The Knight's Armor

by Paul Gamble

  Jack sighed. He had only been in the Ministry for two weeks and was still very far away from mastering The Speed. He could think of sad thoughts and was even able to move impossibly fast. The problem was, even when he moved fast he wasn’t as nimble or agile as Trudy was. So being able to move fast frequently meant that he just lost fights in a shorter period of time than it would have taken otherwise.

  Nonetheless, he didn’t really have any other options. And so Jack thought of a sad thought. He remembered a childhood holiday in Portrush on the North Coast of Ireland. He’d always loved it there with the amusement arcades55 and the beautiful views over the sea. But most of all he’d loved the ice cream on hot summer days. He remembered one time he had persuaded his parents to buy him a three-scoop raspberry ice cream with Belgian chocolate chunks and mini marshmallows. He had wanted one for ages, but his parents had always said it was too much and would make him sick. Finally, they had agreed and he had taken his ice cream outside to eat it. At the last minute, his arm had been jogged by a passerby and both his ice cream and his culinary daydreams had fallen to the ground. Even now, remembering it made him want to cry.

  Jack looked up. “What on earth are you doing?” shouted Trudy. She was surrounded by the suits of armor, which were clumsily swinging at her with their metal fists. She ducked down and grabbed the foot of one of the suits and pulled it off. There was nothing inside the suit—no flesh, no foot, no mechanical innards—nothing but pure air. Trudy threw the empty boot at another suit. There was a loud clang as the empty helmet came off the second suit, but it didn’t stop moving. Instead it punched out at Trudy, catching her on the back and sending her sprawling to the ground.

  “Sorry!” yelped Jack. “I got a bit too involved with my sad thought.” Jack made a mental note to try and only think of short sad thoughts in the future.

  Jack ran into action, ducking under a punch that one of the suits of armor aimed at his head. He grabbed Trudy by the arm and hauled her up, pulling both of them away toward safety. The suits of armor started jangling and clanking toward them.

  “Okay, well, at least you’ve knocked one of their heads off.”

  “Yes, but that’s the problem. Even when I pull them apart they seem to come back together again.”

  “Well, maybe we should try harder,” suggested Jack.

  “We? We? I didn’t notice you trying at all so far.” Before Jack could respond, Trudy had rushed back toward the metal shells and was swinging her fists at them. Their iron gauntlets lashed out at her, but she nimbly dodged under and jumped over them. She kicked one so hard in its rusty chest that it rang out like a gong before shuddering, falling apart, and crashing to the ground.

  As usual Jack did his slightly inept best. He ran at one of the suits of armor at full speed and jumped into it, curling himself up like a cannonball. When Jack hit the rusty breastplate it cracked and split neatly into two pieces. Before he could move again one of the suits had grabbed his wrist with a viselike grip. “Not good,” Jack muttered. He levered himself up and pressed his feet against the chest of the armor. He pushed with all his might and felt the grip weakening very slightly. A second later he found himself falling away. The gauntlet was still stuck to his wrist, but it had become detached from the suit. Jack banged it against the ground until it let go and then scrambled backward toward the wall of the cavern.

  Trudy, meanwhile, was doing much better. Instead of lashing out indeterminately, she was striking carefully. As each suit of armor came toward her she would circle it for a moment, making her decision, then with lightning speed and pinpoint accuracy she would strike out. Her fist or foot would crash against the knee or elbow of each suit, and half an arm or leg would drop off. While this wouldn’t stop the armor entirely, it did render the suits either less dangerous or less maneuverable. “Go for the joints!” Trudy yelled. “We can’t hurt metal, and there’s nothing inside the suits to defeat, but we can break the armor into smaller parts.”

  Jack stood up again and rushed to Trudy’s side, determined to play his part. They lashed, whirled, and struck at the armor together, Trudy’s tactics proving to be quite effective. Soon there were only two complete suits left and they stood stock-still, guarding the exit from the chamber.

  “That was a lot easier than I thought it would be,” Jack said, sweat pouring down his brow.

  Trudy turned to him. “I can’t believe you. You know what happens when you say things like that!”

  Jack gulped and realized what he’d done. Anytime you said something seemed to be too easy, it always ended up being a lot harder than you could possibly have imagined. Very predictably, the individual pieces of armor started rocking back and forth. Gradually they started moving toward one another. “Not this!” shouted Trudy.

  The armor didn’t pay her any attention. Slowly but surely the pieces of armor were coming back together and joining themselves up again. Jack gulped. The reconstituted suits of armor started moving toward them. Jack looked down at his fists—they were already bruised and battered from breaking the armor apart the first time. He found himself wondering what was powering the armor; they clearly weren’t robots—they weren’t clockwork or mechanical—they just seemed to move as if by magic.… Maybe Mr. M was a wizard.…

  Jack was shaken out of his thoughts by seeing Trudy adopting her familiar fighting stance. He was pretty sure that he didn’t have the strength to do battle all over again. Even Trudy couldn’t keep fighting forever.

  “I don’t care about myself,” said Trudy. “I just wanted to rescue my mother—and now we’re probably going to get killed by empty suits of armor.…”

  The suits had surrounded Jack and Trudy and were slowly forcing them back toward the wall. It would all be over soon and they would have failed. Jack shook his head in annoyance. It looked like he was going to be captured. Normally he didn’t get captured until Thursday or Friday at least. This was Tuesday; he was clearly getting worse and worse at being a Ministry agent. Who said practice makes perfect?56

  Trudy, on the other hand, wasn’t used to getting captured. She seemed to be taking it much harder than he was. “I can’t believe this, Jack. If we get captured like my mother, then we’re … we’re completely hopeless and lost.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. Trudy had given him an idea. But did they have enough time? Their backs were against the wall. He grabbed Trudy by the shoulders and turned her to look directly into his eyes. “Say that again!”

  “What? We’re completely hopeless and lost?”

  “Just the second part.”

  “We’re lost!”

  Jack nodded vigorously. “That’s it: Say it again and believe it! Really believe it.”

  Trudy’s brow furrowed. “I do believe it. We’re lost. We’re lost.…”

  Jack joined in. As they both agreed they were lost, a dozen grasping metal hands reached out for them.…

  * * *

  MINISTRY OF S.U.I.T.S HANDBOOK

  ICE CREAM

  WHY ICE CREAM EXPLAINS VIKINGS RAIDING DIFFERENT COUNTRIES

  Many people are aware of the Vikings and how they used cows as mobile pantries for their attacks on other countries. What most people don’t realize is cows are also the reason that the Vikings behaved so differently from other invading hordes. Generally, when people invaded or explored they sent out armies who were looking for somewhere new to live and settle.

  The invaders then set up home in the new country. But Vikings just attacked, filled their boats with pillage, and then went home again. The reason for this is simple and once more heavily bound up with cows. It can be summed up in two words—ice cream.

  Vikings and their cows lived in Scandinavia (consisting of Denmark, Norway, Finland, and Sweden). Much of Scandinavia is very cold indeed, and this meant that any cows they had were producing very, very cold milk. Unsurprisingly, the Scandinavians became quite brilliant at producing ice cream.57 Even to this day Scandinavian nations are still some of the biggest consumers of this freezing del
iciousness.

  But even the ice cream–loving Vikings eventually had their fill of ice cream. Unfortunately, their cows were too cold to produce anything else. And so the Vikings set off to find warmer places to raid. You can actually track where the Vikings attacked based on the type of food they were hankering after.

  They attacked England with its wide pastures and temperate climate when they wanted to drink milk. When they wanted something a bit more rich, they went to Ireland and Dublin. With high rainfall and lots of lush green grass, cows in Ireland made lots of lovely cream and butter.58 When they craved something a bit more savory the Vikings packed up their cows and headed to Normandy in France, where the warm weather helped their cheese ripen.

  Therefore, the reason the Vikings never actually settled in one location was that they always wanted to travel on after they got bored by a particular type of food. And in the end, the raids always finished when they went back to Scandinavia. Because as we all know—milk, cheese, cream, and butter are all very well. But you’re always going to want ice cream for dessert.

  * * *

  20

  THE UPSIDE TO BEING LOST

  Jack was still holding on to Trudy’s shoulders and staring into her eyes. But he was also smiling so widely his face almost split in two. Trudy’s head spun around trying to get her bearings. “Are we…?” Jack pushed Trudy backward, allowing her to float away from him. “What is…?” And then a wave of realization spread across Trudy’s face. “We’re in the Lost and Found room at the Ministry!”

  Jack nodded. “You gave me the idea when you said we were lost. Grey told us that anything that gets lost pops into existence in this place. So, if everything was hopeless for us and we were ‘lost,’ then we’d suddenly appear here.”

  “But that’s insane,” complained Trudy. “I didn’t even mean really lost, I just meant lost in the sense of ‘hopeless.’”

  “But you know that sometimes words and phrases mean real things. Remember when the Misery taught us that if you were really surprised and something ‘took your breath away,’ then you didn’t need to actually breathe for a while.”

  Trudy looked around her. The Lost and Found room was still a huge empty white space filled with keys, wallets, and favorite pencils and pens all winking into and out of existence around them. She looked back at Jack, floated slightly nearer to him, and gave him a hug. “Sometimes you’re brilliant.”

  “Sometimes?”

  “Don’t push it. Now can you see where the door out of the place is?”

  Jack looked around. “No, can’t see it anywhere; we seem to have lost it.…” And as soon as Jack said those words, the door flashed into existence right in front of them.

  “Great. Let’s go and find Grey and tell him what we’ve discovered.”

  * * *

  After asking around, Jack and Trudy eventually found Grey in the Ministry cafeteria. It was the first time Jack had seen the café and he felt a bit put out. “You never told me this place had somewhere we can eat.”

  “Yeah,” Trudy agreed. “You could at least have bought us a sandwich at some stage.”

  Grey laughed. “Haven’t you learned anything from your time in the Ministry? Don’t you think that there’s a reason that I haven’t brought you here?”

  Jack remembered how incompetent the Ministry’s medical teams were and realized that maybe the cafeteria wasn’t as safe a place to eat as he initially thought. He looked around the café and noticed that, like all places in the Ministry, it was very strange indeed.

  Probably the most unusual thing was that there was a food fight going on. Behind the plastic food guard, a tray of mashed potatoes had started rising up and was shaping itself into humanoid form. Then it began striding across the metal containers, heading for a tray of what looked to be sausage rolls. In response, the sausage rolls had hauled themselves into an angled position, like a pastry cannon, and were firing their meat insides toward the mashed-potato creature. One scored a direct hit, creating a hole right through the mashed-potato creature’s stomach. It fell to the ground, but the hole quickly healed up, and it rose to its feet before striding on.

  Jack pointed this out to Grey. “That’s the craziest thing I have ever seen.”

  “I agree.” Grey nodded. “If the potato creature doesn’t get some allies, he’s going to find himself outflanked by the broccoli in a minute.”

  Jack frowned. “That isn’t what I meant.…”

  “But then again what do you expect?” Grey interrupted. “Mashed potato has never been known for its tactical thinking.”

  Apart from the vagaries of the food on offer, the clientele in the café was also far from normal. Although many of the people standing in line were (largely) human, there were also a number of considerably stranger-looking creatures. There was a floating, rotating cube of what seemed to be a pinkish stone. Beside it there was a life-size, wooden painted puppet held up on strings that vanished into a swirling yellow vortex that hovered a foot above its head.

  Three places in front of them was a long brown hooded cloak that reached down to the ground. When the head of the cloak turned there wasn’t a face under the hood, but rather a strange reddish-brown mass of tiny objects that seethed and moved. Jack leaned forward and squinted to get a better look. He realized it wasn’t a single “person” but rather a mass of ants.

  Jack pulled at Grey’s sleeve. “That man has ants all over his face. Shouldn’t someone tell him?”

  Grey shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. That man doesn’t have ants over his face.”

  “Am I hallucinating, then?”

  “Well, you might be, Jack. I really can’t be held responsible for the state of any misfiring neurons you may have in your brain. But that ‘man,’ as you call him, is actually just a mass of ants.”

  Trudy snorted. “What? You can’t be serious!”

  Grey nodded. “I very much am. We aren’t sure whether she’s a mass of ants pretending to be a woman, or a woman pretending to be a mass of ants. But it’s one or the other.”

  “And he’s a she?” Jack asked.

  “We don’t really know. But we call her ‘Auntie,’ so ‘she’ seems to be most appropriate. You see, ants work together as a colony, all working for one another and acting in each other’s best interests. We think that ‘Auntie’ came from a colony that decided there was more to life than just eating leaves and finding the odd sugar cube and decided to seek meaningful employment.”

  “If she wanted meaningful employment then why did she join the Ministry?” Jack smirked.

  “Ha ha,” said Grey. “But when you’re made up primarily of ants there are a limited number of job openings available to you. Prejudice against people made of ants is, quite frankly, frighteningly prevalent in our society. That and the fact she has no qualifications makes it hard to find work.” Grey paused and then added an afterthought. “Stay in school, kids.”

  “What kind of a job does a writhing mass of ants undertake in the Ministry?” asked Trudy.

  “Cleaner, obviously,” said Grey.

  “You’re telling me that … Auntie operates a vacuum cleaner and a duster?” Jack asked incredulously.

  “I’m telling you nothing of the sort,” Grey replied. “As you can imagine, a vacuum cleaner would be incredibly dangerous for Auntie to operate. Point it in the wrong direction and she’d lose half her arm. Vacuum cleaners are incredibly dangerous, Jack; remember that.59 Auntie refuses to go near the Ministry vacuum cleaner.”

  “Then how does she clean anything?” asked Trudy.

  A mischievous smile appeared on Grey’s face. “Well, I really shouldn’t do this, but…” Grey looked around the cafeteria for a minute before he focused on a strange creature shaped like a long, coiled metal spring with red and black balls threaded through it. Between two of the coils of its spring it held a tray on which there was a large portion of trifle. As the creature slowly walked60 past them, Grey pretended to be looking in the opposite direction and
whistled nonchalantly. Then at the last minute he carefully stuck out a foot. The spring creature collided with Grey’s foot and its tray shot up in the air, launching the trifle all over the floor. Grey then turned in the direction of Auntie and yelled “Spill!”

  Auntie turned quickly and looked at the mound of trifle on the floor. Suddenly it appeared as if Auntie melted into the ground, as millions of ants ran out of the bottom of the cloak and toward the spill. Jack had never seen anything quite like it. It was like a tide of brown-red water washing across the floor, devouring the trifle, and then sweeping backward before re-forming as a human shape. The floor was completely clean again after mere seconds.

  “That’s amazing,” Jack said.

  “Yes, and yet people still think that robot vacuum cleaners are pretty cool things. The interesting thing about this world is that it’s a lot more in balance than people realize. There are animals that are supposed to eat our crumbs and keep our houses clean, but because we find them icky we kill them and then have to buy ourselves robot vacuum cleaners. And the great thing about Auntie is that she doesn’t scare your pets or need plugging into an outlet.”

  The spring creature got up and glared at Grey.61 Grey smiled a “sorry” and moved up the line slightly. “All right, I’m getting a cup of tea and a sandwich. Do either of you two want anything?”

  Trudy selected a small slice of millionaire’s shortbread and a glass of milk.

  “What about you, Jack?”

  Jack thought for a minute. “I might have some of this Jell-O over here.” Jack picked up a scoop from the counter and was about to help himself to some.

  “DON’T!” Grey snapped at him.

  Jack dropped the scoop into the Jell-O, which swallowed it immediately. He was amazed as the plastic scoop started to fizz around the edges and then dissolve. The Jell-O shaped itself into the form of a vaguely human face. “Do you mind? I was just resting here.” The Jell-O started to slime its way across the counter, moving toward the exit.