by Ben Elton
'Stop saying that!' he snapped. 'Are you pleased about it or something? Are you a pervert? If you don't watch it I'll blog you up.'
'Sit down and stop shouting,' Cassius commanded. 'If you denounce me the first question they'll ask is why you were having lunch with me at all. Why did you allow yourself to be brought to a place like this? Guilt by association is not a stain that washes off. You'd be a marked man and Princess Lovebud would eat you alive.'
Trafford hovered for a moment and then sat down once more in silence.
'And for goodness' sake stop pretending that you're a true believer,' Cassius went on. 'It's very boring.'
'I am a true believer,' Trafford protested, but he knew that there was hesitation in his voice.
'If you say so,' Cassius said.
'Why have you asked me here?'
'I wanted to get to know you. I thought that perhaps you might be a little . . . different, that's all.'
'We're all different; we're all individuals, unique and strong, special and proud.'
'Yes, yes . . . but apart from that,' Cassius replied, and for the first time it seemed to Trafford that he sounded a little nervous, 'I mean actually different. I wondered if you had any . . . secrets.'
Trafford knew instantly that his face had given him away.
'Please don't worry,' Cassius hurried on. 'You are not the only one. I have secrets too. I have a very special one.'
Trafford shrugged as if to indicate that he was prepared to listen but that he admitted nothing.
'You accused me of celebrating the kiddie mortality rate,' Cassius continued.
'Yes, I did.'
Suddenly Cassius's eyes flashed with anger.
'Don't you think it's the government and the Temple that celebrate it? Glory in it? Do nothing about it?'
'I try not to think about it at all.'
'Well, it's time you damn well did, Trafford!' Cassius retorted furiously. 'And it's time you asked yourself what you are going to do about it.'
'What do you mean? What can I do? I shall pray and we'll put lavender oil on her pillow and—'
'Pray? Pray! '
Trafford was astonished. He had never in his whole life heard that word uttered in a tone of contempt.
'Did you know,' Cassius went on, 'that the diseases which kill the children are preventable?'
What Trafford knew was that he should leave immediately; the conversation was becoming more dangerous and subversive by the minute. But he did not leave.
'I . . . I know that people once believed that to be the case,' he said, 'but we know now that it's not true.'
'It is true,' Cassius replied.
'How could you possibly know that?'
Cassius ordered coffee.
'Espresso,' he said loudly. 'No milk, no froth, no sugar and absolutely no whipped cream or Jelly Tots.'
The two tiny cups that were brought to them were the smallest cups of coffee Trafford had ever seen, scarcely a thimbleful apiece, and the cups were made of china. Trafford was used only to coffee served by the litre in cardboard buckets.
'Cheers,' Cassius said, raising his cup with a forced smile and adding, 'if I were a policeman and if by the most extraordinary coincidence I happened to be watching now, I would probably not imagine that a man who was about to speak a blasphemy punishable by death would be so boldly unconventional as to order an espresso and, what's more, one with no candy on it.'
Trafford understood the point and also raised his cup, grimacing horribly as he tasted its bitter contents.
'You'll get used to it,' Cassius assured him.
Trafford did not wish to discuss coffee.
'How do you know that there was a time when more children survived?'
'Because,' Cassius replied, 'I am a Vaccinator.'
8
Trafford had heard of them, of course. A sinister secret sect, who practised dark arts that could be traced back to the Age of Lies. An unholy brotherhood who believed in brutalizing children in the name of ancient and discredited 'science'.
'You stick poisoned spikes into kiddies?' Trafford whispered in horror.
'The word is "inoculate" and yes, that is exactly what I do, when I can. If the opportunity arises and if I have the vaccine available. Many big healthy families for whom the Lord is given credit are in fact my work or the work of my brothers and sisters. We seek out those whom we believe may have the strength to think for themselves and help their children to live. That is why I have approached you.'
'Why . . . why me?'
'I've been watching you for some time,' Cassius answered. 'I told you, I sensed that you keep secrets.'
Trafford did not reply.
'You lost a child, did you not?' Cassius continued. 'Phoenix Rising, to tetanus?'
'Yes. Who hasn't lost a child?'
'You wrote about it most movingly. I archived your blog.
It was beautiful, I thought, though distressing. I presume that you have no desire to suffer like that again.'
'You want to inoculate my baby?'
'It is my duty. I am sworn to save children. That is the solemn pledge of every Vaccinator.'
'I should report you to the police,' Trafford said.
Everybody knew that vaccination was nothing less than an attempt by man to deny God his prerogative over fate. Treating illness with medicine was acceptable to the Temple in that it was merely a reaction to God's work, but the theory behind vaccination was that it was possible to anticipate God's plan and to change it. To prevent something ever happening. That was black magic, pure and simple. Only God could know the future and only God could make the future. Immunization, be it of a child or an adult, was self-evidently an effort to restrict God's options, to cheat God, and it was therefore unarguably blasphemous. The Temple reserved some of its most violent invective for those who followed this cult.
'You wouldn't be the first,' Cassius replied with bitterness. 'Many of my brothers and sisters have disappeared for ever into the cellars of the Inquisition when their activities were reported by the very parents whom they sought to help. Some have been lynched or burned by the mob. Socially a Vaccinator is an enemy of faith and may expect to be dealt with as such. Interesting, isn't it?'
'Interesting?'
'Well, not dissimilar science is required in many legal parts of what remains of medical practice. In implant surgery in particular. What are anti-rejection drugs but an immunization against tissue rejection? What is cosmetic medicine if not an effort to pervert God's plan? Yet beautification, as you know, is the moral duty of the female of the species.'
Trafford shrugged. He was used to the myriad contradictions of the Temple's teaching.
'It's all hypocrisy anyway, of course,' Cassius continued. 'My personal belief is that the elders of the High Council use vaccination to ensure the survival of their own families. They would not be the first despots in history to secretly enjoy that which they deny to their subjects.'
'But vaccination doesn't work. It never did,' Trafford protested. 'I've studied it enough to know that.'
'So you have looked into it then?'
'I've Goog'ed it. I admit that. And even Before The Flood people started to realize that vaccination caused more childhood problems than it claimed to prevent.'
'I agree, that's what they thought.'
'I've read articles on it. It caused everything from autism to obesity. They rejected the practice even before the Enlightenment. Before the Temple.'
'That's right. So spoilt were they in that happy time when childhood death was scarcely known that in their sloth and stupidity people turned away from vaccination. By the time of the flood and the coming of the so-called Enlightenment, even intelligent people had concluded that there was something suspect about the process. They were, of course, utterly wrong.'
'How do you know?'
'I have a feeling,' said Cassius, smiling. 'It's my faith.'
There was no answer to that. Feelings were always legitimate. Even in the middle of
a highly dangerous conversation such as this one, Trafford's social instincts meant that he did not wish to make Cassius uncomfortable by challenging his feelings.
'Trafford, I save children,' Cassius said in a firm, clear voice. 'I could almost certainly save your child. In the time when inoculation was generally accepted, at its peak in the third quarter of the twentieth century BTF, all society understood its blessings and scarcely one child in a thousand died in infancy.'
'It's a lie!'
'Now the figure is five hundred.'
'It's a lie. I've seen the figures, the statistics. I looked them up. They're recorded, we have the information handed down to us, and infant mortality was as bad in the age of the monkey men as it is now.'
'I have seen the statistics too.'
'Are you saying they are false?'
'No.'
'I personally have never programmed a false statistic in my entire career. Nor has any departmental president ever asked me to.'
'With statistics it is never necessary to lie to get them to tell you what you want to hear. It is only necessary to reinterpret. Come on,' Cassius said, rising to his feet. 'We've had a long lunch, we should return to work. Even the designated old person is expected to put in an appearance occasionally.'
9
Yet another office celebration was under way when Cassius and Trafford slipped back into the room. A new team member had just joined their DegSep unit and Cresta Fiesta, a young girl fresh out of college, was being hugged in.
Everybody shrieked, everybody embraced the new girl, everybody beamed. Cresta Fiesta babbled that she was utterly made up to be joining such an incredible and amazing crew and everybody assured her that they were equally made up that she should be joining them. The general conviction was expressed that this was the most exciting and happiest of encounters and one that would no doubt lead to lifelong friendships all round.
Hugging in was an important ritual at any new encounter and it was a big mistake not to be seen to join in enthusiastically. Rigid social convention demanded that fervent, near-hysterical joy be professed at the endless laughs and intense sharing of emotions that the new relationship promised, and any individual's lack of enthusiasm was seen as damaging the positivity of the whole group and deeply resented. The entire office therefore crowded round, hovering with arms stretched wide, awaiting their chance to prove their emotional openness and eagerness to big up the whole crew in the name of the Love.
Trafford sensed that most of the assembled workers would have been happy to allow the hugging-in to conclude after everyone had had the chance to embrace and kiss the new girl and emote fulsomely, but inevitably Princess Lovebud had organized a cake.
'You're so young! You're a baby!' she exclaimed in her loud, honking voice, made even uglier by the incongruous assumption of her favourite 'little girl' character. 'Come here, you. Come here right now, Miss Cresta Fiesta, and give me another hug! Wanna hug. Need a hug! Got to have a hug!'
Cresta Fiesta did as she was told, stepping forward to be enfolded in a close, bosomy embrace. There were cheers, whoops and more applause.
'This is a happy crew,' Princess Lovebud continued without releasing Cresta Fiesta from her crushing grip. 'A happy crew and a strong, proud crew. We are all happy, strong, spiritual people. But we don't hold with snobs or loners, OK? We don't like false bitches either and we don't mind telling them so. If you ain't real, you ain't the deal. Right, babes? But that's just us, take us or leave us because we won't change. Can I get a cheer here?'
Dutifully the circle of people, including Trafford and Cassius, erupted into yet more whoops and cheers.
'Now I know a lot more about you than you think, Miss Cresta Fiesta,' Princess Lovebud continued. 'And isn't that a beautiful name by the way!'
There were more cheers at this, during which Princess Lovebud and Cresta Fiesta squeezed and hugged like lovers despite having known each other for less than five minutes.
'Oh yes. I know you, babes!' Princess Lovebud shouted into Cresta Fiesta's hair. 'Because I've Goog'ed you up, girlfriend! Oh yes, I've Tubed you big time and let me tell you now, girl, I liked what I found!'
'Oh my God!' the new girl shrieked, her mouth speaking through one of Princess Lovebud's huge hoop earrings. 'You ain't Goog'ed me up, babes? You ain't! I'll die!'
'Yes, I did! I Goog'ed you up big time, babes! And what's more I only went and downloaded some of what I found, didn't I? So, listen up, Cresta Fiesta, babes, because this is your life!'
'Oh my God!' Cresta Fiesta shrieked. 'Oh – my – GOD!'
'Remember your fifth birthday, with the cake on your nose? How funny is this ! This chick is cute!'
Princess Lovebud touched a key on her laptop and the download of a five-year-old's birthday party appeared on the video wall. Everybody cheered and once more Cresta Fiesta shrieked in mock protest.
'Wait, wait, wait!' Princess Lovebud commanded. 'That isn't the best bit! Here it comes.'
On the screen the little girl got cake on her nose and the office erupted into cheers. There followed various shots of Cresta Fiesta growing up. There she was having fun at burger restaurants, riding her bicycle, numerous attempts at karaoke, of course, and then all dressed up in a pink bikini for her high school prom.
'Oh yes, little girls get bigger, don't they, Cresta Fiesta,' Princess Lovebud teased, 'and what a very special prom night that was for you!'
'No!' Cresta Fiesta screamed. 'You're never gonna!'
'I am gonna,' said Princess Lovebud as once more she touched her laptop and brought up a video of two naked teenagers making love. Cresta Fiesta shrieked and screamed and buried her face in Princess Lovebud's bosom while everybody clapped and cheered and assured her that their Cherry Popper downloads were equally embarrassing.
'You look lovely! So sexy, babes,' Princess Lovebud assured her. 'I hadn't even had a bikini wax on the day I got sorted out! Check it out on my Face Space page, babes, I've done a montage, you'll die!'
Next came Cresta Fiesta's breast enlargement.
'I was only sixteen,' Cresta Fiesta explained in a serious voice, 'but I pleaded and I pleaded and Mum let me have 'em done early.'
'Go, Mum!' Princess Lovebud screeched. 'It's such a special thing when a mum takes her girly to choose her first boobs.'
'I just knew it was right for me and I just wanted it so much! You know? Just to be as beautiful as I could. For the Lord and the Love. As beautiful as the Love wanted me to be.'
There was much applause and more whooping at this and everybody watched the home video of the sixteenyear- old Cresta Fiesta, unconscious on an operating table, having her breasts cut open, the flesh stripped back and implants inserted.
'At sixteen, people!' Princess Lovebud shouted, punching the air. 'How much respect to the Lord is that! So come on, girl, let's see them!'
The group whooped and applauded as the blushing young woman lifted her tiny crop top, unhooked her lace and satin brassiere and proudly displayed her naked quadruple-D-cup breasts.
'They've really empowered me as a woman,' Cresta Fiesta said, 'and taught me to love myself and to grow and believe in myself and my Creator even more and give him big respect.'
'Way to go, girl! Way to go!' Princess Lovebud shouted. 'Because remember! We are the face and body of the Lord and when people look at us, they are looking at God!'
There were yet more cheers but this time they were reverential; heads were bowed and amens said.
'Isn't that right, Sandra Dee?' Princess Lovebud added, a nasty tone entering her voice.
All eyes turned to Sandra Dee.
Sandra Dee looked about twenty-five years old. She had recently joined the team and had instantly become a major target for Princess Lovebud's venom. In part, this was because Sandra Dee had not had her breasts enlarged. The Love had blessed her with only moderately sized breasts and yet that was how she had allowed them to remain. Technically she was within her rights to do this; breast enlargement was not a legal obligation for fe
male citizens. It was, however, something that the Temple very much expected of small-breasted women and it was therefore shockingly unconventional to forgo it. In some ultra-orthodox families, if a woman of slight figure did not wish to have her breasts enhanced her male relatives would impose surgery on her by force. Young women would be drugged by their brothers, father, uncles and cousins and then taken, while unconscious, to hospital where they would later wake up with enormously increased breasts, as befitted them as modest women. These were called 'honour enlargements'.
Sandra Dee returned Princess Lovebud's angry stare but said nothing. Trafford was impressed. Few people dared to face out Princess Lovebud when she was 'on one'. Princess Lovebud was fierce, she was radical, she was proud of the fact that she took absolutely no shit and didn't care who knew it. She was sorry, but that was the way she was and if you didn't like it, deal with it.
'I wonder what the Creator thinks when he looks at you, Sandra Dee,' Princess Lovebud continued in her most sneering manner.
'We cannot know the mind of the Love,' Sandra Dee replied quietly.
'Hallelujah!' said Trafford, punching the air.
All eyes turned to him. It was obvious that his interjection had been made in support of Sandra Dee; on the other hand it was not something that Princess Lovebud or her cronies could object to, as a hallelujah was always appropriate.
'Hallelujah!' the group echoed. They were, after all, in a hug circle and joyful praises must always be echoed.
'Praise the Love!' Trafford shouted, punching the air once more.
'Praise the Love!' the group repeated and Trafford noted that Kahlua, Cassius and one or two other, usually quieter members of the group joined in with more than their typical muted enthusiasm. Sandra Dee, on the other hand, merely went through the motions, continuing to quietly face down her tormentor.
Princess Lovebud was seething; she was not used to being interrupted in full attack mode. 'Oh, I think we can make a pretty good guess at the mind of the Love on this one, girl,' she spat.