“No, but we appear to have discovered what electricity is.”
“That’s been known for centuries.” Kara sighed and made her way back to the new Cyclic Perambulator machine she was working on with their next batch of samples.
“All the original thinking was wrong,” said the Magus, trying to keep her attention, “which at least explains why the power companies charge so much.” He stood up and stretched.
“Go on then, Fuzz-ball, tell me,” said Kara, sounding bored.
“No, listen up; everybody knows what electricity does, and how it was used to work toasters and trolley-buses before we got into quantum hadronics. The definition is a: ‘type of energy fuelled by the transfer of electrons from positive and negative points within a conductor’, but that’s a pretty weak explanation, and that’s the best I could find on ‘Millipedia’.”
“Millipedia? Having sex with dead quadrillipods?” Kara shuddered.
“No, Millipedia is the new font of all technical knowledge, a multilingual free encyclopaedia of the highest quality.”
“Then why’s it named after a sexual deviation?”
“I really have no idea, but getting back to these results, the thinking is all wrong. It’s the Dokuvirus that actually holds the key.”
“How so?” Kara increased the level of boredom in her voice by 20%.
“My new theory is that the diameter and gaps between doku hairs form a gravitational field. That gravity changes as the hairs move, and it transmits the signal along the length. This is why stranded wire works better than solid and whenever you take the top off your computer, you find it full of dust.”
“And why when you use a hairy jumper to rub a balloon, it sticks to walls better than stroking it with a serrated kitchen knife.”
“Precisely.”
“So what are you saying; that we can solve all the energy problems in the Universe by making things hairier?”
“So it seems. I’ve certainly had a lot more energy since the virus struck me.”
“Probably simple frustration at not being able to find anyone to fancy you,” said Kara. “Shall we park that research for a while and see what else we can find? We are being paid to find a cure for your affliction, not solve all the fundamental problems and mysteries of the multiverse.”
* * *
The following day, the Magus whistled through his teeth again. “I must book a dental appointment,” he said, “but will you look at this.”
“I can’t,” said Kara. “It’s too bright. What did you do?”
“I added this and this together and now we have a basis of light.”
“I think that light has already been discovered.”
“Not this way. By reorganising the layout of the doku hairs, they appear to have produced a source of perpetual energy.”
“Are you sure?”
“Look at the results.”
Kara inspected the readout and put on a pair of blacked-out lenses so that she could view the light source. “And you have produced all that with a matting of less than a square-millicrot?”
“Yes, you have to get the alignment right. I thought that if I could make a conductor using parallel hairs, then an energy source using a closed loop ought to be possible.”
“It seems you were right. How do you switch it off?”
“I hadn't thought of that.”
“Where are my eyebrow tweezers? I’ll ruffle it up. That should displace the array.” Kara found her bag. It was not big.
“Have you got room for anything in there?” said the Magus sarcastically. Kara tipped it upside down, and ‘things’ flowed on to the laboratory floor: lots of things.
“Oh, it’s one of those bags, bigger on the inside than on the out,” said the Magus. “I thought they’d been outlawed after those Romariastan gypsies invaded the shopping mall and cleared everything in less than ten minutes.”
“One has contacts,” said Kara. “Anyway, how would I get all my stuff in a normal bag?”
“Yes, how would you,” said the Magus thoughtfully as he noticed the Temporal Conduct Authority badge, a regulation hairbrush and several packets of military issue, self-adjusting condoms amongst the jetsam. The hexacat reappeared from under the sofa and started to sniff around. The Magus tried to shoo it away with his foot. “I thought you said you’d left the TCA after an unfortunate incident with the ‘Waffen Brownies’.”
“I was only trying to teach them what devious bastards men are,” said Kara, a slight frown creasing her brow.
“They are very impressionable at that age and took your teaching to heart, so I heard.” He regarded the woman suspiciously. “Anyway, don’t try and divert me; what about the TCA? Are you still working for them?”
The gynoid laughed; it was one of her standard ‘you do not want to believe everything you read’ laughs, but somewhere inside, the Nishant engineer had crossed a couple of wires and it came out as a ‘guilty as charged’ giggle. “I really must hand in my company equipment,” she said unconvincingly.
“Yes, you must,” agreed the Magus, pretending not to notice. “Now where are those tweezers?”
“Here.” Kara extracted the tool and hit the ‘repack’ button on the bag. The pile of ‘essentials’ on the floor was sucked back into the container. There was a squeak as the hexacat joined the flow, and disappeared. Kara ignored it. “Right, let’s see if I can ruffle the matrix. Stand back.”
“Why?”
“They always say that. It was time for a cliché break.”
“Get on with it.”
“Right, I will.” Kara jabbed the tweezers onto the centre of the light-mat. There was a small explosion. She was thrown backwards across the room, and came to a halt in an untidy mass of arms and legs against the far wall.
“I see we’re ‘commando’ again today then,” said the Magus indifferently. “Is that standard TCA uniform?”
“I’m under-cover,” said the dazed woman. “Ooops.”
“Gotcha,” said the Magus. “You are with the TCA. You have been using me. Why?”
Kara stood up, brushing herself down. “You’ve got me bang to rights, guv,” she said. “I suppose I’d better come clean.”
“There’s a spare coat in the cupboard if the grit bothers you,” said the Magus. “Are you going to tell me why you are really here? Is it another devious plan to kill me?”
“Not this time,” replied Kara. “Oh I’m a complete mess. I’ll get rid of this lot.” She stripped off her clothes and stood naked in front of him. “Where did you say that spare coat was?”
The Magus indicated a locker at the back of the room, and savoured the view as she strolled slowly over to it, in no particular hurry. She found the replacement, much to his disappointment and slipped it on. He snapped out of his contemplation.
“I wish you wouldn’t try to distract me,” he said sadly. “You’ve already said you don’t fancy me, with my hirsute problem, so stop trying to get me all twitchy. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“You really want to know?” Kara fastened two of the buttons on the lab coat.
“Yes, get on with it. Why are you still working for the TCA?”
“And you won’t be hurt?”
“No, my pants are of cast-iron,” said the Magus.
“What cold and rusty?”
“I was speaking figuratively.”
“Is that a language from the Planet ‘Out’?”
“For Phoist’s sake!”
“Sorry,” said Kara, looking contrite. “From the top then…”
The Magus folded his arms and tried not to ogle the many glimpses of exposed flesh through the gaps in the coat. It was a bit too small for her, and bulged in the right places. “Go on then,” he said, half an hour later.
“Right, finished gawping have you? I’ll continue.” She took a breath. “My team-leader had what he called an ‘idea shower’ and we decided that a cure for the Dokuvirus would g
ive him the ‘tailwind’ to do some ‘suit creeping’. One or two of the high-ups seem to have contracted the hair condition rather badly.”
“Worse than me?” The Magus gazed sadly at his flocculent fingers.
“I’m afraid so; they have even grown tresses on their eyeballs and tongues.”
“Good Phoist, what were they doing to get infected that badly I wonder?”
“I didn’t ask, but they are desperate for a cure, as you might imagine.”
“I might.”
“If we could find one, it would be what he calls a ‘blue-ocean opportunity’. They are looking to you to sort it out.”
“They didn’t send any funding.”
“You know what the big suits are: greedy bastards. They’ve got more than enough cash to support a dozen research labs, but they thought that if you’d do all the work for free, they wouldn’t have to shell out.”
“Good old ‘Shell’, how is she?”
Kara ignored him. “Now though, they’re beginning to get desperate, so they supposed that if they could provide some financial assistance, you would stand a better chance of solving the problem. They had a whip and developed the plan to get the money over to you without them having to pay tax on it.”
“And I thought I’d won the lottery. I did wonder, because I’ve never played it, and we don’t even have one on this planet.”
“They own it, so they tweaked the database. It was a way to transfer the funds without GUTS getting wind,” said Kara.
“GUTS?”
“The Grasping Universal Taxation Service,” said Kara, ‘Tax across the Void’, as they like to advertise, ‘We know where you live, and where you hide; you don’t want to see your granny sold for compost do you?’”
“Nasty; I didn’t know I paid tax, not having any income.”
“Didn’t you wonder what that guy in the black suit was doing in your washroom?”
“He said he was taking samples.”
“Yes, so he can examine your food intake, in case you are living above your recorded means. They know everything at GUTS.”
“What did he make of my staple diet of pizza and chips?”
“I imagine that they have decided to keep clear of you in case you start claiming disability benefits for problems caused by what you eat.”
“Or because I’m an IT specialist?”
“I guess it cuts both ways.”
“What does?”
“A double sided axe, but that’s not important right now. What is, is that even with the extra funding…”
“Or any funding,”
“…you failed to get results. They sent me to assist. With my knowledge and your luck we were supposed to be a great team.”
“We’ve discovered ‘light’,” said the Magus.
“Discovered that we can’t turn it off,” said Kara, regarding the brilliance coming from behind the potted plant the Magus had put in the way.
“And discovered that it releases energy if you stick a small metal object into it,” said the Magus enthusiastically. “Look, here’s the blueprint for the matrix of hairs. Let’s try to reproduce the effect. What we could really do with is a mechanical way of perfecting the process. It took me ages to adjust all the fibres into that layout.”
“Leave it with me,” said Kara. “I’ll get on to the Janet Ward Stores Universal website. I know exactly what we need.”
* * *
The micro-knitting-machine turned up at Reception by independent courier a few days later. The Magus went down to collect it, and dug his way through screaming children, baby bottles, pizza boxes and strangely shaped parcels in the back of a shooting-brake.
“Sorry about the chaos,” said the woman at the wheel, “but my husband is using the van—a mate had a few old washing machines and mattresses he needed to take out and dump in the countryside. I’m using the other car because I’m between yoga classes and my nursing commitments, and the baby-sitter didn’t turn up.”
“Sorry to hear that,” said the Magus sympathetically. “I’ll unload my parcels myself then.”
“If you would,” said the woman. “I’d help you, but it’s my back, you understand.”
The Magus nodded and dragged his box to the back of the car. He replaced one of the bottles in a hungry infant mouth, helped himself to a slice of pizza and heaved the delivery on to his shoulder.
He had to go through the usual rigmarole of getting back into the building because his pass had been left upstairs again. Fortunately there were still towels to be had in the washroom and he was eventually granted access. The box rattled ominously as he struggled up to the first landing, and then he was presented with the remarkable legs belonging to his ‘assistant’.
“I thought you might need some help,” she said, “seeing how the lift is out (side where the thief left it). I’ll take the delivery note for you.”
The Magus sat down, exhausted. “I can’t go another step. We will have to unpack it here and use this bit of stairs as part of the lab.”
“Why didn’t you say?” said Kara. She hefted the box on to her head and jogged upwards, the contents rattling in time with her movements. The Magus dragged himself up in her wake but soon lost sight of his companion. By the time he got back to the laboratory, the box was unpacked and the machine assembled.
“Right then, I’ve programmed the mesh into the controls,” he said unnecessarily an hour later. “You can turn it on.”
Kara threw the switch. The Magus went to retrieve it. “Yes, a few of the bits were broken,” said his assistant. “Stick it back in there. It should reconnect once the Green-Spike glue sets.”
The machine was reassembled and the switch was ‘operated’ this time. The knitting arms went to work and they watched it fascinated through the built-in Scanning Electroscope. In moments the matrix was complete. They stood back expectantly. Nothing happened.
The Magus took the tiny mat carefully out of the machine and set it on the bench under a magnoscope. “Nothing,” he said. “Have I got the arrangement wrong?”
“If you’ve cocked it up, we may be able to recoup our losses doing jumpers for fleas,” said Kara helpfully.
“I’m sure it’s right,” said the Magus, rechecking his notes. “So what’s missing? Push off Cat!”
Throughout the process, the hexacat has been dabbing at the spidery knitting arms, trying to reach them through the protective glass. It now came up to inspect the mat on the bench and sniffed at it. It sneezed. It grabbed the material and jumped down. The Magus made a grab, missed and the animal disappeared under the sofa.
“Bugger, it’ll be all dusty now,” muttered the Magus.
There was a flash of light from the furniture, and a yelp. The hexacat scooted out and disappeared into the bushes at the back of the room.
Kara put her protective glasses on and lay on the floor. The Magus took his off and peered at her rear, now presenting itself enticingly rather too close to him. She reached out and carefully withdrew the new square of material. “The missing ingredient,” she said.
“What?” The Magus shielded his eyes.
“Hexacat whisker,” she replied. “You need it to trigger the reaction.”
“And presumably to stop it again,” said the Magus. “Nice one. Here kitty-kitty. I’ve got something for you.” He slipped a pair of scissors behind his back and headed for the foliage.
Profit?
Tom Rebrands
Vac Lurks
B
ack at the office after the slow and concealed return journey, Tom relaxed in his chair again. Amber fussed around bringing coffee and reports from the other departments. She seemed reluctant to meet his gaze. He decided to break the silence.
“So, are you getting any closer with Change Management?”
The girl blushed again. “Quite close.”
“Are you still using your not inconsiderable charms to tease out anything new?”
&
nbsp; Amber gave a squeak and ran out of the office.
“What did I say?” said Tom to empty space.
“I think that she is embarrassed about what she has had to do.” A slim, dark-haired girl appeared out of the shadows near the bookcase.
Tom started. His finger reached for the ‘emergency’ button under the desk.
“No need,” said the vision and flung herself on him. Her hands went round his neck and she was kissing him passionately.
“Caryl, babe! How on earth do you do that? I thought you were still at home doing your macramé exams.”
“I missed you,” she said in between kisses, “I get bored sitting about, thinking up new ways to excite you.” She eased herself on to his knee. He felt the toned body through the velvet of her dress. She felt something else. “I’m pleased that you are still interested in me after your trip to the Skagan village. How was the official welcome?”
“Theirs was what you might expect,” he said, rubbing his hand up her thigh, exposing more of the soft flesh. “I resisted though. It was only a ruse to try to distract me from finding out what they have been doing. Your greeting however was excellent. How long have you been there by the library? Why couldn’t I see you?”
“This new material,” she said, starting to undo his zipper. Her lips found his again and they kissed passionately for a moment. Then she drew away and slipped her hand inside, studying his face as she did so. “It senses the direction the light comes from, and takes on the colour of the background.”
“Have you been spying on me?” breathed Tom.
“Of course not, but I’m pleased with how you react to Amber. She’s very beautiful isn’t she?” Her grip tightened slightly.
“Nothing as lovely as you,” he murmured, kissing her earlobe as her head bent downwards. “And she is very efficient.”
“Right answer,” said Caryl, breaking away and leaving Tom panting. “I thought I’d pop in and show you the new outfit.” She stood beside the desk and gave a twirl. It hurt the eyes as the material adjusted.
“Ouch,” said Tom, reorganising himself and zipping up.
“I could take it off?” said Caryl.
The Fifth Correction Page 5
