In the high chambers, Bango the clown, High Sheriff and Chairman of the Morphean Committee reread the announcement. Winkworth, his able assistant, hovered in agitation by his side.
‘I can’t believe it!’ Bango said for the seventh time. His fist banged down upon the desk, making Winkworth polish his glasses in agitation. ‘Who do they think they are?’ The Chairman exclaimed. Winkworth prepared himself for another crash, but none came.
‘It is constitutional Sir.’ He said.
‘What does a Bogeyman know of constitutional, you people spend your lives lurking about in closets?’ Bango snapped.
Winkworth blew his nose in a way that conveyed the utmost hurt.
The Chairman softened his tone. ‘I know, I know, I’m sorry. You can recite the whole constitution from front to back. What is the second amendment on the fourth page?’
Winkworth blew his nose again noisily.
‘Come on. You know this, it’s an easy one.’ The Chairman coaxed.
There was another hurt nasal clearing.
‘Or perhaps I’m wrong?’ Bango wheedled.
‘Any member of the Morphean Committee shall not under any circumstances accept a goat, sheep or any other ruminant in lieu of services.’ Winkworth conceded.
‘There you go!’ Bango said, smiling, which was redundant as he perpetually had a big red smile painted on his face, and as a result, seldom bothered with the real thing.
Winkworth seemed mollified by the game.
‘But this!’ Bango waved the paper in the air. ‘This cannot be in the constitution!’
‘May I sir?’ Winkworth asked. The Chairman thrust the paper into his assistant’s hands and began to pace the floor. ‘It does seem to be in order, Sir.’ Winkworth said eventually.
‘But they want me to step down. After everything I have done for Morpheus, they want me to step down!’ He complained.
‘It is the end of your term, Sir.’ Winkworth said patiently.
‘I have barely begun. The things I can do, the plans I can make. I have hardly made a mark. Something has to be done. What is going to be my legacy if I am not here long enough to implement something really monumental?’ The clown wailed
‘Indeed, sir. But your term has come to an end.’ The Bogeyman reiterated.
The Chairman stopped mid-pace. ‘I am the Chairman. Surely if anyone can change the rules, if anyone can get rid of this silly idea that someone else should be elected, then I can be the person to do that?’
Winkworth stared over his glasses. ‘The constitution is most specific, my lord. That no one person should hold office for more than the designated period and following that time, in the first and second inst. should not be eligible for re-election until a period of at least four quarters has passed.’
‘I know what it says in the damned thing. What I need to know is where the loophole is. The idiots who came up with this must have had a get-out clause for such an event at this.’ Bango said, waving a glove expansively.
‘As this sir?’ Winkworth asked.
‘Yes, like this. When they clearly have a leader of such brilliance and insight that the pitifully short time in which they are given to rule…’
Winkworth interrupted. ‘Administrate sir.’
Bango waved his hand irritably. ‘Administrate. The pitiful short time that I have had to administrate it has not allowed me to show everyone what I can do fully. This could be a marvellous realm.’ The Chairman held his arm to his puffed-out chest and stared out his window, Winkworth followed his gaze. ‘As Chairman, I promised to make Morpheus a better place but is that enough? There could be so much more. The possibilities are endless. The humans, for example, they come here, free as you like, where is the benefit there for good honest Morphean citizens?’
‘Well… I…’ His assistant began.
‘You think too small Winkworth. Someone has to see the bigger picture, someone with a vision.’ He dropped his noble pose. ‘How long have I got left?’
Winkworth reread the paper. ‘You have a week until the Committee is due to convene and elect its new Chairman, the list of candidates is attached.’
‘Never mind those losers. I need to show them, show everyone how much of an asset I am, by the time that election comes around, they will be on their knees begging me to stay!’ Bango said.
Winkworth gaped. ‘What are you going to do, sir?’
‘Ah…’ Bango replied, tapping his red nose.
‘No, really sir, what are you going to do?’ Winkworth asked.
Bango tapped his nose again.
‘You have no idea just at the moment, do you sir?’ Winkworth said with a sigh.
‘Genius takes time Winkworth, just you wait and see.’ The Chairman sat back in his great chair and rested his feet upon the desk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he gazed out of the window. After a short while, Winkworth took this as his cue to leave. He was reasonably sure the Chairman had gone to sleep.
~~
In the police station, Sergeant Simpson stared at the empty space. ‘I can see its gone constable. What I need to know is where it has gone too?’
The young constable squirmed uncomfortably. ‘I… err, I don’t know Sergeant.’
‘So what you are telling me, constable, is that someone has walked into a police station, in broad daylight, has broken into an evidence locker without any sign of damage whatsoever. This Houdini has then locked everything up and walked out again laden down with several pieces of computer equipment and not one of the one hundred and seventy-five policemen and women who inhabit this building at any one time saw it happen?’
‘That’s about the size of it sarge.’ The constable said uncertainly.
‘Explain to me constable, how that could possibly happen?’ The young man scratched his head.
‘Beats me.’
‘Oh, it beats you does it?’ The sergeant leaned close so that his nose was barely an inch from the constable’s own. ‘I will tell you what I think happened shall I constable. Some bright spark has decided this dream machine whatsit was too good an opportunity to miss. They thought they would have a little play with it, which is how it came to be missing from this locker. They thought we wouldn’t notice, pop it back again before anyone realised it was missing. Well, my old sunshine, I have noticed. I want you to send out an email to every single person who might have even been near this station in the last few days. You tell them that I want this thing returned, undamaged within the next twenty-four… no, twelve hours, and, if it is returned, there will be no investigation, total amnesty. If it is not under lock and key within that time when I find the wise guy, and believe me, I will find him or her, they will be leaving here so fast that the door will not have time to hit him on the backside. Do I make myself clear?’
The constable nodded quickly.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Simpson growled.
With a start, the constable scampered to his workstation and began typing.
~~
The bus station was filled with people. They didn’t seem to have much to do except mill about and get in everybody else’s way. A woman tried to push through the crowd, but they seemed to press even more intensely together. The more she tried to force her way through the mass of bodies, the more they turned and barged her out of the way. Ahead she could see the big blue bus preparing to leave. In one of the windows, a young boy pressed his face to the glass. He had such a look of sorrow, his hands clawing at the window as his eyes begged to be rescued. The woman redoubled her efforts, whatever happened she knew she had to get to the boy. She had to stop the bus leaving somehow. More and more people were clustered around her. She tried to shout, tried to scream, clawing at the people, but no sound would come out of her mouth, and she made no progress. The bus began to move, tantalisingly slowly. Again she tried to call out, she waved her arms, but the driver did not, or would not see her. Panic began, she had to get there, and the boy depended on her and only her to rescue him. She could see tears streaming down his face as the bus moved further away. With a final push of determination the woman threw herself into the crowd, they began to part, far too slowly, but her will was strong, and gradually she was finally moving. The bus was still there. She could still catch it and save the boy.
But suddenly the people were gone, the bus, the boy, everything. All around was nothing. It was as if she had been wrapped in a fog. Everywhere was blank white space, so blinding it made her eyes water. She turned around to the same lack of anything, a complete nothingness. It was hard to tell which way was up or down. She didn’t seem to be standing on anything. Her feet stayed square more out of habit than anything else. The woman pointed her toes. There was no resistance, no ground at all. There was indeed nothing.
In the Realitas, a woman woke with a start. On her forehead, lay a light dew of cold sweat. She knew herself to be distressed rather than felt it. It was a worrying feeling that would stay with her.
~~
Getting out of bed, a man suddenly felt as light as air. He spread his wings and began to hover just a few inches above the ground. Encouraged, he tried to rise a little higher. Soon his head was touching the ceiling. He looked down at his sleeping wife. Courage filled the man. Floating over to the window, he lifted the latch and opened the pane as far as it would go. With a final look back, he stepped onto the window ledge and glanced down. The ground seemed now, far away. He felt his heart pumping, but there was a deep belief that everything would be alright. Spreading his arms wide and arching his neck, he stepped off the ledge.
As he opened his eyes, the man realised that he was still suspended in mid-air, his feet just next to the open window. He began to glide forwards, first slowly in little bursts. Then as the sensation filled him with joy, he began to get more ambitious. There were sweeps over the stream at the bottom of the garden. There were swoops through the trees at the end of the lane. He chased bats through the churchyard and raced owls looking for their supper. With each moment, the wind rushing through his hair became more addictive. The man believed that he would never again be happy on the ground. He began to spiral lazily back towards the house. His wife would have to come flying with him. She would be amazed at what her husband could do.
So, he had lost his job, so he felt she was disappointed in him, but he would show her, how many other men could fly! Just as he reached the open window, the man started to feel a little dizzy. He grabbed for the ledge just as his flying powers left him. Clinging on, he called to his wife to help him. She looked out of the window and began to say something, but it was in a language he did not understand. Her hand grabbed his wrist and began to pull him back into the bedroom. But then the hand was gone. The man started to panic. He would fall to the ground. But then he realised, the ground was gone, and for that matter, his wife and the bedroom were also no longer there. It wasn’t replaced with nothing rather than an absence of anything. His whole surroundings were simply not there as if they had never existed.
The man woke from his dream with a feeling of complete failure. For a few moments, he watched his wife sleep. There was a terrible feeling of loss that he couldn’t quite shake and he knew there was no chance of him going back to sleep.
~~
‘Tell me, how are you feeling?’ Dr Van Winkle asked the young woman in front of him. She sat bunched up on the couch. In her hands, she screwed and unscrewed a handkerchief.
‘Things have not been going very well…’ She said falteringly. ‘I am beginning to feel that everything is my fault. That I have to save James somehow?’
‘James is?’ The Doctor asked.
‘James is my son. I worry about him, you see. You hear so many stories.’ She said sadly.
‘That is understandable, for a mother to worry is perfectly natural.’ The doctor said calmly.
‘I realise that.’ The woman snapped. ‘I’m sorry Doctor, I didn’t mean to be cross. It’s just the last few days I have begun to worry and worry. It never used to be as bad as this. I just find that I can no longer bear to let my James out of my sight!’ She blew her nose noisily on the handkerchief.
‘Your fears are becoming irrational?’ He asked gently.
‘I am calling his school almost every hour. I make them check that he is ok. I even worry when he is in bed. I have to keep getting up to check that he is there, that he is breathing. I can’t remember the last time I had decent night’s sleep.’
The Doctor nodded sagely. ‘And tell me about the dreams you have when you do eventually sleep.’
She paused for a moment. ‘That is the odd thing doctor. I don’t have the dreams any more.’
‘Perhaps you are simply not remembering them?’ He asked.
She shook her head, emphatically. ‘No. There is a complete absence of dreaming. I wake up, and I know there are no dreams.’
Doctor Van Winkle leaned forward and took the woman's hands in his own. ‘I told you I would be able to help you. Please don’t worry. I have seen this kind of thing many times before. It will not be overnight if you will pardon the pun, but this is all part of the process. We will continue with the treatment, and before you know it, you will be able to lose your overprotection of young James.’
Comments