Robert Rankin - Web Site Story

'I thought it was scabies,' said Mr Speedy.

'No, definitely Paris,' said Mr Shadow. 'But there's always a shrine. Do you have one here?' he asked Derek.

Derek hung his head in dismal affirmation. 'There is,' he said gloomily. 'My mum told me about it this morning. The Plume Cafe, where the tour bus crashed. People have been piling up bunches of flowers there. They say that the first man to be Raptured, was Raptured from there after the crash.'

'Malkuth,' said Mr Speedy, and he pronounced the unpronounceable name.

'Indeed,' said Derek. 'But how did you know that?'

'Everything is on file,' said Mr Shadow. 'Everyone is on file. We at Mute Corp always make a point of disclosing this fact to those we deal with in business. It reinforces trust and discourages duplicity.'

'You mean you resort to blackmail, if they don't do what you want them to.'

Mr Speedy looked once more at Mr Shadow. 'Of course,' they said. 'It simplifies matters no end.'

'Well / have nothing to hide,' said Derek.

Mr Speedy laughed. 'You certainly have no secrets from us,' he said. 'But a bit of advice for the future. And strictly off the record. The next time you buy an old-fashioned computer game from a dodgy supplier, do it in cash. The movement of stolen goods is far harder to trace that way.'

Derek's jaw fell open.

'So let's not waste any more time,' said Mr Speedy. 'A massive marketing exercise is about to be put into motion. The Suburbia World Plc web site will be going online tomorrow and shares will be floated on the stock exchange by Monday next. We all want this to be a big success, don't we?'

Derek's jaw was still hanging open.

'Crad barges,' said Mr Shadow.

Derek's jaw moved up and then came down again. The word 'What?' came out of his mouth.

'Oh yes,' said Mr Speedy. 'The crad barges. Part of the Brentford Waterworld experience. The crad barges used to come down the Grand Union Canal to the Thames. We'd like some. At least three. To convert into floating restaurants. They'll go down the canal, into the Thames, around Griffin Island then back again. Serving local delicacies. One will be dedicated exclusively to sprout cuisine.'

'What?' went Derek. 'What?'

'Best get at least four crad barges,' said Mr Shadow. 'We can cannibalize one for spare parts.'

'I'm sorry,' said Derek. 'I don't understand what you are saying?'

Mr Speedy shook his head and a look of a certain sadness was to be seen on his face. 'You are to organize four crad barges,' he said. 'Acquire them.'

'Me?' said Derek. 'I'm a newspaperman.'

'You may now consider yourself a company man,' said Mr Speedy. 'And company men do whatever the company requires that they do. Unquestioningly.'

'Have you quite finished?' questioned Kelly. 'I fear that I have no more places left for you to probe.'

She lay naked and spreadeagled upon a cold steel table. About her lay a range of hideous intrusive medical instruments.

The doctor removed her surgical gloves and wiped away beads of sweat from her brow. 'You must want this job very much indeed,' she said.

'Oh I see,' said Kelly. 'This was some kind of initiation test, was it? To see how much humiliation I would be prepared to endure?'

‘I’ll pass you Double Al,' said the doctor. 'Please get dressed and report to Mr Bashful in Training.'

The office of Mr Bashful was hung with artworks. These were of the old school. Possibly St Trinian's. Mr Bashful wore an eight-piece light blue suit that was cut from a man-made fabric. His desk was made of wood and very dull indeed.

'Fabarooni, [15]' said Mr Bashful, as Kelly entered his office.

'Fabarooni-do, [16]' said Kelly.

'I'm very pleased to welcome you aboard,' said Mr Bashful. 'I think you're going to love it here at Mute Corp.'

'The experience thus far has been positively orgasmic,' said Kelly.

'Really?' said Mr Bashful. 'I was watching your medical examination on CCTV and you didn't seem to be smiling very much.'

Kelly chewed upon her Cupid's bow and teased at a lock of golden hair. 'Broadcast throughout the building, was it?' she asked.

'We have no secrets here.'

'Perhaps you'll let me watch the recording of your medical later, then.'

'You can watch it now if you -want.'

Kelly raised an eyebrow. 'No thank you,' she said.

'So,' said Mr Bashful. 'To work. To work. If you'd be so good as to walk this way.'

‘I’ll try,' said Kelly. ‘I’ll try.'

Mr Bashful led Kelly from his office and through many corridors. All were hung with priceless artworks. Some led somewhere, some led back from somewhere, others led to other somewheres, others back again. Finally one led to a single door, which Mr Bashful opened, with a special plastic card kind of jobbie. 'You'll be issued with one of these,' he told Kelly. 'It's a Unicard, gives you access to all the areas you're allowed access to. I'm allowed access to almost all areas, but that's because of my status.'

Kelly smiled at Mr Bashful. 'Security must be a big concern here,' she said. 'Are all these corridors and rooms covered by CCTV?'

'Gracious no,' said Mr Bashful. 'Only the reception area and the doctor's office. We have no need to spy upon our own operatives.'

'And this door leads to?'

'To your personal games suite. Come.' Mr Bashful ushered Kelly through the doorway. The chamber was small and had no windows. The ceiling was low. The walls were white. There was a desk with a computer terminal, there was a chair before the desk.

'Sit down,' said Mr Bashful, pointing to the chair. 'Key in your name and then follow the instructions you are given. What could be simpler than that?'

'Nothing,' said Kelly. 'But I do have a couple of questions.'

'Go on then.' Mr Bashful looked mildly irritated.

'Firstly,' said Kelly. 'I noticed that the door closed and automatically locked behind us. How do I get out if I have to use the toilet, or something?'

'Key in your request, someone will come.'

'I see,' Kelly nodded.

'So if that's all right, I'll be off.' Mr B. looked slightly nervous now.

'Secondly,' said Kelly. 'This computer terminal. It's a Mute Corp 3000 series. Surely a bit antiquated. I expected something far more state-of-the-art here.'

'You get what you're given,' said Mr Bashful.

'I see,' said Kelly. 'Would you mind putting it online for me then? It's a while since I've used this particular model.'

'Just click the mouse,' said Mr Bashful, in the manner known as brusque.

'How?' Kelly asked. 'Would you mind showing me?'

Mr Bashful's hands shot into the pockets of his eight-piece suit. 'All you have to do is click it,' he said. 'Even a woman can do that, surely.'

Kelly fluttered her eyelashes. 'I am only a woman,' she said.

'Just click it, go on, I'll be back later.' Mr Bashful turned to take his leave.

'Oh, one more thing,' said Kelly.

Mr Bashful turned back again. 'What is it now? he asked.

Kelly smiled and said, 'Only this,' and then she punched his lights out.

Derek's lights were on, but no-one seemed at home. 'Can I just get this straight?' he asked. 'You want me to acquire four crad barges?'

'And some Morris Minors,' said Mr Shadow. 'About fifty of those should do the trick.'

'Fifty Morris Minors? Why?'

'The car most seen on the streets of Brentford. It's all on file. Please let us not waste any more time.'

'But you can't expect me to do all this. I have a paper to put out. News to gather. Things of that nature generally.'

'You'll be issued with press releases,' said Mr Speedy. 'All will be taken care of. You have been chosen for this task on the grounds of your suitability. You know this borough. You are the local reporter.'

'I'm the features editor,' said Derek.