Роберт Грант - The Quanderhorn Xperimentations

‘I see it, sir. Dragging myself over to it now, sir.’

‘ Hurry up, man! We haven’t got much time!’

‘Still dragging myself, sir…’

I hears him sigh, more than once.

‘Still dragging…’

Dragging goes on for some time. As does the sighing.

‘ Are you there yet?’

‘Yes, sir. It’s right in front of me. This is the one, isn’t it, sir? “Do Not Open This Cupboard Under Any Circumstances!”’

I reaches up, unlocks it and manages to tug down the handle. The door springs open, and I’m face to face with a huge yellow-and-black striped buzzing winged monster insect, hovering menacing-like, staring at me with red-eyed fury and a sting on its arse like a Cossack’s sabre.

Well, I seen some pretty big mosquitoes when we was liberating the Philippines, but this beauty knocks ’em all into a cocked hat.

‘ What’s all that noise, Jenkins?’

‘It’s a giant psychopathic wasp, sir!’

‘ Don’t let it out! Shut the door! Shut the door!’

‘I’m trying, sir!’ Believe me, I was, and all. ‘Only the wasp don’t want me to.’

I was putting my shoulder into it, but the bloomin’ wasp was the size of Rocky Marciano. I pulled the stair rod out of my splint and started beating the blighter with it. He goes to sting me, and I manage to slam the door shut. The sting comes straight through the wood and misses my head by a whisker. I hammers the barb crooked, so the varmint can’t pull free, and locks the door again.

‘ What’s going on now?’

‘Just putting my splint back on, sir.’

‘ Why on earth did you open the giant psychopathic wasp cupboard?’

‘Because it said “Do Not Open This Cupboard Under Any Circumstances!” sir.’

‘ What idiot would open a cupboard that said that?’

‘Begging your pardon, sir, but you told me to.’

‘ No, no! I said: open the cupboard marked: “Under No Circumstances Open This Cupboard!” ’

‘Ah! That would be the other cupboard, sir. Just dragging myself over… Still dragging, sir… Still dragging…’

‘ For goodness sake, can’t you drag yourself any faster?’

‘Nearly there, sir. Nearly there.’ I decide it’s best to make some conversation. ‘This other “you” I’m looking for, sir: have you in any way… “altered” him at all?’

‘ Only slightly.’

Oh dear.

‘ I’ve given him ethics.’

‘But don’t you always says that thing about ethics, sir. How’s it go? “The pursuit of Scienticifal Truth, and that, is the only Ethical Poppy—”’

‘ The pursuit of Scientific Truth is the only Ethical Boundary one ever needs; the rest is just poppycock.’

‘That’s it! So what did you want to give him ethics for, if I may be so bold?

‘ To weaken him. He has to be weaker than me, in case he should try to usurp me in some way. But he should be more than capable of helping you for the present.’

‘Very foresighted, sir. Ah! Here I am. “Under No Circumstances Open This Cupboard!” Do you really think I should open this cupboard, sir?’

‘ Yes! Yes! We’re wasting time!’

‘Fingers crossed then…’ I says, hauls meself as upright as I can, and opens it.

And there he is! The Professor himself! Or rather his ringer. Covered all over in a big cellophane sheet, like dry cleaning.

I tears off the wrapper and looks at him for signs of life. Nothing. He’s like a waxwork. Then, just as I’m peering close at his face, his eyes pop open! Just like he’s just been having forty winks.

‘Jenkins!’ he says.

‘Thank heavens, sir,’ I says into the walkie. ‘The duplicate Professor is all right.’

‘ Duplicate?’ snaps the Prof in front of me. ‘I’m the real Quanderhorn, you idiot! It’s that charlatan who’s the imposter!’

From the journal of Brian Nylon, 6th January, 1952 – [cont’d]

After descending the stone stairway for a good few minutes, we found ourselves in a short corridor with a tiny portal at the end. Troy’s buttocks disappeared into it, and we had to scramble after him to avoid being left in the dark.

It led to a large, round chamber. We narrowly avoided falling into a dark pit in the centre, and found ourselves balancing precariously on a four-inch ledge.

‘That must be the aforementioned trap!’ Guuuurk announced. ‘I must say, I was expecting something a little more creatively fiendish.’

The door suddenly shut behind us.

‘Yes,’ Guuuurk nodded. ‘More like that.’

I peered into the gloom. ‘No sign of the other crew.’

‘D’you think we beat them to it?’ Troy asked, hopefully.

Gemma shook her head. ‘Not yet: we’d have passed them.’

‘What if they turned off down some other passageway?’ I asked.

‘It’s a labyrinth, not a maze.’

‘Meaning?’

‘A maze has alternative paths, a labyrinth just one.’

‘Looking on the bright side,’ Guuuurk mused, ‘perhaps they fell here, at the first hurdle, and their poor, broken bodies are rotting down there in the pit.’

This thought, rather callously, cheered us up enormously.

Gemma went on: ‘Everybody keep facing the drop. We’re going to have to inch our way around the rim. I imagine the egress is somewhere on the far wall.’

We began a slow and perilous shuffle along the ledge.

‘Wait!’ Guuuurk yelled. We halted, tottering. ‘I can just about see something on the ledge ahead, with my Martian low-light vision!’

‘You never told us you had low-light vision,’ Troy protested.

‘And you never told us you had an incandescent bottom!’

‘Well, I wouldn’t have needed an incandescent bottom if you’d told us about your low-light vision-ness.’

‘And I wouldn’t have needed my low-light vision if your glowing behind actually had a few more lumens to it.’

Gemma rolled her eyes. I stepped in – this was no time for squabbling. ‘What is it you’ve spotted, Guuuurk?’

‘Don’t get your hopes up, but it looks for all the world… like a crisp, white fiver!’ He recklessly turned and crabbed around to it, but as he stooped, the stone he was standing on suddenly tilted…

I cried ‘Guuuurk! No!’ but too late; he teetered backwards and fell straight into the void before I could reach him. I almost stumbled in after him, but just managed to steady myself in time, ricking my ankle rather painfully in the process.

‘Oh no!’ Troy wailed. ‘Poor Guuuurk!’

Gemma craned over to peer into the abyss. I held her back. ‘Don’t look, Gemma. There’s no point. We’ve lost him.’

‘Yes.’ She cast her eyes down. ‘I know.’ Did I actually see a tear on her cheek? ‘He’s… gone.’

Troy stared at the pit in disbelief. Gemma and I hung our heads.

‘What are you doing up there!’ Guuuurk chirped from the darkness. ‘It’s only a couple of feet deep ! I’m fine.’

‘What’s down there?’ Troy asked.

‘Hard to see much, really. The floor’s strewn with something soft and downy…’

But there came another noise, from the far end of the pit. A sort of scuttling.

Gemma and I exchanged looks. ‘Guuuurk – get out of there,’ she yelled urgently.

‘Just a tick. I’m sure that crisp, white fiver is around somewhere…’

And another burst of scuttling.

Guuuurk heard it this time. ‘What’s that? There’s something down here!’

‘Guuuurk – get out of there, now !’