Get Lucky

just so much better than it was.’

  ‘Than it was?’ Queried Permission.

  ‘Yes, when the HDTA went public to raise funds, I bought IG&DTS lock, stock and barrel,’ explained Bb, enthusiastically.

  ‘Hold on!’ interrupted Permission. ‘HDTA, IG&DTS…what in Heavens name are you talking about?’

  ‘Oops, sorry,’ said Bb. ‘I forgot you’re from Wilderment…’

  ‘And Earth,’ added Shylock.

  ‘Yes. Quite,’ replied Bb. ‘Anyway, HDTA was the Heavenly Distribution Transit Authority who owned IG&DTS – the Inter-Galactic & Dimensional Transportation System. Quite a large outfit.’

  ‘You bought the whole company?’ asked Shylock.

  ‘Well, not exactly,’ replied Bb, without volunteering any more information.

  ‘So,’ prompted Shylock.

  ‘More like, I took it off their hands,’ explained Bb. ‘You see, they were so focussed on the task at hand – delivering their souls to wherever they were supposed to go, that they never considered charging.’

  ‘So, you took over the company and introduced charging?’ asked Permission.

  ‘Yes, but it’s heavily subsidised of course. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be very fair on the poor unsuspecting souls who suddenly have to pay to get to their destination, would it?’ asked Bb.

  ‘Subsidised by whom?’ asked Shylock.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ muttered Bb, evasively. ‘Here and there. All sorts of places actually.’ Then, before he could be asked any further question he suddenly pointed. ‘Look! Here comes our transportation.’

  Shylock and Permission turned and looked in the direction Bb had pointed and sure enough, there was something coming towards them, something that at first they couldn’t identify. Then, when it was close enough, they couldn’t believe. It was a miniature submarine – half yellow, and half grey, floating through the ether towards them, seemingly propelled by two large red propellers which were turning so slowly they could make out the individual blades.

  ‘This is for us?’ asked Permission. ‘This is how we get to Earth?’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t fix everything right away,’ Bb apologised. ‘There are so many things which need replaced…the stations, signalling and control systems, safety devices, track, staff wages, and these transporters themselves, …all sorts of things. And with limited funds, I had to start somewhere.’

  ‘So, you chose to replace the stations?’ asked Shylock. ‘Before safety devices and track?’

  ‘Oh, good grief, yes!’ agreed Bb. ‘Why, if things don’t look right, we won’t be able to attract customers.’

  ‘Don’t you think they would prefer to know that the transport would be safe to travel on ?’ asked Permission.

  ‘Ah, that’s just why I can make so much profit on this,’ smiled Bb, quite pleased with himself. ‘You see, most people just don’t understand Marketing!’

  ‘Hmmm, I’m sure I don’t,’ agreed Permission. ‘And anyway, why yellow and grey?’

  ‘Oh, yellow will be the colour when it’s properly finished,’ explained Bb.

  ‘You mean it’s only half painted?’ asked Permission.

  ‘Well…not exactly,’ said Bb, grabbing hold of a small ladder that ran down the side of the vessel and starting to climb upwards towards the top of the conning tower. ‘It’s all a matter of intellectual property payments, you see. Besides, half-yellow is better than no yellow at all.’

  Shylock and Permission looked at each other, shrugged and followed Bb up and into the strange small craft.

  By the time they stepped from the bottom rung of the interior ladder, Bb was already sitting in one of three seats, wrestling with what appeared to be a safety harness of some kind. ‘Stop it!’ he shouted, with an unusually sharp edge to his tone. ‘If I wish to buckle-up, I will. I don’t need any help from you, thank you!’

  ‘But, it’s my job’ replied the seat-belt in a high-pitched squeal, while successfully snapping a buckle closed around Bb’s waist. ‘You wouldn’t want me to contravene our illustrious owner’s instructions, would you?’

  ‘I am your owner!’ Bb shouted, losing the battle and succumbing to another strap tightening across his chest.

  ‘Oh, sure,’ squeaked the belt. ‘Do you know how many times I’ve heard that one. Ridiculous. In all the Universes, Dimensions and Time, is it likely that the owner will suddenly turn up and ask to sit here. I mean right here in my seat? No! Of course not.’

  ‘But I am the owner,’ squealed Bb, indignantly. ‘I really am!’

  ‘In which case,’ replied the harness, slipping yet another diagonal belt across it’s passengers chest. ‘You should be setting a good example!’

  Unable to come up with a satisfactory response before the final buckle clicked into place, Bb shuffled in his seat and silently fumed.

  Shylock and Permission sat in the two remaining seats and calmly fastened there own seat-belts in place. ‘How come you’re not helping them?’ snorted Bb.

  ‘Oh, only the pilot’s seat-belt is automatic,’ answered the harness. ‘I mean, if we turn upside down and the passengers fall out of their chairs, who cares. After all, the company isn’t liable is it? But, if you fall out there’s the very real possibility of damage to the ship, and the financial implications of that are so awful that I wouldn’t suggest you even think about it! After all, you’d be expected to make good the cost of any repairs including a hidden mark-up – which of course I can’t mention - to allow a modest profit.’

  ‘I’m the pilot?’ asked Bb, tentatively, checking that he had in fact heard the harness correctly. ‘You mean I have to fly this…...thing?’

  ‘Subetheral vessel,’ corrected the harness. ‘And yes, you have to pilot us, not a difficult task, to wherever you wish to go. By the way, where do you wish to go anyway?’

  His throat unexpectedly dry, Bb explained that they were travelling to planet Earth in the twenty-second century, and that they wished to land in a designated airfield on cloud nine.

  ‘Should be no problem there,’ the harness re-assured everyone. ‘I’ll hand you over to the navigator. She’ll help you from here.’ Wishing them good luck, which only further managed to worry the travellers, the harness called out for the navigator. ‘Lizzy! Oh, Lizzy! Are you there?’

  Lizzy

  ‘Of course I’m here!’ replied the octophonic husky female voice . ‘Where did you think I would be?’

  ‘Well, one never knows these days,’ replied the harness. ‘Anyway, over to you Lizzy.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ mused the surround-sound invisible navigator. ‘And who might we have here?’

  ‘Surely we could ask the same of you?’ said Shylock.

  ‘Oh, touchy aren’t we,’ surround-sound Lizzy replied. ‘I’m every little thing you see, the very air you breath. I’m everywhere and no-where. I’m within you and without you. I just am!’

  ‘Well, that’s a great help. Very helpful indeed,’ replied Shylock, sarcastically. ‘Anyway, does it really matter who we are? We’re your passengers, and we’ve paid our fares. Can’t you just take us to where we want to go? Does everyone around here have to be persuaded to do anything?’ he said, clearly frustrated, keen to get going.

  ‘So you’ve bought a ticket to ride?’ asked Lizzy.

  ‘Three,’ replied Bb, holding up the fluorescent orange tickets.

  ‘Prepaid tickets! Money, that’s what I want! Never get it though,’ muttered the suddenly sullen navigator. ‘Working away, eight days a week, and no-one ever gives me their money. Always tickets!’

  ‘Can’t we just get on our way?’ asked Shylock, impatiently. ‘Can you take us to Earth, or can’t you?’

  ‘I can take us here, there and everywhere,’ Lizzie replied. ‘Or even clear across the universe if you wish. So, if you want to go to Earth, I’m sure we can work it out. Am I allowed to ask you to tell me why?’

  ‘No, you are not! Just tell us how long it will take?’ snapped Shylock.

  ‘Let’s see,’ said
a miffed-sounding Lizzie, obviously examining the tickets somehow, although Shylock couldn’t tell how. ‘I see these are only day-tripper tickets, so it’d better not take too long. In fact, we’d better get going!’

  ‘Just what I’ve been trying to suggest,’ murmured Shylock to himself, sitting back as the strange half-painted subetheral vessel pulled away from the thatched cottage. ‘About time.’

  ‘I’m happy to introduce us,’ said Permission, suddenly addressing somewhere in mid-air. ‘The person you have been conversing with is Winston Shylock III, from planet Earth. Our companion, strapped to his seat is Bb….’

  ‘Bb!’ interrupted Lizzy, dizzily, before adding sardonically. ‘Our illustrious leader. We must have a long chat about Marketing sometime.’

  ‘…And I’m Permission. Both Bb and myself are from Wilderment,’ Permission finished, unphased by Lizzy’s interruption.

  ‘Ah, you’re from Wilderment. Tell me,’ asked Lizzy. ‘Do you happen to know Mother Nature’s son – a good friend of mine?’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure,’ said Permission.

  ‘Pity. Nice chap,’ said Lizzy. ‘Tell me, don’t you want to get back to Wilderment?’

  ‘Oh yes. Eventually,’ replied Permission. ‘But Bb and I would like to help Shylock.’

  ‘Hmmm, more about that later probably,’ said Lizzy. ‘Now, as a day in the life of a journey such as we are about to embark upon, is a rather long time, I’m afraid I shall have to put you to sleep.’

  ‘Fine with me,’ said Bb, yawning. ‘I’ll go .’

  ‘Right,’ said Lizzie. ‘Now, let me see.