“Doesn’t it get very boring after a time?” asked Jody.
Before the woman could answer, a man came up with a big pair of scissors, and snipped a piece of plastic off the woman’s credit card. “Why did he do that?” asked Jody. “You weren’t buying anything.”
“No, but I have to pay for using my mobile phone,” the woman explained. “It’s very expensive. If I talked on it all day, I’d soon have no credit left at all. Now I must go and do some more shopping. Goodbye, see you at the party, I hope.” And she rushed off, into another shop.
Jody gave Hamish back his mobile. “I don’t think I like Laputa,” she said. “Just shopping and going to parties – it sounds very boring to me.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Hamish, “it’s the best thing in the world. I’d like to live here for the rest of my life.”
Mr Majeika, who had been wandering round, looking at the shops, came over to join them. “I’m rather worried,” he said. “Gulliver the mouse has discovered that behind the shops there’s something rather horrid going on. Come and see.”
They went down a narrow passage, and at the end of it they suddenly found themselves at the very edge of the flying island. “Look!” said Mr Majeika.
Some policemen were herding a group of men and women into a queue. The people all looked very unhappy. “What’s going on?” Thomas asked one of the police.
“Can’t you see?” he replied. “Look at their necks.” Sure enough, the people in the queue all had round their necks the chain that should hold the credit card. But none of them had a card. “They’ve all used up their credit,” said the policeman. “The last little bits of their cards have been snipped away in the shops. And you’re not allowed to live in Laputa without a credit card. So now we’re saying goodbye to them.” And at that moment, to their horror, Class Three saw that the people at the front of the queue
were being pushed off the edge of Laputa, so that they fell down and disappeared from view.
“You can’t do that!” shouted Jody angrily.
“Oh, can’t we?” said the policeman.
“And where are your credit cards?” Of course, neither Mr Majeika nor any of Class Three had giant Laputan credit cards hanging round their necks, and in a moment they too had been herded by the police to the edge of the island. They were given a shove, and found themselves falling down through the sky.
6. Work, Work, Work
The fall did not last for very long, and nobody was hurt, because they landed quite softly in a haystack. When they had climbed off it, and brushed the bits of hay from their clothes, Class Three and Mr Majeika saw that they were in the middle of some peaceful-looking countryside. A group of horses was standing not far off, watching them.
“This looks quite like England,” said Thomas. “Surely we can find our way back to St Barty’s now, Mr Majeika?”
“I hope so,” said Mr Majeika. “But somehow I feel that we’re still inside the computer, and that our strange journey hasn’t yet come to an end.”
They walked across the field towards the horses. “Look, there’s a notice,” said Pete. It was on a large board at the edge of the field, and it said, “Quiet – exams in progress”. When they got closer to the horses, they could see that most of them were very young. They were writing on large sheets of cardboard, spread on the ground in front of them, using specially designed pens that were strapped to their hooves. In charge of them was an older horse, who was walking up and down, making sure they didn’t cheat.
“I’ve never seen horses that could write,” said Pete.
“Wait a moment,” said Jody. “I’ve just remembered that in Gulliver’s Travels there are some very clever horses called Houyhnhmns, who can read and write and talk.”
“Hello, there!” Gulliver the mouse called to the group of horses. “My friend here wants to know, are you Houyhnhmns?”
The horses all stopped writing, and the older one said, “Of course we are, but
can’t you read the notice? We’re doing a very important exam, and you really mustn’t disturb us.”
“I didn’t think horses did exams,” said Pete. “I thought it was just humans like us.”
“How many exams do you have to do?” asked the older Houyhnhmn.
“We don’t start doing them properly till we’re in our teens,” said Thomas. “But when we’ve begun, we have to do them about once a year.”
“Once a year?” said the Houyhnhmn.
“Why, that’s nothing. Young Houyhnhmns of school age, like these ones, have to do exams every day, from the age of five.”
“That sounds dreadful,” said Mr Majeika. “When I was a wizard, I only had to do an exam once every hundred years. And when do your young Houyhnhmns stop having to write exams?”
“When they get jobs,” explained the senior Houyhnhmn. “But there aren’t enough jobs for everyone, so some Houyhnhmns never stop taking exams. They just go on and on in hopes that one day it may get them a job.”
“That sounds dreadful,” said Jody. “But I’m sorry – we’re interrupting you. We’ll go away and leave your pupils to finish the exam.”
“It’s all right,” said the Houyhnhmn. “Time’s up,” he called to the younger horses. “Stop writing. And for the rest of this afternoon, we’ll go into Houyhnhmn City and find out more about the sort of jobs you can apply for when you’re older.”
“Can we come too?” asked Mr Majeika. “I don’t see why not,” said the
Houyhnhmn teacher. “Jump on our backs, and we’ll take you there.” So Mr Majeika, Class Three and Gulliver the mouse all climbed on to the horses, and off they went.
It was only a short ride into the city, and when they got there, it looked just like an ordinary town, except that all the people were horses. The Houyhnhmns who were carrying them stopped outside a big office block, with a notice on it saying THE BUSY-BUSY CORPORATION, and Class Three, Mr Majeika and Gulliver the mouse climbed off their backs and followed them inside.
They found themselves in a big room, full of horses sitting at computer screens. “The Busy-Busy Corporation is owned by my brother,” whispered the Houyhnhmn teacher, “and he doesn’t mind me bringing people in to see it. But you must be very quiet, because everyone is working very hard.”
The horses working for the Busy-Busy Corporation were all tapping away at their computers, or talking on the telephone, and most of them looked very tired – they kept trying not to yawn.
In one corner of the room, a meeting was in progress. One of the horses was reading something aloud, and the ones who were listening to him seemed to be finding it hard to keep awake. “Why are they all so tired?” asked Jody.
“Because they work all day,” explained the Houyhnhmn teacher, “and then they have to take work home with them at night, because otherwise there wouldn’t be time to finish it. They’re all completely exhausted.”
Just then, one of the horses in the meeting fell sound asleep, and started snoring. Immediately, two other horses, wearing peaked caps and a sort of stripy uniform, rushed into the room and dragged him out with them, almost before he had woken up.
“Why did they do that?” asked Mr Majeika. “Is it a crime to fall asleep in your country?”
“No,” answered the Houyhnhmn teacher, “but there are so many people trying to get jobs that if anyone shuts his eyes for a moment, or shows the slightest sign of not loving every minute of the job, then he or she is thrown out, and someone else gets the job. Look, here comes the replacement for the chap who fell asleep.” A young, smart-looking horse was already hurrying into the room. He
joined the meeting with a very eager look on his face.
Jody was frowning. “The Houyhnhmns in Gulliver’s Travels weren’t like this,” she said. “They were very sensible – more sensible than the human beings that Gulliver met on his journey. But since those days,” she said to the Houyhnhmn teacher, “you’ve all become such hard workers.”
“So has everyone, at home as well as here,” said
Thomas. “Our dad and mum spend all their time working, and they bring work home at night, just like these horses. And it seems so silly, because there are lots of people who don’t have jobs at all. You’d think the work could be divided up equally between everyone, and then there’d be no one without a job, and people wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
“Hush!” said the Houyhnhmn teacher.
“You mustn’t say these things. Working all day and all night is the most important thing in the world to a Houyhnhmn.”
“You’re stupid,” said Hamish Bigmore. “Exams are stupid. Getting jobs is stupid. Working hard is stupid.”
The Houyhnhmn looked closely at Hamish. “Oh dear,” it said, “why didn’t I see that before? This person is clearly a Yahoo.”
“There were creatures called Yahoos in Gulliver’s Travels,” said Jody, “but I can’t remember what they looked like.”
“Yahoos look like human beings,” answered the Houyhnhmn. “But they don’t want to do exams, or get jobs, or work hard. So we keep them in cages, and use them to pull carts and heavy jobs like that. I’ll fetch the security police and get this one taken away right now, and put in a cage.”
Before they could stop him, the Houyhnhmn teacher had pressed an alarm button, and the two security horses rushed in and grabbed Hamish Bigmore. “Oh dear,” said Mr Majeika, “I really don’t think that even Hamish deserves to be shut in a cage.” He turned to Gulliver the mouse. “Can’t you do something to stop this?” he asked.
“The only thing to do in a computer emergency,” said Gulliver, “is to call on the Webmistress. She’s the person who controls the Internet. Come on, everyone, let’s shout her name.”
And before the two horses could drag Hamish out of the office, the whole of Class Three, Mr Majeika and Gulliver called out, “Webmistress!”
Suddenly everything went dark.
7. W.W.W.
When it started to get light again, they found they were standing in a long gloomy passage. It stretched ahead of them into the darkness, and in the distance there was a faint glow. There was no sound to be heard, except a quiet rustling, like something blowing in the wind.
“Where are we, Mr Majeika?” asked Thomas.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Mr Majeika, “but I have a feeling that the Webmistress, whoever she may be, isn’t very far away – somewhere round that bend in the passage, I’d guess.”
“I’m frightened!” said Melanie, and she started to cry.
“We’re all frightened, Melanie,” said Jody, “but we can’t just go on standing here. We’ve got to find our way out of this peculiar computer-land, where Mr Majeika’s magic doesn’t work, and get back home. Come on!”
Jody led the way, followed by Gulliver the mouse, Mr Majeika and the rest of Class Three. After a while, Jody stopped, and looked carefully at the wall of the passage. “What do you think it’s made of, Mr Majeika?” she asked. “It looks solid, but I think it’s some sort of material, a bit like black velvet. And that’s where the rustling noise is coming from – it’s blowing about in a breeze.”
Mr Majeika put his hand out to touch the wall, but then he suddenly pulled it away again, very fast. “Be very careful, everyone,” he said. “I myself may not be able to do magic here, but somebody else is weaving spells. Whatever this wall is made of, it’s been created magically. So take care, and don’t touch it, whatever you do. And be very quiet.”
They tiptoed onwards down the passage, with the wall still rustling alongside them. Suddenly Pete stopped and whispered, “Look!” Hanging on the soft black wall was a large bar of chocolate.
“Yummy,” said Hamish Bigmore, stretching out his hand to take it.
“No, Hamish,” hissed Mr Majeika. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it. I’m sure it’s been put there to trap us.”
“Rotten old spoil-sport,” grumbled Hamish. “How do you know?”
“Weren’t you listening to what Mr Majeika said?” asked Jody. “There’s some kind of nasty magic going on, and we mustn’t touch anything.”
Hamish went on grumbling, but a little further down the passage he gave a yelp of delight. “Look,” he said, “it’s my favourite chewing gum!”
Sure enough, hanging on the wall of the passage was a packet of gum. Once again, Hamish stretched out his hand, and once again Mr Majeika snapped: “No, Hamish! Stand back! Don’t you understand? Someone is trying to catch us. If anyone touches anything on the walls, they may not be able to let go of it.”
It was then that they heard a groaning noise. A little further down the passage, something much larger than the chocolate or the chewing gum was stuck to the passage wall. It was a person, a gloomy-looking man in a black knitted hat. He was groaning to himself as if he had a bad tummy ache, “Oh, dear, oh dear, oh dear, why was I ever so silly as to be rude to her? Why couldn’t I just get on with my job and leave the old so-and-so alone? Why did I have to sing her that silly rhyme?”
“Good gracious,” said Mr Majeika, as they came up to the man. “Who on earth are you?”
“I’m not on earth,” said the gloomy man. “I’m stuck up on this wall. As to who I am, I spend my life underground, down here in the darkness, and my job is to make tunnels. My name is Mungo the Modem. Do you know what a modem is?”
Mr Majeika shook his head, but Gulliver the mouse said, “Of course I do. It’s the part of a computer that connects to the Internet.”
“That’s what I used to be,” said Mungo, “just an electronic gadget. But then she made me into a person, here in computer-land, so that I could help her to become the Webmistress. And now I’m stuck here, on this horrid sticky wall, for ever and ever and ever, all because I was rude to her.”
“Can’t you get down?” asked Jody. “We’ll help you – give me your hand.”
“No,” said Mungo the Modem. “Don’t touch me, and don’t touch the wall, whatever you do. Can’t you guess what it’s made of?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Mr Majeika, “but it’s certainly magic.”
“No it isn’t,” said Mungo. “It’s something very ordinary, but there’s an awful lot of it. Can’t you guess?”
“Give us a clue,” said Thomas.
“It was put here by her, the Webmistress,” said Mungo. “So doesn’t that give you a hint?”
“Webmistress,” said Jody to herself. “Of course – it’s a spider’s web!”
“That’s right,” said Mungo the Modem. “It’s a specially strong type of web that grips you horribly tight. Even if you touch me and not the web itself, it’ll get hold of you. And she’s caught me in it.”
“Why?” asked Pete. “Did you annoy her?”
“I’ll say I did,” answered Mungo. “She had me working day and night for her, connecting her to all sorts of bits of the Internet where no one had ever been before, and she never even said thank you. So finally the day came when I wouldn’t do anything else for her, and I was very, very rude to her.”
“What did you call her?” asked Jody.
“I said she was a stupid old spider with a face like a bag of rubbish that’s been left out in a thunderstorm. It wasn’t a very clever thing to say, but she got very cross. So then I was even ruder. I made up a rhyme, and chanted it at her.”
“How did it go?” asked Thomas.
“Incy wincy spider,” chanted Mungo the Modem,
You horrid old bug,
You nasty broomstick-rider,
I hate your ugly mug!
I’ll squash your spider’s web flat,
And throw it in the ditch,
And smash your ugly black hat,
You stupid old witch.”
“I bet she didn’t like that,” said Pete.
“Of course she didn’t,” said Mungo.
“She picked me up and threw me at this wall of spider’s web, and here I am, stuck for ever and ever. I’m hungry and thirsty but, however hard I struggle, I just can’t get free.”
“We’ll help you,” said
Thomas.
“No, don’t touch me,” said Mungo, “or you’ll get stuck too. That’s how this web works – there must be some kind of magic in it.”
“D-d-d-did you say ‘spider’?” asked Hamish Bigmore, his teeth chattering nervously. “This W-w-w-webmistress, she’s not a spider, is she?”
“Of course she is,” said Mungo. “What else would you expect to be at the centre of a world wide web? Because that’s what it is, this web – it stretches right round the world, under the ground, and her plan is to catch all her enemies in it.”
Mr Majeika was thinking hard. “Does she have another name, this Webmistress?” he asked Mungo.
“Well,” said Mungo, “she wears a big black coat, and on it are the initials ‘W.W.’ ”
“W.W.,” repeated Thomas thoughtfully.
“Who does that make you think of?”
Suddenly there was a whooshing noise and they all screamed. Around the bend in the passage had leaped a giant black spider. “Yes, my dearies,” it hissed, “you’re getting very warm – you’ve almost guessed the right answer. You know that when you use the Internet, you always begin with three initials, W.W.W. Well, what do you think they stand for?”
“World Wide Web, you ugly old spider,” said Hamish Bigmore, who seemed to have got some of his nerve back.
“No!” shrieked the spider. “You silly little Hamish, you’ve got it all wrong. ‘W.W.W.’ stands for the Web of Wilhelmina Worlock! Tee-hee, my dearies, it’s me! Wilhelmina is back again!”
8. The End of the Web
“I might have guessed that it was you behind all this computer nonsense, Wilhelmina,” said Mr Majeika. Wilhelmina Worlock was a wicked old witch who was always making a nuisance of herself to Class Three. Her only friend at St Barty’s was Hamish Bigmore.
“Nonsense?” cackled Wilhelmina.
“Computers aren’t nonsense, you silly weasly wizard. If you want to keep up with the real magic these days, Majeika, you’ve got to get online, and zap about on the Internet. You’re a silly old fool not to keep up with the times.”
Mr Majeika on the Internet Page 3
