Her own face.
`Ellen?'
EX2218!
The terrible scene faded as quickly as it had come, leaving the message of hate that had been sprayed on her shop front flashing before her like a demented, subliminal neon sign.
EX2218... EX2218... EX2218...
David sensed her distress. `Ellen! What's the matter, m'dear?'
`Nothing. Nothing. I'm fine. Just a giddy spell.'
Questioning faces in the crowd were turned towards her. They were wearing gaudy T-shirts, bright tops, their eyes sympathetic. But they were the same faces as the faces of the mob in homespun.
`Ellen?'
She found herself resenting the security of David's arm around her. `It's okay, David.'
He was looking at her in concern. `Can I get you a drink?'
`No -- really. It was just a momentary dizzy spell. Nothing.'
`You've been overdoing it.'
`Maybe. But I'm all right now. Please don't make a fuss.' She made a manful pretence at concentrating on the morris men who had now encircled the 12 virgins.
Still striking sparks from their slow stamping and pounding staffs, they stood facing the girls whose gazes remained demure and cast down, but they were surreptitiously watching the chief virgin because she knew the steps that followed.
The rhythm of the beating drum changed. The morris men enlarged their circle and slammed down their staffs in a spoke pattern so that each one was pointing at a girl. The chief virgin smiled coyly at her morris man and skipped disdainfully over his offered staff. The rest followed suit and became a dancing circle of fluttering white butterflies as they weaved in and out and around the morris men, their skirts flying high as they pirouetted, affording tantalising glimpses of clad and unclad pudenda. They kept this up until the prancing Fool had sniffed each girl in turn and pronounced them pure by touching their breasts and pelvis with the pizzle whip as a gesture of acceptance.
The tempo quickened. Each morris man seized a virgin to him so that the couples stood facing outwards, a pair of muscular arms around each girl while holding the staff upright which the girls also grasped to help maintain the steady, insidious pounding.
Smoke from the barbecue rolled across the square, causing a curious surreal effect as though the circle of dancers were enveloped in a primeval mist.
Ellen frowned and glanced across at Tony Warren and his helpers who were using bellows to breathe life into reluctant patches of glowing red in the barbecue's charcoal bed. She looked at her watch. `They've started the barbecue early,' she commented to David.
At that moment the Fool, who had been leaping around the dancers, "noticed" Vikki by the maypole which she had now completely unravelled. He looked up at the freely fluttering ribbons and uttered a shrill scream.
The dancers froze, their staffs stopped pounding. The bass drum fell silent, and a shocked hush fell on the square. The Fool went through the circle of dancers and advanced on Vikki, brandishing his pig's bladder and pizzle whip like a village shaman confronting an evil spirit. He pushed up his mask and came so close to Vikki that she could smell the sweat streaming down his face for he had hardly stopped his crazed gyrating since emerging from the Crown. He sniffed her from head to toe like a suspicious bloodhound and suddenly leapt backwards as though he had been stung. Vikki was both puzzled and surprised for the terror in the Fool's staring eyes seemed so real. No one had warned her that his acting would be this good.
`Mekhashshepheh!' he spat. It was the ancient Mayday shout -- used when a witch had been detected.
A solitary beat on the drum.
`Mekhashshepheh!'
Another beat, louder.
`Mekhashshepheh!'
The staffs resumed their pounding on the Fool's third scream of the terrible accusation that dated back to rule of the pharaohs. And then a few in the crowd nearest the sweating morris men took up the chant in time with the drum's insidious beat.
`Mekhashshepheh! Mekhashshepheh! Mekhashshepheh!'
`Something's wrong,' Anne whispered to Malone. `It's not usually like this.'
The Fool backed a few paces away from Vikki, smoke swirling around him, his mask pushed up so that she could see the hatred in his wide, staring eyes. Her muscles tensed, waiting for his cue that would send her racing off on a circuit of the square.
`Mekhashshepheh! Mekhashshepheh! Mekhashshepheh!'
Suddenly the Fool uttered a wild scream and rushed at Vikki. He never gave the cue. She brought up her arm to ward off the blow but the pizzle whip struck her on the forearm. The stinging pain was all the cue she needed. The Fool's second blow struck at empty air for Vikki had become a blur of white as she plunged through the circle and down the roped lane in the crowd.
`Vikki!' Anne cried out and raced after her daughter. Malone overtook her easily.
Vikki's speed took those armed with custard pies by surprise; most of their ammunition splattered onto the cobbles in her wake but some quick-thinking youths ahead hurled their pies on the ground in her path. She skidded on the mixture of flour and water, lost her balance, and went sprawling, putting out both gloved hands to break her fall.
`ENOUGH!' Malone bellowed.
Youths about to hurl their pies thought better of it and looked sheepishly embarrassed when confronted by the police officer's commanding presence. Sarah and several of the morris men went to Anne's aid as she helped her daughter to her feet. Blood was streaming from a long but shallow gash on Vikki's left arm but otherwise she seemed more shaken than hurt.
`Okay,' snapped Malone, staring at the revellers. `You've had your fun. The dance is over.'
Sarah spotted a boy who was less awed than most by Malone's hard stare. `You chuck that, Joe Collins,' she warned, `and I'll kick you so fucking hard you'll be using your bollocks as eyeballs.'
The boy was quickly disarmed by his neighbours and Vikki was led away. Satisfied that the situation had been defused, Malone signalled to the town crier on the stage. The crier announced into the microphone for the benefit of the majority who hadn't seen what had happened that the spring witch had been caught and suitably punished. There was cheering and applause.
Malone waited a few moments before pushing through the crowd and entering Pentworth Antiques where Vikki was being cleaned up by her fellow virgins and having her cut dressed. She was embarrassed at being the centre of attention and kept assuring everyone that she was fine.
`But you might've warned me, mum,' she said reproachfully to Anne. `It was just a little bit scary.'
`Well it shouldn't have been,' said Anne angrily. `It's meant to be fun. What went wrong? Why did that cretin attack my Vikki like that?'
The Fool entered the shop without his mask, bladder and pizzle whip. Mrs Williams pounced.
`Vikki said that you didn't give her the cue to run! What on earth got into you? Look what you did to her!'
`Vikki,' said the Fool contritely. `I really am terribly sorry. I tried to give you the word but I got a sudden lungful of barbecue smoke at the crucial moment just before I charged at you, and nothing came out. I'm dreadfully sorry.'
The girl readily forgave him and, in answer to his expressions of concern, assured him that she was fine. `But I don't think I want to be next year's witch,' she added, smiling ruefully.
`It's never happened before,' said the Fool unhappily. `Why the hell have they started the barbecue so early? Do you know, Mr Malone?'
At that moment the town crier's voice from the public address speakers was heard in the shop:
`And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. We start on the serious business of today. The open council meeting. You've heard the chairman's promise that it won't last long. But first a slight change to the programme. Can we have all the tables and chairs out now please. Yes -- all of them. And will Councillor Robert Harding please come onto the stage. Councillor Bob Harding to the stage.'
`No,' said Malone in answer to the Fool's question. `I don't know. But I think we're about to find out.’<
br />
Chapter 66.
PRESCOTT WAITED AT THE microphone while the tables and chairs were distributed and nearly everyone in the crowded square was seated. The barbecue was well-established, giving off little smoke but plenty of mouth-watering smells. Beside him Bob Harding was reading through his notes and making pencilled last minute changes.
`I expect many of you know Councillor Bob Harding,' said Prescott expansively. `It's thanks to him that we have Radio Pentworth. Also, as a scientist, he has made a close study of the Wall. He has a number of important things to say in his report to the council. Many of you have said that you'd like to ask him questions therefore I've asked him to give his report before the meeting so that you can fire questions at him when he's finished. Councillor Robert Harding.'
There was applause for Bob Harding when he stepped up to the microphone. The stooping scientist was well-liked. He was accustomed to addressing meetings, although none as large as this, and he spoke with authority.
`In September 1991,' he began, `eight men and women said goodbye to Mother Earth and locked themselves into an artificial 3.1 acre ecosystem in the Arizona desert for two years. Their giant greenhouse-like building was called Biosphere 2 -- the earth being Biosphere 1. It was, in many respects, similar to the situation confronting us in Pentworth. Biosphere 2 was airtight and contained everything needed to sustain life. Plants would make food and oxygen, insects would pollinate the plants, and algae and bacteria would break down waste and purify the water. The purpose of the NASA-sponsored research project (financed by a Mr Edward Bass) was to investigate ecosystems that would be needed to support crews on long space voyages, or in colonies on planets such as Mars.
`Biosphere 2 was complete with a miniature rain forest, some swamp, a four million litre `ocean' with a wave-making machine, desert, savannah and marshland. There was a farm with goats, pigs, and chickens. Additionally, there were fish in the ocean, and about 4000 species of reptile and insect in the swamp and forest. There were even birds. Everything was put in place to create a supposedly ideal environment for the eight "biospherians" in which they would grow their own food, recycle water, while completely cut off from a sustaining outside world from which they would receive only sunlight.'
Harding paused and looked up from his notes. He had the square's complete attention.
`It didn't work,' he continued. `All the pollinating insects became extinct which meant that many of the plants were unable to reproduce, causing food shortages. Soil microbes consumed more oxygen than predicted. As a result the occupants suffered from oxygen-deprivation which in turn led to violent mood swings and irrational behaviour. Trees became diseased, their roots rotted and they fell over. Water became polluted. Of the 3000 species of insects originally brought into Biosphere 2 only ants and cockroaches survived.
`The seven of the original eight biospherians who stayed in their huge ark for the two year period of the experiment paid a price. They lost up to 40% of their body weight because they ended up competing for food with their livestock. For example, egg production went down but the hens ate just as much. The goats and pigs didn't breed nearly so prolifically. This meant that animals slaughtered for food were not replaced. As crops approached maturity, so the increased food supply triggered explosive growths of parasite populations that ate the crops. The biospherians could not use pesticides because that would have contaminated their water supply. They lost five staple crops and were always hungry.
`On the other hand weeds flourished, taking valuable nitrogen and nutrients from the soil resulting in the biospherians expending more energy in weeding than they were able to replace by eating their crops.
`In the postmortem that followed, the general view of many researchers involved in the fascinating Biosphere 2 project was that the experiment was a failure because so many mistakes were made. I don't agree. Mistakes are an important element in any learning process. The all-important lesson learned in the case of Biosphere 2 was that we don't know, as yet, how to engineer a system that provides humans with the life-supporting services that natural ecosystems produce for free. Our Earth remains the only known home that can sustain life.
`The big problem with Biosphere 2 was its size. Or, rather, lack of it. It wasn't big enough to permit the drumbeat of nature to resonate. For example, their species of frog relied on the splatter of heavy rain to announce mating time. There was no rain, the frogs didn't breed, therefore there were no tadpoles to feed on water weeds to provide food for the carp that would be eaten by the crew. The food chain wasn't so much broken -- it was never even started.'
A child started crying and was immediately hushed. Harding glanced up from his notes at the sea of silent faces before him and was surprised at the close attention he was receiving.
`Walter Adey, one of the scientists involved in the Biosphere 2 project observed that the biospherians were forced to provide a huge input of work to do the job that nature does for free. Populations of plants or animals that outran their niches were kept in reasonable range by human "arbitration." If the lavender shrub began to take over, the biospherians hacked it back. When the savanna grass shouldered out cactus, they weeded fiercely. In fact the biospherians spent several hours per day weeding in the wilderness areas, not counting the weeding they did on their crop plots. Adey said, "You can build synthetic ecosystems as small as you want. But the smaller you make it, the greater role human operators have to play because they must act out the larger forces of nature. The subsidy we get from nature is incredible."'
Harding paused. `I want you all to remember those words, "The subsidy we get from nature is incredible."
`Again and again, this was the message from the naturalists who worked on Biosphere 2: The subsidy we get from nature is incredible. The ecological subsidy most missing from Biosphere 2 was turbulence. Sudden, unseasonable rainfall. Flash floods. Wind. Lightning. A big tree falling over. Unexpected events that nature demands. Turbulence is crucial to recycle nutrients. The explosive imbalance of fire feeds a prairie or starts a forest. Peter Warshall, another Biosphere 2 scientist, said that everything was controlled in Biosphere 2, but nature needs wildness, a bit of chaos. Turbulence is an expensive resource to generate artificially. But turbulence is also a mode of communication, how different species and niches inform each other. Turbulence, such as wave action, is needed to maximize the productivity of a niche. ‘Turbulence is an essential catalyst in ecology, but it was not cheap to replicate in a man-made environment like Biosphere 2. The wave machine that sloshed the lagoon water was complicated, noisy, expensive, and forever breaking down. Huge fans in the basement of Biosphere 2 pushed the air around for some semblance of wind, but it hardly moved pollen.'
Those nearest the barbecue were becoming increasingly distracted by the smells of cooking. Tony Warren and his helpers were turning rows of chicken breasts, steaks, ribs, and potatoes on the grilles. The marinade ladles were busy, sending up more smoke in the process. Ellen left David's side for a brief word with the master butcher.
Harding pointed to the smoke billowing from the barbecue. It rose above the rooftops and then drifted eastward towards Pentworth Lake.
`That breeze is doing a job that we could not replicate without a million horsepower of electric fans, and perhaps not even then if Biosphere 2 has taught us anything. Not only is the breeze carrying the carbon from the barbecue's charcoal across the fields to feed plant life, but it's also taking moisture, such as our sweat, with it at the same time. It then rises over Pentworth Lake, and gives up its harvest of moisture to the colder air so that it falls as rain... Perhaps as much as a tonne of our body waste has been purified, transported, and redistributed since I started talking... All without any effort on our part. The subsidy we get from nature is indeed, truly incredible.
`We should be thankful that Pentworth is just large enough to permit these natural turbulences and uncertainties of nature to operate -- at least we have the natural water purification process of evaporation and condensation a
t work -- we have rainfall and sometimes heavy dews.
`The 3.1 acres of Biosphere 2, roughly 12,000 square metres for eight men and women, sounds like a lot of room, but it wasn't. It was only 1,500 square metres each. By contrast, we are 6000 souls locked into a dome 10 kilometres diameter. That's over thirty square miles giving us approximately 12,000 square metres each. Biosphere 2 was about 70 metres high; our dome is nearly 4 miles high at the centre therefore the volume available to us is nearly a million-fold the volume the biospherians had. Also, as a conservative estimate, we have approximately 5,000 cubic metres of water per person locked within our dome. It sounds a lot but let me sound a cautionary note -- it's an infinitesimal percentage of the average amount of water per person on a global scale. Like the earth's water, it is our only water. Like the earth's water, we won't lose it, but we won't get anymore therefore we have to take great care of it.
`And that applies to not only water, but all our raw materials. We do not know if the Wall will remain in place for a year, or ten years, or ten centuries. Therefore we must conserve and, above all, recycle. We have about a tonne of metals per person, which ought to be more than enough. But anything we make from those metals must be built to last. Obsolescence cannot become a component part of our economy. The regulations on separation of household waste before collection, on the avoidance of pollution, the strict controls on fires, may seem irksome, but by following them we are ensuring, not only our health, but the health and well-being of future generations. That we are entrusted with the present does not give us the right to raid the future.' Ellen returned to David, grim-faced. `Prescott's up to something. He told Tony Warren to start the barbecue early to ensure that the chicken breasts are well-cooked.'
Temple of the Winds Page 31
