is either turned into a slave, or eaten alive.’
‘Can you prove this?’ asked Permission.
‘Well, errr…everyone knows it’s true. That’s why no-one wants to come down below level two hundred, and the safe-keeper in the finance department never leaves,’ explained the guide.
‘Never leaves?’ Bb exclaimed. ‘Never?’
‘No,’ restated the guide. ‘It’s considered far too dangerous.’
‘Just a sssmall missssssunderssstanding,’ said the Queen.
‘Quite,’ agreed Permission. ‘Besides, this is just heresay. You have no clear evidence of these alleged atrocities.’
‘Well…no, I suppose not. But everyone knows it’s true!’ pleaded the guide.
‘In-admissible,’ ruled Shylock.
‘Besides,’ said Permission. ‘If - assuming for the moment that the claims were true - her Majesty were responsible for eliminating visitors below level two hundred, could it not be argued that as every-one knew about the risk, they ventured here at their own peril. And that therefore, her Majesty was fully within her rights to attack them?’
‘Interesting proposal,’ said Shylock, appearing to consider the argument.
‘And furthermore,’ continued Permission. ‘Could it not also be argued that it is in the very nature of the Amazonian ant – as an omnivore – to digest or consume other species in order to satisfy their inalienable right as the fittest, to survive?’
‘Another good argument,’ agreed Shylock. ‘Do we have any further arguments for conviction, before I cast judgement?’
‘How about the waste of my time in being here, if you find her not guilty?’ suggested Bb.
‘Well, yes, quite good,’ agreed Shylock, swinging the pendulum of uncertainty back towards guilty. ‘Anything else?’
‘One other sssmall item,’ offered the Queen.
‘Yes?’ said Shylock.
‘If, after your most wissse council, you ssshould find in my favour, I would of courssse insssissst on being persssonally resssponsssible for your sssafe delivery to the department you ssseek. However, on the other hand, if I am to be found guilty of thessse totally unfounded accusssationsss, then perhaps Nature will take it's own courssse’ said the Queen, allowing the sentence to trail away.
‘I see,’ said Shylock. ‘Your Majesty must be commended on her ability to crystallise issues in such a useful manner. However, I have already made my judgement, and I wish to proclaim the accusations against you to be unproven at this time, and that final judgement should be continued to a later date.’
‘Ssso, I am innocent?’ asked the Queen.
‘I think what Judge Winston III has said,’ explained Permission. ‘Is that there is no-one who can personally provide evidence against you…’
‘They’ve all been eaten!’ shouted the infuriated guide.
‘I’ve told you, that’s all heresay!’ snapped Shylock, annoyed that the guide was not apparently following the plot.
‘And,’ continued Permission. ‘as long as there are no further claims in the future, there will be no need for a retrial.’
‘Oh, no-one will make any further complaintsss,’ said the Queen. ‘I will make sssure of that.’
‘Good,’ said Shylock, ignoring the double entendre. ‘Then, if you’ll be so kind as to give us directions for the department of financial affairs, we’ll be on our way.’
‘No extermination?’ asked Bb, apparently disappointed.
‘No exterminations, this time,’ said Shylock.
‘Quick, quick,’ said the Queen, rising from her cushion. ‘Thisss way, thisss way.’
Wherewithal
True to her word, the Queen sent a disgruntled and confused guide back to the lift, then led the three of them directly to the department of financial affairs. Then - after again briefly assuring them that there would be no future complaints - disappeared back into the gloomy passageway, leaving them alone outside an opaque glass door with the name of the department etched into the surface.
‘Shall we?’ suggested Shylock, stepping forward and pulling a chain at one side of the doorway. A loud bell rang somewhere inside the department and the door slid almost soundlessly open. They entered and the door slid closed once more. They were standing outside a small building. A winding red-clay pathway led to the North and the South. Nearby was the sound of a running stream.
They entered the house. Laying there, were a small golden cage, a nap-sack with some food, and a large rusty key. They lifted one item each and, deciding that they may be useful, took them with them. They left the building and followed the path to the South passing intermittently through rolling green pastures and dark fearsome woods until they came to a deep ravine in a cliff wall protected by a rusty iron grid with a gate in it. In the gate was a rusty lock. Bb placed the rusty key in the lock and turned. The gate swung open allowing them inside.
A hand-written scrawl on the wall indicated that the department of financial affairs was within. They entered and quite soon afterwards became hopelessly lost in a twisting labyrinth of tunnels.
They were beginning to become seriously concerned when they stumbled into a large open grotto filled with all shapes and sizes of statue. Splitting up, they wandered through the cavern examining the busts, figurines and sculptures before re-gathering at the entrance.
‘What do you think they are?’ asked Permission, opening the nap-sack and sharing out the sandwiches.
‘No idea,’ replied Shylock, equally puzzled.
‘It’s obvious,’ said Bb, sniffing a black-bread sandwich before declaring the contents as peanut-butter and jelly.
‘What is?’ asked Permission and Shylock as one.
‘They’re old statues from the times when real money existed. Just look at them and you’ll understand. Look,’ he said, crossing and touching a faded-white marble figurine rolling on the ground crushing small leafs underneath. ‘This one’s rolling-in-clover. And this one,’ he added, moving to a second which was made from individual coins of different shapes and sizes. ‘Is, made-of-money.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Permission.
‘They all represent money, in some shape or fashion,’ explained Shylock. ‘Look, over there,’ he said, singling out a statue of a stooped man carrying several very heavy sacks over his shoulder. ‘He’s, loaded. And over there, she’s using dough to make bread!’
‘That’s it! Very clever,’ complemented Bb. ‘Do you see, Permission?’
Still confused, she lifted a small plastic female doll with long blonde hair, long fluttery eyelashes, and wearing six-inch thick heels on her shoes. ‘So what’s this one?’
‘She’s well heeled,’ replied Shylock.
'Very good,’ said Bb.
‘Fine, I see what you mean - but I still don’t understand what they are doing here,’ Permission asked.
‘They’re just not relevant any more,’ replied Shylock, tentatively.
‘Out of fashion?’ suggested Bb. ‘Who knows?’
‘Well, at least they can be useful to us,’ said Shylock, turning the blonde doll over in his hand.
Down by the river
‘What are we to do?’ asked Permission, collapsing tiredly against an outcrop of rock. ‘We’re going round in circles and are hopelessly lost.’
Shylock looked at the small brass figurine in the middle of the floor and was forced to agree with Permission. After they had discovered the statue-grotto, they had collected as many of the smaller statues as possible, putting them into the nap-sack Then, restarting their journey, they placed a small statue at each junction they came to, so that if they were going round in circles they would find out. And they had. ‘Not to despair. At least we know which tunnels we’ve already been down. Now we’ll just stock up with more statues and set off down others.’
‘And get lost again?’ said Permission, wearily.
‘If you like,’ said Bb. ‘You can wait here, and I’ll explore further then come back for you.’
‘Tha
t’s a good idea, I'll come with you’ agreed Shylock, seeing how exhausted Permission looked. ‘That way, you can rest up for a while.’
‘You’re not leaving me here, all alone!’ Permission replied, pushing herself to her feet and heading for the statue-grotto. ‘Where you go, I go.’
They’re trial however, didn’t last too much longer. In fact, when they came to the underground stream the nap-sack was still half-full of miniature monuments. Permission dropped the well-heeled figurine on the path and knelt down by the water edge, scooped cool clear water into her hands and swallowed thirstily. ‘Wonderful!’ she cried. ‘Delicious!’
Needing no further recommendation, Shylock and Bb both followed suit, fulfilling their needs, never having realised just how hot and thirsty they’d become. The water was crisp and sharp like frozen ice, and as refreshing as no other drink either of them could remember.
‘Look,’ said Permission, pointing to a sign for the Department of Financial Affairs. ‘We’re back on the right track!’
‘Figures,’ muttered Bb. ‘After all, we are at the bank are we not? The river bank that is.’
‘Come on,’ said Shylock. ‘Let’s get going. The department surely can’t be much further.
Red river
For the next hour they followed the river winding first one way then the other, back and forth, with Shylock aware that Permission was rapidly tiring, until around one further bend they came upon a small blonde figurine laying by the edge of the path. They looked at each other, expressions saying everything. Permission dropped to the ground and held her face in her hands, hiding tears Shylock