Ogg

by James Gault

  Chapter 22

  It was all right for Ogg, sitting outside the glass castle wagging his tail and yelping happily, but what was Antonia to do? The surly security man had recovered his breath by now, and he was eyeing her suspiciously. She could see that he was determined to wreak some revenge on someone. A voice inside her was speaking – was it Ogg or her own common sense, who can tell? – and telling her the best thing to do was to get on with the questionnaires. So she pulled out a pen conveniently hidden in her handbag and grabbed the first passing shopper.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” She was thinking in English but speaking in she didn’t know what. She supposed Ogg was helping her. At least he was doing something useful. In any case, the woman must have understood. She answered in a mysterious mixture of meaningless noises, but Antonia knew exactly what she was saying.

  “ Only if you’re quick. I’ve got a lot of shopping to do.”

  Antonia glanced down at the questions on her list and immediately wished she hadn’t stopped the woman. The questions were to say the least weird. Were they of some significance in the search for the ultimate truth or was Ogg just up to mischief again? She could never tell. She glanced in his direction through the great glass walls but he was staring at the still wheezing security guard with the canine equivalent of a contemptuous sneer. No help for her from this quarter. She decided, all by herself, again, to edit the questionnaire a bit. She would omit the most obviously Great Philosophical Questions, and stick to those which a reasonably thoughtful and intelligent person might be expected to answer.

  “What do you think about the social conditions in today’s modern world?” she asked.

  “Here, you ain’t one of them religious fanatics, are yer?”

  “No, I ain’t…I’m not! We’re just interested in the point of view of an obviously intelligent lady like yourself. It’s for a government white paper.”

  “Bleedin’ government toilet paper more like. I don’t take nothing to do with that sort of thing. I wouldn’t want to be impolite, young miss, but I’ve got to get me shopping. He’ll be wanting his dinner.”

  And the woman toddled off, leaving Antonia staring at a still blank questionnaire. Through the glass, she was nearly certain she got a glimpse of Ogg winking and smiling in an annoying knowing fashion, although she realised that it was all too easy to misinterpret a dog’s facial expressions. You would have thought that he might take things a bit more seriously, all the same. There weren’t many more portentous events than the end of the world. ‘Well, stuff him!’ she thought, ‘I can do this without his help.’ She caught a passing youth by the arm.

  “Young sir, can I ask you a few questions, for a survey?”

  “Well, you sure can, baby. You can ask me anything you like.”

  Antonia immediately regretted having blindly grabbed the first arm to pass. A few seconds of careful reflection would have paid off. But Ogg had got up her nose and she had let her anger get the better of her. Fatal mistake! She had allowed herself to fall into the clutches of a budget price tracksuit with a spotty complexion.

  “Maybe we could go somewhere quiet and talk this over, babe,” the acne blurted from between two rows of yellow stumps.

  “I think we can manage quite well right here, thank you.”

  “Your loss, honey! Shoot!”

  Antonia looked at her questionnaire, deciding where to start. If the first question was too difficult for her last interviewee, it certainly was for this one. She hunted hopefully for an easy one.

  “Would you say that one of the problems of today’s world is the lack of spirituality among the young?”

  “Huh!”

  “Would you say that one of the problems of today’s world is the lack of spirituality among the young?”

  “Here, you ain’t one of them religious fanatics, are yer?” His fake American accent had disappeared.

  Antonia smiled at him. Well, it was more of a wicked grin, really. She placed her hands together as if in prayer.

  “Would you still like to go somewhere quiet to discuss it?”

  The tracksuit fled, leaving a beaming self-satisfied Antonia behind it. She felt a bit guilty, and worried that some off Ogg’s irreverence had rubbed off on her, but some temptations in this world are just too big to be resisted.

  She was a bit more circumspect in choosing her next victim. As befits a person dedicated to thinking in a correct and logical fashion, she approached the task in a careful and orderly manner. What she needed was someone reasonably well dressed, mature, and showing some outward manifestations of a reasonable level of intelligence. Her eyes fell on a middle-aged gentleman wearing proper shoes, a tailored jacket and a shirt with a real collar. It was in image Antonia equated with knowledge based professions, a lawyer or maybe a teacher. Surely here was someone who could cope with at least one of the less demanding questions on her list.

  “Excuse me, sir, but would you object to answering a few questions for a very important survey?”

  “Why, not at all, young gel. Delighted to be of assistance. What piece of information would you like me to proffer?”

  Antonia searched in the questionnaire for the absolutely easiest question in the list. She was beginning to lose all confidence in mankind being able to express a sensible opinion on the most mundane matters, and she wanted to be sure of at least some kind of answer this time.

  “Would you say you were very satisfied, reasonably satisfied, or dissatisfied with the political situation in the world today?”

  “Oh, that’s a good one, young lady. A really good one, may I say.”

  “Thank you,” Antonia said, and waited. There was an awkward pause.

  “Well, glad to have been of help,” the teacher (or lawyer) said at last, and wandered off leaving a bemused Antonia wondering if she had missed something.

  The unanimous view on any subject of any interest whatever seemed to have been a resounding ‘Don’t Know’. Ogg had brought her among the least opinionated society that she could ever imagine. There was no point in interviewing boring people who couldn’t even answer ordinary questions, never mind Great Philosophical ones. Antonia decided that it was about time she explored the future a bit. She dropped her clipboard into a handy rubbish bin and set off around the shopping centre.

  Wherever she went, Antonia was aware of an overwhelming sense of familiarity. Here she was in a new place, in a time yet to come, and yet nothing was strange. She wandered into a TV shop. Walls of moving images fluttered at her, demanding her attention. She dismissed them all with a bored glance. She’d seen it all before – regurgitated soaps, golden oldie video clips, comedy programmes with jokes she knew by heart. Clothes shops revived revivals of fashion statements best forgotten. The newsstands proclaimed headlines reprised from years before. The world wasn’t going forward, it was going round and round. The straight advancing path of human development had turned into a circle. The future was no more than yet another rerun of the past. It was so depressing.

  Antonia was one of those many people who believed that the cure for feeling a bit low was a massive injection of good quality chocolate. So, finding herself near a large hypermarket which sold everything for every occasion, she entered in search of some cocoa laden solace.

  Her mind was spinning. Chocolate, chocolate! Mindless society, going nowhere! Got to get some chocolate! It’s not just that the people here don’t think correctly, they didn’t think at all. Sorry, Ogg I know this isn’t correct thinking. But I do need an injection of chocolate. Repeats! Repeats of TV shows, reissues of pop songs, revivals of clothing styles! Everything once again, nothing new! There’s no future, just a rerun of the present. There’s the chocolate, where’s my money? What kind of money do I need? I’m brainstorming. My brain’s in a hurricane, a typhoon. This isn’t logical. Incorrect thinking
! What will Ogg think of me? Need chocolate, need money. What kind of money do I need, Ogg? What kind of money do they take in this future you’ve brought me too? There is no future, just a rerun of the present. I’ve been here before, you’ve been here before, we’ve all been here before. There is no future in this present. There is no future. There is no future. There is no future.

  “GOT IT!!!” Antonia screamed. Luckily no-one heard her in the din of full-blown weekend shopping. “Got it,” she whispered to herself, looking to see that nobody was looking at her.

  Antonia believed she had solved the problem. Today was the end of the future because it had nowhere to go. Today was the last new day. Tomorrow would be a day from the past. A future has to be different. It has to go somewhere. But there was no one left with any idea of where to take it. When Ogg couldn’t read these thoughts, it wasn’t because these people weren’t human. It was because they didn’t have any thoughts.

  And Antonia had not only identified the problem, she had come up with the solution. As she crossed the exit of the shop, a rescue plan was forming in her head.

  ‘What we have to do, Ogg and I,’ she thought to herself, ‘is teach these people to come up with some original thoughts.’

  She was stopped in her tracks by the deafening scream of a security alarm. She jumped, and logic flew off leaving her bewildered and confused. Had she absent-mindedly picked up some unpaid chocolate by accident? Had she turned into a secret shoplifter? She was conscious of a million eyes piercing her back. She turned. Shoppers, shop assistants, security men, faces twisted into cruel gargoyles, were leering at her. There was no mistaking who had set off the alarm. What had she done? The crowd had formed a semi-circle around her. Arms were raised, fingers were pointing. Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Hee-haw! The demonic siren was laughing at her. She was frozen with fear.

  “She’s ‘ad some original thoughts, that one!” an accusing voice whispered.

  Original thoughts!” Screeches from an unseen voice.

  “Disgraceful!” from another.

  “Who does she think she is?” from somewhere else.

  Tortured eyes started at her. Twisted mouths hissed at her. Bent and hooked noses sniffed her hair. Fat flowing stomachs belched foul breath in her direction. Spiny fingers with pointed claws reached out for her neck.

  “Dangerous creature!”

  “She’ll spoil it for all us.”

  “We’ve got to get rid of her!”

  “Got to put her down!”

  “Put her down! Put her down! Put her down!”

  They began to smash their hands together in time to their evil chant. Antonia started to back away. She took a step back, the crowd took a step forward.

  “Ogg!” Antonia screamed, drawing the ‘O’ sound out into an overextended soprano aria. “Aaaaaaaawgg!” she repeated. She turned and fled, making for the glass doors.

  “Don’t let her get away!” she heard behind her.

  “Get her! Put her down!”

  “We’ll original thoughts her!”

  “We’ll show her what to do with her bleedin’ original thoughts.”

  “Yeah, the cheek of her!”

  “After her! Quick!”

  The ruthless rioters rumbled behind her. She ran blindly for freedom, and careered into unyielding glass with an inelegant thud. The door must have closed automatically when the alarm went off.

  “Ogg, help me!” she pleaded, scratching vainly at the glass.

  Ogg was sitting calmly right outside the door, looking through the glass with almost bored eyes. His tail was wagging and he had pushed his head a little to the side to look up at her. His lack of concern was infuriating. This was no time for working in mysterious ways. On the contrary, it was an opportune moment for a good old straightforward rescue.

  “What seems to be the exact problem, Ant?” Ogg asked, dragging his words out in a deliberate and ponderous manner. Antonia was absolutely certain that the murdering masses behind her would tear her head off before he finished speaking. She could hear their rumbling, and the endless repetition of their death chant.

  “Get her! Put her down!”

  “Get her! Put her down!”

  “Don’t panic!” Ogg said, quietly. “I’m not!”

  It was all right for him. He was on the non-panic side of the door.

  “There’s no rush, Ant!”

  Couldn’t Ogg see the bloodthirsty war-dance right behind her? Had he turned himself into a blind dog?

  “Please, Ogg!”

  “Have some faith, Ant! They’re not getting any closer, are they?”

  This was true. The rumble was right behind her, but try as it might, it didn’t seem able to reach her. And the cries of “Get her! Put her down!” were beginning to sound like an old fashioned record stuck in a groove.

  “I just keep sending them back a couple of seconds all the time. I won’t let them reach you. We can go on like this for ages. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

  Now faith is a funny concept. For one thing, it doesn’t coexist very well with fear. Even when it is based on entirely logical and well-understood principles. So when Ogg suggested that Antonia should calm down and join him in a lazy rational review of the situation it didn’t go down too well.

  “I’d rather discuss it from the other side of this door,” a falsetto voice squeaked.

  “All in good time.”

  Antonia thought that there really couldn’t be a better time. She knew that Ogg could hold off the crowd as long as he wanted. As long as he remembered to push them back in time every couple of seconds. But if he forgot just once, they would be on her, tearing her to bits like an antelope caught by a hungry lion.

  “Tell me what you found out?” Ogg asked her.

  “Oh, stop it, Ogg! You know fine well what I found out. Just get me out of here!”

  “What are we going to do? How are we going to save the world?”

  “Save me first! Then the world.”

  “You know, Ant, I have been trying very hard to get you to stop being so emotional and think in a sensible rational manner. It seems that I haven’t been completely successful.”

  “Put me on your side of this glass door and I promise to be sensible and rational !”

  Ogg ignored her pleas.

  “Let’s think!” he said.

  “Let’s act, Ogg!!! Then we can think!”

  “You were right of course, Ant. What I need to do is teach these moronic people the secret of original thinking. See you!”

  And with that Ogg dematerialised.

  Antonia couldn’t believe it, but she didn’t have any time to think about why he might have done such a thing. The crowd, suddenly released from suspended animation, rushed forward. She felt heavy hands descending on her shoulders, long hooked-nailed fingers closing around her neck, large boots kicking at her legs. She was going down, sliding under a mass of angry humanity. The crowd was going to swallow her, to eat her whole. She saw enormous knives raised to carve her. She heard jaws and cheeks chomping in anticipation. She twisted, she turned, she kicked, she punched, she shouted and she screamed. She was on the floor. Fists were shaking at her. Feet were stomping down on her body. Her eyes were closing.

  She heard a sudden silent voice inside her head. It was a quiet voice, a sensible voice, a reasonable voice. Not the least an ostentatious voice. It was a familiar voice, a voice she knew well. It came alone, with no visual accompaniment at all. Although Antonia heard the voice, she was sure no else did. It left its message silently, and faded discretely back to where ever it came from. All it said was,

  “Sorry, Ant. Forgot something!”

  How could Ogg even think of leaving her in such a terrible predicament? Antonia really wanted to give him a piece of her mind. But before she could
select a suitably caustic morsel, she was back safe in her own bedroom, unhurt and even unbruised.