by J Battle
Nobody Puts a Fool in a Corner
These Foolish Things: Book III
By
J. Battle
All the usual front of book stuff can be found at the back, it you want to look, but you probably won’t, because nobody reads the back-section.
(I thought of putting the whole book there, but Phil complained. ‘No-one wants to see 230+ blank pages at the beginning of a book,' he said.
I don’t know about that. I think it would have a certain minimalistic appeal, and it might have helped me retain what’s left of my artistic integrity. N.F.)
What went before…
I should begin with an apology. Normally, it would be the Narrative Facilitator who would write this section, but he’s away for the time being on another project, which he may well tell you about later, although he does promise to be back for the bulk of this narrative.
Also, I should mention that I don’t really understand why this section is even necessary. If you feel that you really need to know what has already happened, then surely you should just read the first two books? Book I is free and Book II is modestly priced.
However, I have been told that the tradition is to do this, so I will make the best attempt I can. If you want to skip this bit and get on with the story, I will fully understand.
By the way, I am the Adjunct of the What If Something Really Bad Happens? AI.
I hardly appear at all in the first book; not until I’m required to be squirted into the head of Philip Humphrey Chandler, very near the end, to save the day as it were.
In the second book, I’m much more involved; right from the beginning, and all the way through, you’ll be pleased to know, I should think.
I’m being told that I shouldn’t focus so much on my own role in the books and that I should concentrate more on the activities of the slightly advanced primate who has become my host.
I can’t think why this should be the case, but I assume they know of which they speak.
So, Philip Humphrey Chandler; what can I say about him? Not the most stupid man to put on a pair of trousers. I’m not sure that I can say anything more complimentary than that.
He’s a Private Investigator who gets involved in a case with a missing crime lord. He travels to three worlds; one without any justifiable reason. He is captured by an alien by the name of Millie, and then he is saved by yours truly, and very briefly, he becomes the richest man in the Universe. He was quite insistent that I put that bit in. He is really quite proud of that ephemeral fact.
So, in the second book, we become a team and travel to Stepworld, and Coldworld, and finally to Waterworld, where Phil becomes a conference centre, and then we squirt back to Manchester, to find that the building housing our office has been demolished. Phil then squirts to Gotcha! to rescue his sister, and that’s about it.
Oh, you probably want some information on characters, worlds, technology, sub-plots and possible romantic moments.
If that is the case, I can only suggest that you take the time to read the original books; it really is that simple. There’s bound to be a link at the back of this book that will take you where you need to go.
This has been Neville, the Adjunct to the What If Something Really Bad Happens? AI, and I really have better things to do with my time than this, if you don’t mind my honesty. In the 0.27 seconds it took me to write this What Went Before section, I could have learned another three languages.
Er…this is Phil, and I’ve just read what Neville (the AI in my head) has written, and I think he could have done a better job. My Narrative Facilitator is off somewhere, apparently doing something involving the Future Kids and Jane Austen, so I’m going to help out as best I can, although this is not one of my strengths.
This is what my N.F. put in the second book, about the first book, just in case it’s any help:
In Favour of Fools
A Sci-Fi PI Comedy Thriller set in a near future where instantaneous interstellar travel is available to everyone, as long as they don’t object to having their molecules tricked into thinking they are exotic massless particles that can be squirted to anywhere in the Galaxy.
Phil is a PI; it says so in big print on his ID. He likes to work from his comfy chair in his office, waiting for a coffee from his Sister/Secretary/Cleaner that never seems to come. He doesn’t like to travel, or to chase people, and he avoids even the idea of violence.
So how did he end up on a blazing hot planet, dozens of light years from home, searching for a man who didn’t want to be found, with a partner who won’t respect him in the morning, and imported thugs who don’t respect anybody?
It all started when Phil received a visit from the ex-wife of a vicious gangster, concerned at his disappearance, or did it start much earlier, with the misplaced bullet? If you asked Millie, she’d say that it started with the joke that the Great and Stupendous Argu broadcast to his adoring fans on the Sirius leg of his Pan Galactic tour – I May Have Said I Loved You, But I Was Only Joking.
What do you think? Is that enough about Book I? He wrote more stuff, but he never knows when to stop.
In Book II: What Kind of Fool? the nano-machines in my body give me a super-ripped body with muscles and everything, and I become squirt-capable. Julie, my sister had to sell my business urgently to cover my debts, and she was sent to Gotcha! For Crimes Against Others, as she forged the documents involved. But I save the day with a little help from Neville and the Dumb Waiter – wait a minute; I haven’t mentioned him yet, have I? This is so hard; you wouldn’t believe it, which is why I normally leave it to the Narrative Facilitator, because he usually knows what he’s talking about.
I think I’m going to leave it there; that should be enough, I think.
This has been Phil Chandler, your friendly neighbourhood P.I.
Chapter 1 Now - Shush
Oh, you're back. Already? I wasn't expecting that; not at all.
Still, as you're here, you'd best go and stand in that corner over there, and be quiet.
This is a delicate situation and I can't have you bothering me with your questions. If I get a chance, or if my NF can be bothered, you'll get a proper explanation of what's happening some time later.
The judge is coming in now; at least I'm guessing he's the judge. He looks…judicial is the word I suppose, with his long gown, quivering head-frills and serious expression. He's sitting down at a sort of lectern thing and…I think I'll look away now for a minute because he seems to be fiddling with his undercarriage, and it’s all a little bit too intimate for me, and I hardly know him, or it, or whatever gender he has a claim to.
Right he's settled down, and all four hands are above his waistline, which suits me. Oh no, he's looking at me, and any minute he's going to start talking to me, and then everyone will be looking at me in their alien too many eyes way. I don't like being the centre of attention; I never have. And it's worse somehow when you're the only human in the room.
The judge-guy has stopped talking, and he is looking around with his nose held up as if he's suddenly detecting a bad smell, and it's not me because, nervous as I may be, I have perfect control in that area.
The alien next to me gives me a nudge with her bony shoulder, and shakes her wattles at me, and then she sort of squawks.
I give her my best 'thanks for your input but I don't know what you said' shrug, and she squawks again. This time she points at my ear with what I'm going to call her finger, because it's at the end of her arm-thing. Her finger curls up and then straightens sudde
nly, like someone blowing on one of those party things, and I'm getting an idea of what she wants.
I put my finger in my ear and switch on my translator, and everyone is becoming much clearer.
'When the prisoner is brought in, you must remember not to make eye contact,' she says. If she’s not a she, I’ll apologise later, but she looks sort of feminine.
'Why not?' I ask, because it seems the sensible thing to say. Somehow the machine in my ear makes the words that come out of my mouth sound like random squawks, which is a bit off-putting and makes it easy to lose track of what I'm saying. If at any stage I sound like I'm not making sense, that's the reason.
'It's part of her interim punishment regime.'
'Don't you have an innocent until proven guilty policy?' I squawk.
'Innocent until proven guilty? How does that work?'
'Well, on Earth, and on all of the planets, I guess, but I don't really know, anyway, on Earth you are considered to be innocent until a court of law proves you to be guilty.'
'So, the accused are treated as innocent until proven guilty?'
I give her a look, because I think that's what I just said.
'Yes,' I reply.
'So they have their freedom and full citizen rights?'
'No, they're locked up, of course, unless they can...' I’m trying to think of a way to explain bail in a way that she might understand, but it’s not easy. ‘Yes, that’s right, they’re locked up, unless they can provide a financial surety that they will not try to escape, and will come back for trial, and promise to be good.’ There she should get that.
'So, let me see if I have this clear - they are considered to be innocent, but they are treated as if they are guilty?'
She's giving me a 'you know how stupid this sounds' sort of look, so I just nod and turn back to the judge-guy.
He's sort of waving at the door and now they're bringing her in and, now, that's not what I expected.
I thought I'd see the usual little girl, with her blonde braids and party dress, and maybe she'd be skipping.
Instead there's this great lump of a creature. Sort of a cross between a sea-cow and a rhino, but not as pretty. She's got one central leg, and a half a dozen smaller legs that do the actual walking. She's looking around the room with her five eyes, and both of her mouths are hanging open. And there's a thin line of drool hanging from the lower mouth. All in all, she's not a pretty sight, but she does have the most amazing flotation sacs!
She's trundling over to a small platform across from the judge-guy and she doesn't seem in any sort of hurry. I glance around me and everyone is looking this way or that way; any way but her way.
When's she in place, the judge-guy bangs his hands(?) on the lectern in a self-important way.
'Greetings people,' he says. In my ear, that's what I hear anyway. 'And greetings too to the convicted. Today we have a serious case before us, and when she is pronounced officially guilty, the most severe penalty possible will be imposed by this court.'
Now, I know this is Millie, and after all she's done to me, I shouldn't have much sympathy for her, should I? But it doesn't look as if she's going to get a fair trial here, not if the judge-guy is already saying she's guilty. If I had Neville with me, he'd probably tell me not to be so anthropocentric about this (now, you've got to be impressed with that word; I did it all by myself).
But he's not with me, so I can say what I want.
I guess you want to know what's going on here. Well, of course, you can see it's a trial and that Millie is being tried and everything, but how I did I get here, and what am I doing? And you'll also want to know about my ulterior motive, but not yet; we have to keep a little secret for dramatic tension. I learned that from my Narrative Facilitator, who's also not here, in any real sense.
So, once upon a time, in a land far, far away…
Chapter 2 Then, say hello, say goodbye
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
I nodded, but didn’t feel the need to say anything. It was beautiful. It was beautiful the day before, and it was a fair bet that it would be beautiful the following day. Aloha was like that.
‘Do you want a refill?’ I asked, as I pulled myself from the cane chair.
She studied her fruit-based but exceedingly alcoholic drink. ‘Go on then, Bro.’
I nodded at Sam, and he nodded right back, embellishing it with a slight twitch of his left shoulder.
I took that as a ‘yes’ and began to walk to the bar.
It’s not really a proper bar. It’s just a plank of wood balanced on some beer crates, and you can’t get a proper pint of draft lager; not here and not anywhere on this lovely little planet. Still, he has a big fridge and plenty of bottles, so I make do.
‘Same again, Frank,’ I said, and told myself silently not to lean on the bar as I wait, not again anyway.
‘Nice weather we’re having,‘ said Frank, as he began to mix Julie’s drink.
I gave him a look, as I didn’t feel the need to say anything about the weather. In Manchester, people talk about the weather because it’s keeps changing, so there’s something to say. Here, that’s not so much the case.
‘That’ll be—’
‘Oh, just put it on the tab,’ I said, quickly so he doesn’t tell me how much I owe.
It costs next to nothing to live on Aloha, which is good, because that’s all we had left.
‘It’ll need to be settled by the end of the week,’ he said, as he lined up my drinks.
‘Oh,‘ I replied, as I tried to work out what day it was, and how far away the weekend might be. ‘Going away, are you?’
‘Yes, I’ve had enough of this place. Nothing ever happens here; nothing ever changes. If I don’t go now, I’ll still be here when I’m 40.’
That surprised me, because I thought he was in his forties already.
‘Where will you go?’ Just keeping the conversation going while I pick up my drinks and make my escape before he can give me my bill.
‘Back to Earth, of course. Where else?’
I could have mentioned the 22 other planets he could have gone to, but I held my tongue.
I just nodded good luck to him and turned away.
‘Frank’s leaving,’ I said as I got back to our table.
‘I know,‘ said Julie, as she swapped her glasses.
‘How come you know already?’
‘I talk to people, Phil. That’s how you know what’s going on with their lives. He’s split up with Alice, and she’s gone back to Roger, so Frank wants to put it all behind him.’
‘Alice and Frank were together?’
‘Yes, for nearly six months. You’re supposed to be a detective; you should notice things.’
‘He wants the bill paid before he goes.’
‘I know; I paid him. Well the old tab, anyway, I guess you put this lot on the new one?’’
‘You paid him! But…how much was it? Have we got any money left?’
‘Not when we’ve paid for these drinks, we won’t.’
‘But…you should have told me.’
‘You don’t like to hear bad news.’
‘She is quite correct there, Philip. It is one of your more endearing traits.’
‘Did I ask for your input, Neville?’
‘No, but I’m generous to a fault…’
‘Don’t say it.’
‘And the fault is you.’
‘So, you’re the smartest thing this side of the Universe. Tell us what we can do.’
‘To relieve your pecuniary difficulties?’
‘If that means we’re broke, yes.’
‘The usual, tried and tested method of increasing your funds would be to obtain employment.’
‘Find a job? Here? Not much chance of that.’
Just then Sam sauntered over. Since we’d been on Aloha, he’d lost his manic speedy pace, as if he had all the time in the world, with no place to be and no promises to keep, which was pretty much how he’d lived on Earth.
> ‘Are you talking to it,’ he asked, as he sat beside me.
‘Yes, I’m talking to the adjunct of the What If Something Really Bad Happens? A.I.’
‘I know what we should do,’ he leaned over and whispered into my ear.
‘You know he can still hear you, don’t you?’
‘We can go home, back to Manchester, and you can start up the business again.’
‘That’s…that’s a great idea, Sam. But Julie’s spent all our money, and we can’t afford the trip.’
Julie gave me one of her I’ll-see-you-later looks at the blame I was piling on her. ‘And if we did, it costs money to set up a business.’
Sam nodded as if I was only speaking the obvious truth, and I was, but you rarely expect Sam to see things the same way.
‘I have the money,‘ he said, and then he took a good slug of his beer.
‘You’ve got money? But you said you didn’t have any when we came here, and you’ve let us, Julie, spend all our money on you.’ It’s always good when you can blame two people to disguise your own culpability.
‘I said that I didn’t have any money to spend…’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘Do you also remember that you interrupted me then, before I could finish?’
‘Er…’ Slightly abashed; but only slightly. ‘No, were you going to say anything else?’
‘Yes, actually. I was going to say that I didn’t have any money to spend here, because I needed to keep it for when everything went wrong and we had to leave.’
‘Oh, so you expected things to go wrong?’
‘Empirical evidence certainly suggested that.’
If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he’d been talking to Neville.
‘Where did you get the money, anyway?’
‘When I helped the Law and Order AI, I got paid, eventually.’
It was still a strange idea to me that he’d actually worked for the AI, and not run screaming for the hills.
‘So, we’re going home?’ I know; it’s obvious, but sometimes you have to state the obvious, just to be sure that you’ve not got it all wrong.
