by Rod Rees
She had just begun to make her displeasure known to the producer in a very loud and very scatological manner when she was confronted by a very big man wearing a porkpie hat and a suit that appeared to be covered in desert dust.
‘Gimme that wig!’ he demanded then tore the blonde wig from Sally’s head and tossed it towards an even bigger woman who seemed to be the minder of the Norma Williams who had just materialised out of nowhere.
This was not, Sally decided, how a star should be treated. ‘You fucker!’ she snarled as she launched herself at the man with her claws extended.
With almost casual ease he whacked her on the chin and the last thought Sally Summers had as she descended into unconsciousness was that she should remember this experience, it might be useful in her acting career.
TERROR INCOGNITA: THE DEMI-MONDE
Clement listened to what Roberts said and the more the captain talked the more convinced Clement became that he was right. For an instant he thought about consulting with Crowley but he knew there wasn’t time for that. He had to act and he had to act quickly, this a decision made all the easier by the thought that stopping the Ceremony would really fuck up Crowley’s weekend.
Anyway, if he prevented Trixie Dashwood fouling things up, he would be the hero of the hour. Shit, he might even be nominated as the Great Leader’s heir apparent.
‘Get a detachment of men together, Roberts, and bushwack Trixie Dashwood before she gets to the top of the Pyramid.’
THE GATHERING, LAS VEGAS: THE REAL WORLD
Herded by Oddie, a veritable gang of dressers and stylists descended on Norma and it took them only a couple of minutes to change her black wig for her trademark blonde one and to powder and paint her to perfection.
‘Ready?’ asked Oddie. Norma gave a nod. ‘Then I think it might be better and safer if you used this microphone. I’ll organise it with the producer.’
A sensible idea, thought Norma as she stepped up to the microphone.
She took a deep breath. This was her moment. She had thought long and hard about what she would say, but now all those clever lines and phrases seemed to disappear from her head. The pyramid set in front of the stage was now glowing an eerie green, reminding her that if Trixie failed in the Demi-Monde, the six million Fun/Funs attending the Gathering would be converted into nuGrigori. And if Rivets wasn’t able to subvert noöPINC, then there would be nothing to stop Septimus Bole destroying humanity.
She pushed these worries away. She had to believe in her friends … she had to believe in ABBA. She had to give all the people packing the SuperBowl and everybody watching via Polly a new message … she had to harness the good will of all these millions of people to make a better world and to prepare them for the coming of InfoCialism.
She felt the loving presence of Shelley beside her, heard his whispered encouragements … his whispered endearments. Yes, she would do this for Shelley, for her lost love. The producer cued her and on the count of five the cameraBots hovering around her went live. Instantly, all around the SuperBowl, the giant Flexi-Plexis flared into life, showing her in eye-popping 3D. She stretched out her arms in an appeal for quiet and almost magically the SuperBowl went silent. The feeling of power that coursed through Norma was intoxicating, making her feel light-headed, and she had to pause for a moment to settle herself. Then she began, ‘Thank you all so very much for your warm welcome. I am Norma Williams and I welcome you to the Gathering.’
PARADIGM HOUSE, LONDON: THE REAL WORLD
Septimus Bole frowned as he tried desperately to work out just what Norma Williams intended to do. Surely she realised that it was too late, that he and the Grigori were on the brink of victory. Nothing the girl could say would be able to halt the Final Solution. But to err on the side of caution, he leant over and pressed the ‘transmit’ button on his Polly. ‘Operative One, fire on my command.’
THE GATHERING, LAS VEGAS: THE REAL WORLD
Tony Shepherd was a veteran of the wars in Afghanistan and in Pakistan. In his career as a sniper he’d killed Talibans, Uzbeks, Tajiks, Russians, Chinese, Americans and one unfortunate Frenchman who’d shown up in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had fifty-seven confirmed kills to his name, but this, his fifty-eighth, was destined to be the simplest … and the most lucrative. At just over a mile the range he was operating at wasn’t particularly excessive, the target area was floodlit, there was no wind, and, best of all, the girl he was aiming at was standing stock-still in the middle of an empty stage. Earning a million pounds didn’t come any easier than this. He settled himself next to the window of the lighting tower facing the stage, eased a sloBurst round into his M107 rifle and then snuggled the rifle’s stock back into his shoulder. Brushing an errant lock of hair off his forehead, he brought his right eye up to the telescopic sight to check his target, making a small adjustment to focus the sight’s cross hairs tight on the head of the microphone. Then he raised the hit point so it vectored in on the middle of the girl’s face.
He had been instructed to go for a certain kill and although the odds of a hit were higher for a chest shot than a head shot, there was a certainty about a head shot that Tony preferred. Anyway, at this sort of range and in these sorts of conditions the chances of him missing were minuscule. But to be on the safe side, he’d use all of the five rounds he had in his magazine.
Now all he needed was the go-ahead.
‘Operative One, fire on my command,’ came the instruction through his earpiece.
TIME FACILITY, NEVADA: THE REAL WORLD
Madden led his two guests into the bunker that constituted TiME’s Control Room and once the three of them had crowded into the tiny room, he pointed to a series of switches on the control panel. ‘Each black hole we have created is given a reference enabling us to “tune” them to produce a Duality … a temporal loop … a wormhole through time.’
‘Remarkable,’ observed Rivets.
‘Remarkable indeed, Robert. As I was saying, I simply tune in to the black hole we need to hook up with, the only proviso being that it must be at least twenty-five years before today’s date. The first of your Message Spheres will be sent to TiME #02 dated seventh June 1993.’ He flicked the switch and immediately the Cavorite Couplings shifted to bring the meridian of the nearest Compression Sphere a few degrees from the vertical. ‘And the second to TiME #04 dated nineteenth February 1994.’ He adjusted the inclination of the Compression Sphere furthest from the Control Room. ‘Once the two parts of the program are united by ParaDigm’s programmers working in 1994, ABBA will be obliged to do what it is told. Now all that’s left to do is load the Message Spheres into their Projectiles.’
Madden stooped down and spun the combination lock on a small safe in the corner of the Control Room. From this he took two small steel balls which he set on the side of his desk. ‘These Message Spheres have been pre-etched with the retro-programming instructions written by you and Dong E and approved by ParaDigm in London. ABBA won’t stand a chance!’
TERROR INCOGNITA: THE DEMI-MONDE
As Trixie jumped off the first platform she heard Wysochi shouting at her over the ever-louder humming noise coming from the Pyramid.
‘We’ve got company, Trixie,’ he yelled and when she looked to where he was pointing she saw a group of StormTroopers racing towards the Pyramid. ‘The SS are heading in our direction and by the look of them they’re not in a friendly mood.’
Trixie frowned. The only reason the SS would be coming towards the Pyramid in such a rush was to prevent them raising the Column but that made absolutely no sense whatsoever. The Ceremony of Purification couldn’t be performed until the Column was atop the Pyramid.
‘I don’t understand,’ she admitted.
‘They wanna stop you, Trixie.’
It was the word ‘you’ that caused all the pieces to fall into place. ‘You’re right, Feliks: it’s me they’re trying to stop. There’s a verse in the Flagellum Hominum that says: “It is the One who brings the Column to rest who shall
be the Victor.” That was what my father understood and why he made me take the oath. I am “the One” raising the Column, not Crowley or Heydrich. It’s me who is going to be the victor.’
Yes, it would be her who would come to ABBAsoluteness … it would be Trixie Dashwood who emerged as the victor of Ragnarok. For an instant she wondered why her father hadn’t told her, but all she could suppose was that he had thought that it would have been nigh on impossible for her to play-act ignorance. Whatever the reason, he had given her the chance to fulfil her ambition … to destroy Heydrich.
She took another glance towards the rapidly closing StormTroopers. ‘Quick, Feliks … the next platform … five seconds.’
Trixie and Wysochi got to the sixth platform before the SS reached the foot of the staircase. They began to climb but they did it very reluctantly, obviously unnerved by the changes that Trixie had already provoked in the Pyramid. The sounds emanating from it had become louder and more high-pitched, reminding Trixie of a traction engine that was being slowly powered up. The wind vortexing around the Pyramid was blowing harder too.
‘Halt! By order of Comrade General Crowley you are ordered to remain where you are. Move and we will fire.’
‘Keep going, Trixie, I’ll hold them!’
‘No, Feliks, we’ll meet them to—’
‘Get going, Trixie,’ Wysochi snapped. ‘This isn’t time for heroics. You’re the important one.’ He glanced towards his girl. ‘When they get close, I’m gonna jump ’em and while I’m keeping the bastards busy you complete the sequence.’
‘Feliks—’
‘It’s the only way, Trixie. And anyway, this is obviously what ABBA intended, so who are we to deny Him? This is your destiny, Trixie.’
‘Our destiny, Feliks. We are united in love as we will be united in death.’
‘Then I trust ABBA will bring us together in the Spirit World: it’s the least the bastard can do to make up for the amount of shit He’s put us through here in the Demi-Monde.’
Feliks kissed Trixie and then turned to face the StormTroopers, who were now just a single flight of stairs below them.
‘I love you, Trixie.’ With that Feliks Wysochi launched himself at the soldiers.
‘I love you, Feliks,’ Trixie whispered as she turned towards the summit of the Pyramid.
MOUNT YAMANTAU, BASHKORTOSTAN: THE REAL WORLD
Ella said nothing, hoping to encourage Thaddeus Bole to talk and by doing so give her a chance of discovering a way of getting a message to Rivets.
‘Cat got your tongue, Miss Thomas, or do you see the inevitability of your fate? Soon a new race will arise, a race of which my own son, Septimus, is the template. Septimus is a product of Grigori genes mixed with those of a Fragile whose MAOA-Grigori gene had been activated. As a consequence, Septimus has avoided many of the deficiencies we Grigori are prone to. He can tolerate sunlight and his appearance is less … extreme.’
‘Oh yeah? Well, you should tell him that he better not play hard to get.’
‘Very drôle, Miss Thomas, but your sarcasm will gain you nothing. We Grigori have been preparing for over two hundred years for the day when we will leave this sanctuary – this prison – of ours. The radiation from the Wold Newton meteor which resuscitated the Grigori strain in the Boles gave the Grigori the opportunity to bring fresh blood into their line, and for two centuries we have been experimenting – very much as you did in your previous incarnation as Lilith – with the aim of making our people more … durable. And now we have succeeded. Septimus is the first of a new breed of Homo: he is Homo singularis finalis. He is the last and ultimate expression of the human genus.’
‘You’ll forgive me when I say that I’m less than impressed. Two hundred years and he’s the best you can come up with?’
A sombre silence fell over the room as though Bole wasn’t quite sure how to continue. Then, ‘As I say, I shall ignore your sarcasm. You have been brought here so that I may commune, albeit for the briefest of moments, with the witch who created my people. And, of course, there is the pleasure to be derived from watching while you are killed. That is your fate, day-hag, to die knowing that with you dies the last of your foul breed. There is not room on this planet for both the Grigori and the Lilithi. To the winner the spoils … the strong have inherited the Earth. And, thanks to noöPINC, we will, at last, have wrenched the power of Atavistic Thought Inheritance from the Lilithi’s grasp.’
TERROR INCOGNITA: THE DEMI-MONDE
Clement shoved his way through the mass of dignitaries to where the Great Leader was standing and then drew him out of earshot. ‘Great Leader, it has just been brought to my attention that the interpretation made by Comrade Crowley of the Flagellum Hominum is incorrect.’
The colour drained from the Great Leader’s face. ‘What? Explain!’
And Clement did just that. Heydrich stood for a moment as though undecided about what to do. ‘You have sent men to stop Trixie Dashwood from completing the sequence?’
‘I have, Great Leader.’
‘Very well, arrest Crowley as an Enemy of the People—’ He was interrupted by the sound of gunshots coming from the Pyramid.
TIME FACILITY, NEVADA: THE REAL WORLD
For Rivets, as he stood watching Madden go through the procedure of preparing the Message Spheres for firing, the grim realisation dawned that he had failed. All his careful planning, all his plotting and conniving had come to naught. Without the TELEpath message from Ella telling him where the Grigori were – where he should direct the second Message Sphere – the victory he and Dong E would conjure over the Boles would be a temporary one. The Boles would remain masters of Temporal Modulation and worst of all, the Grigori would remain alive. Ella was right: to protect humankind from the Grigori, the Grigori had to be destroyed. And the only way to do that was by sending a Message Sphere to the right temporal address.
He took a moment to study the control panel. As best he could see, there were ten TiME facilities but it was impossible to decide which – if any – serviced the Grigori directly. ‘Where are the various TiMEs located?’ he asked Madden.
Madden looked up from adjusting the calibration of a Temporal Projectile. ‘I don’t know, Robert. Thaddeus Bole keeps that information a closely guarded secret. Obviously I know that TiME #01 is the facility in Tunguska that was destroyed in 1908 – only messages dated before then have ever been sent to #01 – and of course the Nevada facility is TiME #03, but as for the rest …’
Rivets gazed at the other eight anonymous TiME locations desperately trying to think of a way of establishing which corresponded to the Grigori’s refuge, but it was impossible. Without Ella their mission would fail.
MOUNT YAMANTAU, BASHKORTOSTAN: THE REAL WORLD
‘Tell me, Miss Thomas, why was it that you Lilithi were so frightened to share the gift of Atavistic Thought Inheritance with the rest of humanity?’
‘It is a burden—’
‘No! It is power and you Lilithi wanted that power only for yourselves, holding it tight in your grip. Ever since the first Cavorite meteor crashed to earth eleven thousand years ago and created the genetic succubus that was Lilith, you Lilithi have connived to deprive the rest of us of that godlike power. But now, thanks to noöPINC, we Grigori have secured Atavistic Thought Inheritance for ourselves.’
‘And the price of this power will be paid by the slaughter of the Fragiles.’
‘It is not slaughter I offer them but salvation. The population of Fragiles must be culled to a sustainable number – around half a billion—’
‘You’re going to murder nine billion people?’
‘Not murder, Miss Thomas, cull. And the Fragiles who remain will enjoy the contentment of slavery.’
‘Humankind will never be slaves … they will always struggle to be free.’
‘But in the Brave New World of the Grigori they will be free … free from want and hunger, and for this all we will ask is their blood. This is our Final Solution.’
�
�An unfortunate name.’
‘Unfortunate but apt,’ corrected Bole. ‘But now, Miss Thomas, we must turn to the reason why I have allowed you entry to my private domain. I must see with my own eyes the final destruction of the Lilithi … I must witness the expunging of the last of the Grigori’s most pernicious enemies from this planet.’
The door to his office opened and Zolotov entered the room. But what worried Ella more was seeing Metztil standing behind him with a savage-looking knife in her hand.
THE GATHERING, LAS VEGAS: THE REAL WORLD
Norma raised her voice, amazed by how it boomed out over the SuperBowl. ‘You have come here today to embrace God and, by doing so, to be cured of your addictions. You have come here seeking freedom from your dependency on drugs, on alcohol, on tobacco, on sex … the addictions that blight your life. You want to be free and this is an ambition to be celebrated. Freedom is an age-old yearning of all men and women … they wish to be free from worry and free to be all that they may be. And today that wish will be granted.’
She paused to allow the hubbub of excited conversation to subside. ‘You should be proud that you have had the strength of character to make the difficult first step on the road to freedom: you have admitted that you are weak … imperfect. You have allowed us a glimpse behind the mask you wear, the mask which protects you from the criticism of your fellow men and women.’
Another pause, this one for dramatic effect. ‘Yes, masks are dangerous things. The word “mask” comes from the Latin persona, which of course mutated into our “personality”. And that is what masks do: they allow us to conceal our real personality … our Real Self. A mask gives us a feeling of security, comforted as we are by the knowledge that our Real Self is hidden from view. All of us hide something, be it a weakness, an ambition, an addiction. Indeed, we have become so concerned by the censure of society that we have become afraid to be seen unmasked, we have become obsessed with what people think about us. So we have fallen into the habit of deception, hiding behind a mask of counterfeit compliance and pretend politeness.’