Apocalypso (33 page)

What
the fuck is
that?’
asked the youngest of the three men, raising his
hands as he did so.

Who are
you?’ asked Agent Artemis. ‘And what are you up to?’

The
tallest of the three men, whose hands couldn’t go up at all as his head was
already touching the roof, said, ‘My name is Sir John Rimmer and these are my
two companions, Dr Harney and Danbury Collins. We are trying to steal this helicopter.’

‘Pleased
to meet you,’ said the doctor.

‘Get
out of the helicopter,’ said Agent Artemis.

‘No,
hang about,’ said Porrig. ‘Sir John Rimmer?

Not
the
Sir John Rimmer, who wrote
Beyond Doubtable Reason: The Biography of
Apocalypso The Miraculous?’

‘Among
many other books,’ said Sir John.

What a
small world it is,’ said Rippington.

What
the fuck is that?’ said Danbury Collins.

‘Out of
the helicopter,’ said Agent Artemis.

‘But,
madam, please.’ Sir John fluttered his fingers. ‘My colleagues and I are bound
upon what amounts to a sacred mission. We must destroy a monster from outer
space that seeks to dominate the entire planet.’

What a
small world it is,’ said Rippington.

What
the fuck is
that?’
said Danbury.

Agent
Artemis cocked her pistol. ‘I really should shoot the three of you,’ she said. ‘I
know all about you and what you’ve done.’

What
have they done?’ asked Porrig.

‘They’re
to blame for all this. They brought up the monster from under the sea.’

‘Ah,
now,’ said Sir John, ‘that’s not strictly true. The Americans brought it up
and—’

‘Get
off or I shoot you dead.’

‘Oh
come on,’ said Porrig. We’re wasting time. If they want to help, let them help.
We need all the help we can get.’

Agent
Artemis tucked away her pistol. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘You can take
responsibility for them, Porrig. Everybody strap up tight and I will fly the
helicopter.’

‘Oh
dear,’ said Sir John. ‘I don’t know about that.’

‘And
why not?’

Well,’ said
Sir John. ‘And no offence meant. But you’re a… you know… girlie.’

‘What?’

‘Well,
it’s just that we never have much to do with girlies. I am strictly celibate,
due to being bitten in the cobblers by my pet spaniel when I was a child. Dr
Haney is past that sort of thing and Danbury just plays with himself.’

‘I’m
doing it now,’ said the youth.

‘Urgh,’
said Porrig. ‘So you are. But as I’ve spent so much time lately being called a
wanker, it’s quite a pleasure to find myself in the company of the genuine
article.’

‘I’m
Britain’s champion,’ said Danbury. ‘Everybody knows my name, but nobody wants
to shake my hand.’

‘The
old ones are always the best,’ said Rippington.

Will
somebody please tell me what the fuck that is?’

‘I’m
Rippington,’ said Rippington. ‘I am a dvergar and I work as a librarian in
ALPHA 17, which is an alternate reality where all the ancient books of magic
are stored. My hobbies include reading and making small animals out of
paperclips. My ambition is to have a larger ouch!’

‘Shut it,’
said Agent Artemis. ‘And those paperclips will come out of your wages. Now,
gentlemen. We have wasted more than enough time. You are all wankers in my
opinion and I am going to fly this helicopter. Are you coming with us, or
getting off?’

‘Depends
where you’re going,’ said Danbury. ‘You haven’t told us yet.’

Women,’
said Sir John. ‘Typical.’

Porrig
covered his eyes to spare them the sight of the violence.

When
the violence was finished he opened them again.

Three
men lay unconscious on the floor, their knickered bums in the air. Agent
Artemis sat up front, her bum on the pilot’s seat.

‘Right,’
she said, in the voice of the old bloke. ‘London it is, to do battle with the
monster.’

Porrig
went up front, settled himself onto the co-pilot’s seat, strapped himself in,
perched Rippington upon one knee and Apocalypso’s book upon the other.

‘All
right,’ said Porrig. ‘Let’s go for it.’

22

Dilbert Norris went for
it. Big time.

His
procession moved in regal splendour through the streets of London. At the vanguard,
some five hundred or more big strong men pushed forward like a human battering
ram, overturning parked cars and thrusting aside anything that blocked the
progress of The Great Green One. Then came the bands and the beautiful people,
then The Great Green One himself, waving a limp green hand and smiling a
terrible smile.

At the
Ministry of Serendipity, Augustus Naseby lurked at a desk before the big wall
screen, viewing the image of Dilbert, beamed to him via London’s many street
surveillance cameras.

‘Unstoppable,’
he said with a sigh. ‘He’s unstoppable.’

The man
in the white coat called Albert nodded. ‘His ability to project pain
telepathically is without precedent. People are powerless to resist. He has
absolute control over them. He is a singular and most remarkable being.’

‘Yes,
all right.’ Augustus made fists. ‘I’m sure he’s a triumph of evolution. But he
has to be destroyed.

I
wonder over how great a distance he can project his power.’

‘About
a mile, I’d say.’

‘Then
we’ll soon be in range. We have to get out. What news of the escape pod?’

Well,
sir. Following the instructions in the handbook, I located it all right. It’s
a two-man jobbie, lovely Victorian craftsmanship, powered by a sophisticated
steam turbine system, which, had the government of the day not chosen to keep
to themselves, would have made the internal combustion engine a non-starter.
Don’t you sometimes feel, sir, that we could do so much good for the world if
we didn’t just greedily hoard stuff like that?’

Augustus
Naseby gave the man a certain look.

‘Sorry,
sir,’ said the man. ‘I don’t know what came over me there.’

‘So
where exactly is this escape pod?’

‘You’d
never guess in a thousand years.’

‘Nor do
I intend to try,’ said Augustus. ‘Because if you don’t tell me right this
minute, I will bit you with this stick again.’

Well,
sir, it is cleverly disguised as a famous London monument. It’s—’

‘Sir!
Sir!’ went another man in a white coat, bustling up. ‘The monster’s reached
Trafalgar Square. I think something big’s about to happen.’

And indeed it was.

Dilbert
had built himself a mountain on the raised plaza that surrounds Nelson’s
Column. It wasn’t a very large mountain, more of a hillock really, but it was
impressive. Thirty feet in height it was, and built from living men.

Dilbert
had been conveyed to the very top and he lazed there, soaking up the sun and
being moistened here and there by attentive naked women bearing little plant
sprays.

The
human hillock squirmed beneath him. Those at the top groaned dismally. Those at
the bottom were already dead.

Trafalgar
Square was carpeted with people wall to wall, down on their knees, their faces
to the paving slabs. Television news crews that Dilbert had gathered on the way
angled up their cameras and checked their furry mics. This
was
news, and
although they really didn’t want to be here recording it, they had no choice.
They were Dilbert’s people now, controlled by his thoughts, utterly without
wills of their own, his to do with as he pleased.

Dilbert
turned his big bad head from side to side. Green and glistening, broad-smiled
and glossy-black-eyed, he examined his reflections caught (to perfection, he
considered) in the long mirrors looted at his command from department stores
and held by his Nubian favourites, who balanced about him on his hill of death.

‘How do
I look?’ he asked.

‘Big
God-fala tasty-good,’ said a finely muscled fellow.

‘Picking
all this up all right?’ called Dilbert to the news crews below.

‘Fine,’
said a CNN man, giving the thumbs up.

‘Then
do it from down on your knees.’ Dilbert flung down mental pain and the news man
sank to his knees.

‘Still
fine?’

‘Perfect,
O great one.’

‘Then I
shall begin.’ Dilbert waved away the sprayers and holders of mirrors and
comfied his big bad bottom. ‘People of Earth,’ he began.
‘My
people. Oh,
and yes, hello.’ Dilbert waggled his fingers towards a street surveillance
camera high atop a not-too-distant lamp-post. ‘Hello to the boys from the
Ministry watching too.’

‘He
sees us,’ whispered a man in a nameless white coat. ‘He knows we’re watching
him.’

‘Of
course I know,’ said Dilbert. ‘I know all and see all and hear all too. But all
of you will learn this in time. So, now, let me begin. People of Earth —my
people — many of you will not remember me. Most, in fact, will not remember me.
It is so very long since I was last among you. But, praise be unto me, I am
back.

‘Now, I
know what you’re asking yourselves. You are asking yourselves, who is this
handsome fellow broadcasting live to us. Well, I will answer that. I am your
God. Some big surprise, eh? Last thing you expected today was to have God
appearing live on your television. But, glory be to myself, it is now something
that you will be enjoying each and every day.

‘Because,
each and every day from now on, I will be appearing on your television and you
will be watching me and listening to me and I will be telling you what you can
do to please me and you will be doing it. Do I make myself clear?’

Dilbert
smiled his terrible smile and stared with his terrible black eyes towards the
cameras.

‘Oh,’
said Dilbert. ‘Apparently I do not make myself clear. Apparently not all of you
out there are convinced of my Godly credentials. I think perhaps that now would
be the time for a demonstration of my powers.’

‘Switch
it off!’ shouted Augustus.

‘Sir?’

‘Switch
the big wall screen off
now.’

The man
in the nameless white coat switched it off.

And not
a moment too soon. Because WHAM, ZAP and no doubt POWEE too, from Trafalgar Square,
through the ether and over the airways and out of every television set that was
tuned to Dilbert’s broadcast— WHAM, ZAP, POWEE and a big time OUCH!

Pain
flung from Dilbert’s mind tore into every viewer. Folk fell from their chairs
and couches, sucking in their breath and clutching at their heads as the
message reached them, forced in and rammed home, destroying every other
thought.

I AM
GOD AND YOU WILL WORSHIP ME.

And in
Downing Street and in the White House and in palaces and mansions and rooms of
state and shops and homes and houses and hovels, all who watched Him felt His
power and sank before to worship.

I AM
GOD AND YOU WILL WORSHIP ME.

Well,’
said Augustus. ‘If we had any doubts about his capability of controlling
everything, I think we should dismiss them from our minds while we still have
minds to dismiss them from.’

‘Two-way
TV,’ marvelled the man in the nameless coat. We know he can see whoever sees
him. You think he can hurt them too?’

Augustus
nodded. ‘I have absolutely no doubts at all.’

We’re
in the shit here, sir, aren’t we?’

‘Get me
some more coffee in a plastic cup,’ said Augustus, lurking ever lower in his
chair. ‘And make sure that every TV set in the ministry is switched off.’

‘It’s
going to make it rather difficult to keep tabs on what the monster’s up to,
sir.’

Augustus
waved the man away. ‘I’m sure let us know.’

‘I am currently, as you
can see, in London,’ said Dilbert. ‘Beside’ — he gestured — ‘Nelson’s Column.
What a big column that Nelson had! I’ve a very big one myself. But enough of
humour. I shall soon be arranging a world tour, so that I can get to know you
all personally. You will find me an easy God to please. All you have to do is
obey. What could be simpler than that?

There
will naturally be some changes in lifestyle. Total world disarmament, a single
world economy and a single world language. I will teach you mine. Regular hours
of worship, and I will, of course, frown upon the worshipping of any gods other
than myself. And there are rather too many of you at the present and the
standard is somewhat low. It will be necessary to cull about a third. I will
let you know who is to cull whom.

‘So, it’s
all good news, really. No more wars, no more religious strife, everything in
order and jolly times ahead. For some of you, at least. I’ll bet you’re really
glad I came back, aren’t you?’