The heated leather backseat of the limo is most welcoming, as is the glass of Dom Pérignon Rosé champagne. It gives me a chance to breathe; to calm the madness in my head. I’ve had to get used to this intense lifestyle. What started as chaos has become normality.
Wherever I walk I attract attention.
‘Yo, Falco.’
‘Can you sign my T-shirt?’
‘I saw you on TV last night.’
And it’s inevitable …
‘Can you shape-shift for us now?’
I smile and wave. It’s not meant to be patronising. I try to smile in a way that looks friendly, as if nobody has ever asked these things, and that it’s a lovely surprise.
Of course, wildlife still seeks me out and comes to me. Sometimes in public I attract various birds and other creatures. They fly in and land on my arm or shoulder, or scamper right up to me, often wary of the crowds close by. And of course, camera-phones come out to add to the millions of video clips of me already on the Internet.
One day, I saw a dead blackbird on a path beneath a hedge, and stooped to gather it in my hands. The bird was still whole, not mutilated by scavengers, to my relief. Forgetting about all those amassing behind me, I pricked my little finger with a badge pin and squeezed a drop into the open yellow-beaked mouth. I breathed air onto it and stroked its rough and broken feathers. Within ten minutes the bird shivered and fluttered. I fed it worms and it stretched out its wings, sang a glorious ode to the blue sky above us and fluttered off, invigorated and alive once more. Without my knowledge, the whole thing had been secretly filmed. Everyone has cameras these days; I should have been more careful. The video went viral – again. I was starting to resent the ridiculously OTT responses to my activities.
‘Falco is God.’
Don’t scream at me, kids. You might as well just be howling at the moon.
My ability to attract animals continues to grow stronger – but only as Luke. When I’m a numen, I take on the instincts and nature of that animal. As a human I can transcend the instincts. It’s weird. As Luke, I sometimes became inundated with birds particularly, but also by dogs and cats.
The very next day, walking with Ala, we started to giggle at the number of foxes, rodents, hedgehogs, owls, and even deer that made an appearance. If we’d been somewhere like Richmond Park, I might not have been so surprised, but we were on Church Street in Croydon, doing some shopping before compèring a show that night at the Fairfield Halls. The foxes and smaller creatures regularly dashed past or were only inquisitive for a few moments at a time before scampering off, so we were very surprised when a roe deer and a muntjac decided to follow us, seeming quite confident of other passers-by. They approached us and nuzzled up to my coat and hands. We must have been a comical sight – a young, famous couple walking along with two species of deer in tow. It crossed my mind a few times that they may have been numens, but I couldn’t detect their thoughts or successfully communicate using words.
Then, all of a sudden, the occasion lost its sense of fun when, without warning, the roe deer sprang into the road, causing a car to swerve and crash into a tram. A crowd rushed over to help get the people out. The driver and passenger in the car suffered the worst injuries. Those in the tram were only concussed, shaken or bruised. Ambulance and police soon arrived to take control of the situation and to sort out the build-up of traffic. The couple in the car remained ‘critical but stable’ according to the police, who took statements from those of us who stayed to help out.
Of course, I was instantly recognised and mobbed, to the annoyance of the police officers, who recognised me but remained aloof, much to my disappointment. The female officer was particularly attractive but indifferent to my usual charm. I had to admire her professionalism.
‘So this animal – a deer? – was yours?’ asked the female police sergeant.
I nodded to affirm its identity as a deer, but quickly realised that she might take that as me confirming that the animal was somehow my pet or responsibility.
‘Not mine, no. The roe deer was wild; I don’t know where it came from. It’s quite well documented that animals have a habit of finding me and interacting with me – even in public places like this.’ I unnecessarily gestured around me to indicate our surroundings. ‘It must have come from some nearby park or woodland.’
She grimaced doubtfully. ‘So you didn’t bring it with you? You said you were doing a show sponsored by the World Wildlife Fund.’
‘No, no. I didn’t bring it for the show.’
‘And this deer wasn’t a shape-shifting friend of yours causing havoc and then scarpering.’
‘Of course not. There must be CCTV cameras around – feel free to check them.’
She nodded to her partner as if this was a good idea and he scribbled something in his notebook.
‘Are the people in the car OK?’ I asked.
‘Hard to say, sir.’
‘Could you get a message to them and their family to say that we will help them any way we can. If they need money or legal support then that’s the least we can do—’
‘Nice, eh, when you can just chuck money at everything and absolve yourself from all guilt.’ The female officer surprised me with her criticism. Could it be jealousy, or was she another of those who scornfully misunderstood my mission? It always seemed that whatever I did was wrong.
‘Guilt? That’s not why I’m offering help. I’m genuinely sorry that this accident happened and as we’re witnesses and on the spot, I thought we at the Gaia Foundation could offer some support. That’s all. I didn’t mean anything else by it.’
‘And what about all the other people dying and suffering? Do they also get your help? Why only help these two? You bring birds and animals back to life, but what about people? Where were you when my mum passed away from leukaemia?’
I couldn’t think of an appropriate response. I’d heard a few comments and mutterings along these lines before – from individuals and from certain sections of the media. I’d previously put it down to envy and narrow-mindedness, but hearing it from a figure of authority – and a very attractive one at that – made it more confusing. Moments like these certainly left a bitter taste after all the adulation and compliments. Still, I mustn’t obsess over a couple of words from a few cynics, when the vast majority were on my side.
The male police officer came over to pull the sergeant away, muttering something to her. She went and sat in her car, while he continued our conversation.
‘Any chance you could pop in and see us tomorrow morning? The station is on Park Lane just down the road from where your show is tonight.’ He handed me his card. ‘Any problem give me or the sergeant a buzz. See you then.’
I wondered what I would do if those two in the car were to die? Would that be seen as my fault? People would say my powers are out of control. That police sergeant had got me doubting myself. Her comments about people dying all around us and my inability to help them stayed with me. That horrible feeling of powerless returned, and quickly became that daunting sensation that you’ve done something terrible that you can’t quite identify but which twists and screws deep in the pit of your stomach. Once it’s with you it’s almost impossible to shake off.
The evening show went well, considering. Ala was wonderful and did more of the talking than me – which admittedly left some in the audience disappointed. Not because Ala didn’t do a great job. It’s just that many there had come to see me. I don’t say that boastfully – it’s a fact. They carried banners and wore T-shirts with my face on them. I got the biggest cheer and the most questions from the audience. The acts that performed and the films we showed all go down well, and we feel satisfied that we’ve made lots of money for the WWF.
Gene, of course, always wowed the audience. He also did much of the compèring and introductions, leaving me to concentrate on my sections.
After the crazed applause and whooping, I came back for an encore of ‘With These Eyes’, sung as a duet with teen pop sen
sation Gayzella – an amazing singer and dancer who worked passionately for LGBT rights and whose gazelle numen had provided her with that slightly cheesy stage name. We sang as humans and then transformed to create a choreographed sequence with dancers who all changed into mammals from the African grasslands. It was like a missing scene from The Lion King.
We trooped off stage as the whoops and screams continued. I waited for the usual stamping and chanting of my name, before returning once more.
‘I’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight, for supporting me and the Gaia Foundation for all the work we do trying to save this beautiful planet.’ I waited for the cheers to die down. ‘I’d like to dedicate this evening to someone incredibly special: Guy Tellumo. I wouldn’t be here now talking to you if it wasn’t for him. It was Guy who showed me the secrets of nature; the ancient magic. He helped me to find my numen. I could have ignored him, or scorned his message … but something in me decided to listen and it changed my life. I owe him a great deal, and I wish I could thank him personally, but I need to find him first. So … Guy … if you’re listening right now then this is for you. Thanks for everything you taught me, and now look at all these people who want to help us save and change our world. Big cheer for my friend, Guy.’
The cheers and applause went on for nearly five minutes as I high-fived as many members of the audience I could reach. As this went on, images of a magpie, toad and orb web spider – Guy’s numens – flashed up on the screen. As the rapturous cheering died down I bowed and then shape-shifted into Falco and flew off through an open skylight.
After the show, Ala and I returned to the hotel that had become my permanent home, and I invited her in to my room for a drink. I opened a bottle of champagne.
‘Not for me. Water only, thanks. And not from a bottle made of plastic. Tap water in a glass.’
I downed two large glasses of sparkly wine while she sipped her water.
‘Will you stay with me tonight, Ala?’
‘Why?’
I had got used to cuddling up with Ala when we lived in Nigeria, but we hadn’t spent as much time together recently.
‘Because I miss you and I’d like you to?’
She smiled kindly at me.
I should have stayed firm but I cracked. ‘But only if you want to.’
She continued smiling but I couldn’t sense its intention. She refused to answer my question.
Instead, I moved over to where she sat on the sofa bed and curled my arms around her, pressing my face into her neck and breathing in her wondrous scent.
I lifted my face directly in front of hers until our noses brushed.
Her eyes dropped but she kept her face in position. I turned my head slightly so that our lips touched. And I could resist no longer. I pressed my lips against hers, waiting for her to respond, which she did ever so slightly. I kissed her cheek and her eyes and her neck. She sighed, raised her head and put her arms around me. I took this as her permission to continue. As I moved my lips to her shoulders I couldn’t help but notice how her blouse revealed the delicious curves of her bosom, the black satin skin in contrast to the white lacy bra.
I raised my head and stared directly into her eyes. For a moment she looked sad and then her eyes fell to the floor again.
Overwhelmed with desire, I pulled back slightly and with trembling hands undid two buttons on her blouse before placing my hand over one of her breasts.
She made a sound – one, I hoped, of contentment – but with her next move I realised it was in fact disapproval and annoyance. She pushed my hand away and covered herself up before standing and exiting. The door slammed like a gunshot which echoed down the empty corridor of the hotel. I was left confused and frustrated in so many ways.
Chapter Four
The crowd parts for me and engulfs me. I’m grabbed by an endless number of hands. Fingers cling to my clothes. Palms shove me roughly. Taps, tugs, pokes, scratches, pinches, caresses, squeezes and tight grips. They come from every angle. I’ve told my team to leave me – to let them touch me. They need me; need to believe in something. Let them have their hope at least. Some grope me inappropriately. Others stroke me like a favourite pet. For most of them, one touch is enough and they stare at their hand in wonder, or just gaze at me as if I’m not real. I’m a sculpture, a painting, a poster, a waxwork. Am I real? I’m no longer sure.
Then I’m gently guided towards the centre of the park where I see a long line of women, men and children; families, couples, groups of children and teenagers. Most of those in the line have dogs on leads, or hold baskets, boxes, tanks or containers holding cats, rodents, reptiles and even insects.
They need healing. A laying on of hands. I’m their final hope.
Sometimes there are no pets.
‘Bless me, Falco.’
‘Make me clean.’
‘Falco, please help my child.’
Humans need healing too, but I don’t think my powers extend that far. Do they?
There were often moments of loneliness or low self-esteem, but I could always rely on Ala’s sympathy and understanding. I’m not sure how I would have coped without her. In fact, I was very lucky with my close band of staff and assistants who did a terrific job arranging, planning and realising events and occasions; clearing up afterwards; keeping me safe, and dealing with the media and other agencies. All their hard work kept me from cracking up. They did the difficult stuff so I didn’t have to. One of my new recruits, Gene, the wasp-man, was not only a great performer and artist, but also incredibly organised, and fast becoming a close friend and official PA, working well with my other personal assistants. I couldn’t have done this stuff without Gene. All my staff were well rewarded for their hard work and dedication, not just financially, but with my complete trust that allowed them a certain freedom as long as they could fulfil their basic duties effectively. So many ordinary people work unreasonable hours in dead-end employment, and are put under such intense pressure that they end up stressed and incapable of doing their jobs efficiently. I always work better when I’m trusted to do things my way than when I’m forced into someone else’s regime. If that worked for me then why expect anything different from others?
Gene picked things up quickly and impressed me with his knowledge and commitment to learn. He also demonstrated great skills, not only writing me well-worded speeches for press conferences, but after observing me healing creatures a few times, asked if he could have a go. Within minutes he had copied my actions with immediate success. He healed many dogs, cats, guinea pigs, rabbits and fish, which meant we could work in tandem and get more done each time. Some people complained initially because they wanted me – the recognisable face, the celebrity they had expected. The general public seem to like a familiar face or name, as it’s easier to trust them. I understood, but Gene rapidly made a name for himself too.
In fact, Gene proved to be more of a natural showman than me.
He created a ritual that involved the owners.
‘Look for your own healing within yourself. Your pets are more than just pets. They are an extension of yourselves – just like numens. For a few moments consider your own wholeness and then see a mental and a physical connection with your animal friend.’
It seemed to work and after a while he became greatly sought out by those in need. To be honest, I was grateful to him for taking some of the pressure off me.
Because there is only one of me I couldn’t make it to every event, rally or interview. Ala, Hudor and Vriksha were also busy in other parts of the world, and so Gene became my right-hand man, deputising for me, and soon giving effectively challenging and often moving speeches of his own. I began to trust him enough for him to be a spokesperson in his own right for the Gaia Foundation. He single-handedly arranged my first formal visit to the Liverpool Gaia Community – the largest one in the country; the London ones were broken into smaller areas, rather than trying to exist as one unwieldy tribe.
The Liverpool Gaia Community w
elcomed me just as all the other communities do. Three hours before the evening show at Anfield football stadium, I turned up in my limousine. I’d already visited similar ‘tribes’ in Newquay, Exeter, Brighton, Norwich, Birmingham, Newcastle, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Huddersfield, Nottingham and Cardiff. More were setting up in places like Swansea, Crawley, Isle of Wight and Jersey. Four already existed in London, plus hundreds of smaller ones around the world.
The Gaia Communities were not just havens for numens, but for anyone who cared about our planet. Anybody willing to stand up to governments and big business was welcome to join. Of course, certain rules existed for the purposes of safety and practicality, but, on the whole, they remained homes to like-minded, freethinking people – especially for those sick of our present government, and western capitalist culture.
Liverpool is a fantastic city in my opinion. And the people of Liverpool are pretty cool. Whilst there are attractive and culturally rich areas of the city, many of the residents also lived in deprived regions. Of course there is crime – where isn’t there crime? – but, when you consider what some of them suffer and how few opportunities there are for them, I’m not that surprised.
They welcomed me into the community with love and laughter.
At first, the crowds made it difficult for me to step over the threshold as so many people were clamouring for me.
A gigantic banner read: “FALCO FOR PRIME MINISTER”.
I addressed the crowds directly on the subject, using the lectern and a microphone already set up for a brief press conference outside.
‘You must be mad if you think I’m going to join the political corruption of Westminster.’ I pointed to the big banner and the camera got a close-up of it. ‘I’ve considered the options and thought it through but concluded that I’m better off working independently rather than being forced to fit in with the tedious traditions of their outdated pomp and ceremony. All politicians end up corrupt, whatever they believed when they started. Nope, not for me. Politics is a mug’s game …’ I wittered on for about ten minutes until I felt the crowd getting fidgety.
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