by L. T. Hewitt
Arthur sat at one of the seats in the centre of the audience, but eventually shifted more to the left. It seemed that working with everyone as equals was usually the best way to go about things. Arthur thought more and more about politics, as he had never done about anything before. But he knew why. He knew exactly why Quack had asked him to come here. It was because of the future. In the future, it would be of vital importance that he understood these things. He would need very strong views in the future. And Quack may not yet have understood why Arthur Cardigan had been sent there, but deep down He knew. Deep down, he was waiting, remembering, planning, all for the day when all would be revealed.
Chapter 31
The Space Chicken, Fred Jr and Michael Rowland Daffodil collected some planks of wood. They also had some nails and hammers and a lot of glue. A few Centihaca later, the Speedvan was driving off towards the Fez, with the added appendage of a form of scaffolding or trellis attached to its left side. And, with a quick drive and swerve round to the front of the Fez – the side currently opposed to that which was having its buttons pushed by the people of Britain – the extension was firmly ground on the Fez. The Speedvan was no longer driving, the Fez was pushing it along on the course Nekken.
“You find your spot on the Fez, Clint and Clein,” said Michael Rowland Daffodil, “and so do we.”
And so the twins, having rucksacks – and so all their food and bedding – with them, settled down for the night on their ledge, discussing plans of what they would do tomorrow, on their final day of waiting before they could fully take the Fez.
The rest of the group, too, formulated a plan for the succeeding time block. It consisted mostly of sleeping. As their vehicle was now attached to the Fez and so would always travel in the right direction, the Space Chicken, Fred Jr and Michael Rowland Daffodil had no need to get up early to follow it; they could rest easily, knowing that they would always be with the Fez. And so they discussed how there would be just one more day of this, of following around a box, hoping no-one would open it and could be escorted away by the twins. One more day, then peace would return to the prophet, his son and his hostage.
And the talk and the sleep was the second day.
Chapter 32
At five Haca, Michael Rowland Daffodil, the Eternal Space Chicken of the Sacred Quack, Fred Jr, Clint and Clein started journeying Nekken. Around ten Haca, they woke up. It was a peaceful life, briefly, but this was to be the final day of it.
Clint and Clein discovered that, during the procession of people pressing buttons below them and some of them sinking downwards, they had lost the high perch they’d held earlier and would soon be on the ground. Because of this, they decided they had to do more ascending of the Fez. They scrambled up – carefully, making sure not to press any buttons as they went. They were now resting well above the crowd and peering down at the masses of people who had turned up to witness, to touch, to hold the Fez.
“What will happen if they slip and press some of the buttons?” the Space Chicken asked as he watched the twins crawling up the Fez.
“If they falter now, then this whole journey shall have been in vain,” Michael Rowland Daffodil commented, not sure whether or not the question had been directed towards him and so answering in a way that denied there had been a question and claimed to be a statement in its own right.
‘It would not entirely be in vain; they would have had their shot at opening the Fez, each pressing at least one button as they tumbled,’ said Fred Jr. ‘You have begun to think under the impression that the only meaningful quest would be one which allowed permanent residence on the object for achieving the goal. It has changed for you.’
Such wisdom. Such beautiful words. Michael Rowland Daffodil had only one thing to say. He turned to the Space Chicken and uttered, “The Egg can talk?”
“It depends upon your definition of talking. What is talking, really?”
“There are so many things that can be defined as talking.”
“You don’t have to keep doing that. Contorting your language; we’re friends and we can talk freely. I am addressing these questions to you and you can answer them if you wish.”
“‘We’re friends’? I find that difficult to believe.”
“Why?” asked the Space Chicken in bewilderment. He could not think of any reasonable reason not to consider themselves well acquainted.
“I’m your hostage.”
The Space Chicken’s face dropped. “That’s a matter of necessity,” he informed the hostage abruptly.
Michael Rowland Daffodil – the hostage he had been sent to capture at a pious request, then instructed to release, not that a prophet could ever fall for such foolishness from a god – opened his mouth to speak. The Space Chicken expected him to utter another trivial plea for ‘freedom’, but received a shock when instead Michael Rowland Daffodil asked, “Why are you still here? You still have me captured. Are you going to do anything with me?”
“Michael Rowland Daffodil, you need to be found guilty and I need to find out how to punish you.”
“That’s rather archaic. Why not take me to court, or whatever, now?”
“Because,” explained the Eternal Space Chicken of the Sacred Quack, “we still have to be here for Clint and Clein.”
“Do we? They’ve already made it to the Fez. We know that tomorrow they’ll take it away on their own. Do we still have anything to look back for?”
“We have to make sure their transport stays alongside them until they find a new way of travel,” the Space Chicken said. “Their transport being the Speedvan and its replacement being the Fez.”
“So when they’re done waiting, we can have a go at the Fez ourselves, pressing a button each when we’re free to leave the twins?”
“Ha ha, you’re not getting away that easily. We need to take the Speedvan back to Oprah and the Humnian Musicians. It’s a borrowed vehicle from the cargo hold of the Spaceboat.”
The Space Chicken looked back at the Fez’s human glow. The twins had settled on a perch at the back of the Fez. They weren’t the focus of his attention any more. It was the crowd. That huge, swelling crowd of people eager to open the Fez. The Space Chicken could only see the edge of it around the Fez, but there were innumerable there. Anyone of them could be David Gratton and he wouldn’t be able to tell. He thought of shouting the name. He decided against this.
“David Gratton!”
He went against his own decisions. There was no response. The would-be opener of the Fez would undoubtedly be using a different name by now. He couldn’t be foolish enough to still be calling himself Dave. And Dave – the Dave, the only Dave that ‘Dave’ would ever be to the Space Chicken – was proven false. He was the Dave, but he was not the David Gratton. And what about Michael Rowland Daffodil? The stranger. He had been invited into their lives, their changing accommodation, their transport. The one the Space Chicken was just beginning to trust. What did the Space Chicken know about him? Nothing. And even that nothing could be a lie. For all the Space Chicken knew, he could be the one to open the Fez.
But there was just one day left. Provided David Gratton didn’t show up, and provided Michael Rowland Daffodil didn’t turn out to be him, all would be fine. Tomorrow, after Oprah and Calvin had left their home – thus making Clint and Clein homeless – the Fez could be fully handed over to Clint and Clein. They would press every button on that thing until it was opened. By them, not by David Gratton. They were writing history. But not yet. It was the end of the last day of the Space Chicken and Fred Jr’s journey. They only had to hope nothing would go wrong.
The Space Chicken settled down for the night, wrapped up in all the blankets he had, and said to his son, “I guess all we can do now is wait.”
Chapter 33
On Glix, a day has fifteen Haca. Glix is numerically a very commensurate planet, having islands that are geometrically shaped, a metric system of measurement, and timing based on the number 100. As such, Glix’ns often feel the day should be
gin at 0 Haca. This is a great starting point. It is also a great ending point. It is also a great ending point, as it means the day has come full circle. This means that, (originally at least) Glix’ns would stay up from 0 Haca until the fictitious 16 Haca (in fact the second coming of 0 Haca), at which point – it being a new day after all – they would get up at 0 Haca for the day ahead. After a globally embarrassingly long time, the Glix’ns realised that they needed sleep (5 Haca of it) and were left divided as to whether 0 Haca should be getting up time or going to bed time.
The Space Chicken had lived on Glix for a long time, and, after having experimented with both ideas, and other, more complex, suggestions, he came up with one simple mantra: sleep where possible.
The Space Chicken had been sleeping where possible and, after their day of observing others being active (all of which made him feel very tired), had finally begun to sleep at 13 Haca. Clint and Clein followed suit. And Fred Jr never really had much to say in the matter. But one of the group’s members wasn’t sleeping. Michael Rowland Daffodil had never tried that night. Instead, he left the Speedvan, taking care not to wake any of the others, and walked towards the Fez.
Michael Rowland Daffodil stood before the mighty Fez. He could press a button. Nothing would stand in his way. The Eternal Space Chicken of the Sacred Quack didn’t understand. He thought someone called David Gratton was going to come along and open it. Why? He was so utterly convinced of it, all because Quack had told him so. And how many times had Quack been wrong before? Never trust religion. – that’s what Michael Rowland Daffodil had learnt. Time wasn’t set. History hadn’t been made yet, despite what the Space Chicken and Quack might think. Michael Rowland Daffodil was here to make it. There was nothing to stop him – no restrictions socially, mentally or physically. Those were the usual barriers. He could ignore what people thought or what he felt. But physical ineptitude was usually what stopped him. Now no-one else was there. Even if these factors had at one point presented a restriction, there was nothing at the point in which Michael Rowland Daffodil stood to stand in his way.
Michael Rowland Daffodil stroked the Fez. He walked up to it, and stroked it. He liked the feel of its buttons. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. He just wanted to feel the material that was unlike any other. There was nothing wrong with that. And so there could be nothing wrong with pushing one of its buttons, and taking a chance on the Fez. What, after all, is a push but a strong touch.
But it wouldn’t be taking a chance. It could never be. He was certain. Everyone else was wrong. He was the only one who could open the Fez. And he would do so and discover what was inside.
Michael Rowland Daffodil was about to open the Fez. And there would be no-one there to stop him.
Chapter 34
The Space Chicken woke up. Late. But time wasn’t a concern of his; at least, not the time of day. The day was, though, and early that morning Oprah and Clein had sold their house. This was great, of course, because of what it meant about the Fez. The Fez here being the primary issue of the day.
The Space Chicken looked at where the Fez wasn’t. The place where the Fez wasn’t was everywhere around him, which meant that the Space Chicken had to put in a lot of work. In any case, the Fez wasn’t there.
“What the Tartarus has happened?” asked the Space Chicken.
“I deem that an acceptable form of blasphemy,” said Quack. “But I am still unsure where the Fez is, unfortunately.”
“Couldn’t you just check? That is your job.”
“Couldn’t you just watch it? That is your job⸮ I thought you were meant to be keeping an eye on it. That shouldn’t be too hard, given you are a Chicken. Your eyes are on the sides of your head and they are in a set position.”
“I ought to define that as Racism.”
“What did you just say?” squawked Margery. “‘Racism’ should not be spelt with a capital ‘R’.”
“Hello, mother. I just thought, ‘Y’know, seeing as “Chicken” has a capital “C”.’”
“That does not mean all words relating to our species should be capitalised. Also, I am thoroughly against that particular contraction of ‘you’ and ‘know’. It is an abbreviation I despise.”
“I thought you dispose all abbreviations.”
“My point remains undiminished. And ‘dispose’ is something very different to ‘despised’. I had best stop now, lest we use up all quotation marks.”
“Also,” said Quack, returning to the original topic at wing, “it’s not racist or Racist: I was merely stating a fact about your anatomy.”
“So,” said the Space Chicken, “as a result of my calling You, I have discovered that You know nothing about what might offend me or where the Fez is. You have failed at all the few things I may have wanted to expect from You.”
“Look, if you want to find the Fez, why don’t you just drive a few kilometres ahead, and you’ll probably discover people have been moving it along without you. Don’t complain to me every time something moves; that’s the whole reason I made stuff. To move.”
“No, you don’t understand. We created a sort of trellis—”
“A trellis?”
“Yes, a trellis. And—”
“Did you—?”
“Yes, we’ve been growing tomatoes along it. Very funny,” said the Space Chicken, not laughing. “We used this trellis to attach the Fez and the Speedvan. So wherever the Fez moved, we’d move.”
“Just drive on ahead and I’m sure you’ll catch up with the Fez.”
“I can’t do that. In order to control the Speedvan, I’d need Michael Rowland Daffodil. And he’s not here because he’s probably the one who opened the Fez and is off with its treasured evil contents that will bring about the end of the world!”
“You’re getting worked up again. Calm down. You probably just became detached. Check the trellis for any signs of damage.”
The Space Chicken went to follow out Quack’s advice, then became aware of his great mistake, possibly one of the top ten greatest he’d made on this trip so far. The Speedvan wasn’t missing and he hadn’t noticed. He looked around, bleary-eyed, and discovered he was sat in a small hovel, which he now interpreted to be a café.
Quack had no idea where the Speedvan was, so the Space Chicken hung up and nervously headed out the café and in the location he calculated to be Nekken, his son (whom it seemed couldn’t succomb to the wearying effects of existence) flying alongside him. It was vitally important he got the Speedvan back. After all, they had been given in by Oprah in Wales in the first place, then it had been taken again by a past version of her, last time they had pressed buttons on the Fez. The Speedvan as it now existed was borrowed from the cargo hold of the Spaceboat, moments before the Dave, the twins, the Egg and the Space Chicken had received it. Now was the day when Clint and Clein were free. They could have the Fez, but the Space Chicken needed the Speedvan; if he didn’t return it to that moment in Wales, they could never have given it to Oprah, so they wouldn’t have it now.
But giving the Fez to the twins would no longer be possible (the Space Chicken began to cry as he thought of this, dashing along to the Fez with his son by his side and his hostage taking over the world), unless the Fez was still unopened, unless – by some faint stroke of luck – enthusiastic tourists had taken the Space Chicken and Fred Jr out the Speedvan before moving the Fez. No, that wasn’t plausible. The Fez was gone. The Space Chicken strode swiftly Nekken, hoping without hope that the implausible was true, but knowing without knowledge it wasn’t. And why would they remove Chicken and Chick, yet take Michael Rowland Daffodil along with them?
That was it, of course. Michael Rowland Daffodil had opened the Fez. He probably was David Gratton. Either way, he’d done something terrible. Why couldn’t the Space Chicken just have stopped him when he had the chance?
The Speedvan was gone, too. He’d lost everything. It was more than just its loss that was worrying. If the loop was broken, then the Speedvan never existed, at leas
t not in the Fez-followers’ timeline. The Speedvan would be destroyed or lost if the Fez’s kidnapper put a foot wrong. Then it could never be handed back to Oprah, as the Space Chicken had hoped. So the group’s arrival in Wales hadn’t been met with a reward, but with a rejection and a long walk to BongVe Bong. And the twins’ eventual second trip to the Fez would be postponed, Quack wouldn’t have been able to send the Speedvan, the Space Chicken and Fred Jr wouldn’t be travelling with Clint and Clein, and they would never have met Michael Rowland Daffodil, for better or for worse, probably both. David Gratton would have got to the Fez before them. That is, assuming he hadn’t already.
This, the Space Chicken decided, was the world when it had shifted to accommodate these changes. He had waited too long and now time had lost interest, realising that David Gratton hadn’t been stopped, and accepting the terrible, destroyed version.
But, again, more importantly, the Speedvan. Its chronological destruction would mean more than just farther to walk. If it were taken out of the system, Oprah would never have travelled back in time and set up Carpe Yolu FezFans, the group telling them how to go about chasing the Fez. Yes, they already had their own intentions and FezFans didn’t actually help, but the important thing was that it was there. If FezFans hadn’t existed, then the group would never have formed. Clint and Clein would still know each other, obviously, but that was about it. The Space Chicken would never have met Dave, Dave would never have met the Space Chicken, the twins would know each other, but would never have met either the Space Chicken or Dave – Fred Jr might never have existed, and that was a thought that terrified the Space Chicken. And, of course, it all came down to a paradox. It had to. Whenever anything relating to time-travel went wrong, it resulted in a paradox. This was quite a basic one: if the Speedvan never existed, Oprah could never have brought the group together, but if the group had never been brought together, they could never have destroyed the Speedvan and prevented Oprah bringing them together. There would be other paradoxes nestled in there, but the Space Chicken hadn’t worked them out yet. In summary, if the Speedvan was damaged now, it would rip a hole in the space-time continuum.