by Terry Jones
Then up and up they flew in reverse, higher and higher, towards a dark speck that grew bigger and bigger, until they could see that it was the Iron Cloud. The doors in the side of the Cloud opened up and the rocket shot back in. It skidded
backwards across the floor of the hangar, and finally crashed backwards into its original dock.
The Inventor looked out of the control room, apoplectic with rage. ‘What’s going on?’ he screamed at the rocket. ‘How did you get to come back?’
‘!lleH ot em tnes uoY,’ growled the rocket.
‘What are you talking about?’ shouted the Inventor.
But before it could explain, Jack and Orville jumped out of the rocket.
‘How did you get free!’ exclaimed the Inventor.
But neither Jack nor Orville felt like explaining anything. They both sprinted across the hangar floor towards the corridor that led back to the breaking yard, and the Inventor took off after them.
‘I’ll deal with you later!’ he shouted at the rocket.
‘!taht tuoba ees ll’eW,’ replied the rocket.
Once in the corridor, Orville and Jack could hear the Inventor shouting his curses after them, and the next thing they heard was the whirr and whizz of the flying gizmos, which were now swooping towards them, through the corridor. Their blue spotlights flicked onto the two men. The next moment the flying gizmos started clicking, and Jack and Orville knew that the metallic thread was about to shoot out to truss them up.
And that is exactly what would have happened, had not Jack caught his toe in one of the hatchways in the floor of the corridor. He fell forwards, sprawling among the cables. The flying gizmos hesitated. The clicking stopped. One gizmo darted towards him, and then drew back, as if afraid of hitting the ground.
‘Quick, Dad! Get down!’ yelled Jack, and he pulled his father onto the floor beside him. The flying gizmos whirred above them, but didn’t seem to know what to do. Now and again one would dart down towards them, but it always flew back up to the ceiling.
‘They can’t tie us up as long as we’re on the floor!’ breathed Jack.
The flying gizmos continued to hover above them, but eventually their blue spotlights began to search elsewhere, and the gizmos themselves started crackling and spitting and glowing red.
‘They’re confused! They don’t know what to do!’ whispered Jack, as his father raised himself up. ‘Keep down, Dad!’ And he pulled his father back to the floor.
‘But look out!’ hissed Orville. ‘Here’s the Inventor!’
The Inventor was striding down the corridor towards them. In his hand was an evil looking weapon the like of which neither Orville nor Jack had ever seen before.
‘What’s going on here?’ screamed the Inventor. ‘Get up, you two!’
‘No fear!’ yelled Jack, and the flying gizmos squeaked apologetically and blinked their lights, turning this way and that in confusion.
‘I’ll count to three,’ said the Inventor, pointing the hideous looking weapon straight at Orville’s head, but speaking to Jack. ‘If you’re not standing up straight by then, I’ll let the old man have it between the ears!’ (The Inventor really was a most unpleasant man.)
Jack looked around desperately. There was nothing else for it. He would have to stand up, and let the flying gizmos
tie him up again, for he had no doubt that the Inventor meant what he said.
But then a remarkable thing happened. One of the flying gizmos suddenly started bleeping more regularly, and swung its blue spotlight around. The other flying gizmos seemed to calm down too, and suddenly all the blue spotlights turned onto the only person who was standing, who was, of course, none other than the Inventor. Before you could say ‘Thomas Alva Edison!’ the flying gizmos were swooping and darting all around him.
‘What are you doing?’ cried the Inventor. ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ and he desperately tried to get his remote control out of his pocket, letting go of one end of the evil-looking weapon as he did so.
In that moment, Jack made a lunge, and knocked the weapon out of the Inventor’s hands. Brushing off a couple of gizmos, he dived to the floor again.
‘Well done, son!’ shouted Orville Barton, and Jack glanced across and smiled at his father.
Meanwhile the flying gizmos had trussed the Inventor up with his hand still in his pocket trying to reach his remote.
‘Imbeciles!’ fumed the Inventor. ‘You’re meant to be tying them up – not me!’
The flying gizmos blinked at each other.
‘They must be programmed to respond only to the remote control,’ whispered Jack. ‘And that’s still in his pocket!’
‘Untie me!’ screamed the Inventor. ‘Look! They’re getting away!’
And it was true. Jack and Orville were now crawling
desperately along the floor, heading for the breaking yard.
‘DOLTS!’ screamed the Inventor. ‘BLOCKHEADS! BOOBIES!’
The flying gizmos paused in their work, and blinked at each other. ‘NUMBSKULLS! DUNDERHEADS! HALFWITS!’ the Inventor continued to scream, turning blue in the face as he did so. ‘MORONS! PLONKERS! NINCOM . . .’ and that is where he stopped, for one of the flying gizmos had gagged him.
The Dog Maker
and Other Wonders
The breaking yard was in chaos. Machines were scrambling about, climbing over each other, rolling here and skidding there. The refrigerators had all grouped together in a single pile, and one of them was addressing the others, but there was such a din it was hard to hear what it was saying. Vacuum cleaners were rushing about, and the cars were slamming their doors. Some printing presses and a crowd of pneumatic drills had gathered round the crusher, and a mixed lot of mangles, traffic lights, hairdryers and saxophone stands were milling round banging on the corrugated iron sides of the dismantling shed. The uproar was deafening.
Suddenly out of the disorder, the train came speeding up to Jack and Orville.
‘Oh, thank you! Thank you!’ it cried. ‘You saved me! I would be shunting garbage by now! My hero!’ And it grabbed Jack with its windscreen wipers and hugged him, plonking a wet kiss on his face with one of its headlights.
‘Stop that!’ yelled Jack.
‘Take us to the Inventor’s castle!’ shouted Orville. ‘We’ve got to rescue Annie and Little Orville!’
‘I was a goner!’ exclaimed the train, hugging Jack again.
‘Let me go!’ shouted Jack.
‘My saviour!’ beamed the train.
‘The Inventor’s castle! There’s no time to lose!’ yelled Jack.
‘Whatever you want! My hero!’ said the train. ‘Jump in!’
So Orville and Jack jumped into the driver’s cabin and the train tooted, ‘Wheeeeee! Whooo! Out of the way! Important passenger on board! Whooo!’
And it made its way through the Dictaphones and typewriters, the X-ray machines and lawnmowers, egg-sorters and humidifiers, tractors, shredding machines, power hammers, central-heating boilers, pianos, movie cameras, rifles and petrol pumps that had all been awaiting destruction in that dismal place. And when they knew who was on board, the machines all broke out into spontaneous applause, and some cheered and the cars threw their hubcaps in the air.
The train tooted and gathered speed, heading towards a tunnel at the far end of the breaking yard, and there, with a final hoot, it plunged into the black interior.
‘How far is it?’ asked Jack, flicking on the headlights.
‘Over the hill and far away!’ chanted the train happily.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Jack. ‘How long will it take?’
‘As long as it takes to get there!’ said the train.
‘Look! Tell us how long!’ exclaimed Orville. But at that moment they came out of the tunnel into broad daylight.
The sun was shining above them. All around them the blue sky blazed with light, and it seemed as if they were on top of the world. And in a way that was exactly where they were, for they had come out onto the upper side of t
he Iron Cloud, and here things were very different.
It wasn’t that the Iron Cloud had a silver lining; it had a green lining. Instead of steel and rusting metal, the upper side of the Iron Cloud was covered in grass and sweet-smelling vegetation. There were rolling hills and trees as far as the eye could see.
‘Some cloud!’ exclaimed Jack.
‘The Inventor created all this,’ tootled the train happily. ‘Isn’t it lovely!’
‘I don’t understand . . .’ began Jack, but before he could say any more, the Engine interrupted.
‘There it is! Over the hill and far away! Like I said!’
And sure enough, over the next hill and some distance away stood the Inventor’s castle. It was built on the highest elevation, overlooking the emerald acres of the Iron Cloud. The sun shone off the castle’s silver roofs, and glinted on the gold weather vane on the topmost tower. Behind it the blue sky looked solid and close enough to touch.
But as they continued to approach, Jack could see the outbuildings were somewhat dilapidated. The pigsties and the cowsheds were lacking parts of their roofs and the door of the shepherd’s cottage hung loose on its hinges. Even the castle itself showed signs of neglect. The paintwork was peeling and in places stones had fallen out of the wall and were now lying forlornly on the grass outside the castle.
The train pulled up outside the front door.
‘There you go!’ it said. ‘My hero!’ and it caught Jack yet again with a wiper and wouldn’t let him go until he’d given it a kiss on its door handle.
When he finally managed to get free of the admiring engine, Jack joined his father. There wasn’t a moat or a drawbridge. It wasn’t that sort of place. It was a fat, comfortable tower or rather a series of towers, set idyllically on the pleasant top of the green hill. And it had a front door.
Orville hammered on the door. ‘Annie!’ he called. ‘Are you in there?’
But there was no answer. Jack grasped the large brass doorknob and twisted it. There was a click and – rather to his surprise – the massive door swung open, and the two of them stepped into the Inventor’s castle.
The place had the feel of somewhere that had once been bright and cheerful but that had fallen into neglect. The windows were obscured by cobwebs, and the sunlight struggled to get through. As they took their first step, dust rose up around their feet. On their second step it rose to their waists and by the third step it had risen to their chests. By the time they took their fourth and fifth steps they were sneezing and choking. The scrabbling of the countless feet of little creatures could be heard in the shadows, as they scurried for safety. Spiders paused in their work, to watch the two men go by. Up in the eaves, the beady eyes of birds looked down on them with scorn.
At the end of the lobby, two substantial doors took them into the Great Hall, and that was where they found them. Not Annie and Little Orville, but the machines.
Many were covered in cobwebs and some had dust sheets
thrown over them, but there they stood – row after row of them, and each one bore a label written out in a neat handwriting that explained what each object was.
‘ “Day-Dream Machine”,’ read Jack. He was standing in front of a machine that looked a little like those hairdrying machines you get in ladies’ hairdressers. There was a big upside-down basin that presumably you put your head into, and underneath a comfortable chair. Jack brushed the dust off the side of the rounded headpiece to reveal an indicator that was currently pointing at ‘Flying Easily’ but there were many other choices: ‘Reading Chinese’, ‘Climbing Everest’, ‘Jumping the Atlantic’, ‘Knowing What Nobody Else Knows’, ‘Best at Tennis’, ‘Speaking in Flowers’ and so on and so forth.
‘How about this one?’ said Orville. ‘Happy Holiday Machine!’ He was standing in front of one of the larger machines. It looked a bit like a giant catapult, and in the middle of what might have been the rubber sling was a first-class seat from a jumbo jet.
On the headrest was an inscription. ‘Have a Really Happy Holiday!’ it read.
‘Or this one!’ exclaimed Jack. He was bending down looking at an electrical appliance in stainless steel. The label read: ‘Washing Machine/Spin Drier/Candy Floss Maker’. Rather disconcertingly the label continued, ‘Place unwanted old clothes in here, they will be thoroughly washed, dried and spun into delicious candy floss.’
‘Well, I’m not too sure about that one,’ remarked Jack, passing on to the next machine. ‘ “Dog maker” ’ he read. ‘What?!’ But there was no further explanation. There was,
however, a funnel at one end, above which was a sign reading ‘Bones and Dog Meat’, and at the other end there was a receptacle behind a glass panel with a dog basket complete with a tartan cushion. Above the receptacle was a picture of a friendly-looking spotty dog.
‘ “Running Shoes”,’ Orville was meanwhile reading another machine. ‘ “For the elderly and infirm. Simply put your feet into these running shoes, and you will experience all the speed and acceleration of youth. Let these shoes do your running for you!” I could do with a pair of those!’
‘ “Packing Simplifier”,’ read Jack. ‘ “Going on holiday? Put everything you want to take with you into this simplifying machine and it will turn it all to small pills which can be swallowed or else carried in your sponge bag. To restore your belongings to normal size, simply soak in water.” Hmm,’ said Jack. ‘I notice it doesn’t say how you restore things if you’ve swallowed them!’
‘ “Jump Suit”,’ read Orville. ‘I suppose that’s self-explanatory.’
‘I really don’t know about some of these inventions,’ remarked Jack, walking down a row of tall machines with knobs and hoses. ‘I mean “Tree-Hopper”? “Rock Spade”? “Soup Shower”? Who’d want to shower in soup? “Tennis Elbow”?’ He was looking at a contraption, which consisted of a series of levers and pulleys attached to a pad, that bore a label, ‘Unreturnable serves every time’.
By this time Orville was standing in front of one of the biggest machines in the Great Hall. It was covered in tubes and dials and looked suspiciously like a small distillery. ‘ “Anything Pop Maker”?’ he read. ‘ “This machine will make
anything you fancy into a fizzy drink. Try Ham Sandwichade, Sock Pop, Coal and Coke Cola’’. That Inventor has a pretty weird imagination!’
But suddenly Jack gave a bellow. ‘What are we doing!’ he exclaimed.
‘And I’m certainly not getting into that!’ replied Orville, pointing at a machine bearing the label ‘Inside and Out Body Washing Machine’.
‘We’re supposed to be looking for Annie and Little Orville – not browsing through a museum of ridiculous inventions!’ exclaimed Jack, looking round as if he thought he might spot his sister and little nephew among all the machines.
‘Hang on!’ exclaimed Orville. ‘Maybe this’ll help us!’ and he pointed at a device like a large wristwatch that was lying on a table covered in dust. There was a neat label that simply said ‘Finder . . . For finding things’.
‘Don’t be daft!’ exclaimed Jack.
‘It’s got a keyboard,’ said Orville. ‘Perhaps you type in what you’re looking for.’ And he typed the word ‘Annie’ on the miniature keyboard.
‘How can it know who Annie is – let alone where she is?’ asked Jack. And, indeed, the machine didn’t bleep. No lights came on. Nothing happened. ‘We’re wasting time! Come on!’ and he disappeared through a doorway.
Orville shrugged, but strapped the finding machine on to his wrist anyway. As soon as he did so, it suddenly lit up with a ‘Ping!’
‘No sign of her here,’ Jack was saying.
‘I think the finder has started to work!’ exclaimed
Orville. ‘Look!’ And a most amazing thing was happening . . . The dial of the finder was glowing red, then blue, then yellow . . . brighter and brighter . . . then suddenly there was another and louder PING! And an image in full colour was being projected onto the ceiling above their heads. Orville stared up a
t it, and so did Jack, and well they might. For there above them was an image of Annie with Little Orville in her arms. They were sitting in a room with sunlight sloping through a window.
‘Well done, Dad!’ said Jack. And Orville Barton smiled at his son. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the greatest compliment he’d ever received.
However, all he said was, ‘Trouble is it doesn’t tell us which way to go . . .’
But before the words were out of his mouth, the finder had started to whirr. The next moment the image on the ceiling disappeared, and a sort of prong shot up out of the centre of the finder’s dial, and a small hand with a pointing finger popped out of the top end, swung around and around and finally settled pointing back the way they’d come. Orville and Jack ran back into the Great Hall and the hand swung to the left, pointing now towards the grand staircase that stood to one side.
‘Let’s go!’ shouted Orville. But Jack had already gone: he was halfway up the staircase, jumping up two steps at a time.
‘Which way is it pointing?’ he yelled when he reached the top.
‘Wait a second!’ panted Orville, as he joined his son. They stopped for a moment and consulted the finder machine. It
hesitated and then swung round to the left.
‘Along that corridor!’ cried Orville.
Halfway down the corridor, the hand suddenly swung violently to the right . . . through another door and up another staircase, this time much narrower . . . then along a short passage. Finally the hand turned sharply to the left, and a trumpet appeared out of the top of the prong and gave a ‘root-ta-toot-toot’. It was pointing at a door.
‘It’s locked!’ exclaimed Jack.
‘Let me try!’ cried Orville.
‘Listen!’ whispered Jack, and he held up his hand. They could hear a woman singing, in a soft, melodic voice, on the other side of the door.
‘That’s Annie’s song!’ exclaimed Orville. ‘She writes songs you know.’
‘Of course I know, Dad!’ replied Jack. ‘But what’s that?’
There was a jingling noise now as well as the melody of Annie’s song, but the jingling wasn’t coming from inside the room, it was coming from Orville’s wrist. He glanced down at the finder, and there, dangling from the index finger of the pointer hand was a bunch of keys.
