by Andy Coffey
Chapter 2 – The Cheese of Pleasant Dreams
The alarm clock jingled and danced its merry morning dance, before being silenced by a well-aimed slap from Aiden Peersey’s left hand. He sat up, yawned and rubbed his bleary eyes, trying to accept the banishment of sleep and the onset of another day. It had been a particularly late night and he was feeling the effects of a lack of sleep, a tad too much to drink and an overindulgence in pizza. Humphrey stood at the side of the bed looking at him disapprovingly.
‘Okay, I’m sorry I got back so late. But if it’s any consolation I’m suffering for it now,’ Aiden said.
Humphrey said nothing and continued to gaze straight at him, his brown eyes meeting Aiden’s with a stony stare, conveying both his lack of sympathy and his obvious disgruntlement.
‘Look, I’ll make it up to you. We can go out tonight, take a walk down to the canal.’
Humphrey continued to stare in silence. ‘And we could get something to eat on the way back, from the chip shop?’
More silence, although accompanied by a raised eyebrow. ‘And I’ll let you have a swim in the canal?’ Aiden said, raising his eyebrows quizzically.
‘Woof,’ said Humphrey, jumping onto the bed.
‘Good boy, now go and get your lead and we’ll have a quick walk around the block.’
‘Woof,’ said Humphrey again, grabbing the lead off a nearby chair and throwing it unceremoniously on the floor.
Outside, Aiden was greeted by blinding early morning sunlight and a garden that needed mowing. ‘A lovely morning isn’t it, Mrs Perriwinkle,’ he called over to his elderly neighbour, as he and Humphrey made their way down the short, gravel path to the gate. ‘How are you today?’
‘I’d be feeling much better if I hadn’t have been woken up in the middle of the night by your noisy friends dropping you off,’ answered Mrs Perriwinkle, waving her garden rake in his direction.
‘Oh, I am sorry, Mrs Perriwinkle. I’ll make sure they’re quiet in future. We’d all had a bit too much to drink, I’m afraid. It was a very good gig, you see.’
‘Well, I know it doesn’t happen very often,’ Mrs Perriwinkle said, lowering the rake, ‘and I know you young people love your “gigs”. And, since you’re such a polite young man, I’ll forgive you on this occasion.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Perriwinkle.’
‘I used to love a good gig when I was younger, you know,’ she went on. ‘Mr Perriwinkle was very good at it. In fact, we’d often be at it for several hours at a time without a break. We’d be covered in sweat by the time we finished.’
‘Really,’ Aiden said.
‘Oh, yes. People would stand around watching and applauding. We’d often have a big crowd around us while we were doing it. And then, after about ten minutes, a lot of them would join in and we’d all swap partners for a bit.’
‘And that was quite common when you were younger?’ Aiden said, shifting his stance uncomfortably.
‘Very much so; I often had over ten partners a night. It was quite tiring and you get a bit sore after a while, but it was very satisfying. We were the Flintshire Foxtrot Champions five years in a row, you know.’
‘Well I never knew that,’ Aiden said, somewhat relieved.
‘Oh, Mrs Perriwinkle,’ he added as he opened the gate, ‘I’m going to be out for most of the day, so are you still okay to nip in and check on Humphrey later?’
‘Of course, not a problem; he’s a lovely little dog, aren’t you Humphrey?’ Mrs Perriwinkle said, smiling at Humphrey and adopting a particularly silly face. ‘What kind of dog is he, again?’
‘He’s an English Cocker Spaniel,’ Aiden replied, patting him on the back.
‘Oh, we’ll have a great time later, won’t we Humphrey,’ she said, her voice rising in pitch. ‘I’ll bring some sticks from the garden and you can fetch them for me. And then we’ll play ball.’
Humphrey gave Aiden a withering look but remained quiet. ‘Thanks very much. I’ll see you later, then,’ Aiden said.
Aiden and Humphrey went for a walk every morning and every evening. Humphrey loved his walks and was fascinated by the conversations of people they’d pass on their way. ‘They lead such simple lives,’ he’d think to himself, interrupting his general thoughts on metaphysics and chasing cats. Today, Aiden had decided they’d only have a quick stroll down Watery Road and across the bridge towards the hospital, before retracing their steps back to number 22 Bright Street, their home.
This area of Wrexham was generally tranquil, and the rows of semi-detached or detached houses had neat gardens and an interesting mixture of trees. Humphrey liked trees, and actually thought they made better conversationalists than humans; at least they could understand him. The old elm on Watery Road just before the bridge was his favourite. He was an absolute hoot and told some splendid stories. Humphrey invariably cocked his leg and watered him by way of thanks every day. This morning, however, there was only time for a brief ‘hello, how are you’ and a very quick leg-cock before they had to head back home. Aiden had plans for today.
For the last ten of his thirty-five years, Aiden Peersey had worked for Parmesan Systems, an IT company that specialised in innovative telecommunications products. After a series of promotions, he now found himself with the title ‘Head of Design’, a role he thoroughly enjoyed. He was also popular for a geek, mainly because he was affable, performed almost legendary vocal impressions of celebrities and didn’t really show off his intellect too much in social circles. The girls in HR also liked him quite a bit too. ‘Woo hoo, Aiden!’ they’d shout as he walked past their office in the morning, usually followed by something like ‘Oh, isn’t he adorable. He’s so handsome and clever.’ He liked that.
His house phone rang. It was Bob. ‘Hey, lanky, how’s your head this morning?’ Bob said, his voice bristling with far more energy than it had any right to have after last night.
‘I think it’s still on my neck, but it’s difficult to tell at the moment.’
‘Hah! Have you had a chance to listen to the tape from the gig yet?’
‘No, but I’m going out later, so I’ll stick it on in the car. Then when I get back I’ll digitise it, look at the equalization, stick some limiters on it, add some suitable compression and then normalise it before transfer.’
‘You lost me after “car”,’ Bob said.
‘I mean I’ll put it on a CD for you.’
‘Thanks mate, catch you later then. Let’s hear it for the Swingers, yee hah!’
His other passion was music. Not that he could play any instruments or sing, but he listened avidly and found himself ineluctably drawn to music technology. His ambition was to eventually own his own recording studio, but in the interim he had amassed a reasonable collection of music-related equipment in his house which he enjoyed playing with. He liked mixing live music too.
‘The Hefty Swingers’ were a good-time rock band, and although they hadn’t made it past the first rung on the ladder of stardom yet, they had a strong local following and were very entertaining to watch. Aiden’s friend, Bob, was the lead singer and Aiden was in command of the sound system and the mixing desk. Last night’s gig at the ‘Randy Parrot’ nightclub had been one of their best; three encores and they actually got paid.
Aiden gulped down a glass of water and grabbed the tape. He needed to clear his head this morning, and fortunately he felt somewhat more human after his walk with Humphrey. Today was the day he’d decided to operationally test his new innovation, which was based on an idea that had sprung into his mind last year.
He’d always been fascinated by quantum physics, so when the first forays into the exploration of quantum computing* became public knowledge he saw the potential immediately. His own investigations to harness this new technology had resulted in the design and production of the ‘QC Operating System’ for Smart Phones and Tablets, the first of its kind. The simulated tests all appeared successful, with startling increases in processor speed and memory capacity. But it had now re
ached the stage where he needed to try out the system practically.
Humphrey looked at him intently, his tongue lolling about in his mouth, and offered Aiden his paw. ‘Ha, good boy,’ Aiden said, patting him affectionately on the head. ‘Now, I’m going to be popping out for a while. I’m having a drive to Llangollen, not been there for ages. And this little baby,’ he said pointing to his new phone, ‘is going to do the navigation for me. Isn’t that cool?’
‘Woof, woof, woof… woof, grrr, woof,’ said Humphrey.
And it was a real pity Aiden couldn’t understand him, otherwise he’d have known that ‘Woof, woof, woof… woof, grrr, woof,’ when translated, means ‘I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
*See appendix 1