James Goss - Almost Perfect

Jack looked at him and smiled.

‘Oh, I keep cutting you off, which is so annoying!’ laughed Jon. ‘What is the thing? Have you come for a bit of advice? Cos, if you don’t mind me saying, the military retro thing has kind of gone. We need to get you in something tight and fitting. Some fabrics that’ll breathe, if you know what I mean.’

Brendan came back to the table, smirking.

Jon glanced at him. ‘You dirty slut,’ he sighed.

Brendan puckered his mouth. ‘Yeah, well, I made him happy – he’ll have a great evening.’

Jon tutted. ‘And you come back smelling of cheap fags. Can you not try out menthol?’

Brendan shuddered. ‘It’s like licking a minty road. No thanks. Now, Captain Jackoff – what can we do you with?’ And he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Jon shrugged. ‘He’s not said. Not really got a word in edgewise, have you? Silly me, I’m turning into such a gassy old Mary. It’s the bloody Welsh. So gregarious. I swear they’re rubbing off on me.’

He laughed in a nasal way, and Brendan growled at him.

‘So, Jack, what have you come here to say? Are you going to congratulate us for everything we’ve done?’

Jack’s smile faded. ‘Nope. I’m here to take you in.’

‘What?’ Jon’s cocktail paused mid-sip. Brendan reached nervously for his lighter.

‘You heard. The show’s over. You’ve broken our agreement. I was a fool to trust you. So now it ends.’

‘Oh,’ said Jon, a little sadly. ‘You knew?’

‘I’m only sorry it took me so long to notice!’ exclaimed Jack, furiously angry. ‘Why couldn’t you have come to me earlier? We might have helped you. Instead people have died. And…’ he looked truly regretful. ‘I thought there were two people in Cardiff who really understood me, who I could trust… and now this. Sorry. Party’s so over.’

Brendan let out a long-held breath. ‘Fooo. OK. Wow. Bit sudden, but OK,’ he said. ‘We’ll play by the rules, won’t we, Jonno?’

‘Yup,’ said Jon, moving closer to Jack. ‘Last dance, Captain?’

‘Sure,’ said Jack. ‘Why not?’

And they led him to the dance floor. And a day passed.

‘You were right,’ whispered Jon in his ear. As they moved across the dance floor, people just stepped out of their way. ‘You said Gods were just conmen with good technology.’

‘And you were.’

Brendan pressed up against Jack’s back, laughing. ‘Oh we were good. So good. But the machine made us BETTER.’

‘Oh,’ sighed Jack. Partly cos he was understanding, partly because Brendan was gently kissing the back of his neck.

‘We didn’t need the machine, but we built it anyway. It made our life easier. Just as you don’t need a dishwasher, but once you’ve got one…’ explained Jon.

‘Dishwashers? Jeez,’ sighed Brendan in Jack’s ear. ‘Can you believe him?’

‘What did your machine do?’ asked Jack, trying to concentrate. The music, the lights – the feeling of the Perfection, wrapping themselves around him. The way they were all starting to move together, the way the music was getting louder, and yet further away, was somehow slowing down… were they even moving at all?

‘It’s a belief system. It made it easier for us to give our believers what they wanted. God created Man, and Man created God… you know…’

‘You know,’ repeated Brendan, mockingly in Jack’s ear.

‘It let us answer their prayers. It kept us perfect,’ continued Jon. ‘At the moment, for example, it lets me avoid wrinkles, and it keeps Brendan from losing his hair. Plus those love handles.’

‘Shut up!’ hissed Brendan.

‘Oh, it’s true. Ahhh, I love this bit!’ Jon shouted as the music built up and hit them like a wave.

And, like a wave, suddenly everything for Jack was down, not up, then up, not down, then he gasped for breath. ‘What’s happening to me?’ he asked. ‘What’s happening to me?’ he shouted.

Was he alone on the dance floor? Could he even open his eyes? He shouted and shouted again and then-

‘It’s OK, sssh!’ breathed Jon, kissing him. ‘The music’s just really good tonight. What is that kid DJ’s name?’

‘Eric,’ replied Brendan.

‘Oh, we’re keeping him!’ laughed Jon. ‘Anyway, to business. Which is you, Captain.’

‘So you had your machine,’ said Jack. Was he slurring? Anyway. ‘And you come to Cardiff and…’

‘We just settled for a little bar, a nice flat, and for making everyone happy. That’s all we did. Is that such a crime?’ Brendan’s voice took on a begging tone. And was he starting to glow slightly?

Jack blinked a bit, and tried to focus. Focus on making the-

‘And then we lost it. It was stolen.’

‘I know,’ said Jack. God, he was sweating. ‘They’re right,’ he thought. ‘It’s this coat. I’m wearing too many clothes. Giggle. Oh that’s funny. Always wearing too many clothes.’

‘Have you got it with you?’ asked Brendan. ‘No? OK. So we needed the device back. It was still being used, but at a long distance from us – the power it’s been demanding has spiralled. We’ve done everything we could to feed it… but it’s not been enough.’

‘You should have asked me,’ said Jack. ‘We could have helped.’

‘Maybe it’s not too late,’ said Jon.

‘It is,’ said Brendan. ‘Gods have their pride.’ Jon leaned close.

‘He’s got really good arms,’ thought Jack. ‘He’s so strong, and his hair’s so good and I love the way his eyes are so blue and there’s all that stubble and the troubled look in his face and the chest hair and cheekbones and-’

‘Jack. Listen to me, Jack,’ said Jon. ‘We had to feed it. Using the old way.’

Brendan leaned in, his long blond hair sweeping back, his perfect teeth smiling in a feral way. His arms wrapped round Jack, so strong, almost crushing the life out of him.

‘We’ve had to make sacrifices,’ someone said.

And then it was white.

Gwen awoke, chewing hair. She realised, gradually, that it wasn’t hers, and woke with a guilty start.

She and Ianto were wrapped round each other on the Hub’s battered sofa. Gwen remembered they’d worked through the night and then just sat down, just for a second, just to catch their breath. And… how late was it?

She jabbed Ianto in the ribs.

Ianto gave a sudden snore, and snapped awake. He gazed around, blearily. ‘Gwen… what?’ For an instant, his face was dishevelled, hair unkempt, clothes rumpled. Then he shook himself like a cat, and everything fell into place. Perfectly.

Gwen narrowed her eyes. ‘Ianto! We’ve been asleep!’

Ianto stood up, and clumped unevenly towards his desk. ‘I’m missing a shoe,’ he muttered.

‘Oh god, I’m so tired,’ wailed Gwen. ‘I haven’t slept properly all week, and now this.’

Ianto checked the clock on his PC. ‘We’ve been asleep for four hours. I just shut my eyes, just for a moment…’ He smiled at Gwen, encouragingly. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’

Gwen stumbled over to her machine, and pulled up the latest reading of the energy cloud. It had increased, no, doubled, while they’d been asleep. She stared, aghast.

Ianto joined her, and they sat there for a few minutes, groggily, sipping their coffee and watching the world end.

‘It’s like a net,’ sighed Ianto. ‘Very tightly woven. Hovering just a few feet over Cardiff.’

Gwen nodded. ‘And getting ready to drop.’

‘Right,’ said Ianto, firmly. ‘We need to find Jack. And we need to get the device to him.’

‘Right,’ said Gwen. They sat there, watching the energy net weaving itself tighter and tighter.