The Dance of the Voodoo Handbag

  ‘Different.’ Blazer Dyke shooed Billy from his chair and plonked himself back into it. ‘Your gift is for fitting in. Mine is for organization. Together we will make a good team. But know this, Billy. Although I do not disapprove of what you did to the young man, neither do I condone it. I am simply aloof to it. You exposed a weakness in the structure of our organization which has now been rectified. But there will be no more “tragic accidents” to my personnel. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Perfectly, yes.’

  ‘Also you must view the experience as part of the learning process.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘To take greater care.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘The room was under close-circuit video surveillance. Cutting-edge stuff, naturally. All your actions were observed and recorded.’

  ‘I see,’ said Billy. ‘Then I shall take greater care in the future. Thank you for drawing this to my attention.’

  ‘My pleasure, my boy. Now I’m sure you have questions you’d like to ask.’

  ‘Many,’ said Billy. ‘I know the young man told me what he believed to be the truth. But—’

  ‘But,’ said Blazer Dyke, ‘you do not believe that he knew the truth.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘And of course he didn’t. Although fiction can sometimes be truer than fact. So what should I tell you? Of how this company came to be, perhaps? Of its goals? Of its plans for the future?’

  ‘All,’ said Billy.

  ‘Then all it shall be. Necrosoft is a private company specializing in the development of advanced micro-processing computer technology. EW and AT: Electromagnetic Weaponry and Artificial Telepathy. Lumped under the heading of NLWT: Non-Lethal Weapons Technology.’

  ‘Who funds this organization?’ asked Billy.

  ‘The American government. They fund many such privately owned companies in order to sidestep the Freedom of Information Act. It comes loosely under the heading of covert operations, but you will only find it listed as Research Technology. As there is no longer a cold war between East and West, America has no immediate enemies. Except of course the now legendary “enemy within”.’

  ‘Its own people,’ said Billy.

  ‘Exactly. Terrorists, activists, anarchists, cultists. Agitators in general. Dissidents, if you like. Those who won’t toe the Party line. Those who act up. And so military weapons technology is no longer aimed at foreign powers, it is now being developed for urban pacification. To keep the unruly in their place. With the grand view of creating a peaceful, stable society.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Billy.

  ‘Absolutely. We don’t want to shoot our own, we just want to pacify them.’

  ‘Keep them under control,’ said Billy.

  ‘Not an expression we like to use here. But in essence, yes. Now, Electromagnetic Weaponry has been in development since the Second World War. The Nazis were at work on sound weapons that could disable vehicles and as you may know, many of their top scientists escaped the war trials and were quietly spirited over to America to work for the government there. Work progressed and with the development of micro-chip technology, it came on in leaps and bounds.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Billy.

  ‘I will,’ said Blazer. ‘Electromagnetic Weaponry, zapping the engines of tanks and such like was all very well, but tanks can be shielded and systems over-ridden. It is far easier to disable a person than a tank. And so EW led eventually to AT: Artificial Telepathy. Which is what we specialize in here.’

  ‘Please explain this to me.’

  ‘Certainly. With Artificial Telepathy, a computer relays a radio communication directly into a human brain without the need of an electronic receiver. A microwave carrier delivers an analogue of words known as an audiogram. The big bonus, indeed the whole point of this, is that the recipient of the message is unaware that it is being broadcast. He or she thinks that it is their own thoughts.’

  ‘You are saying that you can put voices into people’s heads?’

  ‘Voices. Words. That’s crude, but it can be effective sometimes. The old “God told me to shoot the president,” you know the kind of stuff. But we’re talking concepts here. Implanting a concept to change a subject’s mode of thinking. Let us say that you were to implant the concept of “guilt at wrong doing” – you wouldn’t stop all the wrong doing, but you’d make a lot of people think twice and that would make a difference.’

  ‘And you’d have your urban pacification.’

  ‘Subtle concepts don’t work on mob mentality. You need to be a little more robust. Terror is an effective concept, but the terrified man will act irrationally. The most effective we’ve found so far, and the most amusing, is to beam the concept of a pressing need to use the toilet.’

  ‘Very humorous,’ said Billy.

  ‘Indeed, but in the future it should not be necessary. We are currently engaged in other forms of experimental research. The pleaser, for instance.’

  ‘The pleaser?’

  ‘You experienced its efficacy yourself. The bright plastic something you so liked to squeeze.’

  ‘Impregnated with the mysterious drug from the Amazon?’

  ‘Yes, well, that was not altogether true. It has more to do with resonance and frequency. But, tell me this, why do you think that the young are the way they are today? Obsessed with name brand designer clothes and trainers, McDonald’s burgers and manufactured pop music?’

  ‘Because they all have the Sky TV satellite in their birth charts?’

  ‘That’s probably part of it,’ said Blazer Dyke.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No! Of course not really! EW technology. Just like your pleaser, all geared towards urban pacification. Once you have your young all dressing the same, eating the same, listening to the same music and thinking the same, they are very easy to control.’

  ‘This is very sensitive information you are giving me,’ said Billy.

  ‘Well, you’re not going to spread it around, are you?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Because we’d have to kill you, if you did.’

  ‘Quite so.’

  ‘And moving right along, we come to the Necronet itself. The latest port of call on our electromagnetic voyage. We have in place the EW technology, the computer is capable of despatching the microwave carrier which creates the audiogram in the recipient’s head. What is the next logical development?’

  Billy put up his hand, as he had done so long ago in the junior school. ‘To programme the computer to receive as well as to send.’

  ‘Exactly, and then?’

  ‘And then you can effectively read people’s thoughts.’

  ‘Precisely, and not just their thoughts. Access their memories also. And thoughts plus memories equal personality. Equal in fact the mind of the subject. The computer downloads the subject’s mind and stores it.’

  ‘To what purpose?’

  ‘At present for espionage. Subject one is downloaded, subject two has his memory blanked, the concept of amnesia is implanted. Then subject one’s downloaded mind, complete with all previous thought and memory, is beamed into subject two. Mentally subject two is now subject one.’

  ‘And subject one?’

  ‘Into the canal with subject one.’

  ‘I see. But where does the Necronet concept come into this? “Access the dear departed” et cetera?’

  ‘By happy accident, really. We downloaded a number of subjects. Disposed of their bodies, but kept the downloaded minds stored in the computer for access.’

  ‘Who were these subjects?’

  ‘Rivals in the field. Computer scientists. Our way of beating the opposition. Absorb it.’

  ‘So you have their downloaded minds, their memories and thoughts stored in your computer banks, what then?’

  ‘Then we noticed something extraordinary. They were communicating with one another. Exchanging information. One of our technicians likened them to being souls in limbo. Souls in cybe
rspace, if you will. And so we created a virtual world for them in there. All the comforts they might require, virtual food, virtual sex, whatever. They’re very happy in there. And very cooperative.’

  ‘I see,’ said Billy. ‘So what do you need the grannies for?’

  ‘Historical reference. A granny is a walking history book of the twentieth century. She might have forgotten much of what she experienced. But only in the conscious mind. It’s all there in the subconscious, ready to be downloaded and stored.’

  ‘And so the virtual granny in cyberspace has a digital memory. She can remember everything.’

  ‘That’s right, and all these memories can be accessed by us. You see the beauty of this. We are slowly building a world database. And it leads to an interesting spiritual question. If you download a person before they die, when they do die, do they really die? Their personalities, complete with all thoughts and memories, are inside the virtual world of the Necronet. They are alive in there. So is the person actually dead? The body, yes. The mind, no. Interesting, isn’t it?’

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Billy. ‘But where is it all leading to?’

  ‘Control,’ said Blazer Dyke. ‘Control is what everything leads to. There is the herd and there is the herd leader. The herd leader is the individual, the different one. The herd is just the herd. Control the herd and you control the game. There are those who do the accessing and those who are there to be accessed. I know which of these I am. And you know too, don’t you?’

  ‘Born to access,’ said Billy. ‘And I accept the position.’

  ‘Which position is this?’

  ‘Whichever position you offer me. I assume that I will not be offered a choice.’

  ‘You are correct. But why do you assume this?’

  ‘Because you have me under your control. You have the incriminating video tape and you hold the power of life and death. Should I refuse to do what you ask, you can always download me. I am sure your virtual world is a wonderful place, but I would prefer to live here for the time being.’

  ‘Well put. The job in question is that of “information gatherer”.’

  ‘Which is a euphemism for what?’

  ‘Assassin. Your particular gift, Billy, is for blending in. You are a regular stealth fox.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘An unfortunate by-product of our rural pacification programme. Nothing to concern yourself about. But it is your ability to fit in, to look just right wherever you are, which makes you valuable to us. We need someone who can get in close. EW technology is not as yet long-range. The microwave carrier is only effective over a few metres. We will issue you with a list of subjects. Folk whose personalities we would like added to our database. You will get in close, download these people and dispose of their bodies.’

  Billy nodded thoughtfully. ‘Sounds most challenging,’ he said. ‘Are there prospects for promotion?’

  ‘For a lad like you. Oh yes, indeed.’

  ‘Then we have a deal.’

  ‘Shall we shake upon it? Perhaps you will take off your gloves.’

  ‘I think not,’ said Billy. ‘But we have a deal.’

  ‘Splendid.’

  ‘Just one or two small details. Accommodation?’

  ‘Pick out a place you like in the area. The company will cover the costs.’

  ‘Transportation?’

  ‘You acquired the young man’s car, I believe.’

  ‘It will do for now, I suppose.’

  ‘Splendid. We’ll have all the documentation altered to your name.’

  ‘And my granny,’ said Billy.

  ‘Ah yes, your granny.’

  ‘I’d like her downloaded straight away, if that’s all right.’

  ‘That’s perfectly all right. Just bring her in whenever you want and I’ll take care of it myself.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Billy. ‘I have her with me now, actually. She’s downstairs in the car.’

  ‘I didn’t notice any passenger when you drove into the car park.’

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t have,’ said Billy. ‘She’s in the boot.’

  Legs Kirby

  ‘Here, what’s this?’ says Kirby,

  Kirby with those legs he wears,

  Kirby with his books and prayers,

  Kirby living under stairs,

  Stupid bow-legs Kirby.

  ‘So, who’s there?’ says Kirby,

  Kirby with his Fifties suit,

  Kirby with his iron book,

  Kirby with his pheasant shoot,

  Stupid bow-legs Kirby.

  Well, why’s this?’ says Kirby,

  Kirby with his kipper tie,

  Kirby with his lazy eye,

  Kirby with his tasty fry,

  Stupid bow-legs Kirby.

  ‘Yes, I see!’ says Kirby,

  Kirby with his winning ways,

  Kirby with his love of praise,

  Kirby with his open days,

  Stupid bow-legs, greaseball, over-fed, toffee-nosed, know-it-all, no-good-son-of-a-pig who wouldn’t let me in his gang—

  Stupid bow-legs fat-head!

  10

  I never deal with the common man.

  The common man has no spirituality.

  The common man thinks that Ganesha is Dennis the Menace’s dog.

  HUGO RUNE

  Mrs Barnes gave it two weeks and then reported Billy’s absence to the police. They sent round Inspector Kirby who had done courses in bereavement counselling and community relations. He had also done courses in stress management, positive thinking, actualization of the self, releasing the spirit within, neoistic post-modernism and macramé. He held a degree in Humanities and was qualified to teach hang-gliding and white water rafting. Exactly what he was doing in the police force was a mystery to both him and his mother.

  Inspector Kirby rang the doorbell, but receiving no reply took himself round to the side of the house.

  Mrs Barnes sat upon the veranda in her wicker chair. As it was a Thursday she was cross-dressed. Evening suit, dickie bow, patent pumps and a rather fetching Clark Gable moustache sketched in felt-tip pen beneath her nose.

  ‘Madam?’ said Inspector Kirby.

  ‘How dare you!’ said Billy’s mum. ‘Does this look like a brothel?’

  ‘No, madam. This looks like a mock-Tudor house. Circa 1933 and the work of the architect Klaus Bok, brother of the painter, Karl. Bok favoured the use of traditional materials, but was not averse to modern innovation, as can be seen in the window catches and guttering.’ Inspector Kirby had also done ‘Architectural Styles of the Twentieth Century’ in an Open University course.

  ‘My husband was a great friend of Bok,’ said Mrs Barnes. ‘Which was curious considering the disparity in their heights. My husband was very tall and Bok was positively dwarf-like.’

  ‘Was he Welsh?’

  ‘If he was, he kept it to himself. They could put you in prison for that, back in those days.’

  ‘For being Welsh?’

  ‘Oh, Welsh? I thought you said “raving homosexual”.’ Mrs Barnes put her head on one side and pounded her right ear with her fist. ‘I’ve a bit of carrot stuck in my left ear, you know how it is.’

  Inspector Kirby nodded. ‘As much as you can eat for a fiver. So you get your head right into the salad bowl.’

  ‘No,’ said Mrs Barnes. ‘It’s vomit.’

  Inspector Kirby scratched at his knees.

  ‘Your legs are extremely bowed,’ Mrs Barnes observed. ‘Do you have your trousers specially tailored?’

  ‘Only the ones I wear when I’m on duty.’

  ‘And when you’re off duty?’

  ‘I normally wear a kilt.’

  ‘Well, it’s legal nowadays. Although it’s still frowned upon in the armed services.’

  Inspector Kirby shook his head and gave his knees another scratch.

  ‘That’s why my husband left the country,’ said Mrs Barnes. ‘Because of homosexuality. “Mavis,” he said to me, “two hundred ye
ars ago they hanged you for it, one hundred years ago they jailed you for it, thirty years ago they legalized it and I’m getting out before they make it compulsory.” ’

  ‘It’s regarding your son, Billy,’ said Inspector Kirby.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.’

  ‘He’s not my type.’

  ‘So what type do you prefer then?’

  ‘I don’t prefer any type. I’m not gay.’

  ‘Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.’

  ‘I wasn’t knocking it.’

  ‘Then you have tried it.’

  ‘No, well, er, that is neither here nor there. I am here regarding your son’s disappearance.’

  ‘Come and sit down over here,’ said Billy’s mum. ‘Your legs are distracting me. It’s like looking through a porthole.’

  Inspector Kirby joined Mrs Barnes on the veranda. ‘When did you last see your son?’ he asked, as he sat himself down.

  ‘The Wednesday before the Wednesday before last.’

  ‘And he said nothing to you about where he might be going.’

  ‘He might have mentioned business elsewhere. But I can’t be certain. We’ve never been close, you see.’

  ‘Does he miss his father, do you think?’

  ‘He’s never mentioned him.’

  ‘Probably in denial,’ said Inspector Kirby. ‘An inability to express outwardly feelings of loss and abandonment can often result in deep-seated psychological trauma. Introversion, bed-wetting, masturbation, voyeurism—’

  ‘Homosexuality?’ asked Mrs Barnes.

  ‘No,’ said Inspector Kirby. ‘I wasn’t going to say homosexuality.’

  ‘Well, you should say it. After all it’s homosexuality that has raised us above the animals.’

  ‘I don’t think I quite follow that.’

  ‘Well, you just think about it. What is it that elevates mankind? Makes it superior to the animal kingdom?’

  ‘A more sophisticated brain, opposing thumbs, the ability to communicate through language—’

  ‘At first, yes. But think about culture. Think about the arts. Think what homosexuals have contributed to the arts. How many artists, poets, writers, singers, musicians, composers, film-makers, dancers, actors, clothes designers, set-dressers and hairdressers are homosexuals?’