Robert Rankin - Web Site Story

'Surf and turf,' said the barman, arriving with Kelly's meal and placing it upon the table with a great show of politeness. 'And I've thrown in a side order of Gambian Bugaboo fish entrecote uambe at no extra cost. Although you are free to tip generously should the mood take you. And I really hope that it does, because I'm saving up for a tightrope of my very own, so I can run away with the circus.'

'Any particular circus?' Shibboleth asked.

'Professor Merlin's Greatest Show Off Earth,' said the barman. 'It travels between the planets in a Victorian steam ship. That's the life for me. The smell of the sawdust, the small dwarves called Dave, and all the confetti you can eat, when you play for a rich potentate at the weddmg of his daughter.'

'That's the life,' said Shibboleth. 'I'd tip you myself, but I think that I'll just keep the money.'

The barman bowed and departed, humming 'The March of the Gladiators'.

Kelly took up her eating irons. 'I'd prefer it if you'd go away now,' she told Shibboleth. 'I'm very hungry and I'd prefer to eat alone.'

'I can understand that,' said Shibboleth. 'And you must be very hungry. Considering how you threw up your lunch in that pub toilet and everything.'

'Wwf?'said Kelly.

'I took the liberty of hacking into the pub's security system, after I'd hacked into the street surveillance system. You wouldn't believe where the cameras are hidden in that toilet. You'd think that Chuck Berry owned the place [17].'

'Come back in ten minutes,' said Kelly. 'When I'm finished.'

Ten minutes later, or it might have been eleven, although frankly, who's been counting, Shibboleth returned to Kelly's table.

'If I believed you,' said Kelly, wiping her lips with an oversized red gingham napkin.

'Which means that you do,' said Shibboleth.

'Which means if,' said Kelly. 'What could you tell me, that would positively convince me?'

'Nothing,' said Shibboleth. 'But I could show you where the chapel is. I could take you there.'

'And I would let a complete stranger take me to Mute Corp Keynes at night? Do I look suicidal?'

'My brother may well be dead by now,' said Shibboleth. 'My brother and my mother too. The vanishing act. I don't know how it's done. I suspect that it only works upon people who are already infected. But it's impossible to tell who is infected and who isn't. Perhaps we all are.'

'Don't say that,' said Kelly. 'I have been thinking that myself.'

'Which probably means that you're not infected. Otherwise you'd be thinking what it wants you to think. Hang onto that notion, it's one that keeps me sane.'

'All right,' said Kelly. 'This is probably the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life. But I'll come with you.'

'Brilliant,' said Shibboleth. 'And it really isn't the stupidest thing you've ever done. According to your file…'

'Don't,' said Kelly. 'Although, go on, give me a clue.'

'Identical twins,' said Shibboleth. 'Your eighteenth birthday. The Ocean Rooms… night club… the billiard-room table…'

' That is on camera? That's on my file?'

'Sorry,' said Shibboleth. 'Everything's on file.'

Kelly shook her golden head. And then smiled a little wistfully. 'I'd quite like to watch that,' she said. 'But it wasn't what I was thinking about.'

'Oh in that case you must mean…'

'The secret is in knowing when to stop,' said Kelly. 'Come on, let's go to Mute Corp Keynes.'

It didn't look any better by moonlight. In fact it looked a lot worse. Even more desolate. Even more urban-decayed.

The guard on the border post was a different guard from the one who had been there two days before. Who wasn't the same guard either. Because they all worked complicated shifts.

'Anything to declare?' asked this guard.

'Say it,' said Kelly. 'Who cares? Say it.'

Shibboleth shrugged at the wheel and said it. 'Nothing but my genius,' he said.

'Most original, sir,' said the guard. 'That's the first time I've heard that, today.'

Shibboleth grinned, unsheepishly.

'I'll make a note of it,' said the guard. 'I believe that the millionth person to say it is entitled to a free T-shirt, or something. So, do you have any illegal drugs, laundered money, unlicensed firearms or explosives to declare?'

'None,' said Shibboleth.

'You won't last long in there then,' said the guard. 'Would you care to give me your wristwatch before you go to your certain doom? Only I'm saving up for a unicycle, I want to run away with the circus.'

Shibboleth parted with his wristwatch. 'If we make it out of here later, I want it back,' he said.

'Fair enough,' said the border guard. 'But I might not be on duty when you return. I go off at three when another guard comes on to relieve me. It's not the same guard who came on at three yesterday morning, that's another guard altogether. The one who came on at five the day before.'

'Wasn't it six?' asked another border guard, arriving on his bike.

'Oh, hello Harry,' said the first border guard. 'I didn't think you were coining on relief until ten tomorrow morning.'

'It's a very complicated system,' said Harry. 'Do you want me to take charge of this chap's watch? Only I'm saving up for a milk float, I want to run away with the circus.'

'Do they have milk-float acts in circuses?' asked the border guard that was just about to be relieved.

'Did I say circus?' asked Harry. 'Naturally I meant to say trampoline.'

'He works too hard,' the first border guard explained. 'Sometimes he has to relieve himself, if somebody doesn't turn up.'

'Can we just go through now?' asked Shibboleth.

'I don't know,' said the first border guard. 'I'm not on duty any more. You'll have to ask Harry.'

'Don't ask me,' said Harry. 'I'm just clocking off".'

Shibboleth drove through the night streets of Mute Corp Keynes. He avoided the stingers and deadfalls with the bungee spikes, the landmines and the tempting hedgehogs, which, Shibboleth told Kelly, were loaded with nail bombs. And various other obstructions.

'You seem to know your way around here,' said Kelly.

Shibboleth turned the steering wheel of his automobile. It was a Ford Fiesta. It was Derek's Ford Fiesta. 'I've lived here all my life,' said he. 'I know everything that goes on here.'

'The border guards didn't seem to know you.'

'I didn't know them. There are a lot of border guards. It's a very complicated system.'

'But if you lived here, why did you give them your watch?'

'It wasn't my watch,' said Shibboleth. 'Ah here we are.'

Ahead, through the mostly darkness, shone bright lights. Bright and neon lights. A bar. And a dangerous-looking bar. All concrete front and no windows. Low and ugly. Shrapnel-pocked and needing a coat or two of paint. Or better still demolition. The neon lights blinked on and off the way that such lights do. They spelled out the letters that spelled out the words, which spelled out the name of the place.

the tomorrowman tavern.

All that spelling spelled out.

'You'll like it here,' said Shibboleth. 'Well, actually you won't. But there's worse places to be than this, although I've never been to them.'

'And the chapel?' Kelly asked.

Shibboleth ambled off to the bar, leaving Kelly to muse upon the wisdom of her being here. The jukebox stuttered and cut out and the patrons made their feelings felt by pelting it with bottles. Whilst a potman laboured to restart the ancient Wurlitzer, a canny Scotsman, in a kilt and war bonnet, entertained the disgruntled patrons with an exhibition of standing on one leg.

A shaven-headed woman with a padlock through her nose leaned close by Kelly and whispered at her ear. 'That's our Kenny,' she said in a hushed and reverent tone. 'When it comes to the standing upon the single leg, there's none that do it better than him.'