by James Gault
Chapter 12
Ogg and Antonia were back in her bedroom. As Peregrine Pratt had predicted, her skin had lost its amber glow and she was her old pale self. She hadn’t been allowed to hold on to the bikini either, which was just as well as her mother certainly wouldn’t have liked it.
The anticipated space creatures had never appeared, and it was Peregrine Pratt himself who had suggested they pack up and go home. He had told them that he had probably made a mistake with the co-ordinates of the alien landing site. In fact, he was no longer even sure that his alien theory really held water. Besides, he now had another project. He had already come up with three possible concepts that might, with a bit of further development, explain the meaning of love. And he had a new idea for a computer game with a golden-skinned bikini-clad girl of exceptional intelligence as its heroine. There was another reason which he didn’t tell them, but which Ogg knew about because of his special powers. After his rejection, he found the torment of being around Antonia just too much for him.
Antonia and Ogg were really no further forward in solving the mystery of the missing rest of time. Their desert adventure had been so inconclusive that they couldn’t even discount the alien theory.
“We haven’t got very far, have we Ogg?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Ant. Your logical thinking has improved no end, and you understand a lot more about the concepts of good and evil. And you’ve collected some souvenirs...” He pointed at her great-grandfather’s hat.
“...to remind me of poor stupid old Antonio. And I’ve still got the little magic pebble.” She took it out of the pocket in her frock and showed it to him. “This serves a dual purpose, Ogg. It tells me that there is a rational explanation for everything, and it also reminds me what an obnoxious pain you can sometimes be.”
“Touché! But you don’t have a souvenir of Perg.”
“No I don’t,” she replied, thoughtfully. Then she suddenly felt a little embarrassed. She knew Ogg could read her thoughts, but could he read her feelings? Especially when she couldn’t read them herself.
“We’re not getting any closer to the truth,” she said quickly.
‘The truth? Did I ever say I was seeking the truth?”
In there somewhere was another Great Philosophical Question to be posed, and Ogg was obviously wanting Antonia to pose it. He had always been a bit reticent with his answers, it was one of his mysterious ways. But she had noticed of late that he had been less and less forthcoming with his questions, leaving it more and more up to her. Was it all part of his great plan?
“What is truth?” she began obligingly. And, before Ogg could jump in, she quickly added, “Great Philosophical Question!” Ogg smiled. “Not that you’re going to answer it!” Antonia finished, all by herself. It was almost as if old Ogg was starting to become a bit surplus to requirements.
“Well, what do you know about truth, Ant?”
“I can remember you telling little fibs a couple for times, for a start.”
“But were they really fibs?”
“I remember you lied to my great-great grandfather in Italy. You told him we were there with our parents and they had gone sightseeing.”
“Not quite! I didn’t say a word about parents. I did mention sightseeing, but I didn’t say who was doing it. We can go back in time and do it again if you don’t believe me.”
“But my grandfather had just asked you about our parents. We all thought you were talking about them.”
“Ant, you can’t hold me responsible for what other people think. What I said was completely true.”
“What about that time in the night club? You told Harry that a Big Marty from Miami had told us about his place. I don’t know any Big Marty.”
“But I do. And he did tell me and another of my friends about Harry’s place. I didn’t say that the other friend was you.”
“Ogg, that’s really dishonest.”
“You may think that, Ant, but you cannot deny that I only told the truth.”
“So there’s no absolute truth. Are there any absolute lies?”
“Great Philosophical Questions!”
This was worrying to Antonia. What people said and what others heard could be completely different, especially if the speaker was a clever and devious individual like Ogg. If she was going to succeed in saving the world, she would not only have to be careful how she thought. She would also have to be careful how she listened.
Ogg’s face suddenly brightened.
“Ant, maybe you should come and have a look at this,” he said.
“Look at what?” There was nothing unusual to see in her bedroom. What was he on about?
“Not here. But I’ve just come across something really interesting, in this time but in another place. Shall we go?”
“Is it free from spotty Pratts?”
“Not a one in sight, I promise. Coming?”
And without any warning there she was suddenly in a rather sorry old room that looked rather like an abandoned schoolroom. Again no sensation of a journey! Maybe she should have taken J.T. Wishbone up on his offer. What an ignoble way for a Great Being to get about!
Antonia had a good look around her. This had to be the shabbiest place she had been in ever in her life (or before it, thanks to Ogg). There was on old dusty desk commanding a few rows of tatty wooden benches. Behind the desk, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in a grubby sweater and jeans was scribbling onto some dirty piece of paper. On one side of her were a battered wooden kitchen table with matching and equally battered chairs that someone must have abandoned. Two men sat on these discards, looking as useless and worn out as their furniture. They were wrapped in scarves and anoraks but that didn’t prevent them from shivering. One of them was wearing gloves, the other less fortunate, need his hands free to turn the pages of a hefty bound document. A fire-salvaged armchair on the other side of the desk held another miserable shivering figure.
“You’re sure this is the present time, Ogg. We must be in the time of Dickens?”
“With anoraks and jeans? Come on, Ant?”
The grubby sweater piped up in a thin voice. Her words were physically written in mist in the freezing air.
“Have the accused read the attestation!”
The gloved figure at the kitchen table got to his feet and his companion thrust a white card into his hand.
“I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
Antonia immediately recalled her recent conversation with Ogg. This was going to be really interesting.
The grubby sweater continued.
“You are accused of having denigrated the reputation of the people of the Czech Republic by presenting a substandard operatic performance in our National Theatre. How do you plead?”
“That’s not a very serious crime,” Antonia remarked silently to Ogg.
“True if you’re not one of the people being denigrated. But if you are, or if you had bought a ticket for the debacle…” Ogg replied.
“He pleads ‘not guilty’ your worship,” the seated man at the kitchen table informed the grubby sweater. She scribbled on her grubby paper.
“Mr Prosecutor?” she then asked, looking in the direction of the recycled armchair.
“No witnesses! You’ve read the reviews. It’s an open and shut case.”
“Counsel for the Defence?”
“We call Miss Antonia Collins to the stand.”
This turn if events confused Antonia no end. How could she possibly be a witness? Had she ever seen the denigrating opera? She hadn’t been to many operas and certainly never to a denigrating one or to one in the Czech Republic. And another thing, where exactly was this stand she was being called to?
“Miss Antonia Collins,” the grubby sweater croaked, staring straight into Antonia’s eyes.
“Yes.”
/> “You have been called to the stand.”
Antonia looked about her desperately. What stand? Maybe they were getting a bit confused with the use of the definite article? That must be it! She got to her feet.
‘Have the witness read the attestation!”
“There won’t be any point, I don’t understand it.”
“You’re not being asked to understand it, only read it. Get on with it!”
“I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” Antonia read in a faltering voice. Under her breath she added, “Whatever that may mean?”
“Now, give your testimony!”
“Can I ask first why I’m being called as a witness?”
“You certainly cannot. You’re not a counsel or a prosecutor. They ask questions, witnesses only answer.”
“We have called this witness in the capacity of an expert witness,” the Counsel for the Defence explained. How could Antonia be an expert witness, she knew next to nothing about opera?
“I’m not an expert. I don’t know why you’ve called me to stand. I’d rather sit down if you don’t mind.”
“Stay where you are, Ant! Everyone’s an expert in something,” the grubby sweater said.
“Is that you Ogg? What are you up to? And why are there two of you? Have you changed into two people at the same time?”
“Of course it’s me. And I’m only one person at a time to myself. I’m darting about from one to the other so quickly that you think I’m two. Whether the fundamental truth is that I am one person or two people is a Great Philosophical Question for you to decide. Counsel for the Defence, please proceed.”
“This is a very simple case, your worship. The newspaper reviews say that the opera in question was bad, my client insists that it was excellent. Who is telling the truth? We have brought Miss Collins, an acknowledged expert in truth, to give her studied and knowledgeable opinion to help the court decide.”
“Well, Ant! Who is telling the truth?”
Antonia felt herself far from an expert in this field. But she knew enough to know the answer to this question. Ogg had taught her well.
“They are both telling the truth,” she stated, confidently.
WHAT!!” said the Counsel for the Defense and the Prosecutor at the same time.
“Now, Miss Collins,” said the grubby sweater version of Ogg, “I’d like you to answer this question again, and please think carefully.
“They’re both telling lies,” Antonia told them, immediately and even more confidently.
“And that’s your final word?”
“One of them is lying and the other one’s telling the truth?”
“Which one is lying?”
“Whichever one you like.”
“May I commend the witness on the clarity of her answers and her deep knowledge of the nature of truth,” grubby sweater Ogg announced, “Case dismissed!” And he shunted both of himselves and Antonia back to her bedroom.
“Apart from the interesting game about the meaning of truth, what was the point of that?” Antonia asked him, noting with relief that he had reverted to the singular.
“Surely you know what an analogy is? Or a parable?”
Antonia didn’t even deign to respond to such a provocative remark. He might be a Great Being, but he had no right to question her knowledge of English. But an analogy for what? Ah! Got it!
“The opera is our world, and you mean that a Great Being has decided that the show is not up to standard and cancelled the whole performance.”
“Exactly!”
“But that would imply the existence of another Great Being apart from yourself.”
“I have never claimed to be unique.”
“But I can’t think of any evidence for a Great Being apart from you. And I’m not too sure about you either.”
“Could we leave personal remarks out of it, please? If you don’t have any evidence of the existence of another Great Being, do you have any evidence of the non-existence of such a creature?”
“No, I suppose that means that we have to add this theory to the list of possibilities, alongside Peregrine Pratt’s notions about aliens”
“Correct!”
“Life never gets simpler, does it Ogg?”
Antonia suddenly jumped into bed and pulled the blankets over her head. Ogg cajoled but she refused to come out.
“Why are you being so stupid, Ant? Please come out!” he begged.
“Go away!”
“I’m going away all the time.”
“Well, go away again and this time don’t come back.”
“Was it something I said?”
Of course it was something he said. What else could it have been? How much did he think a girl could take? Every time she thought she was getting somewhere Ogg pulled he carpet from under her feet.
“Look, I might not be brilliant but I was just beginning to get the hang of this correct thinking.”
“You were, Ant, you were.”
“And I had come to terms with the idea that evil was never as straightforward as it seemed?”
“You demonstrated impressive insight in that regard.”
“I was even getting used your boring insistence on denying me any pleasure from anything with the slightest connotation of magic?”
“Remarkable forbearance on your part, Ant.”
“I even took the news that I was the object of a spotty headed beanpole’s infatuation with equanimity.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
An indignant face emerged from under the blankets.
“I did, Ogg, I did!”
“If you say so Ant?”
But she had disappeared into hiding again.
“O.K, Ant! Let’s say you reacted intelligently and unemotionally to Perg’s protestations of perpetual devotion.”
Quiet sobs leaked out from Antonia’s refuge. Ogg was disconcerted. He hated it when emotion got the upper hand on logic. Pratt could have picked a better time to interfere with the delicate balance of Ant’s adolescent hormones.
Antonia suddenly threw off her bedcovers and sat up straight. Despair had turned to anger.
“Do you know what gets me? Do you know what really gets me about this whole thing?”
For once, Ogg didn’t. Inside her head there was a storm of thundering thoughts and flashing feelings. Ogg couldn’t make anything out in the maelstrom of confusion.
“Here we are trying to find out the truth about what’s happening to the future and now you tell me there is no truth.”
“That's only a way of putting it. One could just as well say there are an infinite number of truths.”
For some reason, the sudden introduction of an apparent paradox into the conversation had the strange effect of switching off the emotional Antonia and switching on the rational one. Ogg logged this unexpected reaction firmly into in his infinite memory. Even a Great Being who has been around forever doesn't often come across a trick that can calm down a distraught female.
"No truth and an infinite number of truths are pretty much the same?" Antonia suggested, tentatively. And, seeing that Ogg didn't jump in immediately to correct her, she took great satisfaction in supposing she was more or less right.
"So, if there is no ONE truth, what do we do?" she went on, looking at Ogg as if she expected an answer. Of course, she got a question instead.
"Did I ever say we were looking for the truth?"
"This is stupid, Ogg! How can we save the world without an explanation of what the problem is?" She was beginning to get angry again, and try as he might, Ogg couldn't come up with a suitable paradox to take her mind off her bubbling ire. So, just for once, he decided to help her out by answering the question she had asked.
"We can't, Ant."
Antonia glowered. It was an answer, but it wasn't a helpful answer. Is this what it's like to be all-po
werful, Ogg? You could make it really easy for me and you choose to make it difficult. Why? GPQ, I suppose. Infuriating creature! I'll show him.
She took a few moments for some troubled reflection. Ogg sat there watching her, and although his face was expressionless she knew that the bland mask hid, somewhere, a little supercilious smile. The thought kept putting her off, and she had constantly to go back to the beginning of her train of thought and start again. She realised that she was never going to get to the end if she didn't do something, so she screwed her eyes tight shut and forced herself to CONCENTRATE, with the result that after a few minutes she was able to say,
"I suppose you mean that an explanation and the truth are not necessarily the same thing. So what is an explanation, then? And don't ask me what I think it is?"
"An explanation........ explains."
It really was time she took Ogg in hand, Great Being or no.
"Ogg, we're going around in circles here, and in the meantime we're running out of future."
"No problem, Ant. If we run out of future we can jump back a bit and use a little of the past. You're nearly there with 'explanations' "
"OK. An explanation is a way of understanding things. So that we can deal with them - change them, get rid of them or, as in the case of our missing future, bring them back. Truth has nothing to do with it - what matters is effectiveness. A good explanation gives us some kind of control. Its value is purely pragmatic."
"Correct thinking, Ant!" Ogg congratulated her with a hint of pedagogical pride in his voice. Antonia found she was a little less pleased than she might have been. While it was academically satisfying to think correctly, it seemed to mean that you spent your time pondering on the meaning of words, without it being of much help in saving the world from total destruction. If you thought correctly about correct thinking, you would probably conclude that the world might be better off without it. In her opinion, it was time for some plain old-fashioned common sense.
“Ogg, we’re trying to solve a mystery here, and we seem to be spending our time discussing the meaning of words. Why are we doing it?”
“Well, what have we learned so far?”
Typical Ogg! Changing the subject and asking a question! Didn’t he have any ideas of his own? Antonia sighed, and immediately realised that sighing was becoming a bit of a habit.
“There are lots of possibilities. Aliens! Deities! Evil influences! But do any of them work as an explanation.”
“Or do all of them? Or are they even the same explanation?”
“Stop it right this minute, Ogg!. I don’t want to hear another single question until we come up with some answers. Or at least, until I come up with some answers. All I ever get from you are questions.”
Antonia began to think about their three possibilities – the aliens, the great being other than Ogg, the evil presence. Suppose they really were one and the same thing. Suppose she postulated an unknown malevolent presence from outside all human experience and, to simplify future references to such a creature, suppose she called it THE THING. Wasn’t this a kind of explanation? OK, so she couldn’t claim to be able to deduce such a wild fantasy from the known facts, so she had no right to claim it to be the truth. But it was nevertheless consistent with what they had learned. So it might be true, in the sense that it hadn’t so far been disproved. But she didn’t need Ogg to tell her this was a dangerous path to set out on. The televsion news had taught her that believing everything that can’t be proved wrong has got the world into the trouble it’s in today. She was just about tell Ogg this when she noticed by his condescending look that he had already read her mind. Great Beings are all right, but they would be improved immensely if there was a satisfactory way of putting them in their place.
And in any case, Great Being or not, he was getting them nowhere. They had travelled across the world and through the centuries, and what had they really learned? Theories and speculation was all they had. In Antonia’s opinion, it was time for action. She blurted her point of view out forcefully before Ogg could reach into her mind and help himself to it.
“We need to stop all this idle talking and do something”, she said.
“Do we?”
She glared at him.
“We do” she confirmed, taking immense satisfaction from inverting his two simple words and throwing them back at him.
“What?” he asked.
It was a challenge. Antonia wondered if conversation with the Great had to always to be so confrontational. Unfortunately, she didn’t know WHAT, and quite frankly, it pissed her off. Nothing to do but put a brave face on it, though!
“I have an idea,” she lied, “but let’s not rush into things. I need some time to reflect on it.”
She hadn’t of course lied. She did have an idea, although not one about what Ogg was supposed to think. Ogg didn’t reply. His face remained impassive, and Antonia wondered if she just imagined the faint traces of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He had caught her out. She supposed that he needed every single one of his great powers, but if there was one she would have liked him to lose, it was the ability to read right into her very secret thoughts.