Robert Rankin - Nostradamus Ate My Hamster

“Shopping?”

“Not shopping, Russell. Just sort of standing there, chatting.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Russell.

“You will, because they weren’t real. They were holograms.”

“Oh, I see, go on.” Russell took another sip of Scotch.

“Holograms, so I go into the shop and the bloke behind the counter salutes me and looks edgy. And I have a stroll about and check out these holograms. Movie stars, Russell, it’s like I’m standing beside real movie stars. Like my life’s ambition, right? And you can’t see through them. And the shop bloke comes cringing up and asks if he can help me, so I said, ‘What’s all this then?’ And he explains that it’s a new computer role-playing game, like a 3D Karaoke. It’s called Cyberstars. You play a part in a famous movie alongside the stars and someone videos it for you. You’re actually in the movie, do you understand?”

“Yes, I get the picture.” Russell tittered foolishly.

“You don’t want to drink too much of that stuff, it’s very strong.”

“I can take it,” said Russell, which was not strictly true. “Go on, tell me the rest.”

“Right, so I say to this shop bloke, ‘Give us a go’, and he says, ‘What movie do you want to be in, sir?’ And I say, ‘What have you got?’ And he flashes up lists on his computer terminal and I’ve never heard of any of these movies, they’re all about The Glorious Fatherland and The Freedom of The State and stuff like that. And I say, ‘I don’t know any of these’, and then he gets really edgy and I say, ‘Can the Cyberstar holograms be programmed to, like, do anything, not play parts in a film, just do what you wanted them to do?’”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because I’ve always wanted to shag Marilyn Monroe, Russell, that’s why. Imagine that on video.”

“I can’t and I don’t want to.”

“You’ve no imagination.”

“I have, but it’s not like yours.”

“Yeah, well. But the bloke says yes. And I’m thinking, If I could acquire one of these computers and get it back into my own time, imagine that.”

Russell tried to, but he couldn’t quite.

“Millions of pounds,” said Bobby Boy. “Make a movie starring all the golden greats, all the dead golden greats, and myself of course. Imagine that .”

Russell thought he could imagine that. Slightly.

“So I asked the bloke, ‘How much?’ And he says, ‘Free to you, sir, of course.’ Of course! I’ve gone to heaven, right? This bloke is going to give me the technology that can make me a world-famous movie star, if I can get it back home, of course, for nothing . For free ! So I say, ‘Right, absolutely, thank you very much.’ And he packs me up a system and gives it to me. Then he says, ‘Please eyeball the screen.’ And I say, ‘What?’ And he shows me this little screen on the counter and says, ‘Eyeball.’ So I give it a look in and make for the door. Then the bloody world goes mad. Well, madder. All those alarms go off and lights start flashing. So I run like a bastard. I run. I run out of the shopping centre and back up what was once the Ealing Road. And this black car drops out of the sky and these bloody great metal things, like robots, get out and they come after me. I do have to say this, Russell, and I wouldn’t tell just anyone. I shit my pants.”

Russell burst into what can only be described as drunken laughter.

“Yeah, you can laugh, but if you’d ever seen these monsters.”

Russell stopped laughing. He had seen them, chasing after the beautiful gold-clad blonde at The Ape of Thoth. “Go on,” he said.

“I ran. Like I say. Back to the Flügelrad . I lost the big black monsters in the park and I got back on board. But I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how you worked the thing. I didn’t have the driver’s manual.”

“Driver’s manual,” Russell began to laugh again.

“Stop bloody laughing. You’re pissed, you.”

“I’m not pissed. Go on, tell me what happened next. I’m loving all this. Well, some of all this.”

“I only wanted to escape. At that moment I didn’t care whether it was forwards or backwards. Any time would do. So I started pushing buttons and pulling levers and then there was all this banging on the hull. I pissed myself.”

Russell curled double. “I bet it didn’t half smell in there then.”

“You’re not kidding. But I got it going. Somehow I got it going and I got it going into reverse. I know you’re going to say, ‘That’s handy.’ Well it was, I can tell you. And I ended up back here. Right back where I started off from. Except, and this is the good bit, the good bit that got the bloody Flügelrad here, into this hangar. I got back a day earlier than I set out.”

“That would be the Tuesday,” said Russell.

“That’s right,” said Bobby Boy.

“That’s wrong,” said Russell.

“No it bloody isn’t.”

“Yes it bloody is.”

“Isn’t.”

“Is.”

“Is not.”

“It is ,” said Russell, “because you were at work on Tuesday.”

“I know,” said Bobby Boy. “I saw me. I peeped through the window and actually saw me.”

“This is all lies,” said Russell. “Although …”

“I did worry about that,” said Bobby Boy. “Because there were two of me then. And I thought how can that work? Will there always be two of me now?”

“And are there?” Russell reached for the bottle. Bobby Boy drew it beyond his reach.

“No, the other one caught up, you see.”

“I don’t think that would work.”

“Who cares what you think?”

“Good point.” Russell creased up again.

“I got back before Hitler and his henchmen had arrived, so I had time, you see. Time on my side. So I covered the Flügelrad up with branches and corrugated iron and stuff and I went off and borrowed Leo Felix’s pick up.”

“You nicked it.”

“I didn’t nick it, as it happens. He’s a mate, he lent it to me.”

“And you hoisted up the Flügelrad and brought it here?”

“That’s what I did.”

“Well,” said Russell, “I don’t know what to say really.”

“You could say, ‘What a hero you are, Bobby Boy.’”

“I could,” said Russell. “But I’m not going to. So what happened next, or is that the end?”

“No, it’s not quite the end. Having got the old Flügelrad here and having had a shower and changed my trousers, I set about rigging up the Cyberstar equipment.”

“Er, just one thing,” said Russell. “You brought the Flügelrad here. But who owns this hangar, anyway?”

“I do.”

“ You do?”

“My dad gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday, it was going to be my own film studio.”

“Oh yeah,” said Russell. “Your dad owns the brewery, doesn’t he? But I thought you and he –”

“Had a bit of a falling out. Yes, he’s cut me out of his will and everything. I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Sorry I mentioned it. Go on about the Cyberstar equipment.”

“Yeah, well, I unpacked it and set it up and plugged it in and read the instructions and then …”

“Then?”

“Then I find that the bloody programmer is missing. It’s not in the box. I can’t get the thing to work.”

“That’s tough,” said Russell. “After all you’d been through, so dishonestly and everything.”

“Up yours, Russell. So I thought, Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll just have to zap forward to 2045 again and acquire a programmer.”

“So you won’t need the one I’ve got then.”