by Jeff Noon
‘OK,’ said Joe, ‘so we move quickly.’ He paused then and looked around at his team. ‘I hereby declare open the first ever meeting of the Dark Fractal Society.’
‘What?’ This from Dopejack, his face reflecting from the computer screen.
That’s our name.’
‘Who decides this?’
‘Joe Crocus does,’ declared Benny. ‘He’s the master of the group.’
‘I thought Max Hackle was the master?’ said Dopejack. ‘And I’m not too keen on Dark Fractal, actually.’
‘Why not?’ asked Benny.
‘It sucks.’
‘So you’ll just have to make do.’
‘It sucks its own dick.’
‘That’s right,’ said Jazir, ‘it’s a recursive equation, always doubling back on itself. Perfect! Well chosen, Joe.’
‘You would like it.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing. What’s wrong with the Strange Attractors? That’s all I’m asking.’
‘And who made that up, I wonder?’ asked Jazir.
‘I did. Last night in bed.’
‘Is that all you do in bed, DJ? Make up names.’ Jazir gave Daisy the eye at this.
Daisy Love, as always, kept her thoughts to herself.
‘I don’t have to put up with this, Joe,’ said Dopejack.
Joe Crocus made a sweeping motion. ‘Children, please! We are gathered together, in order to make the dominoes surrender. We are the Dark Fractals. No more questions. Give me answers. Open all channels; connect to everything. Give me your info. Dopejack, that includes you. We have a new member today. Ms Love. Bring her up to date.’
Dopejack gave in to the pressure, pressed some keys on the computer and brought up a window. ‘OK, what we’ve got so far. The bones were introduced on the first of May, last year. Here’s a list of winning numbers, so far. Here’s their logo. The famous dancing domino. It’s now the twenty-sixth of Feb. On the twenty-third of April they’re going national. That gives us seven games at the Manchester odds.’
‘We have to win by then,’ said Joe. ‘The chances will be wild, otherwise.’
‘Winners so far, both the full-cast and the half-cast. I’ve managed to break in a little further, by feeding back the blurbjuice equations and infecting the domino walls with the Chef’s Special Recipe fractal.’
‘Thanks to me,’ said Jazir.
‘Basically, I’ve got them eating their own defences.’
‘I discovered that.’
‘Joe. Can you shut this kid up. I’m trying to work here.’
‘I discovered the way in, Joe. Remember?’
‘Jazir discovered it,’ Joe stated, ‘Dopejack furthered it. That’s good, my children, we are working together. Carry on, DJ.’
‘Thank you. I’ve managed to peel a layer off the winner’s list, revealing their addresses.’
‘Oh wow. Their addresses.’ This from Jazir, of course. ‘Let’s go round and steal their money.’
‘Jazir! I can always make you leave.’
‘You couldn’t do that, Joe. Who would get you closer when Dopey’s exhausted himself?’
‘Right! That’s it. I’m going.’ Dopejack was up already.
‘Let me see that,’ said Daisy, her first words of the meeting. ‘The winner’s list. I might know something.’
‘Like what?’ asked Dopejack.
‘That stopped him!’
‘Jazir!’
‘Sorry, boss.’
‘Have this week’s winners come through yet, DJ?’ Daisy asked.
‘Just in. And one million lovelies going to…a Mrs Annie Makepiece. Now look, the beauty of my new program; even though she’s asked for no publicity, we still get her address. See? It’s in Didsbury. Jazir might not be that stupid after all. We could go round and—’
But Daisy was too urgent. ‘Give me the half-winners, please.’
‘Got them.’
‘Is there an Irwell in there?’
‘Let’s see. Would that be Edward Irwell? He’s won a half-blank.’
‘That’s it! That’s the one!’
‘What do you know, Daisy?’ asked Jaz.
‘Nothing yet. Let me think. Is there an address.’
‘Actually…there isn’t…I…’
Jazir laughed. ‘Some program.’
‘There’s just some letters after his name. NFA.’
‘NFA? What’s that?’ asked Jazir.
‘It’s No Fixed Abode,’ said Joe.
‘He’s a beggar?’ asked Daisy.
‘That he is,’ said Dopejack. ‘It shouldn’t be allowed, beggars playing the game—bloody hell! He’s won three half-casts as of tonight.’
‘I knew it!’ said Daisy. ‘I know this man. No. Let me think!’
Of course, Eddie Irwell! That name the beggar girl Celia had shouted in the bookshop, as the tramps surrounded the cash desk…
‘I’ve got it!’ Daisy shouted. Even Jazir was taken aback by her excitement. Only Joe kept his cool.
‘What have you got?’ he asked.
‘Let me check one thing first. DJ?’
‘At your service.’
‘When did Irwell win his second half-bone?’
‘One second. Here it is. Game forty-two. Two weeks ago.’
‘And did he claim the prize? Can you find that?’
‘The Dopejack can find a—’
‘Get to it!’ said Jazir. ‘Give the lady what she wants.’
‘Let me see. No, he didn’t claim it. I wonder why?’
‘Because I had it,’ said Daisy. ‘Remember, Joe? The bone I brought to the club that Saturday?’
‘That was Eddie’s?’ asked Joe.
‘No. It belonged to a girl called Celia. Celia…wait, I asked for her name. Hobart! Celia Hobart. A beggar as well. This Eddie Irwell must be buying the bones for her. She’s the natural. Not Eddie.’
‘Do you think you could find her?’
‘She’s NFA, Joe,’ said Benny.
‘I can try,’ said Daisy.
‘Can’t you ever stop winning, Celia?’ shouted Big Eddie, smiling his heart out.
‘I don’t think so,’ replied Celia.
The two of them were dancing round in circles. Celia threw the half-alive bone to Eddie, laughing. Eddie threw it back.
‘Look at it, Cee!’
‘I’m looking.’
‘See that lovely blank still all aglow. Isn’t it lovely?’
‘It’s lovely. But this time, Eddie…’
‘What, what, what?’ He had the bone now, waltzing with it.
‘Sixty/forty, right?’
‘Don’t spoil the mood, little one.’
‘Just don’t mess up this time.’
‘Who messed up last time?’
‘OK, we do it right this time.’
‘Right on the nail, you lucky bleeder, you.’ Eddie embraced her and almost smothered her with his joy. ‘We wait till midnight. I take it to the pay-out shack myself—’
‘I’m going with you, Eddie.’
‘No. Too dangerous. I can’t afford to lose you.’
‘I can’t afford to lose the winnings.’
‘What do you take me for?’
‘A cad and a scoundrel and a cheat and a liar.’
‘Fair enough, but I’m on your side this time.’
Celia extricated herself from his grip. ‘I swear, if you cheat on me…’
‘Sweet Celia, as if—’
‘I’ll never play again. Do you hear me?’
‘All ears.’
‘OK. That’s Daisy sorted out. Here’s the workload for the rest of you.’ Joe Crocus was standing before his charges, giving orders. ‘Benny, you carry on with the DNA analysis of the blurbjuice.’
‘I can help him, boss,’ said Jazir.
‘I’m fine on my own, thanks Jaz. I’ve got some ideas I want to try.’
‘Your job, Jazir, is to break open a bone.’
‘He can’t do
that,’ said Dopejack. ‘Nobody can do that.’
‘Fuck off, Dopey. I can do it.’
‘He’s done it on screen, DJ. Let him try in real life.’
‘Waste of time.’
‘Dopejack, I don’t want arguments. I want work. You will break further into the security system. That’s an order.’
Dopejack mumbled something.
‘I could do that better,’ said Jazir.
‘Shouldn’t he be working tonight?’ put in Dopejack. ‘Serving up slop?’
‘I’ve got my priorities right.’
‘And I haven’t?’
‘Doesn’t feel like it to me, Dopey. Feels like you’re just causing trouble.’ Jazir turned to Joe. ‘I can do anything he can do, but better.’
‘Basically, I’ve had it!’ Dopejack stood up, grabbed his disks and his coat. ‘I work alone from now on.’
The door slammed behind him.
‘Here endeth the first meeting,’ whispered Benny.
‘He’ll be back,’ said Joe.
‘No loss.’ Jazir, of course.
Joe left them then; Jazir and Daisy and Benny. Benny was already taking out a freshly killed blurbfly, which he went at with a knife. Jazir told Daisy that he did have to go to work now, and that his father would shout at him for being late, but maybe he could come up after the shift to see her?
Daisy said yes.
‘Daisy said yes!’ shouted Benny, giving them both the wicked eye.
‘You fuck off as well,’ said Jazir, around a smile.
Daisy said, ‘You should tell your father you’re being tutored by Professor Max Hackle, of the university.’
‘I might just do that.’
Jazir gave Daisy a kiss, to which Benny made a smacking noise. Jazir left.
Daisy and Benny. ‘Where’s Joe gone?’ Daisy asked.
‘Off to see Max in his study. Interim report.’
Daisy left.
Benny, alone, working the blurbjuice.
Daisy in the study, apologizing to Hackle and Joe for interrupting them. ‘That’s quite all right, Ms Love. Please, sit down.’
‘Yeah,’ said Joe. ‘Stop fidgeting.’
There was a television in the corner, frozen in the two-blank dance. Daisy stared at it, embarrassed.
‘Joe was just telling me about your good work. I cannot emphasize the importance of finding this natural player.’
‘It will give us the edge,’ added Joe.
Daisy nodded.
‘So…’ Hackle looked at her intently, ‘What is it you want?’
‘Your domino won tonight, sir.’
‘Ah yes, the good old two-blank. You know, old Malthorpe used to call me that at school. Two-Blank, come here. Two-Blank do this. Two-Blank, fuck off. I didn’t mind, it was better than my real name. Which is Maxwell, by the way. The Maximus, I’m afraid, is a Sixties leftover.’
‘Did Malthorpe call you Two-Blank later on, sir? When you were doing the magazine?’
Hackle and Joe shared a smile. ‘Well, well. More good work from our newest recruit.’ This from Max.
‘Oh, she’s good. She’s bloody good.’ This from Joe.
‘My father was there with you.’
‘That he was. Special consultant. The title hardly befits the vision he brought to the project.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Ah, those days. We were so excited. The late Sixties, Joe. You were a little too young to enjoy them, I imagine. And Daisy, of course, totally missed out. We really did believe we were making a difference, changing the world by publishing an alternative maths mag.’ He laughed wildly, at himself this time, shaking his head slowly. ‘Foolish, I know, but still…it was a good dream. To carry on the lessons of Miss Geraldine Sayer. It was not to be, alas. In 1979, I believe it was, the group split up.’
Daisy asked why.
‘The usual things. Internal group dynamics, I believe it is now called.’
‘We had a touch of that tonight,’ said Joe.
‘I can imagine. The dream goes sour eventually. All one can expect is to make one’s discoveries before the end. We made ours, and then fell apart.’
‘Is that when my father started to…’
‘To disintegrate? Yes, I suspect it was.’
‘A year before I was born.’
‘Maybe you were his attempt to realign himself. Perhaps that is why I was reluctant to discuss this with you. Ms Love, you must realize my delight when you applied for my course. Your name alone fills me with trembling memories. I went along with your scheme quite willingly, to pretend him dead. In a sense, you have brought him back to me. He rings me up occasionally, you know. He seems in good spirits. I have even invited him round here; he always declined.’
‘Well, he doesn’t go out much.’
‘But Joe, here, has further news of the past. He has been researching the whereabouts of the class of 1968. Joe?’
Joe unfolded a sheet of paper. ‘First the bad news: of the original twenty-eight, at least seven of them are dead. I have no trace of a Paul Malthorpe, of the correct age.’
‘I heard he left for London after Number Gumbo broke up.’
‘Nothing on George Horn. Regarding Susan Prentice; there are at least three women of the correct age and name in Manchester. One is a waitress. Another a lawyer. The third is a teacher.’
‘Ahhh.’
‘Junior school. Your junior school.’
‘Get some exam results for me.’
‘Already done. Nothing spectacular. Of the rest, nine of them I can find no trace. Of those I can trace, only seven of them are in professions at all related to mathematics: a computer analyst, a bookmaker, the owner of a casino, a tax inspector—’
‘Oh dear. Prime suspect.’
‘A meteorologist and a chartered accountant.’
‘You will concentrate on these, but not only. Remember, our clues may come from anywhere. Investigate everybody.’
‘That’s only six,’ said Daisy. ‘Six suspects. Who’s the seventh?’
‘He’s a professor of mathematics at Manchester University.’
‘Yes, I suppose he is,’ said Hackle.
Daisy returned to the Golden Samosa at just gone eleven. They were still serving. Through the window she watched a certain waiter expertly carrying four dishes to a table. He didn’t see her. She went up the outside stairs to her door.
A late night call to her father, asking for a game tomorrow. Granted. Twelve midnight found her in bed, waiting for Jazir.
Twelve-thirty, asleep. A knock on her door. ‘I can’t stay long.’
‘You don’t need to.’
The same time found Eddie Irwell setting out for town with the half-cast bone. Celia was already asleep. Sometime later that night she woke up screaming, having been chased by a skeletal figure. Twelve other players had the same dream.
Celia looking around, scared. Where was Eddie?
He’d made it to the pay-out, but not quite home with the prize.
‘Yeah, we stayed together. What else could we do? We were bonded you see, by the special lessons.’ Daisy’s father was stroking the game-scarred five-four domino around his neck. ‘Don’t ask me where Miss Sayer came from, or where she went. She was a mystery to us. Perhaps that was her appeal; all the other teachers were boring, just people from around the corner. Incompetents, getting on with life. Miss Sayer changed all that. Hmm, nice move.’ He played a domino in response to Daisy’s double-three. ‘She was only at the school for a year.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘Got kicked out, didn’t she.’
Daisy played a bone. ‘Why? If she was doing so well…’
That’s the problem. She was doing too well. Some government bore somewhere, with nothing else to fill his life, must have noticed the results. They thought we were cheating. All of us, minus one. There was this kid called Georgie Horn. Blank-Blank. He was the only one that Miss Sayer couldn’t reach.’
‘Hackl
e mentioned him. Didn’t he do as well?’
‘Georgie bombed out.’
It was the Saturday morning, and bright with it for a change. Her father had made an effort to tidy up the place. It wasn’t much of an attempt, but Daisy was touched. She had come here specifically to uncover something; the game was just the soundtrack, the clack of bones, the occasional rapping of knuckles on wood, the web of numbers slowly adding up.
‘It wasn’t only Miss Sayer’s results,’ her father said, taking his turn. ‘It was the teaching methods.’
‘What do you mean? They sound like fun, from what Hackle says.’
‘That was the early days. She was strange, that woman. Sometimes it felt like she was on a mission, and we were her converts. Other times she came on like a real bitch. Oh, she could be vicious when pushed. This Malthorpe you’re so interested in, and precious Maxi mouth Hackle, they were constantly circling each other, vying for top-dog biscuit. Sometimes their fists took over from the numbers. Stupid. Miss Sayer would really have a go at them for disrupting the class. She couldn’t stand slack. Me, I just got on with it. You know she hit Hackle once. He told you that?’
‘No.’
‘Course not. Yeah, strapped him hard. I mean, we were used to that kind of thing, but not from a woman teacher. That was the headmaster’s pleasure.’
‘What had Hackle done wrong?’
‘That was the weird bit. He’d helped little Blank-Blank with his homework. Not helped him; done it for him. It was first time Georgie Horn had got anything right. She went mad. Made us all stay in till someone confessed. Malthorpe confessed that Hackle had done it. Nasty.’
‘She sounds weird.’
‘It took me a while to get used to her. But when I did—bang! I was off and running. Couldn’t get enough numbers to satisfy me. I became her favourite, I think. Clever little Five-Four, she’d call me. Didn’t that make Hackle and Malthorpe mad. Domino!’
‘Aw. Only got two left as well.’
‘Tough. Another game?’
‘Go on then. Got to be somewhere at one.’
‘Oh yes? A date?’
‘No! Well, yes…’
‘I never thought…’
‘Kind of—’
‘I mean…I always blamed myself…making you…what’s his name?’
‘Jaz.’
‘Jazz? What, like John Coltrane? Now there was a questing spirit.’
‘Who?’