A Toaster on Mars (12 page)

But it was the face of Jesus where Barnaby's talent truly prevailed.

The Messiah looked positively…
otherworldly
. While Barnaby had been working on the face he had found
himself almost driven by a higher power to recreate the genius of Leonardo da Vinci.

Barnaby Hazleton had never been a religious man, but now he found himself lifting his eyes towards heaven. It seemed that God himself had blessed him with a gift and shown him the way.

‘Thank you,' he said quietly.

And that's when the painting spoke to him.

What the—

Barnaby's eyes darted left and right. The basement apartment was fifty feet below ground. He had never heard a sound from beyond the walls.
Was it a voice?

The sound came again, and Barnaby's eyes darted upwards. It seemed to come from the painting.

He approached the masterpiece on shaking legs and stared into the face of Jesus.

‘Are you trying to give me a sign?' he asked.

He waited. Jesus peered down at him with a beatific expression. Barnaby had always believed in a connection between art and the divine. Was it possible that link was about to be confirmed?

Another noise came from the painting. There was no doubt about it. It
was
a voice, as if God were communicating from a great distance.

Barnaby stepped closer.

‘Are you trying to tell me something? Speak to me,' Barnaby said. ‘Tell me what I must do.'

The face of Jesus exploded into a thousand pieces as a large golden head smashed through the wall.

‘Run!' the metal head screamed. ‘Get back! It's alive!'

Barnaby staggered back from the destruction in speechless horror as the metal creature broke through the wall and leapt into the room. Barnaby turned back to the painting. It was damaged, but at least the remainder—

The entire wall toppled forward, crashing onto the floor.

Wa-woomph!

Two more people—a man and a woman—scrambled over the rubble and raced past him towards the gallery in the next room.

‘Sorry about this!' the woman yelled over her shoulder. ‘But you'd better get out of here.'

‘We're not kidding!' the man added. ‘There's something coming after us—and it's not pretty!'

I'm hallucinating
, Barnaby thought.
It's a delusion brought about by the long hours of work. I'll wake up and
The Last Supper
will be perfect—

Then the creature appeared, convincing him that this was no delusion.

‘Gaarrk!' the creature bellowed as it oozed into the room.

Barnaby tried to speak, but could only open and close his mouth like a goldfish. The three people had pulled out blasters and were now firing into the opposite wall, completely destroying Paxley's
A Black Quixo in an Inky Black Cave
and Tobor's
The Massacre of Mobius Four
, to make a hole big enough to climb through.

‘Run!' the woman screamed at him.

‘For the love of God,' Barnaby said, finally rediscovering the power of speech. ‘What is it?'

‘It's a cheese sandwich,' the robot yelled back. ‘Radiation has mutated it into a sentient life form!'

As the three strangers disappeared through the gap they had just blasted in the wall, Barnaby stared in horror at the creature. Up close, he realised it
was
a cheese sandwich, although it was a million times larger than any cheese sandwich in history. It had no eyes—or face, for that matter—but a rudimentary mouth ran along the centre where the slice of Swiss cheese had once been.

Staggering away from the creature, Barnaby turned back only once to see it devouring the paintings he'd spent decades creating. The creature burped, emitting a stench that smelt vaguely of dead rat, Swiss cheese and oil paint.

Giving a last, wild cry, Barnaby fled for his life.

18

‘I've only got one question,' Blake said to Nicki as they trudged down the darkened tunnel. ‘Can you guess what it is?'

They had left the cheese sandwich far behind after the monster had headed in a different direction apparently in search of new prey.

‘Uh, no,' Nicki said airily.

‘Really?'

‘Nothing springs to mind.'

‘Let me give you a clue,' Blake said. ‘Do the words,
Yippee! Come and get us, you sprot eater
, mean anything?'

‘Oh,' Nicki said. ‘That.'

‘Yes.
That
.'

Nicki looked rather embarrassed—or as embarrassed as a gold-skinned woman could look. ‘I get nervous sometimes,' she said. ‘Being a cyborg, sometimes my human biology doesn't communicate properly with my psytotronic chips, and I say…inappropriate things.'

‘Inappropriate…' Blake's face twitched. ‘That's not inappropriate. That's come-and-hack-me-to-death-with-a-teaspoon-and-eat-my-brains-out
insane
!'

Much to his surprise, it wasn't Nicki who retaliated but Astrid. ‘You can't talk,' she snapped. ‘You've put your foot in it once or twice.'

‘Put my foot…' Blake was incredulous. ‘I've never challenged a rampaging cheese sandwich to a duel to the death!'

‘You forgot about your own daughter's birthday party!'

‘Will you ever forgive me for that?'

‘
I
have,' she said. ‘But Lisa hasn't.'

Nicki spoke up. ‘I'm sorry about the
Come and get us
comment. I'm not perfect, despite my superior mental capability.'

‘Saying
superior mental capability
is another example of saying inappropriate things,' Blake said.

‘That's just the truth,' Nicki said. ‘I am a genius a thousand times over—'

‘A toaster on legs can hardly count—'

‘Hey!' Astrid snapped. ‘Enough is enough!'

They walked on in silence. After a while, Blake pulled out his food pills and offered them around. Astrid's eyes narrowed.

‘Haggis and mushrooms?' she said. ‘You've got to be kidding.'

‘It's an acquired taste.'

Nicki and Astrid selected bacon and eggs.

When they reached a junction, Nicki directed them along a narrow passage, which they followed until they arrived at a wall.

‘We go through here,' Nicki said.

‘Are you sure?' Blake asked.

‘Absolutely. There's a cave, and beyond that, GADO.'

‘Okay,' Blake said, taking a deep breath. ‘Let's do this.'

He raised his blaster, set it to slow burn, and aimed it at the wall. After a few seconds the wall glowed red, giving off a smell like burnt plastic, and disappeared. Gloomy light poured from the hole.

‘What the—' Blake began. ‘I thought there was supposed to be a cave on the other side.'

‘And what is that smell?' Astrid asked, covering her nose.

Nicki inhaled. ‘It appears to be a potent combination of food waste, metal fragments, shredded timber, fabric—'

‘Rubbish,' Blake said.

‘No, it's the truth.'

‘I mean it's rubbish,' Blake said, peering through the gap. ‘There are piles of it. This cave is some old underground waste dump.'

‘Is there another way around?' Astrid asked.

‘There is, but it would take some time,' Nicki said.

‘How long?'

‘Six years, eight months, four days and—'

‘Looks like we're going through,' Blake said.

Once they'd climbed through the gap, Blake, Nicki and Astrid found themselves in an enormous cavern. Mounds of rubbish stretched as far as the eye could see. Huge floodlights hung from the ceiling.

Blake felt his nostrils twitching. It was the worst stench he had ever smelt.

An enormous multi-coloured hill lay to their left.

‘Is that what I think it is?' Blake asked.

‘Only if you think it's an enormous pile of socks,' Nicki said.

‘An enormous pile of
odd
socks.' Astrid pointed. ‘Could this be where all the odd socks go?'

They slowly rounded the hill. It was only one of many similar piles spread around the cavern, all neatly catalogued into their respective types: furniture, cars, mobile phones, shoes.

Nicki stopped and frowned at her datapad. ‘Oh dear,' she said. ‘We're getting some weird magnetic interference.'

‘Which means?' Astrid asked.

‘We're lost.'

‘
Sprot
,' Blake said. They were miles underground and time was running out.

‘Wait!' Nicki said. ‘I just saw something move!'

She pointed at a mountain of toilet bowls. Blake pulled out his blaster, but everything was still.

‘Are you sure?' he asked.

A noise came from behind. Turning, Blake saw a skinny man in a pinstripe suit. His stun weapon was aimed at the three of them.

Then everything went white.

When Blake woke up, he found himself lying on a hospital gurney, his hands secured at his sides by handcuffs. It felt like he'd been asleep for hours, even the whole night. He spotted Astrid on the bed opposite, unconscious. Nicki lay on the floor, looking like a Barbie doll, her eyes open but unseeing.

They were in a room carved out of a pile of television sets, robot parts, kitchen appliances and washing machines. Between two ancient robot torsos was a mechanical rat peering down at them. It gave Blake a startled look and scurried away.

What the sprot is going on?

The little man who had shot them entered the room. He was unusually gaunt, with thinning black hair and bushy eyebrows. Beneath those eyebrows were staring eyes that reminded Blake of a fish.

‘You've awoken,' the man said. ‘I'm so pleased.'

‘I'm Blake Carter, an officer with the PBI, and I'm placing you under—'

‘Your upworld business does not concern me,' the man interrupted in a high voice. ‘I am Doctor Robert Roberts and you are my guest.'

‘Is that a stutter?'

Roberts shook his head. ‘Merely an unfortunate name.'

‘I demand that you release us immediately!' Blake said, trying to keep calm. His eyes shifted to Astrid. ‘If you've harmed one hair on her head—'

‘Please don't be concerned,' Roberts said, looking pained. ‘I assure you I have no intention of causing you harm.'

‘I'm glad.'

‘But I am going to eat you.'

‘Well, that's… What did you say?'

‘I'm going to eat you,' Robert Roberts said, smiling as if they were discussing the weather.
It's been rather cold today…might be a change later…must bring the washing in off the line…
‘I don't know why I do it,' Roberts continued. ‘Plenty of food comes down the waste disposal chutes, but I've developed rather a liking for human flesh.'

‘Oh.'

‘Your death will be painless.'

‘Great.'

‘But the cooking process will be agony. I mean, slow frying is probably the most painful way to die.
With any luck, you'll pass out after about an hour, but some have regained consciousness at inappropriate moments.'

‘Well, we wouldn't want that…'

‘I do need to ask you something,' Roberts said, suddenly concerned. ‘Are you allergic to anything?'