The Disestablishment of Paradise

by Phillip Mann

  ‘You pulling my leg?’

  ‘No. There used to be a big trade. Men found the need of it, apparently. Helped their virility. You might’ve have needed some too, if I hadn’t cut you down in time.’

  ‘You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?’

  ‘I’ll think about it. But Dickinson probably got it recorded anyway.’

  Mack groaned.

  During their lunch break Hera checked with Tania Kowalski and Dickinson to see how the recording was going.

  ‘Fine. Fine,’ said Tania.

  Hera detected evasion. ‘So what’s the problem, Tania?’ She looked closely. ‘Are you wearing make-up?’ She glanced across at Dickinson. ‘And you’ve got a brushed-up casual look about you, Mr Dickinson. You’re very cosy, the pair of you. What’s going on?’

  ‘I think you need to have a quick talk to the captain,’ said Tania hurriedly. ‘Things are a bit more advanced than the last time we talked. She was here just a minute ago. Hey, did you see where the captain went, Dickhead?’

  ‘No, I didn’t, Titania,’ replied Dickinson.

  ‘You two er . . . getting on all right?’ asked Hera.

  ‘Yeah, great,’ said Tania, ‘as soon as we got a few basics sorted. That right, Dickhead?’

  ‘Well to be honest,’ said Dickinson judiciously, ‘she didn’t go down too well at first. But with a bit more practice and a mouth as big as that, she should impr—’

  ‘Dickinson!’ It was both women speaking.

  Captain Abhuradin was located. Hera was relieved to find her transformed. A crisp clean uniform. Hair brushed and shaped. Even the bandage on her face was stylish and her poise was back. But she was a worried woman. ‘Hera, I don’t know how you are going to take this, but there was nothing I could do. Sorry.’

  ‘About what? Why is everyone talking in riddles?’

  ‘So they didn’t tell you?’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  The captain took a deep breath. ‘Word got out about the Dendron. A news team came through the fractal about half an hour after I had spoken to you last night. I didn’t know they were here. They’d come to interview some of the children, but then they—’

  ‘Get to the point, Inez.’

  ‘Well they heard from somewhere – probably that cheeky little communications clerk from Central – that you were down there – you know what gossip is like on the platform – and they heard that a Dendron had been found – people remember the Dendron, you know . . .’

  ‘Yes, and . . .’

  ‘Somehow they found out you were doing a live broadcast. And one of them contacted the chief press secretary at the Space Council and he spoke to Tim Isherwood and got permission for the Time and Space Network to take live coverage. Official.’

  ‘So what’s this mean?’

  ‘It means that what you are doing down there is now being broadcast to any station that wants to take it.’

  ‘What? WHAT!’

  ‘Apparently there has been a high pick-up rate. So . . .’

  ‘This is wrong, Inez. We’re not running a circus.’

  ‘I know. I know. I wanted to get a message to you. If it’s any consolation, your two people here, Dr Titania Kowalski and Professor Kenneth de Kingson, are doing a brilliant job. People can’t take their eyes off the programme, Hera. She’s explaining the biology and history and he seems to be able to explain everything else. They’re brilliant together – and so entertaining. The banter . . . They must be good friends, yes?’

  ‘They rub along. Look, are you telling me that everything we’re doing down here is being broadcast via the fractal to whoever in the explored zones cares to tune in?’

  ‘Not the audio line. But everything else is seen in tri-vid. Kowalski and de Kingson interpret the action for the viewer. It is very documentary. Very science-based. Kowalski’s good, isn’t she? I see what you mean about her.’

  ‘It’s a bloody outrage. When I get my hands on them . . .’

  ‘No, Hera, they’re doing a good job. Very professional. None of this is their fault. Media rules, Hera. You know that.’

  ‘It’s still a bloody outrage.’

  ‘Well, there’s something else you ought to know. Evidently the level of support for what you are doing is breaking all viewing records. The dial-in channels are overloaded with callers. That time when you went over the side with the chainsaw. Well, my heart was in my mouth. I never realized how big the Dendron are! You’re a brave lady, Hera. What’s more, people want to know why ORBE was closed down when there was such an important endangered species on the planet. It’s all media hype, I know, Hera, but at least it’s on the right side. You are not going to be on Timothy Isherwood’s Christmas card list.’

  ‘Just as well.’

  ‘Hera, I’m sorry about this. But I can’t talk now. There’s a lot to tell you. Later. When you are back up here. I have to go. I’m being interviewed on the arrival of the children in a few minutes. I’m nervous as hell. Good luck. I’m handing you back to Kowalski and Kingson.’

  The line, as they used to say, went dead. And then came alive again.

  Hera found herself looking at Tania and Dickinson.

  Dickinson spoke first. ‘Before you say anything, Miss Melhuish, just be glad that we’re here. When the story broke that we were in live contact with you, Time and Space wanted to take the lot over – get their own techies in and some blue-eyed ponce who does popular science programmes. We stopped that. Well Titania did, actually. Very impressive demolition job. Are all you ORBE women like this? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.’

  Tania cut in: ‘As soon as we realized what was happening, Dickinson installed a ten-minute delay so nothing gets out without our knowledge.’

  ‘So what is happening now, at this moment?’

  Dickinson consulted a side monitor. ‘Just now they’re running background documentaries. Early Days on Paradise.’

  ‘They’ve contacted Rita Honeyball and Moritz to talk about the plum. But the moment you start again, we’ll be covering,’ said Tania.

  ‘And, what is more, people find us entertaining and informative. Is that not right, Dr Kowalski?’

  Tania did not look at him but spoke directly to Hera. ‘I know Dickinson behaves like a prat, Hera. But as prats go he’s not bad and, give him his due, he knows the electronics. And just for the record, he came up with these fancy names while I was laying into their news director. By the time they’d wiped him up off the floor, people were calling me Dr Titania and him Professor Kenneth, for fuck’s sake! Anyway, Hera, we can pull the programme if you say so, or you can just turn it off at your end. It’s as simple as that. Of course, we would lose the data – and I’m measuring everything.’

  ‘Unfair. Tania, you—’

  Dickinson interrupted: ‘I want to add something, Doc. It is over to you as to whether you tell Mack. But listen up. As long as he thinks it’s just me arsing about, he’ll be happy. But I tell you this: if he discovers the tri-vid is going out to the great unwashed, he’ll tear the bloody cables out of the wall and I suggest you start running right now cos he won’t be taking prisoners. Your call, Miss Melhuish. And I don’t envy you one little bit.’

  ‘OK,’ said Hera. ‘Just give me a minute.’ She began to tick things off on her fingers. ‘There’s a ten-minute delay so you can edit. There is no live audio signal going out. You are the only two doing the interpreting. Am I right so far?’ They both nodded. ‘How do you know they’re not picking up our tri-vid signal when it arrives up there?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure they are. And recording it,’ said Dickinson. ‘And trying to sort it out, and scratching their heads. But it won’t do them any good. Your lad Alan and I agreed some encryption protocols before we made the link. Your broadcast is secure. If anyone tries to hack in, well . . . if they’re lucky, they’ll get garbage. If they are unlucky, it’s wall-to-wall Mahler.’ He tapped the side of his nose with his finger. ‘Trust Professor de Kingson. They’ll hav
e the tapes of what we broadcast, of course. But that’s all. Naturally, Mack won’t be too pleased when he sees himself getting hung up by the balls on prime time. And then this morning, when he fell down in the green soup, I fell off my stool laughing. I always told him he’d missed his vocation and should have gone on stage.’

  ‘Dickinson! Can we get back to the subject? Are you sure the Network can’t break the code?’

  ‘Does the Pope wear woollen bed—’

  ‘Answer the bloody question!’

  ‘Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. I’m sure.’

  ‘OK. One other thing,’ said Hera. ‘It just occurs to me that Time and Space may be trying to pull strings with the Space Council to get the shuttle platform opened so they can get down here. Now, that mustn’t happen. You’ve got to stop them. Not just for our sake, but for everyone’s sake. Broadcast the warning so that if they try anything they can be held to account. Don’t ask me to explain why, because it would take too long. But just as you helped Mack get down here to save me, so trust me on this now. Don’t let anyone come down here. Scare them shitless, if need be. Mack and I may be safe, simply because of what we are doing – but there are other forces at work too. So over to you.’

  ‘I think we can do that,’ said Tania. ‘Don’t you, Professor?’

  Dickinson nodded. ‘And in any case, I can always fuck up the shuttle. I’ve still got the keys.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Hera,’ said Tania. ‘Leave it to us. Get back to work now. Save that beautiful big beast for us.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dickinson. ‘And look after the Dendron too. But it’s still your call, Doc. Remember.’

  In the afternoon Hera and Mack worked on, extending the trench right down the length of the back of the Dendron. They had struck up a good rhythm, working together. Mack cut with the chainsaw and ripped with the mattock while Hera worked with a bucket, scooping and clearing the slush over the sides. Working as fast as they could all day, they had managed to clear about as much of the surface material as the Dendron in Marie Newton’s diary had cleared in one cut with its crest.

  But now Mack began to cut more carefully. If he was right, then the main organ of sense – the ‘brain’ of the Dendron – would be found somewhere under the crest’s pivotal joint. Its exact location was not known, and the situation was complicated by the fact that they must now be getting close to the top of the great twin pumps, the codds.

  Mack was six feet six inches tall. Now, when he stood in the hole they had excavated, his head was well below the back of the Dendron. Both he and Hera needed a ladder to get in and out. Both were soaked with the heavy juice, which had got inside the meshlite overalls and made them sticky and uncomfortable. The heat was not helping. The clouds that had filled the sky in the morning had cleared and the sun now shone down from a clear blue sky.

  Finally Mack said, ‘To hell with this for a game of spacemen. I’m stripping down. You make yourself comfortable too. If you’re worried about the recording we can always turn the bugger off.’

  Without more ado he unzipped his overalls, stepped out of them and threw them down to the ground. He was wearing red and green shorts underneath. He had long since abandoned his boots, trusting his bare feet. Hera decided to do likewise and soon stood in just a top and loose shorts. Her face, neck, arms and legs were plastered with the green ooze. She appraised Mack. A strong body with broad shoulders. Hairy chest, but not too much. Powerful arms – but pale. Not having seen many male bodies close to, she did not want to seem to ogle. At the same time, not to look would seem prudish, childish even. ‘You could do with some time lazing in the sun, my lad.’

  ‘I could too,’ he replied, looking at her. ‘But there’s this woman, you see. As soon as I lie down with a book in the sun, she wants me to go chasing all over the country hunting Dendron.’ Mack stretched, and then scratched his chest and back. ‘By God, it feels better without that meshlite stuff on. I know it’s safe and strong and all that, but it’s the wrong gear for this kind of job. Can I ask you how you are coping, having been injured so recently?’

  ‘I’m fine. I feel be er for the exercise. One thing, though. This green stuff. It reminds me of the jelly from an aloe vera plant. Have you ever heard of it?’

  ‘Vaguely.’

  ‘Well, it’s very good for the skin. And I’ve just peeled some of this off and my skin feels clean and soft. That’s all I was trying to say.’

  ‘Well I’m glad to know that. We’ll keep some in a jam jar to take home.’ Mack jumped down into the hole and was immediately knee deep in warm ooze. ‘I want you to come down here and bring your bucket. We might have a problem. Here, jump down.’ He lifted his arms to help her. But his hands being covered with the juice and her top being loose, his hands slipped when he tried to hold her, and although Hera was not heavy, she fell down against him. Complicating matters was the fact that his hands caught in the loose shirt and it rode up and under her arms, exposing her breasts. In that state he put her down on her feet.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Mack. ‘My grip slipped.’ Hera didn’t reply but pulled her damp shirt down. ‘Didn’t know you weren’t wearing a bra.’

  ‘Some of us don’t have to. Now let’s get on. What’s the problem?’

  It was one of those moments.

  Each was suddenly deeply aware of the other physically. This had been happening for some time. How can it not when a man and a woman live close together and are attracted? But neither had quite acknowledged the attraction. In fact they had carefully avoided it – and that, of course, made matters worse, or better. For Mack the sudden sight of her breasts, nipples raised and nicely rounded, simply took his breath away. He could still feel them pressed against him and it made his throat dry for a moment and he felt very clumsy and breathless. For Hera it was more confusing. The shock of feeling her shirt ride up and not be able to stop it clashed with her sudden sense of the man’s arms and strong body being very, very close. The clash tied a great knot in her and she found herself breathless, embarrassed, pleased, a bit dizzy and warm – but above all she was aware that she wanted – no, more than wanted, needed – that big knot untied.

  Habit took over, and she hid her feelings under a brisk exterior, but later she would examine those feelings. Mack, a bit less protected by habit, had no choice but to let his pounding heart subside.

  For the time being, Hera was down the hole they had cut.

  Mack said, ‘This is the problem. We’re close to the codds and I don’t want to damage them. We might be near whatever it uses for a brain, and I don’t want to damage that either, yet. So first of all, feel about with your feet. Can you feel any difference on the bottom here?’

  Hera moved round the hole, sliding her feet through the mush, feeling with her feet like a child at the seaside ankle deep in the sand. Mack retreated up the ladder.

  ‘It feels a bit warmer here,’ she said. ‘This would be over the codds, wouldn’t it? And I think I can feel ridges. If I work my toes . . .’ She did this, concentrating visibly.

  As that moment the Dendron gave a heave. The codds went through their great gulping and, moments later, green water was released on the back of the Dendron, flowed down the trench and cascaded into the hole. Within seconds the level was rising. Hera was in no danger, but what had most surprised her was that she had felt the movements like a great rolling wave under her feet. She had felt the ridges on the top of the codds open and close like a concertina. She felt a sudden warmth too, and when she stepped back there was a tingling in the liquid, like little pinpricks or as though something had scampered lightly over her feet. The bottom of the trench was a lot softer here. It was very different. She might have felt the start of the brain.

  Mack had climbed out of the hole, and he now reached down and offered her a hand and helped her up the ladder.

  ‘No doubt about it,’ she said. ‘You’re right over the codds. I could feel them contract. And over there . . . That was hard to describe. There was something different d
own there.’

  ‘OK. I know what you mean. I felt it too. Just wanted to be sure I wasn’t imagining.’

  The green water reached the top of the hole and began to flood over. It ran away and out through the channels Hera had cut in the morning. They felt the Dendron shake and the remains of the straps which Mack had cut twisted and curled, unfurling like tongues. Those straps which were still intact contracted and the ball joint moved, stirring the crest. But without the two main support straps a ached, the movement could go nowhere, though the black-spiked tines turned and flexed and cut the air like scissors.

  ‘Is it trying to lift its crest? Why?’

  ‘I think it’s saying, “Get a move on!” ’

  Hera turned, and then cried out and pointed. One of the two front trees, one of the horns, had begun to droop. Its flags had no life and hung listlessly. Three of the cherries detached and fell to the ground, landing beyond the Dendron with a heavy thud.

  Beneath them they could hear the codds labouring like old bellows, and for the moment there was nothing they could do but hang on. They knelt down while the Dendron shook, and they held on to whatever they could, including one another.

  It seemed to last for a long time, but then gradually the shaking subsided. The front horn had straightened, but several more cherries had fallen.

  Mack stood up. ‘That’s a warning. The two up front are in bad shape. They could be dying. The Dendron gave them what it could, but it’s failing fast too. Remember in the Mayday woman’s story, the Dendron that was doing the cutting at one point put its own horns up against the other and rubbed. I’m sure it was giving comfort or energy of some sort. We are going to try a big gamble, Hera. Have you got a good head for heights?’

  ‘No, terrible.’

  ‘Then now’s the time to learn. It’s payback time. Look at me. I’m going to rig it somehow so I can get you up there. I want you up there – don’t worry, I’ll make it safe – but I want you to get through to the two front trees. I think that’s what the cherries are for. Use your body, use your mind. Touch them with your hands, let them feel your life. Remember anything you can about the Dendron, anything that you saw in the dream time. Everything. All of the good memories – it playing in the sea, it coming up and over you. And the way you felt. The waves. The redness. The way it swept you along. The sex. Yeah, that. Remember that especially. Everything, all the details and as much as you can. You said that knowledge came to you, yes? From the Reaper! From the planet! From the Dendron! It doesn’t matter where from. Now give it back – from your heart, your womb, your mind, your . . . everywhere. Give it back to them a hundred times more. Let them know we’re here because I think they have forgotten, and I think they are very, very frightened. Pour your love and life into them like they were your own children. Go and get changed quickly. Put on warm things. It’ll get cooler when the sun goes down. You might be up there a long time. And start remembering, now.’