come to understand what Silence really is." Walter said, striking a match and holding it to a lamp. Safely lit, the lamp cast its dim light on the steel walls. They were in a tunnel that looked like it extended into the hills.
"Come on, we'd better get moving." Walter said, brandishing an Harmonic Display. The line was steady - but every fifth second it flickered.
They got up and started to move. The tunnel seemed to go on for ever. Jon recovered and became more perky as the Silence became more pronounced. By contrast, Sol and walter only got more anxious.
The tunnel eventually led them to a low room, lined with lockers. Beyond that were bunk rooms, storage facilities and kitchens. Further in they came to a tiered control room with a bank of monitors on the far wall.
"I don't recognise any of this technology." Walter muttered. "It must be ancient."
"If only it were that straightforward. Some of this looks far more advanced than our technology." Jon commented, running his finger along a dusty panel.
"All designed to work without the Harmony." Sol mused.
"I have a sneaking suspicion these people, whoever they were, had nothing to do with the Harmony."
"Sounds unthinkable. Do you think they were alien?" Sol asked.
Jon turned to him in the low light. "Nope."
He pointed to an empty box, it was partially decayed but it was clear that it had once contained food. On it was a picture of a smiling man with bright red hair and a white face.
"Looks pretty alien to me." Sol muttered.
They pressed on into the complex, "This place must have a purpose." Walter kept saying, leading them onwards. Eventually, there was only one door left. On it were strange letters, like the ones on the foundation stone of the natural history museum.
"Main Silo - What do you suppose that means?" Walter asked aloud.
They opened the stiff, steel door with effort and it swung open to reveal a tall, cylindrical chamber that towered above them and carried on going below them, deep into the earth.
"Wow" Jon said, under his breath. Before them was a ship; a tall, elegant vessel the likes of which none of them had ever seen. They walked along the walkway which hugged the wall and stroked the cool surface. It was in perfect condition - around them, it seemed, the cleaning systems were still operating, sucking out the dust and purifying the air.
Walter led them down to a bank of consoles built into the wall.
"I thought you knew bits and pieces of this ancient language," Jon mused aloud.
"We've only been able to translate what we've found. We never found any military handbooks." Walter said, sitting down in front of the console. "It says that there are over forty million unread emails."
"Look at this," Sol was pointing at a door built into the wall.
"Cryo Storage." Walter translated the text on the door. Tentatively, he pushed the door open. they were greeted by the wail of the Klaxon.
"Well, there's your sound." Jon said, stepping into the next chamber. "And that's my professional opinion." The other two ignored him. They were standing in a cylindrical space like the 'silo' But in this room the walls were covered in man-sized glass tubes, built into the wall.
"A distress signal." Walter said, flipping the switch on the control panel. "Set to go off and transmit to all other stations." The sound died away and the flashing red lights ceased.
"Who's in distress though - there's nobody here." Sol muttered, looking around - all the tubes were empty.
"Want a bet?" Asked Jon, pointing down to the floor, fifty feet below. One of the tubes was occupied.
"Walter - what does 'Thawing in Progress' mean?" Sol asked in a small, distant voice. The other two didn't answer, they were too busy staring at the shape emerging from the glass tube.
Wednesday, 4 April 2007
The Fifth Housemate: Part 2
"Is Mel in?" asked Laoren, entering the living room.
"Course not," said Greg. "Can't imagine how she does it. We weren't back until at least four last night, and she's still out by nine."
"Jeremy still asleep, I take it?"
"He won't be up for a few days," laughed Greg. "Anyway, I'm lecture-bound, and I want to pick up some alka-seltzer on the way. T'ra!"
As soon as Greg closed the door behind him, Laoren dashed back to her bedroom.
"You can come out," she said.
Trenavass climbed out from under the bed, still wearing his spacesuit.
"I've been thinking about this," she said.
"About what?"
"How we keep you secret." She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. "I've written up a schedule. Look, Mel doesn't spend much time in the house anyway, between lectures, societies and parties. Greg tends to be out between eleven and four, and then again between five and ten, between lectures and work."
Trenavass examined the page.
"The problem is Jeremy," said Laoren. "He can do most of his work from home, he isn't in any societies, and he keeps himself to himself. In short, he spends most of his time in the house."
"I don't understand this diagram," said Trenavass. "I can only speak your language – I can't read it."
"Right," said Laoren. "Okay, I'll explain it to you later, and you can write it out in your own language."
"Thankyou."
"Anyway, I think we have to face the possibility," said Laoren, breathing in deeply, "That we're going to have to tell Jeremy you're here."
-10001-
An hour later, Trenavass had amassed a stack of papers, full of diagrams to help him in everyday life. Laoren was fascinated by the symbol he used, and particularly the maps he drew – remarkably, he'd memorised every detail of the house that he'd been able to see the night before, despite having spent only a few seconds in a darkened hallway. With Laoren's help, he'd also managed to calculate exactly where everything was in the house.
During this time, Trenavass had relaxed considerably. He was less stiff, less awkward. After they'd finished, he decided that it was time to remove his helmet.
"As you can imagine, I don't look like you," he said.
"Well, no. I expect you don't."
"So ... just be prepared."
"Trenavass," sighed Laoren. "We have a planet full of different species. From apes to insects, they're all very different. Not to mention that fifty years of hard sci-fi has, I daresay, prepared the entire human reace for alien contact."
Trenavass paused. "Right," he said eventually.
He reached for the clips on the sides of his helmet, undid them, and the helmet came apart in two pieces.
Laoren was surprised at how human he looked. His skin was tinted a light blue, but it merely made him look cold. His mouth looked absolutely human, and the only thing remarkable about his eyes was that his pupils were larger than human ones. The most dramatic differences were his nose – very flat, and his nostrils seemed to have eyelids – and his hair, which was thick and a very dark navy.
He placed his helmet down on the bed, and inhaled deeply. He smiled.
"They were right," he said. "This planet's atmosphere is disgusting."
Laoren laughed.
"So," he said. "How do I look? From a human point of view, that is."
"You look more human than plenty of locals," Laoren replied. "Certainly more so than Michael Jackson."
"Who?"
"Human celebrity," explained Laoren. "Famous for having a lot of surgery."
Then, Trenavass took off his gloves. Laoren gasped. Each of his fingers had an extra joint, making them look remarkably long. But that wasn't the most dramatic difference.
"You have two thumbs," she said.
"Yes."
"Wow."
Looking closer, it wasn't just that he had two thumbs. The entire hand was symmetrical. Where she'd have expected a little finger, there was another index finger, with another middle finger where there should have been a ring finger. This made his hands look incredibly powerful, and certainly the most alien thing about him.
"Alright, that's very different," Laoren said. "You might want to keep your gloves on when you meet Jeremy."
-10001-
"He's an alien," said Jeremy.
"Yes," said Laoren.
"A proper, no-messing, alien."
"That's right."
"Not one of your mates in make-up?"
"You should see his hands."
They were in the living room. Trenavass was sat on a bean bag, a bizarre sight indeed.
"Prove it, then," said Jeremy. "Where's your spaceship?"
Laoren nudged Jeremy in the ribs.
"Recharging," said Trenavass, meekly.
"Anyway," said Laoren. "He won't be here long – he'll be meeting world leaders and stuff later this week. We just need to keep him safe until then."
"Right." Jeremy turned back towards Trenavass. "Do you ... use a toilet?"
"I do," said Trenavass softly.
"And can you use human ones?"
"Certainly."
"Okay." Jeremy paused, thinking. "Do you need to eat?"
"I have slowed my metabolism down for the journey," said Trenavass. "But food would certainly be appreciated."
"And what do you eat?"
"Fruit and vegetables should be alight," said Trenavass. "As long as they're ... is it 'organic'?"
"Makes sense," said Laoren.
Jeremy muttered something about the expense.
"I'm sure we can stretch a few extra pennies for organic meals for our extra-terrestial visitor," said Laoren.
"There are provisions in my ship," said Trenavass. "If necessary, I can wait until then."
"Certainly not," said Laoren. "You're a guest in this house, and you'll be fed."
"So," said Jeremy. "Are we telling Greg and Mel?"
"As if," said Laoren. "Greg would have told the world in a second, and I don't think Mel's kept a secret in her life."
"Won't they be annoyed we didn't tell them?"
"We're sheltering an alien astronaut, Jeremy," said Laoren. "This is hardly a uni project. Secrecy's of the utmost importance."
"And it's only for a few more days?"
"That's right," said Trenavass. "In four more days, I'll be gone."
"Course not," said Greg. "Can't imagine how she does it. We weren't back until at least four last night, and she's still out by nine."
"Jeremy still asleep, I take it?"
"He won't be up for a few days," laughed Greg. "Anyway, I'm lecture-bound, and I want to pick up some alka-seltzer on the way. T'ra!"
As soon as Greg closed the door behind him, Laoren dashed back to her bedroom.
"You can come out," she said.
Trenavass climbed out from under the bed, still wearing his spacesuit.
"I've been thinking about this," she said.
"About what?"
"How we keep you secret." She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. "I've written up a schedule. Look, Mel doesn't spend much time in the house anyway, between lectures, societies and parties. Greg tends to be out between eleven and four, and then again between five and ten, between lectures and work."
Trenavass examined the page.
"The problem is Jeremy," said Laoren. "He can do most of his work from home, he isn't in any societies, and he keeps himself to himself. In short, he spends most of his time in the house."
"I don't understand this diagram," said Trenavass. "I can only speak your language – I can't read it."
"Right," said Laoren. "Okay, I'll explain it to you later, and you can write it out in your own language."
"Thankyou."
"Anyway, I think we have to face the possibility," said Laoren, breathing in deeply, "That we're going to have to tell Jeremy you're here."
-10001-
An hour later, Trenavass had amassed a stack of papers, full of diagrams to help him in everyday life. Laoren was fascinated by the symbol he used, and particularly the maps he drew – remarkably, he'd memorised every detail of the house that he'd been able to see the night before, despite having spent only a few seconds in a darkened hallway. With Laoren's help, he'd also managed to calculate exactly where everything was in the house.
During this time, Trenavass had relaxed considerably. He was less stiff, less awkward. After they'd finished, he decided that it was time to remove his helmet.
"As you can imagine, I don't look like you," he said.
"Well, no. I expect you don't."
"So ... just be prepared."
"Trenavass," sighed Laoren. "We have a planet full of different species. From apes to insects, they're all very different. Not to mention that fifty years of hard sci-fi has, I daresay, prepared the entire human reace for alien contact."
Trenavass paused. "Right," he said eventually.
He reached for the clips on the sides of his helmet, undid them, and the helmet came apart in two pieces.
Laoren was surprised at how human he looked. His skin was tinted a light blue, but it merely made him look cold. His mouth looked absolutely human, and the only thing remarkable about his eyes was that his pupils were larger than human ones. The most dramatic differences were his nose – very flat, and his nostrils seemed to have eyelids – and his hair, which was thick and a very dark navy.
He placed his helmet down on the bed, and inhaled deeply. He smiled.
"They were right," he said. "This planet's atmosphere is disgusting."
Laoren laughed.
"So," he said. "How do I look? From a human point of view, that is."
"You look more human than plenty of locals," Laoren replied. "Certainly more so than Michael Jackson."
"Who?"
"Human celebrity," explained Laoren. "Famous for having a lot of surgery."
Then, Trenavass took off his gloves. Laoren gasped. Each of his fingers had an extra joint, making them look remarkably long. But that wasn't the most dramatic difference.
"You have two thumbs," she said.
"Yes."
"Wow."
Looking closer, it wasn't just that he had two thumbs. The entire hand was symmetrical. Where she'd have expected a little finger, there was another index finger, with another middle finger where there should have been a ring finger. This made his hands look incredibly powerful, and certainly the most alien thing about him.
"Alright, that's very different," Laoren said. "You might want to keep your gloves on when you meet Jeremy."
-10001-
"He's an alien," said Jeremy.
"Yes," said Laoren.
"A proper, no-messing, alien."
"That's right."
"Not one of your mates in make-up?"
"You should see his hands."
They were in the living room. Trenavass was sat on a bean bag, a bizarre sight indeed.
"Prove it, then," said Jeremy. "Where's your spaceship?"
Laoren nudged Jeremy in the ribs.
"Recharging," said Trenavass, meekly.
"Anyway," said Laoren. "He won't be here long – he'll be meeting world leaders and stuff later this week. We just need to keep him safe until then."
"Right." Jeremy turned back towards Trenavass. "Do you ... use a toilet?"
"I do," said Trenavass softly.
"And can you use human ones?"
"Certainly."
"Okay." Jeremy paused, thinking. "Do you need to eat?"
"I have slowed my metabolism down for the journey," said Trenavass. "But food would certainly be appreciated."
"And what do you eat?"
"Fruit and vegetables should be alight," said Trenavass. "As long as they're ... is it 'organic'?"
"Makes sense," said Laoren.
Jeremy muttered something about the expense.
"I'm sure we can stretch a few extra pennies for organic meals for our extra-terrestial visitor," said Laoren.
"There are provisions in my ship," said Trenavass. "If necessary, I can wait until then."
"Certainly not," said Laoren. "You're a guest in this house, and you'll be fed."
"So," said Jeremy. "Are we telling Greg and Mel?"
"As if," said Laoren. "Greg would have told the world in a second, and I don't think Mel's kept a secret in her life."
"Won't they be annoyed we didn't tell them?"
"We're sheltering an alien astronaut, Jeremy," said Laoren. "This is hardly a uni project. Secrecy's of the utmost importance."
"And it's only for a few more days?"
"That's right," said Trenavass. "In four more days, I'll be gone."
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