‘Brilliant.’
‘Brilliant.’ Rex dropped the dreaded Repo Man card into the slot in the keyboard and the screen lit up with all sorts of possibilities. Rex called up the menu once again. The screen said:
LOGGING INPUT
STATISTICAL ANALYSIS
PROFIT MARGINS
MAINTENANCE
STATUS
AUDIO/VISUAL
LOCATION
INSTRUCT
VOID
FASHION TIPS
It all looked moderately intriguing. And somewhat too good to be true. Rex fingered the keyboard and called up LOCATION.
An area of Presley City appeared in map form on the screen. Enlarged and zoomed in. A little blip went blip blip blip in the alleyway behind the Tomorrowman Tavern. Rex called up AUDIO/VISUAL and then jumped back. A fist flew towards him on the screen, filled it as it made apparent impact and then vanished away. The fist’s owner became visible, staggering backwards, clutching the wounded article and uttering cuss words. A voice which didn’t come from this body, said, ‘Return the stolen billfold.’ Rex glanced down at the billfold and then back to the screen. The voice dearly wasn’t addressing him. It continued.
‘You were carrying a concealed weapon contrary to social format and I note that you sport the open-necked look in a zany tie zone. You are evidently a revolutionary. Therefore you must know the location of the stolen billfold. Hand it over or I will kill you.’
Rex whistled beneath his breath. These Repo Men certainly went about their work with zeal. But there was something dangerously lacking when it came to the matter of how they applied their logic to the solution of a particular problem.
‘It’s a bum rap. You got the wrong guy.’ The cries came from a face now seen in dose up as its owner was being hoisted up the wall of the alleyway. ‘I ain’t no Goddamn revolutionary. I’m a Republican.’
‘I will count to three and if you do not disclose the whereabouts of the stolen billfold I will break open your head.’
‘Listen, buddy, you’re making me mad.’
‘One,’ said the voice.
Rex flipped back to the menu. He called up INSTRUCT and tapped in ABORT. Then back to AUDIO/VISUAL.
‘Two,’ said the voice.
‘Damn,’ said Rex.
The face on the screen said something. But nothing helpful.
Rex took to wildly tapping buttons. On screen he saw a big hand closing over the struggler’s head.
‘Three.’
Rex tapped OVERRIDE ALL PREVIOUS IMPERATIVES BILLFOLD RECOVERED AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.
He gaped at the screen. The big hand froze. The face relaxed and slid from view, the brick wall clouded and the screen blacked.
Rex breathed a very big sigh of relief. That was close. But close for who? Some innocent, he supposed, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rex had evidently been viewing him through the eyes of a Repo Man. An LCP. Liquid Crystal Person. Some kind of robot? Had to be. But built by whom? And where? Find the central control and one might just find the Volvo. It seemed as likely as anything else around here.
‘Goddamn. That was close. What happened to him?’ The voice came from the terminal.
‘Seems like he blew a fuse, chief. I reckon we’d best be away.’
‘Chief?’ Rex did big gasps. ‘Barry! It’s you. You’re here.’
His words must have issued straight through the mouth of the now defunct Repo Man, because the next thing Rex heard was a small green cry of, ‘We’re rumbled, chief,’ followed by much scrambling and scurrying and an increasingly distant voice going, ‘Faster, chief. Get a move on.’
10
15. And finally did the children of Elvis get their bearings and dump Moses.
16. And they came unto Jericho, which is just up from the Dead Sea.
17. But the people of Jericho did see them coming and shut the gate, crying, ‘Hippy convoy!’
18. For the people of Jericho were unhip, favouring Trad Jazz and duffle coats.
19. And so did Elvis have his road crew set up a mighty speaker system outside the walls. And thusly did he pump up the volume.
The Suburban Book of the Dead
Four men sit in a top-secret room. It looks very much the same as ever it did. But it isn’t. This is a different room altogether. There is a long black table with chairs around it for thirteen. A big light shines down upon it, and the light isn’t kind.
Three men huddle uncomfortably at one end of the table. The fourth, who was sitting at the other, is now standing. And he is also shouting.
‘You useless bunch,’ he shouts. ‘You puny piss-poor pathetic pack of poltroons.’ There is no verbal response to this. Only the lowering of three heads accompanied by triple cowering. ‘A thousand years of planning has gone into this. One thousand years. And you screw it all up in a single day. Dee, Kelley, what did you do?’
Two mouths drop open. But that’s about all they do. The lips quiver, but that’s not a lot of help.
‘I’ll tell you what you did. You ballsed it up. I send you into the parallel continuum with orders to collect the final statue and do nothing more. But can you do that? No, you can’t. You come back here with Rex Mundi on board, and if that isn’t disaster enough, you stop off for lunch, he escapes and the Volvo gets stolen with the entire Presley hoard along with it. Everything. Gone.’
‘And you.’ A finger points at the man with the hangover. He is wearing a somewhat creased jumpsuit of the bell-bottomed persuasion. ‘You, Bill. I have you pick up Mundi from the police station and deliver him to Heartbreak Hotel where he should have met with certain extinction. And what happens? He’s away again. And not only that. Having arranged for you to be standing by when he surfaces today, you take him shopping. He damn near bankrupts me and all but gets me arrested. Then you get so drunk that he steals your cab and he’s off on the loose once more.’
Bill chewed upon his knuckles. The speaker turned his glare once more to Dee and Kelley. ‘And what do you do with Woodburn?’
‘Woodbine,’ said Dee. ‘Lazlo Woodbine.’
‘Shut up! You were to kill him in the alleyway and capture the Time Sprout. It’s our escape route out of here. If we can’t succeed with our plan in just two days all this goes up, and us along with it. If we can’t lure Presley here and destroy him before then, we’re history. History that never happened.’ The other Rex Mundi, because, of course, it could be no other, rent hair from his head and flung it to the floor where it exploded in small sulphurous puffs of smoke. ‘A thousand years of running and hiding, and what has it come to? Speak someone. Bill, what are you going to do?’
‘Me . . . I. . . ?’ Bill made splutterings. ‘I will. . . I will... I will kill Mundi. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll kill him, excellency. He doesn’t suspect me. He’ll be at Laura Lynch’s. I’ll wait for him there and kill him. That’s what I’ll do. Yes.’
‘No! That’s what you won’t do.’
‘No, excellency. That’s what I won’t do. No. Absolutely not. What will I do?’
‘You will drive him around. That’s what you’ll do. He will be searching for the Volvo and with his kind of luck he will no doubt find it. When he does, then you will kill him and bring the Volvo to me. Do you think you can manage that?’
‘Yes, excellency.’ Bill nodded his hung-overed head.
Ed Kelley raised a shaky hand. ‘What do you want us to do, excellency?’
‘What do you think I want you to do?’
Ed scratched his head. ‘Kill Woodbine, excellency?’
‘No! Not kill Woodbine.’
‘Not kill Woodbine. But you wanted us to . . .’
‘Well I don’t want you to now.’
‘No, excellency. You don’t.’
‘So what do I want you to do?’
Ed gave his scalp further attention. Johnny Dee said, ‘You want us to follow him.’
The other Rex nodded. ‘Because?’
‘Because he is also searching for t
he Presley hoard which is in the Volvo.’
‘Exactly. And?’
‘And when he finds it, then you want us to kill him and bring you the Volvo and the Time Sprout.’
‘There you go. What could be more simple?’
‘Well . . .’ said Ed. ‘I do foresee one or two slight difficulties . . .’
‘Slight difficulties?’ The other Rex put his hands to the long table-top, tore it from its legs and cast it away into the darkness. ‘You will do it! This is my world and I’m keeping it. I can deal with the government, the loss adjusters, the bloody Repo Men and the accountants. They’re nobody. Nothing. This is all mine and I’m taking it back.’
‘Yes, excellency.’
‘You, ASMODEUS.’ The Anti-Rex glared at Bill. ‘You, BALBERTTH.’ The glare turned upon Ed Kelley. ‘You, SONNEILLON.’ The glare finally came to rest upon Johnny Dee. ‘You, the last remaining of my First Hierarchy of Hell. Stop flipping about, and get on with it. Kill anybody who stands in your way. I want it all, the past the present and the future. I want Presley dead and all memory of him driven from the Earth. I want him dead, dead, DEAD! What do I want?’
‘Presley dead.’
‘When do I want it?’
‘Now.’
‘Good. Then, gentlemen, you are dismissed.’
‘Phew, chief. That was close.’
‘You said it.’ I straightened my belt buckle and tidied my trenchcoat. There was extensive second-degree smutting and several nasty blots of what appeared to be some kind of industrial lubricant. Normally this would have caused me considerable grief, but this time I was prepared to tough it out. I mean, there was no way I was going to come across as an anal retentive simply because I had pride in my appearance. ‘That guy back there wasn’t human,’ I observed with more perspicacity than a panty-girdle pedler at a Tupperware party. ‘What do you make of that, Barry?’
‘Can’t say, chief. But that voice. At the end when he froze up. I know that voice, or knew it.’
‘You keep bad company, little guy.’ We were back in my office. The bolt was on the door and the top was off the bottle of Old Bedwetter that I generally reserve for moments such as these. I took a deep slug. ‘You feeling your old self yet, Barry?’
‘You mean the time travelling? Well, no, as it happens.’
‘Not good.’ I took another slug. ‘We got a real tight schedule if we’re going to make it out of here before the Big Bang.’
‘About the Big Bang, chief. Do you know why it happens?’
‘Nope. History is schtum on the details, but pretty graphic about the scale. It took this city clean off the map.’
‘So what are you going to do next, chief?’
‘Well, the way I see it, Barry, we have two options. The first is that I sit here, hit this bottle of Old Bedwetter and fall into flashbacks of lost loves and hard times past.’
‘Not too keen, chief. And the second?’
‘The second is that we step out to the supermarket and pick up some supplies.’
‘I quite like that one, chief. But I can’t see exactly where it’s leading to.’
‘Then let me put you in the picture.’ I leaned back in my chair and made the kind of smile that money just can’t buy you these days. ‘What are we searching for Barry?’
‘The Presley hoard, chief.’
‘And where is it now, Barry?’
‘Search me, chief.’
‘Well, it has to be somewhere.’
‘Yes, chief.’
‘And I reckon it’s right-’ I pulled a map from my pocket, spread it upon my desk and whacked my finger down on to it at a very particular spot, ‘-here.’
Barry gave the map the once-over and went, ‘Eh?’
‘Come on, Barry. Think about it. Sir John Rimmer digs up the Presley hoard. And the location of where he dug it up is on every twenty-fifth-century map. So that’s where we go. If it hasn’t arrived yet we wait. And we take sandwiches. Enough to last us until you get your powers back and we can abscond with the hoard forward homeways. Pretty neat, eh? We know that the hoard survived the Big Bang, so if we stick with it, we survive, too.’
‘Chief. I hate like damn to say this to you, but you are a genius.’
‘Yeah, Barry. Ain’t I just.’
‘Rexy. You aren’t leaving, are you?’
Rex was struggling into his leather trousers. ‘I have to see a man about something. Or a something about something.’
‘But we were just working up to the knees and you’ve still got $85,750 left on the meter.’
‘Wait for me.’ Rex managed his finest Arnie, ‘I’ll be back.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No. I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
‘I do.’ Laura produced a small intricate hand-weapon. As she was still naked, Rex had no idea where she had produced it from. ‘Ah,’ said he. ‘I see.’
‘No, I don’t think you do. You’re not the chap off the telly. I know that. You are the one we have been waiting for.’
‘We?’ Who is this we all of a sudden?’
‘We. The Children of the Revolution.’
‘Marc Bolan,’ said Rex. ‘One of my favourites. You don’t happen to have a copy of “Pewter Suitor” in your collection by any chance? I’ve been after it for years.’
Laura shook her head. ‘We, the Children of the Revolution, have been waiting for you to aid us. I know who you are.’
‘You do?’
‘I do. You are the Tomorrow Man.’
‘I am?’
‘You are. When you flashed the Repo Man card I thought we’d been infiltrated. But I listened at the bedroom door when you found my terminal. You’re one of us, aren’t you?’
‘I suppose I probably am. The Tomorrow Man. Yes,’ said Rex. ‘I certainly am.’
‘So where are you going?’
‘Back to the Tomorrowman Tavern, as it happens. The Repo Man who stole my car is frozen there, or at least one of his companions is. Perhaps the car might even be there also.’
‘You’re going to need my help.’
‘I’m not altogether sure that we share all the same motives.’
‘Then we can help each other. Trust me.’
‘All right then. We shall go together.
‘That’s fine.’ Laura turned to take up her clothing. Rex spun around and kicked the gun from her hand. He plucked it from the carpet.
‘I’ll carry this, though,’ he said.
We headed on up the alleyway, the map before us.
‘Which way is north, chief?’
‘Up thataways, Barry.’ I have an uncanny sense of direction. Paid a fortune for it. In this business, a sense of direction can mean the difference between laughing like a drain or getting caught with your trousers around the ankles of a friend you never had. If you catch my drift. And I’m sure that you do. ‘We go right at the top here. Or is it left?’
‘Cab, sir? Well, cut off my legs and call me Shorty, it’s you guvnor.’
‘So it is,’ said Rex. ‘Something of a surprise. You being here. And in your cab.’
‘No problems. I paid off the tab at the Tomorrowman and took a stroll over. I was a little over the limit. Thanks for looking after the cab for me. I appreciate the gesture.’
‘Don’t mention it. You had no difficulties back at the bar?’
‘Nah. A slight misunderstanding. For some reason the barman got it into his head that I was the boss of your TV station. I soon straightened him out.’
‘I’m so very glad to hear it because I’d like you to take us back there now.’
‘Back there?’ The cabby looked doubtful.
‘Well, to the alleyway behind the bar. Could you manage that?’
‘Anything for you, me old cock sparrow. The barman took my watch in payment by the way.’
‘I’ll get you another.’
‘You are a scholar and a gentleman. Hop in then and we’ll be off.’
Rex opened the rear
door. ‘Is this okay, Laura?’
‘Just let’s go.’
‘Okay.’
‘How are we doing, chief?’
‘I think we just about ran out of alleyway, Barry. What is that up ahead, do you suppose?’
‘Damnedest thing I ever saw, chief. Do you think that’s it?’
‘Has to be. X marks the spot. Let’s put our faith in old Sir John.’
‘Righty right. Let’s do.’
Bill was whistling in a devil-may-care sort of way as they sped along. Rex said to Laura, ‘Tell me all about it.’
‘All of this is wrong, Rex. All of it. It’s designed. It’s not true.’
‘Go on.’
PresleyCity. The Department of Human Resources runs it all. Controls it. But you won’t find the number in the phone book. The Department is everywhere and nowhere, organizing everything. We just play our roles. There is no individual thought here.’
Rex gazed from the window. The streets seemed even more like theatrical backdrops. ‘Actors on a film set.’
‘Just like that, yes. It’s all false, all of it.’
‘I understand. But tell me, if you grew up in all this, how do you know that it’s false? This society appears on the surface to function. There is law and order, well, sort of. How can you be so sure that it’s not what it seems?’
“There are books, a book, that tells us the way it should have been. It’s all very complicated. It would take time to explain.’
‘On the contrary,’ Rex put his arm around her shoulder, ‘it’s all a lot more simple than you think. I know what went wrong here and I think I know how to put it right.’
The cab driver went right on whistling. But he’d heard every word.
‘If that’s where we’re going, Barry, there’s one or two small things we have to do first.’
‘Like get the sandwiches in, chief?’
‘Like that. And also.’ I ducked around the corner of the alleyway and flattened myself against the wall the way a flounder hugs the ocean floor. Only vertically. If you catch my on-shore drift. And I’m sure that you do. ‘Dee and Kelley have been shadowing us ever since we left my office. I think it’s time to settle those old scores.’