by Jeff Noon
Along twisting pathways the blurb led him, down darkened passageways, invisible corners. Along parts of the maze Hackle never knew existed. Finally, to a place he had forbidden himself for many, many years.
A small room it was, cut off from the rest, only accessed by the most secret knowledge. Hackle, with torch in hand, playing it over a portion of the floor, slightly discoloured. The professor made a few magical equations over the grave. Here lies the body of Georgie Horn.
His knowledge lives on.
To the house of Dopejack. Let’s follow Joe back from the funeral and the comforting of a lover’s parents. Let’s see that bedroom once again, where Dopejack was killed by Benny, where Daisy and Jazir are now making love on Dopejack’s bed. Frank Scenario is watching from the screen saver, that silly dance of his, mutating. Blurbfly Masala was hovering over their twisted equation. Daisy and Jazir are lost in the spirals, when Daisy starts screaming and Jazir wonders if he’s doing it right at last. ‘Jazir!’
That’s right, it’s me, it’s happening…’
‘The computer…’
‘What?’
‘It’s changing.’
Jazir pulls out (yeah, that mad for it) and runs to the screen, where Frank Scenario carries a new face.
‘Who is it?’ Daisy asks.
‘Miss Sayer.’
‘Oh…’
It wasn’t the face that Daisy expected: too young, a construct of eternal youth perhaps, a vanity program.
‘What does she want?’
‘Let her speak.’
Miss Sayer’s words appeared as typescript on the screen, issuing from her animated mouth. Time now. Grab wings. Come get. Rescue.’
‘Miss Sayer, wait…’
But the woman had already vanished, and Frank disappeared with her as Jazir hit the space bar. The cursor was clockless, at last, blinking like a drunk rudely dragged from sleep.
‘We’re in!’ cried Daisy.
‘You betcha.’
Jazir worked the mouse to pull open the hard disk, but the thing was a blank page, no windows, no knowledge. Before their eyes came an icon, dissolving out of the memory banks.
‘What is it?’ asked Daisy.
‘Miss Sayer. Didn’t I tell you, Daze. She’s unerasing…’
‘Press on it then.’
Did so. A file came up, dated the Friday just gone. Once opened, this revealed the workings of Dopejack on the evening of his death. Daisy and Jazir watched amazed as the computer worked itself backwards, deeper into the hidden depths of the AnnoDomino channel.
‘DJ was puzzled by the dancing patterns of the Joker,’ said Daisy.
‘Yeah, something got to him.’
They reached the point where Dopejack had called up his own screen saver, and then fed it back on the Joker’s dance.
‘Why’s he doing that?’ asked Daisy.
‘I don’t know. It’s weird. Why Frank?’
A door opened, marked NO ACCESS, and through it a blurb travelled. The history of the Joker Bone scrolled on to the screen. Real name: George Horn.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Jazir. ‘I thought he was dead.’
‘He is. Malthorpe stole the info from the maze, remember? After he was killed, Malthorpe took copies of everything: the maze, the nymphomation, the version of Georgie that lived in the hard disk. The wanderer.’
‘So Malthorpe has used this program to construct the Joker Bone image?’
‘I think so.’
‘Best get the others.’
‘Shall we put some clothes on first?’
Daisy rounded up Joe and Celia and her father. The latter, of course, went crazy when he saw the George Horn knowledge. ‘Fucking hell! He did it. Malthorpe actually managed it. He brought Georgie back alive.’
‘Not alive, not really,’ said Daisy, ‘only an animation.’
‘So who’s going round town pretending to be the Joker then,’ said Joe. ‘Since when could an animation kill people?’
‘I think I know,’ said Jimmy. ‘It’s to do with the nymphomation. Somehow, Malthorpe has found a way to release it from the computer, into reality. The knowledge is passed on.’
‘Dopejack’s message!’ cried Daisy. ‘About how he had to bite somebody.’
‘That’s it. It’s through a bite.’
‘I know that’s right,’ said Jazir, rubbing at his wrist, already feeling the blurb-wings beat on his shoulder blades.
‘So who did Dopejack bite?’ asked Joe. ‘And who’s the Joker Bone now?’
Nobody could answer. But Joe was thinking to himself, No more biting…
Dopejack left a desperate hidden message. Did Benny also? Joe pulled the folded paper out of his pocket. ‘Close all channels: connect to zero.’
‘I think it was Benny,’ he said.
‘Benny what?’ asked Jazir.
‘Benny who got bitten by Dope. I think Benny was the Joker Bone. That’s why he killed himself.’
He explained why, and then realized that Hackle was in that hospital ward at the end, along with Crawl, a domino official.
‘Shit!’
‘What?’
‘Hackle. Max Hackle. I’m sure…’
‘What’s happening?’ asked Celia, because the search on the screen was not yet over. All five Dark Fractals were gathered in a half circle, as last Friday’s Dopejack (deceased) forced open another door.
‘He’s calling up something called DANCING MASTER,’ noted Daisy.
Jazir was already aware of what was happening. He stepped back slightly from the circle, not wanting to know.
‘Jaz,’ said Daisy, ‘according to this, the Joker was taught how to dance by Frank Scenario. Isn’t that weird? That’s why he was consulting the screen saver. Jaz?’
Jaz wasn’t answering.
‘Jaz? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s his hero, isn’t it?’ said Celia.
‘Some hero,’ said Joe, laughing.
‘It’s OK,’ said Daisy. ‘Just because…doesn’t mean…Mr Million could have just copied Frank’s dance for the Joker. He doesn’t have to be involved. Frank’s still cool. He’s the coolest man in the universe. Jaz…’
Jazir was shaking his head from side to side. ‘Please,’ he was whispering. ‘Please don’t let it…’
‘I know what’s bothering him,’ said Daisy’s father. ‘When Dopejack was bitten by the Joker, I think he would have got all the knowledge the Joker owned. This would include the secrets of the dominoes. Who Mr Million was. His real name…’
‘But that’s OK,’ said Daisy. ‘He said it was Adam Jagger. Another kid from Hackle’s class. Isn’t it?’
‘I’m trying to remember this kid,’ said her father. ‘Adam Jagger? There’s nothing there, no weight. He certainly wasn’t a major player.’
‘Well he is now,’ said Joe, getting the connection. ‘No wonder Frank always wore that stupid hat and the dark glasses.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Daisy.
‘Frank wasn’t being cool. He was hiding himself. Right, Jaz?’
Daisy got it then, and all she could do was look at Jazir and want to hold him, knowing that holding him wouldn’t do any good.
Jazir finally had to laugh. ‘Mr Million is Adam Jagger, is Frank Scenario. I always wondered what his real name was.’
At that moment the young Miss Sayer came back on screen. She was staring at Jazir, and the poor boy was drawn to her eyes, to her eyes full of pain. ‘GET ME OUT!’ Can a line of type scream? Jazir felt it. But what to do about it? The wings unfurling, invisible.
Daisy’s father knew what to do; down on his knees, he went, praying to the image, pulling out his old domino.
‘Miss Sayer…Miss Sayer…’
‘Oh, it’s you, Five-Four. Shall we begin?’
The Joker bit Nigel and Nigel bit Dopejack and Dopejack bit Benny and Benny bit Hackle, and all five of them got a call that night. It was Joe Crocus, asking to speak to Max…
This is Max.’
&
nbsp; ‘Oh, sorry. Joe here. Didn’t recognize your voice.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I know what’s happening, Max.’
‘Nothing’s happening.’
‘Don’t do it, Max. Don’t pass it on.’
‘Stay out of this, Joe. I…’
‘Max! We can get you help—’
‘I don’t need help. I’m dealing with it. Don’t mess with me, Joe. Don’t come anywhere near me. This is mine.’
‘Max!’
Joker Bone slammed down the phone, and how could Max resist.
Down in the cellar, he worked for an hour on the computer, trying to add the Theseus equations to the maze. Every attempt met with a crash, as the Joker worked against him. Reaching into the program, corrupting it, protecting his home.
Max gave up. His head was buzzing with rival info.
There was only one way to end it. One real way. The bifurcation less travelled. Go manual. Kill.
Midnight on the Thursday, as the next day began, Maximus Hackle walked over the boundary of the House of Chances. The blurbs parted to let him through, forming a beating phalanx of breath and message.
Play to win! Play to win! Play to win!
Hackle walked through this dark fluttering tunnel, totally at ease.
At the giant dominoed doors of the building, Chief Executive Crawl was waiting to greet him. ‘Welcome, Professor. Right this way. Mr Million is expecting you.’
Hackle walked through the doors, smiling.
Final chances.
Game 46
’Twas nine-ish, and the slimy hordes did clack and gamble in the wave. All dotty were the game-parades, and the telebox did crave. ‘Beware the Dominock, my daught, the pips that on young chances feed! Beware the House of Bone and shun the Mr Millipede!’ She took her blurbfly vert in hand—long time the Cookie Luck she sought—so played the game in ones and twos, and threes and fours, five, six and nought. And, as in blankish gaze she swayed, the Dominock, with spots for eyes, came dancing from the House of Bone, his prey to hypnotize. One, two! Three, four! And in and out, the blurb did advertise. Five, six and nought! She cut it dead, and went off running with the prize. ‘And hast thou won the double-six? My favourite lucky bleeder! O dotty day! The bones to play! You’ve become the Millipeder!’
’Twas nine-ish, and the spotty numbs did gamb and dumble in the games. All pippy were the domisums, and the telebox in flames.
Game 46. Fathers sang this song to daughters; mothers to sons, using jangling domino toys to lull their babes to sleep.
The people of good Mazechester, wild-eyed and lost.
Allow them play.
Blurbvert surrender; let the messages come. Singing time.
The burgercops, searching for clues and easiness? Allow them play. The House of Chances, the Mr Million, the minions and the millions? Allow them play. The homeless and the aimless? Allow them play. Tommy Tumbler and the gorgeous Cookie Luck? Allow them play.
The Dark Fractals? Jazir Malik and Daisy and her father and Celia and Joe?
Allow them play.
Nigel Zuze and DJ Dopejack and Sweet Benny and Georgie Horn and Big Eddie Irwell, and all the rest of the dead? And the Joker Bone and Professor Hackle? It’s the things we miss that make us wish…
Allow them play. Allow them ghosts.
All the underachievers, the desperate and the wild; the users, the losers, the self-abusers; the closet queens, the wardrobe kings; the mix-masters, the fixers, the mix ’n’ matchers; dead-enders, big spenders, low-enders, pretenders to the bone; the pros and the knows and the job-blows; the drunks and the skunks and the hunks; the survivors, the suiciders; the morticians, the mathematicians; bimbos and criminals; rich men, poor men, beggar men, thieves; the nameless and the gameless…
All the citizens, good and bad.
Allow them play. Allow them numbers.
The game began at midnight previous for the Dark Fractals. The night, the early morning, long hours spent in planning and research. Everything they had learned in their individual ways was shared. Miss Sayer was consulted time and again, but her appearance only came at random, and then she seemed to be constricted, as though something was blocking her progress. Only a few words—wings, help, me, grab, come, find, maze—were allowed play upon her broken tongue. Jazir had explained to Jimmy how the teacher had chosen him, nurtured him over years. ‘That’s my girl,’ agreed Jimmy. They were both keen to enter the House of Chances, however difficult it proved; one to rescue the teacher, the other to confront Mr Million. Only Jazir had a chance to gain entrance. It was agreed, therefore, that Jimmy would lead the maze-play.
They slept, each of the Fractals fitfully, except for Little Celia, who dreamed herself happy along dangerous streets, with a smile on her lips and a laugh, a winning bone and Big Eddie Irwell at her side. At seven in the morning, Joe called Hackle’s house again. No answer. He had called repeatedly through the night, always no answer, no answer. He drove the team over there, because Miss Sayer and Jimmy demanded it, but he was scared inside. He still had the key. The house was empty, they made sure of that, even the cellar. But the presence of the Joker Bone was palpable; the entire place was in ruins, with clothes and books and papers strewn everywhere.
Poor Max…
‘If only I’d seen it earlier,’ Joe said, ‘in Benny, and then in Max, I could have done something.’
‘Where is he?’ asked Daisy.
‘Out hunting.’
They spent the day in preparation, with Joe helping Jimmy in the cellar. The equipment had been well used over the last few days, that was evident. Jimmy surmised that Hackle had got the maze going, and had conducted his own experiments. Trouble was, he’d only patched it together roughly. There were lots of blind spots in the Hackle Maze that no amount of fiddling would fix. Miss Sayer came on-line to help. She pulled up a new maze behind her.
‘OK, we’re on target,’ said Jimmy.
‘Is that it?’ Joe asked.
‘The inside of the House of Chances. Now, let’s see…’ Jimmy worked a few keys, and the two mazes merged into one. ‘OK, we’re connected.’
Jimmy pulled down a menu, and pressed on THESEUS. A new window opened, and floating within it, a tiny icon, a ball of twine, a sword.
That’s what I load?’ asked Joe. ‘How does it work?’
Jimmy nodded. ‘Theseus was the Greek hero who killed the Minotaur in the labyrinth of—’
‘Come on. I’ve been to school.’
‘Max and I worked on this. It was a way to seal a Hackle Maze, should it go wrong. Sometimes the wanderers would become too mutated, too powerful, they would bleed into the hard disk, crashing the whole thing. The Theseus equation was designed to prevent this; it feeds a bad gene into the nymphomation, creating sterility. The only problem is…’
‘Don’t tell me, you never got it to work.’
‘We tried. I activated it that night, with Georgie…tried to save him…hopeless. We’ve tried to improve it since, but…’
‘Hopeless.’
‘Jazir has fed the Theseus to one of his blurbs, and that’s another unknown. I’ve looked at the system, it could go down at any second. Miss Sayer has done all she can, but she’s weak, she may not be able to keep it open for long. And remember who owns the net. They’re gonna realize, eventually, that someone’s breaking in. They’ll shut us down, God knows what else. You’ll be in charge of the computer. Don’t activate the Theseus till I say. The last moment. Got that? Nine o’clock. When they’re busiest.’
‘I’m not a Georgie, you know?’
‘No. And you never will be. And pray to God that Jazir manages to get through.’
But Joe’s mind was only filled with Benny and Dopejack and Max, and what the bones had done to them all. That was his mission now.
Sometime after lunch, Daisy took Celia into the damaged library. The kid had never seen so many books, seen so many pages tattered and torn and strewn all over the floor. Most of them were mathematic
al texts, rich and heavy with a foreign language of squiggles and shapes. Celia pulled a rare book, not destroyed, down from a shelf and flicked through it.
‘Is this your world?’ she asked.
Daisy was caught off guard. ‘Yes…I suppose it is.’
‘What country is it?’
‘Erm…Numberland.’
‘Wow!’ Celia slammed the book shut, raising a cloud of dust. ‘Maybe I’ll go there one day.’
‘You should.’
‘Will you teach me? How do you start?’
Daisy thought for a moment. ‘Have you ever played dominoes?’
‘I play every Friday, silly.’
‘No, I mean the real dominoes.’
‘There’s more than one kind?’
‘Wait right there.’
Daisy left the room. Celia wandered around a bit more, pausing here and there to study some incomprehensible title. So many books! Perhaps all the books in the world were here. But why, oh why did they all seem to be in another language? Perhaps it was a secret code, and all you had to do was find the key. Perhaps the key opened a door. Perhaps the door led to another world, a better world? She found another book then, undamaged, and one that she understood perfectly.
Daisy came back carrying her father’s set of dominoes. ‘Are you ready to play, Celia?’
‘Yes, please.’
Daisy started to set up the game. ‘What’s that you’re looking at?’
‘We used to have this book at home.’
‘Really, was it your father’s?’
‘No. My sister’s. It was her favourite.’
‘I didn’t know you had a sister.’
‘You don’t know everything, do you?’
‘What’s the book?’
Celia showed her. ‘It’s great, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, it’s a kid’s book. I’ve never read it.’
‘You’ve never read it! What kind of childhood did you have?’
‘Oh…you know…I was more interested in numbers than words.’
‘There are numbers in here.’
‘There are?’
‘Of course. It was my sister’s favourite because she thought it was about her. Silly sausage. She’d have these fantasies where we’d both be posh girls and end up in the book, and have strange adventures together.’