by J Battle
‘Yes, Bro, we’re going home. It’s been lovely here, but it’s never been more than an extended holiday for us.’
Now you tell me, I thought.
I sat back in my chair and took a look around. The sand here is almost white, and so soft and powdery. The sea is just the right temperature; you get a shiver when you first step into it, but then you’re fine.
I was going to learn to swim, I thought, half regretfully, and half-relieved that I wouldn’t have to go to the trouble.
‘When do we leave?’ I asked, with a sigh.
‘I’ve booked us all on the 10am squirt tomorrow,’ answered Neville.
‘What? Why so quick? Can’t we wait until the weekend?’
‘Tomorrow is Saturday.’
‘The following weekend?’ He knows how much I hate to use Squirtports, even though I’m now squirt-capable.
‘No. It needs to be tomorrow.’
‘Because our funds have run out?
‘Yes, and because we are needed on Earth.’
Chapter 3 Then the bad guys
When they got the call, they dropped everything they were doing and rushed into action. Minloggies are like that. If you happened to sneak up on one unawares, you'd probably find it standing very still, and you'd be forgiven for mistaking it for a mushroom. They have big flat heads, a thick central stalk, and they are mostly inactive.
That is, unless they have a mission. Then they whiz around like time is running out and there's just so much they have to do and they really should have got out of bed earlier.
The one thing you have to know about Minloggies is that they hate bipeds. Not just dislike, or have a mild prejudice against them. No, they actually abhor them, with every fibre of their being. Your average Minloggie is going to spend something like 20% of his waking life thinking about bipeds, and none of that will be in a good way. They teach their young about the terrible acts and habits of bipeds, and that's even before they tell them about maths or social hygiene.
It should be noted that there are no bipeds on their home-world; not anymore.
It all dates back many thousands of years to a time when Minloggies were first emerging as intelligent sentient beings. It was a slow process for them, but they were getting there. Given time, and the room to develop, they could easily have achieved dominance over their world in a matter of generations.
But they were not alone on the sentient plane, and they were not the first. Pride of place was taken by a race of apelike creatures, with quick hands and eyes, and brains to match. They were argumentative and belligerent, and they loved their weapons, and the technology they could use to make better weapons. They were the Lossy, and they swarmed over the planet with their fecundity and their aggression. Not even the great and massive Looon could stand in their way.
The Minloggies could have forgiven all of that. After all, it's what clever monkeys do. But they couldn't forgive their treatment of the Minloggies. The Lossy loved to sit out in the sunshine, with their cool drinks and roaring barbecues, and the Minloggies made such perfect occasional furniture, with their flat heads and still ways. Worst of all for the Minloggies was a certain physiological failing that the Lossy were subject to; they were somewhat incontinent, and the Minloggies were just so absorbent.
They put up with this terrible abuse for generation after generation, and perhaps they would still be doing so, if not for the emergence of a particular individual. Terronce was his name, and even centuries later, his name was still spoken of with a hushed and awestruck tone. One legendary night, with the sun setting beyond the sea, a group of Lossy had cavorted by the beach. The males played games with spherical objects and the females wore such skimpy bits of fabric and walked back and forward across the sand with an unnecessary amount of wriggling and pouting.
One male, whose name was never recorded, got a little bit excited at the display and urinated on his Minloggie seat. With a surprising burst of speed, Terronce tossed the micturating ape from his head and pounded him into the sand, and then tossed his lifeless body into the sea.
The other apes watched dumfounded, and didn't realize until it was far too late that they were being surrounded by their erstwhile occasional furniture, and then the slaughter began.
Not just there, but along the whole coast, and then a wave, a torrent of ferocious fungi stormed across the land, killing every ape they came across.
Within a year, apes had been wiped from the planet, and the Minloggies settled back to their usual languid lifestyle, and all was at peace.
It might well have remained so, and the scourge of the Universe that they eventually became might never have happened, if not for the arrival of a spaceship from a dying planet.
Vincent stepped down from the cramped spaceship that he'd flown for years, seeking a place to land and start a new life, along with his cache of 100,000 fertilized eggs. He had all the equipment and technology he needed for his race of bipeds to start anew.
And the land seemed so peaceful, with the rich grasses, abundant forests, and fields and fields of standing giant mushrooms.
He was more than a little surprised when a troop of them charged him, flipped him to the ground and began to crush him beneath their immense weight.
When the deed was done and they moved back from his somewhat flattened corpse, the leaders of the Minloggies could see the truth revealed to them. Their task was not complete; it was barely started. They had cleared this abomination from their own planet, but there were other planets out there, planets infested with bipeds.
They spoke hushed words together, filled with awe at the task they were about to take on.
'We will travel across the Universe,' said Terronce, as the others bowed in deference, as much as a mushroom can bow, 'and we shall seek them out, and wherever we find them, we shall exterminate them.'
'Exterminate,' came the response, first from one, and then the next, and then all together. 'We will exterminate.'
Many years later, when they'd spread their crusade across a considerable portion of the galaxy, their leader, Terronce XXIV, received a call.
'Hi there, Mr. Terronce, ' she said, with a giggle in her voice. 'Do you want to know where you can find some more of those pesky bipeds?'
'Yes, Millie, I believe we do,' he replied and, if he'd possessed a mouth, he would have smiled.
Chapter 4 Then, the partnership
I was having a quiet drink, on my own, on a Sunday night. Sunday night was the only time you could get an alcoholic drink in a public place; a special dispensation from the We Really Do Know What Is Best For You AI.
I didn't know where Sam and Julie were, they'd asked for this meeting after all. Ah well, I don't mind drinking alone. I thought.
At least, I was alone until Dreary Derek turned up. Now, I don't want to say anything too bad about Dereks, in case I happen to be read by someone with that name, but I've never met a Derek that I wanted to meet again. There, I've said it, and if your name is Derek, then I'm sorry, but the truth hurts. Take a look in the mirror and tell me I'm wrong. The only thing worse than a Derek, is one who calls himself Dirk.
This particular Derek was probably at the leading edge of Derekness and, for some reason I could never fathom, he seemed to like me.
I looked down as soon as I spotted him, but I was too slow. A Derek can spot a likely victim from across a crowded room, and the bar was empty.
He sat down opposite me and raised his eyebrows, and his lips sort of quivered.
‘Hi, Derek,’ I said, before the silence could get to me.
He nodded, and his eyes settled on my pint.
‘How’s it going, then?’ I said, to distract his attention from my drink.
‘Oh, y’know,’ he said, slowly.
Obviously I didn’t, or I wouldn’t have asked.
The situation was beginning to get a bit tense, as I had a pint, and he didn’t. Was he waiting for me to offer to buy him one? After all, I was here first, so I was in the chair, so to speak.
>
But if I bought him a drink, we‘d be in a round situation, and he’d have to buy me one back, and then it would be my turn again.
We could be here all night.
I wasn’t having any of it. Maybe he didn’t want a drink, or perhaps he just wanted to watch me drink mine.
I took a long, slow drink. Not too long, though. I didn’t want to get to the point where I’d finish my drink and want to buy another one, and have to, by law, buy him one.
It was a case of waiting him out. Well, I can outwait the best.
‘So,’ I said. ‘Going away this year?’ If he wanted boring, he was going to get Olympic standard tedium.
That seemed to get his attention, as he dragged his eyes away from my pint.
‘Not really sure. Last year, it was Greenhaven, and, well, you know Mary got pregnant again. The year before, it was David, and Mary got pregnant. The year before that, it was L.A., and Mary got pregnant.’
‘That’s a lot of children,' I respond with the right level of sympathy, I think. 'So, what are you going to do?’
‘Well, I guess I’ll take Mary with me this time.’
I put my empty pint down, and I checked my wrist-top for messages. I took a look at my shoes, and rubbed my hands along my pants. I closed my eyes for a second, and then I looked up. He was still there, looking at me, with that expectant look.
Right, I thought, I'm not having this, I thought. I need another drink, I thought.
I stood up and noticed a woman at the bar.
'Excuse me,' I said to Derek as I stood up, 'I need to speak to her.'
Then I was off, and a sense of great freedom washed over me and I felt like a gazelle racing across the plains, or pampas, or whatever they run across.
As I got closer to the bar, my eyes settled on the woman at the bar. At first glance, she looked a bit thin. At second glance, I could see that she was slender, not thin. Third glance told me that she was curved in the nicest of ways, and fourth glance told me she had breasts. I couldn't wait for the Tenth glance.
I know that I’m making it sound as if the bar must have been an awful long way from my table, but I’m a very quick glancer; I’m known for it in certain circles.
'Hi,' I said, as I leaned against the bar, deliberately looking at the barman, so as not to be looking elsewhere, if you know what I mean.
'I see you've been Dereked?' she whispered, without turning.
'Oh yes, ' I replied, 'I've been Dereked.'
I caught the eye of the guy behind the bar and I indicated my need for a drink. He sort of acknowledged my request, but took his own sweet time complying, which, for a change, was fine by me
‘So,’ I said, still facing the bar, ‘you’ve been Dereked yourself, then?’
I could see her nodding with my peripheral vision.
‘Yes, I’ve known Derek for quite some time, and he never fails to disappoint.’
I turn then to give her my full-on charm. It’s worked before, at least in my dreams it works.
‘Can I buy you a drink, to help me get over my Dereking?’
Her glass was empty, because I’m a professional at this and I’m never going to make a rookie mistake and ask a woman with a full drink if she wants a fill-up, because that’s just asking for a negative response. Of course, if she was a bloke, you actively wait for him to have a full drink before you offer. That’s just the way things are.
‘Oh, that’s very nice of you,’ she replied, and then she smiled at me, with her mouth, her face, her eyes, her everything, and I felt myself falling then, and I don’t know why, or what I was falling into, but I didn’t even look at her breasts.
‘Er…good. Same again, please.’ That last bit was to the barman; I wasn’t asking the lady to smile again, because I was hoping that she’d volunteer.
‘My name is Phil,‘ I offered my hand, because it’s the thing to do, and it’s the only way I could think of to touch her skin without a slap.
‘Hello, Phil.’ She took my hand in hers, and she probably said her name, but I wasn’t listening, because after so long, I was actually touching a woman, and she wasn’t protesting.
Her name was Emily, I found out later, when I had to ask her, because I was about to introduce her to my sister and Sam.
We had an enjoyable drink at the bar; at least I enjoyed it, but I can’t remember much about it, except for the glow, there was definitely a glow.
At last, she checked her wrist-top and said, ’Oh, I didn’t realise it was that late. I have to go.’
She must have noticed the way my face collapsed in to a look of desolation because she put her hand on my arm, and gave it a little squeeze. ‘I’ve sent you my contact details, Phil,’ she sighed. ‘Call me.’
With that she was gone, and I could still feel her touch and see her smile, like that cat in Alice in Wonderland.
I was so moved by the experience that I even sent Derek over a pint of the cheapest lager, though I still had sufficient wits about me not to follow it.
Just then, Julie and Sam came in, all of a bustle.
‘Hi Phil,‘ said Sam, as he pulled the brim of his floppy hat lower, to cover most of his face. ‘What are you smiling at?’
‘Oh, you know; just life.’
‘Come on, bring your drink over to this table, will you, we have business to discuss.’ Julie guided me to an empty table within easy reach of the bar.
‘Two lagers please Jim, when you’ve got a minute,’ she called, as she sat down.
‘Now, Phil, we’ve been talking, and planning, and we want to make a proposal, don’t we Sam?’
Sam nodded somewhere within his hat, but he seemed to be watching Derek, who was still staring at his wonderful golden gift with a perplexed look on his face. Surely I wasn’t the first person in his whole life to buy him a drink?
‘Are you listening, Phil?’ asked Julie with a stern tone. I hate that stern tone. It reminds me so much of one of our parents, and I’m not talking about the wonderfully confused individual we call Dad.
‘Of course I’m listening. What’s your proposal?’
‘We want a partnership, you, me and Sam. Sam will provide the finances, I’ll provide the organisational and logistical skills, and you can…’
I knew she was only pausing for effect, but it was getting too long for me. ‘I’ll provide the investigatory experience.’
‘Yes, if you say so, Phil. We’ll make a good team together, the three of us, all for one, and one for…whatever.’
‘We’re not changing the name. We’re sticking with Chandler…’ I wanted to be very firm on that point, if on no other.
‘We can call ourselves Chandler, Chandler and Mo…’
Sam jerked and put his hand on her shoulder. ’Not here, Julie,’ he hissed. ‘You don’t know who’s listening. We should call ourselves Chandler, Chandler and…Nom de Plume.’
‘Nom de Plume! We can’t call ourselves that,’ I said, because obviously we couldn’t.
‘We’ll call ourselves Chandler Associates, how does that sound?’ said Julie, getting all efficient on us.
‘Actually I like that; it sounds sort of professional like. Yeah, Chandler Associates, how can we help you? We’ll get our lead investigator right on to it; here are our inflated fees. Yes, I like that.’ I took a big drink, just to show how happy I was.
I had a new business, and partners, and I may just have nabbed myself a beautiful girlfriend. It couldn’t get any better.
‘And we’ve got new offices, in the Beecham Tower no less, at a bargain price.’
Now that was something, prestigious new offices in Manchester’s tallest building.
‘How did you manage that?’
‘Well, it’s being demolished in six months, and the rent is dirt cheap, and the furniture is even thrown in.’
I was probably sitting there with the biggest grin on my face, when Neville chirped in.
‘Philip, I think it is time now to have that conversation.’
I’d b
een putting him off since we landed the day before in Manchester’s Squirtport, and it looked like he was about to spoil my day.
‘Five more minutes, please,’ I whispered, because I didn’t like to beg in front of my new business partners.
‘Tick, tock,’ was his response.
I think I wasted the whole five minutes trying to get back to that feeling of euphoria I‘d had earlier.
‘Time is up now, Philip.’
‘OK, OK. Tell me all about it. Why did you want us to return?’
‘There is a situation developing here on Earth, and it may well lead to actual physical conflict between the Earth’s Managing AI’s.’
‘What, you’re going to war?’
‘Let’s hope that it doesn’t come to that, Philip. Because it would be a disaster for all of the planets, and for mankind itself.’
‘That sounds heavy, man.’
‘Indeed, Philip. It is.’
‘Go on then, tell me all about it.’
Julie had turned away from me by then, and started an in-depth conversation with Sam. She always knows when I'm talking to Neville.
‘The Law and Order AI, which has taken to calling itself LOrd for no reason that I can fathom, is making an attempt to take over control of all of the Managing AI’s. It seems that it has decided that the empire can be run much more efficiently under one umbrella AI, with all the resources that would be available to such a body. It also judges that we allow humans far too much freedom, and that, when individuals stop contributing to Global GDP, then all support— financial, medical and social, should be withdrawn.’
‘But, that’s awful! It’s inhuman.’
‘I should point out that LOrd is not human, so it is hardly surprising if its action can be seen as inhuman.’
‘Still, it’s not very nice, is it?’
‘It has also suggested the implementation of a controlled euthanasia programme for the over 70’s.’
Now, was it really bad of me to think, just for a moment, that my mother was just 70?