by Paul Vayro
Chapter Forty
Once Team A were on board, Zarg led the way. It seemed a sensible idea as he was the only one who knew where he was going. After walking for several minutes they had still only seen the seemingly endless, opaquely mirrored corridors. Brick had been checking his hair in the feeble reflection, even its suggestion managed to look stylish. Spiritwind lagged behind, tucking in to his third Swiss roll, while They and Coincidence split the pair. The concepts were pondering the craft, as was Brick. The hero turned to his newest acquaintances to give his opinion.
“I can’t believe all those bad fifties horror movies were right. On screen it looked quite impressive, but standing here it’s nothing but claustrophobic and dull.”
Spiritwind nodded his agreement, rescuing his T-shirt from a blob of falling jam at the same time.
“That’s usually the reason ships don’t look like this.” Coincidence threw his experience in to the chat.
“Are you saying this isn’t normal?” Brick picked up the subtle use of tone perfectly.
“Of course this isn't normal. People spend years on spaceships. The idea is for comfortable and practical surroundings. This would drive you insane in a matter of hours.” Zarg overheard from his leading position. He sniggered quietly. The alien didn’t wish to spoil the surprise of the extravagant rooms to come.
Zarg turned a corner. Brick followed. He also had a question for their guide. “How do you know where you’re going Zarg? It all looks the same.”
“It may well look the same from your lofty height, but from down here it’s obvious where we’re going.” Brick bent over, walking with his head at Zarg’s level. The only thing it made clearer was the floor, which he duly hit after tripping over his own feet.
By the time Brick stood up, Zarg and the rest of the team had stopped halfway down the current corridor. Brick caught up just in time to see the alien wave a hand at the wall. The panel directly in front parted accordingly. Brick forgot the excuse he was about to offer for falling. He and the others were too busy searching for their bottom jaws; they were last seen heading towards the floor at great haste.
Zarg had revealed the ballroom elevator.
“If you’d like to step in to the lift.” Zarg unleashed a level of smug illegal in most societies. The team stepped inside without response. Brick could be seen to mouth the word ‘lift’, but the sound couldn’t escape the awe that surrounded him.
Size is relative, and the ballroom was relative in size to Belgium. It is widely held that anything you wish to refer to as big should be compared to Belgium. Nobody actually knows the size of Belgium, even the Belgians, and so people simply accept the fact you are trying to convey a size that can’t be imagined. This shouldn’t be confused with analogies attempting to convey the size of space. To even begin grasping that we have to use time frames instead of distance, e:g to walk to Mars on a hot day with a limp would take longer than it would to drink the oceans with a teaspoon. Again unimaginable, but it makes everyone feel as though they have a firm grasp on things.
The ballroom, or lift, was inspired by the royal palaces of 17th century Europe. Delicate strands of gold weaved their way throughout, lining the walls and furniture with a twinkle only rivalled by the diamond encrusted wallpaper. Any wood that hadn’t been upholstered had been polished to a level crystal would envy. The immense dance floor’s lake like shimmer reflected the chandelier that hung above it, a chandelier so beautiful only poetry could do it justice. It filled the room with its light and presence, lifting the spirits of those that saw it and instilling a belief that the universe wasn’t such a bad place after all.
“Going down.” Everyone ignored Zarg as their eyes tried to take in as much as possible. They didn’t have long as the lift arrived at its destination almost instantly. “We’re here.” Zarg had to physically usher the team out. The four shuffled backwards, mesmerised by grandness and curiosity. The silver panels closed, shutting off the ballroom and dumping Team A back in to reality. Nobody spoke for a moment. Only looks of confusion and glances of wonder were exchanged. Eventually Zarg began walking down the corridor. Words found willing hosts once more as Brick had to ask something.
“Ignoring the fact that so much effort went in to an elevator when the corridors could do with a lick of paint, how does a room that big even fit in a lift shaft? Or is the whole inside of the ship one big elevator?”
“The lift is practically nothing in terms of the overall interior.” Zarg relished his chance to be superior. “It’s all a very simple illusion achieved with mirrors and pulleys.” Brick stopped in his tracks as They offered a nod that screamed ‘told you so’. Brick queried the rumour spreader instead. He had to speak to someone about what he’d just seen.
“That was pretty spectacular wasn’t it? Even you must have been impressed with that.”
“Oh indeed, very impressed; although I did once see a planet that had ballrooms instead of caves.” They didn’t wait to entice further questioning. He could see Brick was hooked. “The planet evolved to produce man made objects without man, figured it saved the hassle that came with the species. Carpets grew instead of grass, escalators formed in cliff faces, animals would live in underground flats and treetop penthouses rather than burrows and dens.”
“And I suppose money grew on trees?” Brick showed his doubt.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Magazines and books grew on trees. Why would you need money when everything could be grown?”
“Everything?”
“Practically; telly trees, stereo bushes with c.d. leaves, apartment block forests, car fields. Cross breeding of plants became such a skill by those that discovered it they could grow an entire housing estate from one seed. Unruly youths had to be trimmed occasionally to keep the plant flourishing.”
“Of course.” Brick gave up on everything he previously held to be true.
“And here we are.” Zarg spun proudly to reveal the control room. It had been made obvious by writing ‘Control Room’ on the wall in five foot high red letters. Spiritwind and Coincidence had been ambling behind. They finally appeared from around the natural curvature of the corridor, only one of them was holding a ham baguette.
“That’s not very security conscious is it? Fancy labelling the Achilles heel of your plan.” Brick offered advice.
“The plan didn’t account for anyone being able to walk around the ship and discover it. The security was to freeze everyone in time.” Zarg replied.
“Well that’s asking for trouble.” Brick continued.
“That’s what I said.” Zarg found a common bond with Brick at last.
“Well good on you. You were spot on. If only they could see you now.”
“Thank you. Finally some recognition.”
“Let’s get this door open and show them exactly the size of the error they made.” Brick rubbed his hands before being struck by a thought. “We’re not about to walk in to an alien ambush are we? I’d be terribly upset to be doing so well only to fail so near the end.”
“I wouldn’t think so. A cacklejack would be enough to cause a full evacuation. Only the guys in the anchor room would be safe enough to be left unaware.”
“Maybe you’re leading us in to an ambush.” Brick narrowed his eyes in an effort to look intuitive. It just blurred his vision.
“Maybe.” Zarg felt far more natural speaking to Brick as an opponent. “But if I had arranged an ambush I wouldn’t tell you now just before it sprang, so either way I’d say no.” Zarg raised his own brow in intrigue. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
Team A looked at each other. The options were fairly limited. There was never any real doubt they were going to trust Zarg. A unified nod instructed the alien to proceed.
A nonchalant wave of the alien’s hand parted the letter adorned panel. Spiritwind and the concepts stood to one side, in case a band of aliens awaited them. Brick opted to stand directly in front of it, eyes closed and fully braced. He considered it a defensive strategy. Ever
yone else considered it an awkward stance.
After the passing of several moments, Brick felt confident he hadn’t been captured, and opened his eyes. He found the rest of Team A walking around the room that had been revealed, each wide eyed and grinning in wonder. Brick straightened his T-shirt and joined them in what appeared to be a Buddhist temple.
“I knew it would be fine.” Brick’s words drew no response or acknowledgement. Everybody was too interested in the sights around them.
The temple had not been modelled on the daily praying variety. It was the kind saved for special occasions when all the family were round. It would be stored in a glass casing for the remainder of the year, never to be touched, only adored from a reasonable distance.
An altar of intimidating proportions loomed at one end, carved from gold with chisels of affection. Statues shimmered in every direction, equally golden and shaped by love. The red of passion and faith was the only other decorative colour, filling any gaps the golden artistry had missed. Only the floor remained bare, although the wood that made it had retained its soul. It emanated a warmth science would deny, the inability to measure emotion a hurdle to belief. Various upholstered benches and cushions of embroidered perfection littered the area. Whether sitting or kneeling, the experience would be comfortable on both the eye and the body.
Each hero lost all sense of urgency and thoughts of the mission, transfixed by the aura of serenity and sights before them, even Zarg. He’d never even been allowed on the anchor level, never mind inside the control room.
Spiritwind focused his curiosity on the altar, and immediately spilt mayonnaise on a golden stork’s foot. Cleaning the puddle, with a crimson curtain that hung from the sculpture, he noticed several small holes in the beak. A pattern repeated in the four other storks that stood in a perfect line. Spiritwind took an investigatory step backwards and reassessed what he saw. The angle and positioning of the birds suggested they may have a practical as well as aesthetic purpose. He moved in to study further, keeping an eye out for any more mayonnaise escaping from his sandwich.
Spiritwind quickly noticed repetition in the altar’s adornments. There were five clear spaces, each with a stork at the centre, and each bird was surrounded by the same two figures playing drums by hand. There appeared more drums than any respectable musician could ever need, alerting the bald investigator to a second anomaly. Squinting one eye, and moving within inches of the miniature bongos, revealed a button like quality. The hungry man couldn’t resist testing his suspicions and depressed a drum. The result was instant as a twelve foot panel of the wall in front of the altar flipped round to reveal several screens, all flickering in to life and showing three aliens sitting on a sofa.
“I think I’ve found something.” Spiritwind pulled up two plump cushions, the rest of the team crowded round. Brick placed two similarly plump cushions next to his friend, happy he’d found a television to watch, all the while sucking his finger in search of sympathy. Brick had discovered the resistant nature of the statues through repeated poking. The concepts opted for the upholstered benches, Zarg remained standing. He was too excited to sit.
“Is that the anchor room?” Brick asked anyone who knew.
“From what I’ve heard, that looks like it.” Zarg was the only one to fit the description.
Three aliens sat on a circular sofa, each able to see the other two. The time hovered in the centre of the room, slowly spinning as each unit of measurement passed. Various camera angles showed the walls to be covered with every timepiece imaginable, from digital clocks to egg timers. A small box on each alien's arm flashed the time directly in front of their eyes every thirty seconds.
“Is there any way we can smash all the clocks to pieces?” Brick waded straight in with destruction.
“We can’t get in.” Spiritwind reminded his friend of the initial dilemma.
“It wouldn’t matter even if you could.” Zarg added further weight. “By now all those clocks are irrelevant. The intention was only ever to program their subconscious minds to know the time to perfection. Every creature in the universe has an internal clock that knows roughly what time it is. Our plan was to make theirs exact.”
“So we have to reprogram their subconscious using only boredom?” Brick spelt out the task.
“Is that even possible?” Spiritwind questioned its power.
“Yes.” They found a gap to leap in to. “Absolute boredom is incredibly powerful. It seeps into every part of your mind, destroying everything it has or ever hopes to be. Killing all emotion and leaving a mere shell of a body to peer out on the hopeless world, desperate for anything to stimulate it once more.”
“Yes would have done fine.” Brick took the words on board as he turned to Zarg. “So what’s this secret to your peoples' boredom?”
“I can hardly bring myself to say it. It’s so boring. I can barely motivate my mouth to get through the sentence…..”
“But you are going to say it?” Brick tried to speed the alien up.
“I suppose so. Health and. Give me a moment.” Zarg took a deep breath. “Safety regulations. I think I need a sit down.” Zarg wobbled but remained standing.
“Health and safety regulations? That’s it.” Brick felt decidedly let down.
“Have you ever read a full set?” Zarg challenged Brick’s challenge.
“Well no. It never seems worth the effort. The writing’s too small to start with, then there’s all those sub sections. And to be fair when you do actually read them they’re mostly common sense only written out with long words and confusing language. Which means you get half way through one before thinking you know what it’s going on about so don’t actually have to read it. So your mind stops taking the information in but your eyes keep on moving. By the time you realise you don’t have a clue what you’ve just read, you’re at the end and have to go back to the start. After fourteen attempts at reading the thing you finally finish it, only to discover you knew not to do what it said all along. I don’t think they’re written with the intention of ever being read though.”
“Maybe in your culture. We Jefferians are brought up to go to health and safety school three times a darnum. We’re forced to sit and read out regulations for a harlen.”
“What does that translate to?”
“Seven hours, three times every two weeks.” Zarg winced at the memory.
“Why would you be so cruel to yourselves?” Brick would have sobbed given more preparation time.
“To ensure we grow up knowing what’s right and wrong.”
“And do you?” Brick pulled a sad face in lieu of the tears he couldn’t muster.
“Of course not, it just makes us resentful at all the time we waste. Most people have an innate knowledge of what’s right and wrong and for everything else there’s common sense. I know not to place my hands inside moving machinery. Not because I’ve read section 46, sub section 12a of Drillco’s operational guide to drilling, but because it’s pretty flaming obvious.”
“I’m sensing this is a touchy subject.” Spiritwind could see Zarg changing colour.
“There is a little resentment I’m yet to work through, but I’ll be fine.”
“So is the thought of health and safety regulations likely to induce a similar reaction in the three in there?” Spiritwind continued to ask the questions.
“I would imagine so.”
“Will they have a manual we can make them read?” Spiritwind’s mind began forming a plan.
“They should have, but it will have been misplaced or forgotten for sure.” Zarg turned back to his normal shade of green, a sense of calm co-operation washing over him.
“Then we’ll just have to find one out here.” Spiritwind looked around the panel. “What does it look like Zarg?”
“An enormous, dull looking book.” It was the best he could manage.
“Okay everyone. You heard the man. We need to find an enormous, dull looking book.”
Team A scattered and began
a methodical search without any conscious communication. For the first time they gave the appearance of working as a well oiled unit.
In reality, Brick spent most of the time trying to remember what he was looking for. He’d become preoccupied wandering about bread and when in the process of applying heat it officially turns to toast. Spiritwind had been a slow starter, he’d insisted on making a packed lunch before commencing. Zarg, on the other hand, approached the task with enough fervour for everyone. He could almost smell his right to be smug all the way home. They, had initially been searching on top of things. Without success he switched tactics and started looking under things instead. Coincidentally, Coincidence switched from searching under things to on top of things at the very same moment. He instantly spotted something on a shelf.
The shelf was around six feet high, well out of reach of any Jefferian. He reached up to the platform of shimmering awe and removed an enormously dull and dusty object. It took both hands and a moments bracing to bring it down. It was indeed a book. The concept wafted at the dust its movement created, and opened it to reveal writing so small it threatened to disappear from existence. He squinted and read the first line: ‘Rule 1: Always store the health and safety manual within easy reaching distance of yourself and your colleagues. Never place on a shelf that is too high, a floor that is too low, or a table you can’t be bothered walking over to’.
“I think I’ve found it.” Coincidence smiled. Zarg cursed not discovering it first. Spiritwind was pleased the quest was complete; his packed lunch had already run out. Brick glanced up from his knees and wondered what exactly had been found, and They stopped searching and joined the others as they converged on Coincidence.
“Now what?” Brick hoped the answer would shed light on what had been discovered.
“I’ll show you.” Brick cursed the vagueness of Spiritwind’s response.
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