by Paul A. Rice
‘It’s only a temporary solution,’ he said. ‘This material is extremely difficult to produce and also massively expensive, but we are willing to provide enough to see you through for the next few years whilst we help you in the design of the final hydrogen product.’ Red nodded in vigorous agreement.
Time flew by and over the next two years, the big man became very popular with Jonathon. Red was extremely friendly and bombarded them with requests for information and help. ‘Between us we can get this here job done, I reckon. I just need to know ever’thang so’s I can get my bosses to get their goddamned butts in gear!’ he would say, with a disarming smile that so easily won the older men’s trust.
Jonathon was unable to stop himself from helping with all of the big man’s requests. Looking up at Red with an ingratiating smile, he began to offer any and all of his considerable knowledge to their protégé. ‘We will give you anything you need, we will pour in as many resources as required to get this programme running. We must get your planet off its addiction to fossils fuels, because we have, at the most, fifteen years to complete our work!’ Jonathon said, as he looked at Red sincerely.
Red nodded in agreement and from then on he became very willing, endearing himself so much to the old Guide that Jonathon soon struck up a good relationship with the huge, red-haired man. He and Mr Wilson became very happy with their ponytailed compatriot’s willingness to learn, and his ever-inquisitive, friendly manner. Such was Red’s positive attitude that Jonathon even showed him one of the prototype energy packs for the first of Earth’s new power plants. He explained in some detail about how it worked and the immense forces that had been contained within its rounded flanks. Although it looked no larger than a bowling ball, the silver sphere contained a single lump of a material, a substance so highly developed and so immensely powerful that it was equivalent to several thousand megatonnes of man’s own high-explosives. Red was amazed and he begged the older man to expand upon his explanation.
Jonathon willingly obliged the big man’s request. ‘This material will provide all the power your planet will need over the next decade or so, its use will provide an intermediate solution whilst the final hydrogen fuel-cell design is perfected, tested and then put into place around the world.’ Opening the steel ball, he let Red gaze at the energy-giving substance within.
As they stared at the device, Jonathon proudly announced: ‘Amongst those of us who know, this awesome material has been fondly named as the ‘Light Maker’, it is a very apt name, as should it ever be ignited outside of a properly modified generator, then the fire it releases will be many times brighter than the surface of your little sun!’ He turned to Red with a smile on his face, saying: ‘It is indeed a powerful substance and one that will help your people to advance tremendously – in a few decades you will be travelling the stars, of that I promise you, Red!’
The green light shining from within the inside of the sphere reflected in Red’s staring eyes. ‘I like that name, ‘Light Maker’, huh?’ he said. ‘Yeah, it sounds like a mighty fine name to me!’ Red grinned at the two older men and peered into the sphere’s interior once more. ‘Jeesh, it’s so small ain’t it, it looks like a pebble or something,’ he said, as his face cracked into a huge, crooked smile.
Jonathon nodded, replying with: ‘Yes, indeed – it is strange how something so innocuous can be so powerful, isn’t it? And, strangely enough, it has previously been referred to as The Stone…’ He looked up from the device to give Red another proud look.
Red peered into the steel ball one more time, and then stepped back to allow Jonathon the space in which to gently close the lid. ‘Yeah, that’s a pretty cool idea,’ he said. ‘And an even cooler name, show me more, my man, show me more!’ Red’s eyes shone with glee. And so they did show him, showed him much more than perhaps they should have...
After a while, Jonathon reminded him that the device was only here for a short while, merely to show the world’s leaders that the project was progressing according to plan, and that they, Jonathon’s people, were as good as their word. Once a demonstration had been provided then the Light Maker would be returned to its rightful owners. However, such was his innocent enthusiasm for their thus far successful partnership that Jonathon failed to notice the ogre’s eyes as they lit up with that piece of news.
As they progressed with their plans, Red became more and more interested in the Stone, but he was also very astute with his other work, too. His was a near-perfect camouflage and he constantly showed Jonathon reports from his superiors giving daily updates on how things were progressing with the forthcoming switch from fossil fuels to water. Mr Wilson also had many dealings with Red, and often the giant would bring him a bottle of whiskey in thanks for his help.
Red also sat with Jonathon and watched as the old man sent his monthly report. ‘All is progressing as per the agreed plan. In fact, I believe this location is ahead of schedule, the two representatives have completed all that we have asked of them and there is a huge change of attitude here on Earth. I believe we may have the best solution within our grasp. I can see the end product and it fills me with joy!’
What he didn’t see was the trail of dust that flew from under the wheels of Red’s pickup as he headed into the desert west of the airbase. He went to and fro several times, and although Ken was unable to see exactly where he went, it still chilled him to the core. As he turned away from the screen, he felt himself surface once more, almost as though he was lifting his face from a pool of water.
George’s dulcet tones bought him back to the red couch. ‘So, now you know, gentlemen – what do you think we should have done next?’ the old man asked.
Ken addressed some simple questions of his own to the tired-looking old man. ‘Where is the device now, George? Does he have it, Red? Did you give it to him?’ Feeling Mike’s eyes boring into him, Ken turned and gave a reply to the silent question his friend had sent him. ‘I had a dream last night, I saw Red there,’ Ken said. ‘I was running after him and he wouldn’t stop, there was this stuff floating around his…’ Rotating back to George, he said, ‘He has it, hasn’t he, he had it in the first dream as well, didn’t he? Red has that stone thing, doesn’t he?’ They were most definitely a set of rhetorical questions, but Ken felt better for letting the words out, words that had been knocking loudly on the inside of his teeth for about the last ten minutes.
George nodded apologetically in affirmation to his query.
Ken was furious. ‘How in hell did you guys allow that to happen?’ he said, angrily. ‘Jesus Christ, help us!’ His eyes burned with frustration, head pounding to some unseen beat. In disbelief, he asked, ‘So, seriously, George – how did he get away with the most important piece of kit that your people have ever made?’
George replied with a livid, verbal brutality. ‘He took our own advanced naivety, took our self-righteous honesty and used it against us! He used us to coerce ourselves. We were so pleased, so enamoured with the idea that we were going to see our plans bear fruit. We were so blinded by joy that we were unable see further than our own inflated egos!’ He physically grimaced at his own painful, self-derogatory words. He snarled, ‘We were twisted around the fingers of a master puppeteer – that prick, Red, cleaned us out and we asked for it!’ He ended his clipped summary with a grimace, which only served to contort his features even further.
For a moment, the old man appeared almost demonic in his fury.
It was the second time Ken had seen the steel in George, the lifted mask revealing his disguised underbelly once again. The anger in his lined face bubbled forth in a blaze of flashing blue eyes and white-hot determination. It was like an unseen lesion of maggots appearing under the skin of a juicy peach, his transformation was totally unexpected and out of context in the extreme.
George became Grandma with an Uzi and wrinkled tights – standing over your semolina and shoving the snub-nosed machinegun into your face. ‘You will eat that fucking pudding, boy!’ The unexpected tone and th
at shining violence, no longer hidden by her warm soapy smell, would cause a sudden and desperate squirt of warmth to flood the crotch. He (she) scared the wits out of Ken. Right there and then, seated upon the red couch, he felt scared. His transfixed gaze was released by Mike’s calm, yet evenly paced question.
‘What did he do, George, what, how did he twist you?’
The old man whispered: ‘On the last day, on that final morning, our friend, Red, simply walked into the building with some of the early ones, the robe-wearers, and stole the device from under our very noses!’ With a terrible expression upon his face, George then proceeded to give them all the ghastly details of Red’s horrific deeds.
21
House of Cards
Upon hearing the tale of Jonathon’s terrible ordeal, and quickly recognising the link between it and the scenes that Mike had so vividly described – the men outside the SD House, and their death at the hand of a malicious, red-haired demon – Ken and Mike looked at George in horror. Both men had the same question in their eyes: How had George’s people have been so stupid? In God’s name, how?
George nodded in recognition of their unspoken accusation. He was weary and it showed. He said, ‘Yes, we were so stupid, very much so! We can travel between atoms, we can move from one parallel to the next with ease, we have no cancer, we need no oil,’ his face crumpled. ‘We can do all of these things and yet...and yet we did not realise that they had no intention of allowing us to take their riches away,’ he said, with a sigh, shaking his head in a very frustrated and distressed manner.
After a moment of silent contemplation, he continued. ‘But the joke is on them,’ he said, ‘because our information says that Red is working to his own agenda. Yes, he took the device on their behalf, but he has disappeared with it and now they, the Hyenas, everyone, are no more – there is just him and his little band of cronies – and, of course, you!’ George looked pointedly at Ken.
Mike asked: ‘How did you know he’d taken it?’
George nodded, leaning forwards to explain. ‘Jonathon entered a distress code into the keypad. That code has only one meaning. Its message is indelibly simple; it was the emergency code and signalled the total and irreversible failure of the mission!’ He explained that once that particular message was received there would be no other questions left to ask, no more talking.
‘They had deceived us for years,’ he said. ‘There was never any real interest in alternative fuel, none whatsoever! No, all they wanted from us was the technology, they wanted the Light Maker and they wanted its power for themselves – all they wanted was the power it produces. If they had their way, it would be turned into a weapon as soon as possible, having its technology would give them ultimate power! They sent Red to get it, he was their man!’ George shuddered with fury once more.
Grimacing, he said, ‘However, they have no idea as to the true magnitude and abilities of the substance within the device – it is not possible for it to be safely used without proper installation! Should it ever be ignited outside of a proper generator, well, that would truly have been the end for all of us – we simply would not allow that to happen!’ He stared at the two men, and without so much as a blink, told them that with no other options left, the decision to wipe the face of the planet clean was taken. With total calmness in his voice, he said, ‘Better to begin all over again rather than to face the unknown catastrophic events that the detonation of a stolen Light Maker would undoubtedly bring…’
And so, upon receiving their orders from mission control, George and his crew had fired the end-game sequence like a starting gun, the resultant effects of which had broken the winning tape in seconds. There would be no restart to this particular race – that much was certain. Ken and Mike sat in screaming silence whilst George stared at them. The old man seemed spent as he lowered himself into the deep red caress of the couch’s large arms.
‘You started the real storm!’ Mike’s whispered sentence danced, like a hippopotamus, through the elegant room. Although they both knew, had known all along, what the inevitable outcome would be, its arrival still shattered them.
‘One question if I may, George?’ Ken said, looking straight at his Guide.
George raised his eyebrows, beckoning the query.
‘Why the hell didn’t you simply kill Red and his gang, kill them with the storm – just wipe them off the face of the planet along with everyone else?’ Ken asked.
George looked him in the eye and answered. ‘The Light Maker was with them and we are not sure which vehicle it went with. It is inherently unstable and we have no idea what the effect of the storm upon such a device would be – we were not willing to take the risk! If it explodes in this parallel there will be catastrophic ramifications, for not only the whole dimension, but also for everything else. As I have said – time is not a singular thing, you should think of a house of cards, or maybe a long run of dominoes. Remove one card, knock one domino over and...well, you can guess the rest.’
It was a more than just a fair point; Ken guessed, but he also guessed that his brain was probably fully-cooked by now. Then, and obviously seeing those imaginary juices pouring out of Ken’s ears, George looked at them and suggested that perhaps they should take a break, maybe go for a walk and stretch their legs for a while. It sounded great to Ken, he was starting to feel as though he’d been in that opulent place for too long and was beginning to understand what a graduation student sitting their final exams for insanity would be experiencing. Yes, a change of scenery would suit him just fine, and by the expression on his face, Mike felt the same way. They both nodded in agreement.
George said, ‘Right, well...follow me then if you will, my boys! Let the show begin!’
22
Spears
George had taken to using those words quite a lot of late. Ken didn’t mind, even though he had witnessed a darker side to George, the anger; he liked the old guy, liked him a lot, and didn’t mind being one of George’s ‘boys’ at all. He grinned to himself and tagged along with Mike to follow George through the door. Mike turned around and gleefully said, ‘Yes, now you’ll see some gear, Kenny – now we get to play with some big boys’ toys!’ He laughed and slapped Ken’s shoulder.
With a shake of the head, Ken followed the two men walking in front of him, his lazy thoughts drifting in an unorganised chaos as he walked along in a trance, gently wondering what was coming next in this crazy place. After turning several corners and meandering down endless corridors, George eventually stopped and turned to his right. Ken, pulling up next to him, looked at the wall and saw that there was a door, its design so clever that it was almost invisible amongst the surrounding canvas of the corridor’s walls.
George reached out and placed the palm of his hand against the surface of the hidden entrance. Immediately the door illuminated, it was made of solid glass with beautiful carvings etched into its crystal surface. There was a slight whispering noise and the glass door slid upwards to reveal an empty lift behind. They walked in and turned around to face the entrance, watching the door as it slid downwards and closed with a soft clunk.
‘Cavern, please…’
George’s words sent them hurtling downwards. The lift did not make a sound, no mechanical whining or banging, it merely dropped like a stone. The floors rocketed past the glass door, melding into one long, flashing blur of light, which sent shadows flickering into the lift’s interior. Ken felt a strange lightness in his stomach, and he knew that wherever it was they were going, they were going there at speed. His feet had started to feel as though they were about to come unstuck and Ken knew it wouldn’t be too long before he started to float, float around in the lift.
‘Yes, that’ll be good, floating around the lift...yeah, and then my stupid head will probably explode with fear, won’t it?’ He kept the thoughts to himself and held on tight. Fortunately, the strange sensation didn’t last too long and with a gentle braking motion, they soon came to a halt somewhere a long way below where they h
ad embarked.
George called out: ‘7712-32A.’
The lift door once again slipped upwards and open. Stepping out, he beckoned the men to follow him. Ken and Mike gladly obliged and strode into the huge workshop to stand upon a highly-polished, non-slip floor. With open mouth, Ken stood and looked around the cavernous room. It was like the best kept Formula One workshop, stainless-steel shelves adorned every wall, strange tools hung upon glistening metal hooks, whilst more familiar tools...hammers, pliers and suchlike...took their places alongside. Large metal toolboxes on castors stood towering sullenly in the corners. The air smelt clean and sterilised and the whole place gave off the aura of an operating theatre.
Over to the left, Ken saw another, separate, room with darkened windows and a single door, upon which glowed the familiar spearhead design. The ceiling in the workshop, the Cavern, was high and illuminated by dozens of long, slim, light bulbs that caused bright light to cascade over the entire area. High in the middle of the ceiling was a cluster of lamps, exactly like you would see in that operating theatre. The huge room was immaculate in every respect and was crowned by two, strangely-familiar vehicles that stood in silent menace in the centre. They looked very similar to Nissan Patrols, or some kind of Land Rover.
However, these two looked as though they were right in the middle of a serious steroid addiction. They must have stood at about nine or ten feet in height, their weight being supported by the most enormous tyres Ken had ever seen this side of a Monster Truck, they weren’t as ridiculously oversized as those things, but they were huge, about five feet high with a width of at least three more. The heavily treaded tyres carried no markings at all and were nestled tightly upon black wheel rims.