Above His Station (15 page)

‘
Bad?
’ I roared, feeling my anger rise uncontrollably. I pounded my fists against the glass, watching the snake coil up in fear. I wanted to smash the tank and reach in there and grab the thing, throttle it within an inch of its life for all it had done. ‘Is that all you can say? Your lot can just
push a button
to eradicate all of humanity and we’re just supposed to
accept
it?’

‘Cool it, Gramps,’ said the rat. ‘She’s not to blame.’

‘No, but her damn
species
is!’ I yelled, making the rat flinch. ‘And if I can’t take it out on them, I’m going to take it out on her – on
it!
’ The rat grabbed hold of my right ear lobe and gave it a nip. The sudden pain forced me to stop instantly and I lowered my fists to my side. Ashamed of my actions, I lowered my head too.

‘Mate,’ said the rat, ‘I know this is rough, but you heard what she said. What’s happened is irreversible. There’s nothing anyone could have done to stop it and nothing anyone can do to put it right. It’s not like we can just file an appeal with the local law courts, is it?’

‘Actually,’ said Astrid, ‘it is.’

‘Actually it is
what?
’ asked the rat.

‘You said “
It’s not like we can just file an appeal with the local law courts
”…but it’s exactly like that. You can appeal against the fate of humanity, providing you have the relevant justification, as well as an Advocate prepared to speak on your behalf. But even then you’d need to convince Bloch, and he can be a tricky customer at the best of times.’

‘Who the fuck is Bloch?’ asked the rat.

‘Haakenslaars Bloch, Chief Arbitrator for the Sentient Life-form Ethical Treatment and Valued Diversity Tribunal Committee,’ replied Astrid. ‘SLETVDTC for short.’

‘That sounds awfully official,’ I noted, slowly returning to my senses after my outburst. ‘Is it possible? I mean…if we were to get one of these Advocate things…do you really think there’s a chance that we could lodge an appeal?’

‘Lodge it? Absolutely. Win it? Doubtful. But it’s your right to at least try.’

‘I’ve nothing to lose,’ I said, cautiously optimistic. ‘What do I need to do?’

‘Ideally, you need to lodge your appeal no more than 7 days after the event.’

‘No time like the present,’ I said.

‘But prior to that, you need to nominate an Advocate,’ said Astrid. ‘Only they can petition the SLETVDTC to hear your plea.’

‘Fine by me. So where do I get one of these Advocates?’ I asked.

‘Either nominate one of your own choosing, or have one appointed to you by the Intergalactic State…which is not really advisable seeing as they’re all a bunch of crooks or half-wits.’

‘So I’ll nominate one of my own then,’ I said. ‘And how do I go about that exactly?’

‘Bear in mind that your Advocate will be speaking on your species’ behalf in front of the tribunal, so ideally it needs to be someone you can trust to present your appeal with empathy and intelligence. Four years’ experience working as an underwriter in the intergalactic judiciary system would be a plus, but it’s not compulsory. Do you know of anyone who might fit the bill?’

I did as it goes. But did I really want to rest the continued existence of the totality of the planet’s human population on its slight shoulders?

‘What?’ asked the rat. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

10

‘Are you fucking
high?
’ asked the rat of me. ‘You’re seriously asking me to represent the whole of the fucking human race at an intergalactic tribunal in front of a bunch of fucking aliens? Why would you ask me to do something as important as that?’

‘I won’t lie to you,’ I said. ‘The short answer is that I don’t have anyone else.’

‘Oh,’ said the rat. ‘Well, that’s okay then. I mean, if you were asking me because you thought I had the necessary qualifications or something, I would have told you to go and get your head examined, but if you’re only asking me because there’s no one else then I’m cool with that. At least I won’t feel quite so bad when I fuck it all up. I can just blame you for being stupid enough to nominate me, can’t I?’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘But
fucking it up
, as you say, is not exactly my primary aim. No, I don’t have anyone else to ask, and yes, I take full responsibility if things should go badly, but let’s try to stay positive, hmm? You’ve been with me from the beginning, right from when all this madness started this morning and you’ve seen the after-effects firsthand. I happen to have complete faith in you.’

‘Based on what evidence?’ asked the rat.

‘Instinct,’ was my one-word reply.

‘There’s a hell of a lot riding on this, Gramps. Instincts can be wrong.’

‘So…do you accept?’ I asked, hopefully.

The rat rubbed its furry little chin. ‘Hmm, let me think about this. Do I really want to go into outer space and hang out with a bunch of freaky-looking aliens? Fuck yeah!’

I turned back to Astrid with a beaming smile. ‘So that’s all settled then. When and where might this hearing take place?’

‘The when: as soon as your Advocate lodges an official appeal in person with the SLETVDTC,’ Astrid replied. ‘The where: at a specified location equidistant to both interested parties…in this case, one of the lesser moons of Uranus.’

The rat sniggered.

‘Asclepian star-charts list its designation as 66-69-NCC-1701,’ said Astrid, ‘although your astrologers named it Puck.’

The rat sniggered again.

‘Grow up!’ I admonished the creature.

‘Oh, come on, Gramps! Puck and Uranus? You couldn’t make that up!’

‘One final question,’ I said to the remarkably articulate reticulated python from a distant galaxy, ‘how exactly are we supposed to get to Uranus?’

‘That,’ she said, ‘might be a lot easier than you think, but in order to even attempt it, you need to get me out of this place.’

*

Ten minutes later, once I had utilised a nearby fire extinguisher to smash the glass on Astrid’s tank – ignoring the rat questioning my sanity – we relocated back into the zoo’s main grounds. Astrid was coiled around my neck like a scarf, which effectively evicted the rat from its usual spot so I tucked it into my anorak pocket, with only its little face on show. I was physically shattered, my body running on fumes and my energy spent, my strength nothing but a distant memory. It was well into the night by now and it felt like it too. I was feeling rather peckish so I encouraged my travelling companions to make one last stop at the main entrance of the zoo, where we found a soft drinks dispenser and a vending machine that sold crisps and chocolate bars. The rat accommodated by climbing into the machine to pilfer various items, with me opting for a Mars bar, a can of Orangeade and a packet of Quavers. The rat obviously had more expensive tastes as it went straight for the McCoy’s (the ones with the little ridges in them). Meanwhile, Astrid the reticulated python seemed content to watch us gorge ourselves.

‘I had a couple of mice this morning,’ she informed us. ‘I’m still digesting them.’

The rat’s crisps fell to the floor, for some reason its need for sustenance satiated.

Astrid said that we needed to find higher ground for what she had planned, and the closest place was Blessop’s Hill, about 2 miles and 25 minutes’ brisk stroll from the zoo.

*

Actually, make that in excess of 45 minutes and we still weren’t there yet. I couldn’t manage a brisk stroll if my life depended on it. My feet were killing me. Whenever I put any weight on my right foot I felt a stabbing pain shoot up to my wounded thigh. I had hardly paid it much mind throughout the course of the day, but now the ache was incessant. I dearly wanted to curl up in a ditch somewhere and fall asleep.

‘With any luck we can grab some shut-eye on the trip to Uranus,’ said the rat.

‘You know, that’s very unusual,’ I commented. ‘How you always seem to pre-empt what I’m about to say.’

‘That’s me all over. I’m very sensitive, apparently.’

‘I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,’ I said.

‘I’m ambiguous too. That’s why the chicks dig me.’

I found that my head was cramped with questions, and as Blessop’s Hill was still at least another quarter mile away, I decided to strike up a conversation with my compatriot.

‘Are you married?’ I enquired. ‘It’s only just occurred to me that I’ve not even asked.’

‘Married? Me?’ it said. ‘Rats don’t tend to get married much. Lots of meaningless sexual relationships though, if that’s not an oxymoron. In fact, marriage is kind of frowned upon where I come from.’

‘How can something like the sanctity of matrimony be frowned upon?’ asked Astrid.

‘It’s technical. You wouldn’t understand,’ replied the rat.

‘Try me,’ said the snake, still coiled around my neck.

‘Okay, so the thing is, we rats are brought up with only one aim in life – to propagate the species. That’s it. That’s the only lesson we get taught at school. Consequently, we’re experts by the time we’re old enough to strike out on our own. Wherever we go and whatever we do, it’s like there’s this little voice inside our heads going “
Just keep shagging, don’t stop. Just pump that seed into as many holes as you can find, willing or unwilling it doesn’t really matter
.
Do it for your species!
”. My cousin actually holds the record for the most babies ever fathered in one lifetime. It’s something mental, like, over three thousand. He’s got his own Facebook page and everything.’

‘Rodents are an emotionally vacuous species, aren’t they?’ said Astrid.

‘We prefer the term ‘
romantically unsentimental
’,’ said the rat. ‘And what’s your contribution to society, Slither-Lips?’

‘I’m not sure I understand the question.’

‘Have any snakes won the Nobel prize, painted a masterpiece, ended world famine or discovered penicillin? What exactly have they ever done to aid the planet?’

‘As I told you…I’m not
from
your planet, so I wouldn’t know,’ said Astrid. ‘But seeing as you brought it up, has a rat ever done any of those things? Because, as far as I’m aware, mankind classifies you as a pest. People even pay other people to come round to their houses and kill you. Besides single-handedly keeping the poison industry afloat, is there anything else you do to contribute to society?’

‘What do you know about it? You’re a fucking
alien!
’ snapped the rat.

‘And on the moon of Uranus, so will you be. Your point is?’

‘Going to be shoved right up your arse if you don’t stop-!’

‘Children,
please!
’ I shouted, feeling distinctly like piggy-in-the-middle. ‘It’s late and I’m far too tired for all this bickering. Let’s just get this over with.’

*

We arrived at Blessop’s Hill shortly after that. It was pitch-black, and as I looked down I could see London illuminated beneath me. It was so quiet, no life at all to be seen. The streetlamps were automatic, so they came on by themselves, but there were no cars moving anywhere, no familiar white and red lights on the horizon, like glow-in-the-dark ants going about their business. There was a nasty wind picking up and I thought I felt a few spots of rain on my face, which was just typical. There I was, physically and emotionally drained, with only a packet of crisps and a Mars bar to eat all day, and on top of all that I was going to get soaked to the skin.

‘How soon can we get going?’ I was prompted to ask Astrid.

‘In a minute,’ she replied, flicking her tongue in and out. ‘I’m trying to gauge the weather. If there’s a storm coming it’s going to make our journey ten times harder.’

‘You haven’t even told us how we’re supposed to get to Uranus!’ said the rat. ‘Unless you’ve a rocket in your pocket?’

‘Rocket, rodent? We aren’t going by
rocket!
’ said Astrid. ‘Earth doesn’t yet have the capability for faster than light propulsion and we can hardly wait around until someone invents it, can we? Don’t forget, the appeal has to be lodged within 7 days.’

‘And we’re almost into day 2 as it is,’ I said, consulting my wristwatch. ‘But as much as it pains me to admit, the rat’s got a valid point, Astrid. If you would kindly explain how exactly we’re going to do this?’

Astrid sighed, her breath tickling my ear. ‘Are either of you familiar with the concept of transcendental thought transference?’ Long pause. ‘Okay, I’ll try to dumb it down for you then. In short, you dispatch your astral self off to a specific location anywhere in the Universe and if you concentrate you can force your physical self to follow after it.’

‘What the fuck have you been smoking?’ asked the rat. ‘And have you got any left?’

Astrid, following my lead perhaps, ignored the rodent. ‘Imagine that your mind is a piece of elastic and you pull it tight. What happens if you let go?’

‘It snaps right back,’ I said, ‘like releasing a catapult.’

‘Go to the top of the class,’ said Astrid. ‘You humans are relatively blind to consciousness transference, but Asclepians have been doing it for generations.’

‘Sounds like a load of hippy bullshit if you ask me,’ said the rat.

‘We didn’t,’ Astrid hissed at it. ‘It’s a shame that it doesn’t work through glass, or I would have escaped my prison at the zoo years ago. But considering our current location in combination with the celestial alignment tonight, as well as the many years that I spent in captivity stockpiling dreams of freedom, I think I might just be strong enough to transport us all the way to Uranus.’

‘Unless you’re just talking out of it,’ said the rat.

‘For the sake of this world, let us pray that I’m not,’ said Astrid. ‘Now, lower me onto the grass, human. I need to anchor my physical self to this plane of reality.’

‘Right then,’ I said, doing as Astrid asked. ‘What do you need us to do?’

‘Concentrate…no doubt a challenge for you, rodent, but try your best.’

‘
Ouch!
There goes a rib,’ mumbled the rat.

‘All right, we’re concentrating,’ I told the snake. ‘What else?’