Reality Bites

by Simon Clark

  REALITY BITES

  Edited by Alex Davis

  KnightWatch Press

  Reality Bites copyright © Alex Davis 2014

  Cover artwork copyright © Stephen Cooney

  Cover design copyright © David Shires, The Image Design All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, except by inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  The author retains copyright of their individual story.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters and situations in this book are imaginary. No resemblance is intended between these characters and any persons, living, dead or undead. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form or binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  Published in Great Britain in 2014 by KnightWatch Press

  Birmingham, UK

  Contents

  Tribe Test Dead Right End Transmission Wormwood Day 34 Simon Clark Janet Edwards Gav Thorpe Chris Amies Simon Kurt Unsworth I, Ross, Take Thee, Rachel Philip Palmer

  Tribe Test Simon Clark

  1

  The youth picked up his sister and ran. She lay unconscious in his arms. The child struggled to breathe and he heard the wet crackle of her lungs that told him she was dying. Tasshan chose the shortest route to the village. This meant using the path through the hills where wild men lived in caves. What choice did he have? If he took the longer path, his sister would be dead by the time he reached the home of the goddess that had performed so many miracles in recent days, or so he’d heard.

  Grunting men with fierce eyes bounded from caves, dotting the cliff-face. They hurled spears, fired arrows, a stone from a sling grazed his elbow, yet he did not stop running. The lips of his eleven-year-old sister were turning blue. Reaching the goddess in the village meant everything to him now. Perhaps the goddess would, heaven willing, prevent the Lord of Death from taking his sister to the Underworld?

  A bronze-tipped arrow whooshed by his ear. The wild men shouted as they chased him. The boy knew that they’d not only kill him and his sister if they caught up. They’d strip the meat from their bones and he and his sister would fill the savages’ bellies.

  The sun blazed down. The youth’s bare feet kicked up clouds of dust as he ran with such desperation. Rocks flanked the path; they resembled the sharp teeth of a hungry wolf. In the distance, he made out a line of camels, plodding through the desert as they wended their way from Tyre, on the coast, to the faraway lands of the Hittites. Somewhat closer lay his destination: a cluster of white buildings with red roofs.

  An arrow struck his shoulder, thankfully a glancing blow, yet drops of his blood speckled the face of the unconscious girl. Her lips had turned an even darker blue; he couldn’t hear that grim crackle of her lungs. Had she stopped breathing? Was this it? Did he carry her fragile corpse in his arms?

  He drove any thought of exhaustion or pain from his mind and sank every shred of energy into running downhill toward the village. He glanced back. The wild men, praise the gods, had given up their chase. Shrugging, they stomped back toward to their stinking caves.

  Ten minutes later, Tasshan raced into the village, calling out to people to show him the way to the house of the goddess.

  An old man, with long white hair, caught hold of his arm, and hurried him toward a large house from which a blue awning rippled in the hot breeze. Suddenly, young men and women spilled from the house. They took his sister from his arms. These people had strange, fleshy faces. They called to one another in a language he didn’t know.

  A young woman stepped through the doorway of the house – such a shimmering, fabulous vision. This must be the goddess, he decided. She was dressed in crimson robes, and had golden hair and eyes as blue as the sky.

  She spoke to a man who carried Tasshan’s sister: “I’ll give her the injection this time, Kevin. Tell them to give me a close-up on my face as I watch her wake up. The viewers need to see my tears. Whatever, it takes I’m going to win this damn popularity contest.”

  The youth did not understand the goddess’s words. With tears in his eyes, he sank to his knees to pray to all the gods and goddesses that had dominion over his Bronze Age world, begging them to save his sister’s life.

  2

  PRESS RELEASE

  TRIBE TEST – A NEW TWELVE-PART ENTERTAINMENT SERIES

  Join us in the Bronze Age for the most exciting TV show of the year. Two celebrity contestants, accompanied by a team of experts (linguists who speak the language, medics, historians, etc.), are transported back four thousand years to the land of the Amorites, an area that is now part of Syria. After each contestant arrives at their designated village they must convince the inhabitants that they are a god or a goddess. Technology and medical experts are on hand to create miracles that will astonish Bronze Age man and woman. The winner of the contest is chosen by the viewing public, who will judge which contestant has had the biggest impact on the lives of those indigenous people from long ago.

  Please note: the inhabitants of the villages are NOT ACTORS. They are living, breathing Bronze Age men and women. We use the latest developments in time travel technology to visit the world of yesterday to create the TV entertainment of tomorrow.

  • Contact Sophie Middleton to apply for press passes for first live show.

  • Contact Aija Singh for product placement queries.

  • The two settlements have names that are virtually unpronounceable, so for the sake of

  making life easier we have named them Dog Village (there are lots of dogs there) and The

  Town of Towers (yep, there really are towers aplenty).

  3

  Tasshan watched what the goddess did to his sister. They lay Kai on a bed covered with soft, white fabric. The goddess, who had golden hair and blue eyes, pricked Kai’s bare arm with a silver needle. Tasshan knew that priests often tattooed magical symbols on those who were suffering illness. The goddess did not, however, tattoo Kai’s skin. One of her companions held a small block of what appeared to be polished ebony near the goddess’s face.

  The goddess spoke words that Tasshan did not understand. She then gently wiped away a bead of blood that formed on Kai’s arm where the needle had punctured her skin. Within moments, the eleven year old took a deep breath; her chest began to rise and fall again, just as it always had done when she slept in her bed at home. One of the fleshy faced men turned to Tasshan and spoke in a slow, halting way:

  “The girl will soon recover. The goddess has removed the disease.”

  Tasshan nodded his gratitude, because emotion overwhelmed him and he couldn’t speak. He wept. The goddess embraced him, smiling with such beauty that her skin seemed to glow. The palefaced man held that small block of ebony close to Tasshan’s face. He saw a glass bead in its centre. He leaned forward, intending to kiss what must be a source of divine power. The man quickly pulled the block away. The goddess smiled, though tears filled her blue eyes. A tear dropped on the back of Tasshan’s hand. The eighteen year old felt its sacred touch. Kai murmured something and she opened her eyes. She still seemed half asleep. Her gaze didn’t appear to register what was happening around her; nor did she notice all those fleshy faced men and women, who smelt as fragrant as flowers in a temple garden.

  The man who’d spoken to Tasshan earlier told him to step outside and leave the girl
to rest.

  Tasshan knew that his sister would be completely safe in the house. The goddess would care for her. Still with tears streaming down his face, and nodding his thanks, he walked through the doorway into a courtyard where a fig tree grew. Tasshan rarely visited the village. Most of his life was spent tending the family’s goats and donkeys at their farm at the edge of the desert. The village seemed such a busy place, always full of people. Cooking smells drifted from houses – garlic, onion, roast meat, the wonderful aromas of freshly baked bread. He saw a flask of some strange design standing on the table. He picked it up and looked through the transparent container at the dark liquid inside; tiny golden bubbles rose. A drink of the gods? Should I even dare touch this? Tasshan knew something of the art of reading. Many a time he’d read inscriptions on tombs to his father, who lacked the knowledge of written script. The youth lifted the transparent flask in order to study what was inscribed there. A small word. Yet he sensed its stupendous power. A name of a god, perhaps? Or a spell that would bestow eternal life?

  He wished he could read that amazing word as he lightly ran his finger over the letters: PEPSI. At that moment, he was so overcome with absolute love for the goddess, who had saved the life of his sister, he flung himself down onto the ground, covered his eyes with his hands and prayed until he was breathless, sobbing and promising with all his heart that he would do whatever the goddess commanded.

  4

  Text sent from executive producer to director of Tribe Test

  Peace is nice, healing the dying is cute, but BIG fights get the ratings. We’re losing viewers. They’re switching channels. You MUST zing up the next show with some conflict. Get the kids from Dog Village to throw stones at kids down at The Town of Towers. Give me hot action, Caleb. Give me DRAMA!

  5

  Tasshan drew water from the temple well. The burning heat had made him thirsty. A priest approached with a jug moulded from red clay.

  “Here,” said the priest, a man of around seventy with deep-set eyes that were as dark as black olives. “Mix wine with the water before you drink. A taste of wine honours the gods and they will guard your stomach.”

  Tasshan thanked the priest, who poured red wine into the cup. Tasshan added: “I have discovered what it is that inflicts a malady upon our stomachs when we drink water.”

  The priest smiled. “Yes, water without wine offends the gods, and they punish us with belly pain.”

  “The sickness has nothing to do with the gods.”

  “Oh?” The priest’s smile broadened; he was humouring the eighteen year old.

  Tasshan said: “My father bought an entire sack of glass beads from a Phoenician. They were all different colours. Some had no colour at all and were as clear as drops of dew. My task was to bore holes into the beads so they could be threaded onto string to make bracelets.”

  “And the beads spoke to you? They warned that the gods punish us if we fail to mix wine with water?”

  “When I examined the beads of clear glass I noticed that they make objects, when viewed through them, much, much larger. I have seen the face of a fly and its eyes become huge when seen through a glass bead.”

  “Ha, my boy, even a child knows that a glass bead distorts what we see.”

  “I used such a pearl of glass to study a drop of water from our well at home.”

  “And what did you see? Demons? Ghosts? Lost souls?”

  “When I looked through the glass bead it made the drop of water seemingly grow to the size of a melon. In the water were many swimming creatures. They are too small to see without the glass bead.”

  “Creatures? You are mistaken. Or you fell asleep and started dreaming?”

  “No, your holiness. I have examined the water many times since, using different shaped beads. What appears to be clean liquid teems with tiny animals. The water in this well will be the same.”

  “This is sacred temple water.” The priest scowled, becoming angry. “It is pure.”

  “If it is pure, why would I become ill if I drank the water without adding wine?”

  “The gods-”

  “The gods play no part in it. I boil the water that my family drinks. The heat kills the water animals. My family no longer fall ill with stomach cramps and diarrhoea.”

  “Your sister became ill. You brought her to the goddess to be cured.”

  “Kai suffered an illness of her lungs, not her stomach. I believe there are tiny creatures that fly in the air that caused her sickness.”

  The priest’s eyes narrowed as he studied the teenager’s face. “I thought, at first, that you were foolish, but no… there is intelligence in your eyes. You shall prosper in life. Though, if you will accept my advice, be careful who you tell about the creatures that live in water. Ignorant people might accuse you of blasphemy.”

  “Do you think I blaspheme?”

  “No, young man, I am certain that you are intelligent and have learnt the truth about certain matters.” The priest tilted his head to one side as he seemed to understand that this was no mere farm boy. “In fact, I believe you could frighten men with what you know.”

  “I observe the world that surrounds us, and conduct tests upon that which interests me, and then I examine the results of those tests.”

  “Like boiling water from your well, which kills the tiny creatures you saw?”

  “Yes. I have applied wine to water then viewed the droplet through the magnifying power of the glass bead. The creatures soon stop moving. I concluded the wine kills them. Salt does so, too, but of course you cannot drink salted water.”

  “Though I find myself trembling to ask such a question: What else do you see?”

  “If I hold a glass bead, like so, close to my eye, and then hold another bead at arm’s length…” Tasshan closed one eye, replicating what he did when he held the beads. “… then, when I look through two beads at the same time, I can make distant objects appear much closer.”

  “Such as the mountains on the horizon?”

  Tasshan nodded. “I am most fascinated by the moon.”

  “Ah, such a flawless pearl of heaven.”

  “When viewed through a pair of glass beads the moon is much enlarged. It’s possible to make out that the face of the moon is pocked and scarred.”

  “The moon is flawless, everyone knows that.”

  “I have seen the moon as if I stand much closer to it. It strikes me that there are lakes and mountains as well as disfigurement of the landscape.”

  The priest reached out, fiercely gripping Tasshan’s arm. “If you say such things about the moon that will curse you as a blasphemer.” He glanced back, appearing to become fearful. “Remember, a few days ago a goddess came to live amongst us. She has cured many people, including your sister. Do nothing to anger her, or she will leave.”

  “They say that a god has appeared in the Town of the Towers. I’ve heard that he cures the sick, too, and performs miracles.”

  “Then we are all fortunate that those which normally reside in heaven have chosen to live amongst us.”

  “The goddess is so pale-skinned.”

  “That is because she is not of this earth.”

  Tasshan thought for a moment. “Earlier the goddess wept when she saw that my sister would no longer die. A tear fell from the eye of the goddess onto the back of my hand.” He licked it. “Salt. It tastes like a human tear.”

  “Young man, you have a sharp, inquisitive eye. Do not subject our goddess to scrutiny, however. Simply believe in her power. Do not question it.”

  “If a goddess has human tears in her eyes, does she have human blood in her veins? What if”

  “Hush. The people who live hereabout will stone you to death if they should hear you say such things.” The priest extended a finger that was as gnarled as a dried up old twig; he pressed it against Tasshan’s lips. “So, hush. Keep your thoughts about the goddess as just that – thoughts inside your own head. Say nothing aloud, otherwise you will find yourself, and your sister,
facing great danger.”

  He’d barely finished speaking when, despite the heat of the midday sun, the streets were filled with people. They rushed toward the house where the goddess resided.

  “She is going to speak to us,” shouted a woman, carrying a young child on her hip.

  Tasshan frowned. “She doesn’t use the words of our language; we don’t understand her speech.”

  The woman didn’t reply; she ran toward the house with the excited crowd.

  The priest once again caught hold of Tasshan’s arm. “Remember. Do not say anything about the goddess that will make those people angry. They worship her. She has saved many lives in the village. Guard your tongue.” With that, the man released Tasshan’s arm and withdrew into the shadows of the temple.

  Tasshan hurried to the dwelling of the goddess, too. A crowd gathered there, eager to hear her speak.

  The goddess emerged from a doorway to stand in the sunlight. Her hair shone the same colour as gold. She opened her red lips. She did not speak. Instead, she began to sing. 6

  E-mail to production staff from director of Tribe Test

  Why didn’t anyone warn me? If Cassandra had planned to debut her latest song on the show I could have arranged for something spectacular. Instead, she mimed to an audience of a hundred or so Bronze Age men and women who did not have a freaking clue what she was doing. From their expressions (transmitted live to over five hundred million people!) they might well have believed that their goddess was bringing down a plague of rats upon them. We must get a grip on planning out each program before we go to air. Too often now we’re making it up as we go along. Just check out footage of Rex Tawney’s attempt to play golf with the chief’s spear down in The Town of Towers

  – Rex is a great stand-up comedian, but that was just a shambles: when he hit the golf ball it smashed our drone-cam out of the sky. The next part of this e-mail is for those on the team who speak the Amorite language. I want you to incite the local young men in the village to throw stones at the settlement known as Town of the Towers. We must generate conflict or we’ll continue to lose viewers. If ratings drop below three hundred mill we’ll suffer reduced advertising revenue. I end this e-mail with a STARK WARNING. Less advertising revenue means: Less money, which will result in staffing cuts – YES! YOUR JOBS ARE AT RISK. So do whatever it takes to make this show a success!!!