Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (16 page)

“Can I ask just one question? Then I promise we'll go to bed.”

“Just the one then, if that's what it takes,” said Bram. “Although I reserve the right not to answer it.”

“It's not actually for you, Sir,” said Johnny. “It's for Alf.”

“Oh ask away, Master Johnny,” said Alf, excitedly.

“Well,” said Johnny. “I don't mean to be rude, but …”

“Yes,” said Alf, beaming at him.

“ … but are you a robot?”

“A robot!” Alf exclaimed. “Well I suppose so but I've never been called
that
.” Alf covered his metallic face with his hands as though devastated.

“I'm sorry,” said Johnny. “I didn't mean to upset you. Robots … especially androids, are cool.” He got up, walked over and stood in front of the creature wondering what to do.

Alf took a neatly ironed, crisp white handkerchief from his
trouser pocket and blew his nose very loudly. “No harm done,” he said. “I have always insisted on Artificial Life Form, but I would like to be cool.”

“Oh—that's why you're called Alf,” said Johnny.

“Did you not realize?” said Alf, “How wonderful. And I would be honored if you called me an ‘android.' It is not a term I know, but I do like it. Normally, I am …”

“Alf! Time for bed,” said the Emperor, leaving absolutely no room for discussion.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Alf replied. “You two—follow me. You will just love the rooms we have for you.”

And with that he shepherded Johnny and Clara off, away from the enormous tower, the robed hundra floating silently behind them, leaving Emperor Bram Khari to stare into the blue flames.

Johnny woke to sounds from the next room. He'd been dreaming he was kicking a football with Bentley in the Castle Dudbury park. Or so he thought. He looked around and, unlikely as it seemed, that
had
been the dream and the reality was that he was in an enormous eight-poster sunken octagonal bed filled with an array of the softest and most comfortable duvets and pillows he could ever have imagined, situated in the Imperial Palace on a world at the center of the galaxy. Reluctantly, Johnny forced himself to climb out of the bed (in the strong gravity getting up was even harder than normal) and, yawning and stretching, walked over to a massive window that was so clear you'd only know it was there by touching it. Only one of either Arros or Deynar was sending out its faint red light into the bedroom. He knew it must be a red giant star—big but old—perhaps near the end of its life. Unlike the Sun you could look directly at it without any problems. But he
didn't gaze at it for very long. Something was happening to his feet. He looked down and saw the carpet was massaging them. After a lifetime spent in a children's home this really was the ultimate in luxury. Bentley would have loved it.

“Johnny,” shouted Clara from the next room. “Come on—breakfast's getting cold.”

“Coming,” he called, putting a white dressing gown over his pajamas and walking through to where she was sitting on cushions at a low table, looking out of a floor-to-ceiling window that made it seem as though a whole wall was missing. She was tucking into platefuls of bacon and eggs and blueberry pancakes that Alf had apparently brought in a couple of minutes earlier. The robed hundra from the night before was still there, floating near the window which looked out onto a beautiful courtyard. Johnny looked at his watch—they'd slept for a good twelve hours. He sat down on the cushions next to his sister and soon his white robe was covered in purple juice from the blueberries. As he gazed out of the window he saw that a smooth waterfall made up the entire opposite side of the quadrangle, leading at its foot to a circular pool in the very center of the courtyard. Johnny couldn't help thinking there was something very odd about the view. The harder he looked the more certain he was that the water was flowing out of the pool and up the waterfall, rather than the other way round.

The door opened and Alf entered, still in his suit and bowler hat, carrying a pile of clothes. “Three sets for each of you,” he said, separating them so there were six outfits hanging by themselves in mid-air. All were white tunics and black trousers, with sleek black boots underneath—but from their sizes it was clear whose belonged to who. What amazed Johnny was that on the front of his clothes were five golden stars exactly matching the shape of Cassiopeia.

“It's got my birthmark,” said Clara, getting up and rushing
over to her outfit. “Look—it's the Plow.” She lifted her dressing gown to show her calf on which there were seven freckles, arranged just like the seven lilac stars on the front of her top.

“Me too,” said Johnny. He rolled up his sleeve to show Clara the freckled “W” on his arm.

“I knew you would like them,” said Alf. “I designed them myself.” The android was skipping on the spot with pride.

“But how did you know?” Johnny asked.

“The Emperor told me, of course,” said Alf, brimming with importance. He bent down and began to clear away the empty plates from the table.

“But how did he know?” Clara asked. “We didn't even know about each other's.”

“He is the Emperor,” said Alf, as though that explained everything. “Well then,” he continued, now balancing at least a dozen different-sized plates in one hand. “What are you waiting for? Go and get changed—we have
so
much to do.”

Johnny and Clara looked at each other for a second and then they each plucked their outfits from the air and rushed into their rooms to try them on.

A few minutes later they were dressed and walking with Alf and the hundra across marbled flagstones in the courtyard they could see from their window. It was warm, probably almost forty degrees, thought Johnny, but his loose clothes were doing a very good job of not letting him feel the heat. And he loved the gold stripe down the outside of his trousers, making them look like part of a captain's uniform. In the red light of the day, with both suns now visible in the sky, they could see the wall of the building they'd slept in formed a perfect mirror, reflecting the waterfall which still looked very strange. The other two sides of the square were bounded by ancient white colonnades, their pillars wound with
golden and purple blooms. As they headed toward one side, they passed several aliens walking or flying across the square in the other direction. Johnny was very curious, but thought it would be rude to stare, and the aliens seemed to be keeping a discreet distance. That was apart from a very small one, only about a meter high but with a very long tail and nearly see-through, who approached Alf and began to question him about something.

“Over here,” said Johnny to Clara, taking the opportunity to have a closer look at the waterfall. He led her over, as near as they could get without splashing their new outfits.

“Interesting,” said Clara.

“It's more than interesting,” Johnny replied. But as he looked it was as though the waterfall was changing, reverting to how the laws of physics said it should be. The water droplets were slowing down, or rather, slowing up.

“Clara,” said a firm voice behind them. “Johnny,” it continued. They turned round and the Emperor was standing right behind them. “If you don't mind I'm ready for you now. Follow me.”

They set off, leaving Alf deep in conversation with the see-through alien, looking almost as though he was talking to himself. Clara wore a broad grin. As they left the square Johnny looked over his shoulder and saw the waterfall had gone back to normal, if an uphill waterfall could ever be called normal.

“Where are we going, Your Majesty?” Johnny asked.

The Emperor turned around. “Before we continue,” he said, “there is something I must insist on.”

Johnny thought, “Oh dear,” as he looked down at his shiny new boots.

“I am old,” said the Emperor. “I have spent most of my life being bowed to, agreed with, always obeyed. I have many titles—doubtless you heard a few of them when my soldiers came to fetch you yesterday. But you both must always call me ‘Bram.' Nothing else. Understood?”

“Yes Your … Bram,” said Johnny. He glanced sideways at Clara who was smiling and not looking nearly as overawed as Johnny felt. It was good that she was adjusting so well.

“Good,” said Bram. “Then we can begin.” Johnny and Clara both now looked at him expectantly. “Look above you,” Bram continued. “Tell me. What do you see?”

“Arros and Deynar,” said Johnny, pleased with himself for remembering both their names.

“There aren't any clouds,” said Clara.

“Good,” said Bram, “but I was thinking of something a little closer by.”

Johnny looked again. “You mean the hundra?” he asked, looking over at the floating ball, dressed very similarly to the rest of them.

“Oh is that what it's called?” asked Clara. “It's translating isn't it?”

“That is indeed what it is called and, yes Clara, it is translating,” said the Emperor. “I must say you are providing it with a veritable feast—no wonder it has been following you around.”

“Why's that?” Clara asked. “I don't understand.”

“Tell her, Johnny,” said the Emperor.

Shocked to be asked, Johnny tried to think back to what he'd heard when he was inside the giant hundra earlier. “Their food is … sort of … our thoughts,” he said. “No it's not quite like that—it's our speech.”

“Very good,” said Bram, “And?”

“And when they eat our words they send out brainwaves that match the language of the other people around them,” Johnny continued, “so those people hear the words in their own language.”

“Indeed,” said Bram. “A fine summary.”

Clara continued, “And I provide the most food because the rest of you here speak the same language.”

“Exactly,” said the Emperor. “Very perceptive.” Clara smiled.
Johnny wished he'd thought of that as well. The Emperor went on, “It is a sad day as far as this particular hundra is concerned, because you, Clara, are going to learn Universal—the language of the Imperial Court. And of half the galaxy.”

“In one day?” asked Clara.

“I think you will find your instruction more than adequate,” said the Emperor.

“What about me?” Johnny asked.

“It would appear that you don't need to learn Universal,” said the Emperor. “When you tried to help the ancient hundra on the krun ship, it gave you a unique gift.”

“How do you know about that?” Johnny asked, not that he was complaining—it was a great excuse not to have to study.

“I know many things,” said Bram, smiling at Johnny. “And one of them is that you must learn to control your abilities. It won't always do for everyone to understand what you're saying—sometimes you may prefer to be more … selective with what you tell them.”

Johnny nodded. It would be nice to be able to tell the Dauphin what he really thought about it without risking execution. Though now he was with the Emperor …

“Instead,” Bram continued, “I'm afraid you will have to spend the day with me.” There was a definite twinkle in his eye. They rounded a corner and came to where they'd first met the night before. The Emperor swished his wrist and the gong that had been there then appeared again out of thin air. “Your turn, Johnny, I believe,” said the Emperor.

Johnny picked up the mallet and sent it crashing into the metal surface. He felt his whole body vibrate as the sound rebounded around the square.

A blur of movement shot into the quadrangle from the direction they'd just come. Johnny prepared to dive out of the way, but it stopped in an instant and right in front of them stood Alf
in his pinstriped suit, twiddling his bowler hat around in his hands. “So sorry, Your Majesty—I was … distracted,” said the android, not even slightly out of breath. “Miss Clara,” he continued, turning toward her. “I am so excited to be teaching you—shall we begin?” Alf made a long, sweeping, bowing motion, reaching almost to the ground and pointing in the direction she was meant to take. She giggled nervously, set off with a skipping Alf, and disappeared into a domed building along one side of the square. The hundra drifted upward and away.