by Rory Barnes
I just looked blank. Luis said, ‘Come on, Alex, put the boy out of his misery.’
Alex said, ‘This is the City of the Provisionally Dead. Or Deadsville, as we know it amongst ourselves. It’s a cryonics store. It’s a sort of high-tech cemetery. Those tubes are full of the dear departed, just waiting for the time when science will be able to bring them back to life. Cure their terminal illnesses. Give them eternal youth. Appreciate their personal qualities in a way that this day and age never did. Get it?’
‘Yeah, I get it,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard about these crazy schemes. Poor old codgers hand over all their wealth to be dumped into a vat of liquid nitrogen the moment they die.’
‘Ah, Scalp mate,’ said Luis. ‘It’s not that simple. They don’t just hand over their wealth. Some of these old millionaires are rat-cunning. They put their dough in trusts. They have lawyers pay the rent every month. This isn’t quite the earner we thought it was going to be. If the truth be known: we’ve got cash flow problems.’
‘Which,’ said Alex, ‘is why we need your cooperation in our little racehorse adventure.’
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I’m as keen to clean up big as you are. I could do with a few million bucks. There’s not much money in shopkeeping. I know all about cash flow problems.’
‘I’ll bet you do,’ said Luis.
‘And I trust you boys to see me right,’ I said.
‘Like we said, Scalp, you can have Bluey’s share. You’re our partner.’
‘And you reckon there’s big bikkies to be made and that you can get me back into Bluey’s body when we’re through.’
‘There’s squillions to be made. We’ll place bets all over the place. These days you can even bet on Australian races in Hong Kong. Hundred to one. Two hundred to one. We’ll clean up. You can trust us, Scalp.’
‘And you can trust me, Luis. And now I think I’d better be getting back to my shop.’
‘Er … shop? Er, we thought you’d be more comfortable here for a while. We’ll fix you up with a camp bed. Get you something to read. A few video games. Just till we locate that Rachel woman.’
‘It’s not as if you won’t have company,’ Alex said. ‘There’s eighty-seven people in here. A bit light on for conversation, I’ll admit. But just knowing that they’re hanging in here with you will be a comfort.’
‘Listen, fellas,’ I said. ‘I’ve told you. I’m your man. Or rather, your horse.’
They all had a good laugh at that. I pressed home my advantage. ‘And you want a horse you can trust. You don’t want a horse that suddenly turns round in the middle of the race and starts going the wrong way round the track.’ I looked straight at Easter. ‘You want a horse you can trust not to throw off his rider and stomp on him.’ I looked at all three in turn. They seemed to be getting my point. ‘That’s why I think it’s very important that we all trust each other, that we are all equal partners in this very attractive business venture. And so,’ I said, ‘I reckon I’ll just go back to my shop and live a quiet, sedate life, until you lads locate Rachel. Mind you, I’ll expect you to keep me posted, let me know how things are going.’
‘We don’t want you doing a runner, Scalp,’ said Alex.
‘Do we trust each other or not?’ I said.
There was a long silence and then Luis said, ‘Okay, Scalp, I reckon you’re a sensible boy. You know which side your bread is buttered. I think we’ll just take you home now.’
Chapter Six
It was a bit of a squash in the cabin of the truck, but I’d kicked up a fuss when Luis had suggested I ride in the back again. I’d told him I was a full partner in the Staxa Fun caper. I was entitled to proper treatment. It was already dark and the roads were full of commuters going home after a boring day at the office. To keep the conversation flowing, I said, ‘What was that operating theatre doing in the middle of a cryonics store?’
‘Good point, Scalp,’ said Luis. ‘It has two uses. The first is for the economy class customers.’
‘The cheapskate undead,’ said Alex.
‘The what?’ I said.
‘Those of our valued cool customers — as we like to call them, Alex — who don’t want the full service,’ said Luis. ‘Those who only wish to have their higher faculties preserved for future revival.’
‘I don’t get you,’ I said.
‘Alex chops their heads off,’ said the little fella.
‘There’s a generous discount,’ said Luis. ‘for those customers who only have their heads frozen. They take up less space.’
‘So what happens in the future?’ I said. ‘What happens when these heads are brought back to life?’
‘Ah, that,’ said Luis, ‘is for the future to determine. But there are various theories. One is that it will be possible to grow the cool customers complete new bodies using the information stored in their DNA. If that doesn’t work, they’ll just have to end up in vats like you did. Hook ’em up to a few sensors. Give ’em a bit of virtual reality.’
We drove in silence for a few minutes, and then I said, ‘And the other use? The other reason for the operating theatre?’
‘Human — horse brain transplants,’ said Luis.
We pulled up outside my shop and I jumped out and shot round to the back of the van to retrieve my two bikes. The shop lights were on and the door was wide open. Through the window I could see someone sitting behind the counter. I thought it might be Tanya or one of the usual hoons. But then the figure moved and the light fell across her face. It was Rachel.
Luis Greystone came round to the back of the van to help me unload. I grabbed the bikes and said, ‘She’ll be right. See you soon.’
I clutched a handlebar in each fist and pushed both bikes through the door. Rachel looked up from from the book she’d been reading on the counter and said, ‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘Duck out the back quick,’ I said. Behind me I could hear Luis slamming the doors of the van. Working the levers.
‘Why?’ Rachel said.
‘Just do it, Rachel. There are guys out there looking for you.’
‘Me? Why me?’
‘Mates of Bluey’s,’ I said.
She didn’t ask any more questions. She disappeared like a rabbit into the back of the shop as Luis came through the door.
‘Nice place,’ he said.
‘It’s a living,’ I said.
‘No, this isn’t living. Living is what you’ll be doing after you’ve romped home in the Elmbank Cup. We’re going to be rich, Scalp. Rich as rich can be.’
‘Yeah, well. I’d better lock up.’
‘Okay, Scalp. We’ll be in touch. Just as soon as we’ve located Rachel. You’re sure you don’t know where she is?’
‘No idea. She could be in Peru for all I know.’
‘We’ll find her. In the meantime, Scalp: no going on “holiday”, right?’
‘Yeah, right,’ I said.
Luis left the shop and I watched from the door as he climbed into the cabin of the furniture van. As Alex started the engine and pulled away from the curb, Luis gave me a cheery wave. I thought it a good idea to give him a cheery wave in return. So there I stood, a poor mug scheduled to have his brains stuffed into the head of some great snorting nag, waving happily with not a care in the world. At least I hope that’s how I looked. I closed the street doors.
‘Where in hell’s name did that sleezebag spring from?’
Rachel had emerged from the back of the shop. She didn’t look amused.
‘I thought he was an old mate of yours,’ I said.
‘Luis Greystone, hack dentist. And I mean hack. What’s he doing around here?’
‘He wants to stuff my brains into a racehorse called Staxa Fun.’
‘Typical. That would be the sort of halfwit plan that would appeal to a fool like Luis.’
‘He reckons that Bluey Doig had been planning to stick me into a racehorse all along. Bluey was just pretending to be interested in Snood’s space flight project. They wer
e all going to make millions with this racehorse scam. Only Bluey disappeared.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, Scalp. Luis doesn’t know the first thing about brain surgery. Luis couldn’t stuff beans into a bag.’
‘He wants you to do it.’
‘No way, José.’
‘You and Gazza together. Luis and his mates are looking for you now.’
‘Me and Gazza are legit. We are now very, very well-respected neurosurgeons. Pillars of the medical community. We don’t do dodgy stuff any more. You’re quite safe, Scalp.’
‘They know too much about you, Rachel,’ I said.
‘That mob of beer-drinking footy louts would know nothing about anything. All they know about is crackpot schemes for making money. They never work.’
‘The schemes? Or the footy louts?’
‘Both.’
‘They know about you kidnapping me from hospital. They know you put my brain in a vat. They know you then put it in Bluey’s body …’
‘I saved your life …’
‘They know you and Gazza went and burned down Snood’s Laboratories. They —’
‘So what?’ said Rachel.
‘So you’re open to blackmail. Things could get a bit nasty if they started threatening to tell the police all they know.’
‘Things could get a bit nasty if we threatened to tell the police that Luis and his friends are trying to put your brains in a racehorse, the better to rip off a mob of mug punters.’
‘Then the whole gang of you would go to jail. Who’d win?’
‘No one. And you might go to jail yourself, Scalp. I don’t think you actually got permission to take over the late Bluey Doig’s body. It could be argued that you are in receipt of stolen goods.’
‘Possession is nine tenths of the law,’ I said.
‘Yeah, well, it’s the other one tenth we have to look out for. Come on, let’s go home. I’m starving.’
‘Nice of you to look after the shop for me,’ I said as we let ourselves out of the back door.
‘Some friend of yours — Tanya — talked me into it. Rang up and said she was sick of selling puncture kits and that I could have a go instead.’
Chapter Seven
When we got home Gazza was slaving over a hot stove. He was frying lambs’ brains and bacon. Well, I hope they were lambs’ brains. When you share a house with a couple of neurosurgeons, you can never be really sure. Rachel leant on Gazza’s shoulder and peered into the frying pan.
‘Bring some work home from the office, did you, dear?’ she said.
‘I knew you’d say that,’ Gazza said.
‘I knew you’d say that,’ Rachel said.
‘And I knew the pair of you would say that,’ I said.
‘We’re getting into a rut,’ Gazza said. ‘Even the boarder knows what we’re going to say.’
‘The boarder’s not in a rut,’ Rachel said. ‘The boarder’s been having a very interesting day.’
‘Tell all,’ said Gazza.
‘Dish up the tucker,’ I said, ‘and I’ll tell you all about Luis Greystone.’
‘Greystone!’ Gazza said. ‘I haven’t seen that dork since university.’
‘I saw him at my wedding,’ Rachel said.
‘I didn’t go to your wedding, if you’ll remember.’
‘I remember,’ Rachel said. ‘I remember it only too well. You were so drunk at the time you wouldn’t have remembered a thing even if you had been there, which you weren’t.’
‘Stop bickering,’ I said.
‘Yeah, stop bickering, Rachel,’ Gazza said.
‘It’s you who are bickering,’ Rachel said.
‘Arrrgh!’ I said. ‘It’s the pair of you.’
‘You’re right,’ Gazza said. ‘Don’t take any notice of us. Just fire away about Greystone. Where did you meet him?’
So we sat around the kitchen table and ate Gazza’s crumbed brains and bacon and I downed a glass of their wine, although they made their normal remarks about me being too young, and I told them all about the events of the day. After I’d been talking for five minutes Rachel kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on Gazza’s lap. Gazza kept eating one-handed while he massaged the soles of Rachel’s feet with his other hand. They’re actually very fond of each other, my friends Gazza and Rachel. If you ask me, all the bickering is just frustration caused by being so respectable. The truth of the matter is they used to be criminals and they used to have a great time snatching unsuspecting patients out of hospitals and doing illegal things to their brains. Now they honk around in suits and spend all day long cutting dreary old tumours out of dreary old skulls. They’re both bored witless. They’re stir crazy.
When I got to the part of my story where Luis Greystone said he was planning to put my brains into a racehorse, Gazza shrieked with laughter and said, ‘Ripper idea. What a winner!’
‘It’s not a ripper idea,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s a crackpot idea.’ But this time round she didn’t sound very convinced. A couple of glasses of wine and Gazza massaging her feet and she’d given up on bickering.
‘I don’t want to be a horse,’ I said.
‘Yes, you do,’ said Gazza. ‘It would be a hoot.’
‘Look,’ I said with feeling, ‘I’ve already had enough things done to my brain …’
Rachel said, ‘That’s why it would be so easy to …’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ I said. ‘Luis was going on about my artificial neural interfaces.’
‘Luis wouldn’t know a neural interface if he tripped over one in the street.’
‘He seemed to think I was the only possible candidate,’ I said.
‘That bloke’s a dentist, what would he know?’
‘So,’ I said. ‘You and Gazza could put someone else’s brains in the horse? It’s not beyond your surgical skills?’
‘Sure, we’d just have to do more work.’ Rachel said. ‘We’d have to stick in all the hardware. But your head’s already crammed with the stuff. You’re half telephone exchange as it is. I reckon we could do the job in a weekend.’
‘Well, do it in a long weekend. Turn some other poor sucker into a telephone exchange. Stick his brains in the beast.’
‘Whose?’
‘What about yours,’ I said. ‘What’s wrong with your brains, Rachel? Why can’t we stick your precious grey-matter in the horse?’
Rachel looked a bit taken aback. Speaking very slowly, she said, ‘The wine’s gone to your head, Spud. There’s a logical flaw in that plan. I’m the neurosurgeon, remember? Even with a good set of mirrors I could hardly be expected to operate on my own brain.’
‘Get Gazza to do it,’ I said. ‘Get Gazza to operate on your brain.’
‘Gazza and I are a team. We work together. You’ve got to be the patient.’
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘I thought you two were meant to be totally legit these days. I thought you didn’t do dodgy brain surgery any more.’
‘Well,’ Rachel shrugged. ‘Everybody’s got to cut loose once in a while. You can’t spend your whole life being Miss Goody Two Shoes. That’s a fact.’
‘Is it really?’ I said.
‘Look, Spuddo, the truth of the matter is that this little scam of Luis’ threatens to be quite a lark.’ Rachel was warming to her theme. She was getting quite enthusiastic. ‘And you’ve no idea how boring ordinary brain surgery is. Just chopping out tumours all day long — it’s not very interesting. You have to admit, life was a lot more fun back in Snood’s Laboratories. Do you remember the fun and games we used to have with the paint and the remote sensing and the office basketball? Remember the ambulance rides? I miss old Nigel, the ambo. Remember the time we went up the scrub to get you some new batteries and your mate Jem was on the roof of the ambulance? And Nige gave it everything he’d got? And there we were hurtling round corners and broadsiding into the paths of oncoming timber jinkers and …’
‘Stop getting sentimental, Rachel,’ I said.
‘I’m n
ot getting sentimental, Spuddo, I’m telling you the truth. Life is a lot less interesting now that we’re all solid citizens. Gazza feels the same. He says so. Don’t you, Gazz?’
‘Sure do,’ said Gazza.
‘And he keeps saying to me: “You’re not the girl I first fell in love with.” And it’s true. I’m just a boring old neurosurgeon. Hacking away at people’s boring old neurones. Day in, day out: slice this tumour, cauterize this node. Saw, hack, slice, zap. Saw, hack, slice, zap. It could drive a girl nuts. But bridging the human–equine interface, now that’s a challenge. That’s something to get one’s teeth into.’
‘Look, I’m real happy, just being Scalp the bike shop man. I don’t want to be a horse.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Rachel said. ‘I know you’re happy, we are all of us happy. We’re totally, absolutely happy. But, bloody hell, there’s more to life than just happy. What we need is excitement, the thrill of the new, the challenge of going where no one has ever gone before …’
‘Into the skull of a horse?’
‘Precisely.’
The argument could have gone on all night, but at that moment there was a loud crash and the sound of splintering wood from the direction of the front door. Footsteps came pounding down the hall and suddenly Luis Greystone burst into the kitchen waving a small crowbar. Alex and the little fella hurtled in after him.
‘Ah,’ yelled Luis. ‘Don’t move. Everybody freeze.’
‘Shut up, Luis,’ Rachel said. ‘Put that damn bar away and sit down.’ She turned to the little fella. ‘You,’ she said. ‘Open that cupboard and get out another bottle of wine, and then sit down like a civilized human being.’
‘How the hell did you get here?’ I said.
‘Followed you,’ said Luis. ‘We just thought you might know more about the whereabouts of these two than you were letting on. That’s why we turned you loose. We’re not stupid, you know. Now then, let’s all have a little chat, shall we?’
‘Let’s not,’ I said, but nobody listened to me.
Luis, Alex and Easter pulled up chairs, poured themselves wine and then everyone started to reminisce. I couldn’t believe it. One minute this gang of vandals comes smashing its way through the door with a crowbar, the next minute everyone is rabbiting on about their student days. All of them except Easter had been at university together — within seconds they were telling anecdotes about people I’d never heard of. You’d have thought we were at some sort of college reunion. I was about ready to throw up. I worked out more or less where Rachel’s legs were under the table and gave her a kick. She jumped a bit, but didn’t stop listening to Luis’ tale about some drunken student called Slosher who’d once climbed the spire of a college chapel in his underpants. I gave Rachel another kick. She turned her head towards me, winked, and went back to listening to Luis.