Robert Rankin - Necrophenia

‘But the problem for the Ministry was Crowley’s vanity. He created six children, as he styled himself the Beast Six-Six-Six.’

‘Two died, Tyler, only two. Not three, as you were told. Four survived: Elvis, Darren McMahon – who grew up in the Ministry and is its present controller, myself – the true Homunculus, and you, Tyler, boy number four, not really one thing or the other. The dull one of the family. And there’s always a dull one, isn’t there?’

‘I’m not dull,’ I complained. ‘I’m as interesting as you.’

‘As me? I’m nothing less than the frigging Antichrist. One of your brothers runs the most powerful occult organisation in the world and the other one was frigging Elvis Presley. And you’re not dull, compared to your brothers?’

‘Stop with the frigging,’ I said. ‘But I suppose if you put it like that. If it were true that I’m your brother, which it isn’t. And I’m not.’

‘You are, Tyler. Mr Ishmael knew it. Captain Lynch knows it. Frig, Tyler, Captain Lynch attended the ceremony that brought you and me into being. He is a disciple of Aleister Crowley’s.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t believe it. Captain Lynch is a good man.’

‘A good man? He’s been humping your mum for decades.’

‘Ha!’ I said. ‘What a giveaway. My mum, you said. That’s my real mum, not some sacrificial virgin of Crowley’s.’

‘Same woman,’ said Papa Crossbar. ‘Has it never occurred to you what a weirdo your – I mean our – mum is?’

‘Which isn’t to say-’ I began.

But he stopped me. ‘It is to say,’ he said. ‘You are special, Tyler. And you have some of your brothers’ gifts. Elvis got all the charisma, I make no bones about that. I got all of the evil, as befits my status. You got your share of magic, though. You’re a magical individual, a little bit of a Doctor Strange, aintcha, though?’

‘I have one or two mystical tricks up my sleeve,’ I said, and I blew onto my fingernails and buffed them upon my lapel. Which is not something you see every day nowadays, is it?

Although it’s not particularly mystical.

‘You perfected the Tyler Technique,’ said Papa Crossbar – or did all this make him brother Crossbar to me? I thought I’d just stick with Papa Crossbar.

‘Yes, I did,’ I said. ‘The Tyler Technique. I did perfect that. And it was all my very own idea.’

‘Well-’ went Papa Crossbar.

‘What?’ I said.

‘Never mind. Let’s say yes, it was all your own idea. Well done.’

‘So is that it?’ I asked. ‘Is that all, or do you have anything else you wish to share with me?’

Papa Crossbar did scratchings of the head with the barrel of my gun. ‘I can’t think of anything else,’ he said. ‘Unless there is anything you’d like to know.’

‘Anything I’d like to know?’ And I shouted this, I know I did. ‘Anything I’d like to know? Well, I wouldn’t mind knowing why you want to wipe out all life on Earth. You might try explaining to me just what the point of that would be and what could possibly be in it for you.’ And then I took deep breaths to steady myself. Not that deep breaths ever really do. Mostly they just make you dizzy.

‘Well,’ said Papa Crossbar. And he twirled my pistol on his guntotin’ finger. ‘That is the point of all this, after all, isn’t it? So yes, allow me to explain.’ And he did so.

‘You see,’ said he, ‘Planet Earth is a frightful aberration. It has all this life all over it. And I do mean all over, down to the tiniest single-celled whatnot. It’s all so busy busy busy, everything whirling away and making so much noise. The sound of it all! Have you ever heard of the Music of the Spheres?’ I nodded that I had. ‘Complete silence, that music. It’s more in the nature of mime. The universe is a great big interlinked body, all completely at peace with itself, this thing moving sedately about that thing, in perfect harmony and perfect silence… because these things are dead. But here! On this planet! Noise noise noise. And fuss and bother. And the smell! You can smell Planet Earth as far away as Saturn, did you know that? So it all has to stop.’

‘And so you are intending to exterminate all life on Earth?’

‘Yes, because Earth is the pest hole of life. There is no other planet that supports life. And once all life here is gone, then Universal Harmony will return. Look upon me as an ecowarrior, with a far higher calling.’

‘Higher calling?’ And I laughed. ‘You cannot be talking about God. God created life on this planet. What right have you to destroy it?’

‘God?’ There was laughter from the Homunculus. ‘Perhaps it has escaped your notice, Tyler, but God ceased to be hands-on at the end of the Old Testament. He lost interest in His little playthings. He gave His Son the run of the New Testament, but did all that poverty and misery and war stuff end? Of course it didn’t. Mankind is a mess. A blot on the Universal landscape. You can look upon me also as God’s little helper, sorting out the mess that He made of everything. Restoring peace to the Universe.’

‘And say you did,’ I said. ‘Say that you do your terrible magic, and through so doing wipe out every living thing on Earth. What of you? It will be rather dull for you, won’t it? And won’t you be the last living annoyance? Will you be snuffing yourself out to create complete Universal Harmony?’

‘I will merge into the blackness, into the Universal Silence. I will become at one with the Universe. I will become the Universe.’

‘What a load of old cobblers,’ I said.

‘I don’t expect you to be able to understand. But have no fear, I have given the matter considerable thought. I know what I’m doing.’

‘Do you?’ I said. ‘Do you really? Well, I think you have forgotten one thing. God may be hands-off and all that kind of business, but one thing I have learned is that you can trust some books of prophecy. And I’ll just bet you can trust John’s account of the Revelation.’

The Homunculus nodded, thoughtfully.

‘Things have to be done in a certain order. The great wild beast coming out of the sea. The woman clothed with the sun. All that Ray Harryhausen stuff. God isn’t going to like it if you try to cut straight to the chase and leave out all that prophesied stuff.’

‘You have a very good point there, Tyler,’ said Papa Crossbar. ‘A very good point indeed.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I have you on that one, don’t I?’

‘Not at all,’ said he, amidst much shaking of the head. ‘I’m absolutely certain that God wouldn’t like it one bit. Which is why we’re not going to mention it to Him.’

‘No?’ And I laughed. ‘Well, I’ll tell you this, smart Alec. If you do manage to kill me, I will be going straight up to Heaven to spill the beans. And when I get there I’ll tell Him all about what you’ve been up to and I’ll just bet we’ll be seeing Mankind Two: The Sequel in no time at all. With lots more noise and smell.’

But the Homunculus shook his head. ‘Not going to happen,’ he said. ‘And I will explain to you why. Have you not asked yourself why, if I wish to turn the Earth into a Necrosphere, have I gone to all the trouble of actually reanimating the corpses of people when they die?’

‘I have wondered about that,’ I said. ‘Mr Ishmael suggested that you were raising an Army of the Dead to wage war against the living. Isn’t that it?’

The Homunculus did further shakings of the head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I have gone to all the trouble of keeping the dead up and about so that their souls can’t get to Heaven. If no souls get to Heaven, then no soul is going to warn God about what I’m up to. He never checks what’s going on down here Himself, so by the time I’ve done the business, it will all be too late. And as for Mankind Two: The Sequel, God already did that, you oaf. Remember Noah’s flood? God won’t bother with Mankind Three. He’s too well past it now.’