Podric Moon and the Corsican Tyrant

by Barney Broom

  Regarded by history as the possessor of genius, even Bonaparte couldn’t help being surprised by his new surroundings. He got up and looked around before turning his gaze on Podric and Catherine.

  “Ah, Orphée et Eurydice.”

  “Let’s hope not. We might appear to be in and out of this world but lost forever we are not.”

  Catherine turned to Podric.

  “At least that’s not the plan, is it Podric?”

  She smiled.

  “Anyway, Napoleon and Josephine…?”

  The phone rang. Napoleon jumped. Podric picked it up.

  “So, you’re still there.”

  Podric decided that he wouldn’t tell Archie he’d just been back inside UAR and out again, let alone what he’d been doing and who he had with him.

  “Still working on whatever little idea you had?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I’ve decided to come back early.”

  “Had enough of Wales?”

  “Things to do. Besides, got to check out what you’re up to.”

  “When are you returning?”

  “Tomorrow night. My erratic housekeeper’s also on her way home.”

  “Family gathering then.”

  “Make sure you leave things tidy.”

  “Jawohl mein herr.”

  At this use of German, Napoleon pricked up his ears.

  “Vous parlez allemand? Un peu que je comprends. Mieux que l’anglais.”

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “It’s a bit of a story.”

  “I’ll bet it is. Sooner I get back, the better!”

  The phone call concluding, Napoleon began jabbering away in his Corsican French. Because he was UAR – programmed, Podric, when activated, could speak and understand French though Napoleon’s thick accent was demanding.

  Clearly agitated, Bonaparte’s imperious dynamism vanished. Pacing up and down, he obviously didn’t understand where he was or what he was experiencing. A situation being out of his control wasn’t something Napoleon had ever known!

  Catherine decided to leave them. Napoleon watched her depart on her little scooter. Podric went through to the kitchen and began making coffee. Napoleon followed him and was instantly fascinated by the technology of the machine.

  “This – how? What?”

  Electricity, the internal combustion engine – let alone computers and space technology – it was some hours before Podric had finished explaining to Napoleon who he was, what time in history they were in and what they had done. He also had to explain how, in spite of Napoleon appearing to be in the twenty-first century, no one could see him unless they’d been UAR – profiled as characters in his game Napoleonic Wars.

  “So, we are a secret life within life.”

  Podric was right when he said Bonaparte would have little difficulty mastering a computer game. His rapid understanding of what had happened bore testament to his terrific intelligence and Podric was keen to introduce his new… well, what was Napoleon to him? Not really a friend, more an historic acquaintance perhaps.

  “It’s time we were going home. You need to meet my mum and sister.”

  “Ah, votre mère et votre sœur? Qu’en est-il de votre père?”

  Podric explained that he had no father, his dad having been killed in a flying accident. This led them into the lab. Podric showed Napoleon Royal Air Force fast jets and the type his father was killed in on the laboratory’s virtual reality system. Other questions arose about war usage – missile systems and their destructive powers. Napoleon was wondrous.

  It was late afternoon before he and Podric left the Lighthouse, Bonaparte’s incessant questions peppering their departure.

  21

  Living the Future

  Twilight as they walked through Drinkwell, Napoleon’s excitement turned to reflection.

  “So, in this alternate world, you know what’s going to happen to me?”

  “Yes, and you will when you play the game.”

  “When do we start?”

  “Soon. Are you in a hurry?”

  “Napoleon is always in a hurry.”

  “I thought maybe just a little time in this world for you to see some things.”

  Turning into Briony Close, Podric found his key and opened the front door of Number 5. Amy stood in the hall wearing a space helmet.

  “Moon landing.”

  Her voice came through the headset speaker. Napoleon was entranced.

  “Where’s Mum?”

  “Attending her inner self. Who’s that?”

  Barbara Moon appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Unless I’m much mistaken, ‘that’ is an actor dressed up as Napoleon.”

  “For your information, he is actually Napoleon.”

  Though he hadn’t come across them yet, Podric had profiled his mother and sister into UAR from its inception so Barbara and Amy were able to identify Napoleon’s image.

  “Oh? Does he know where he is?”

  “Yup. All been a bit of a shock to him but he’s clever.”

  Never a man who enjoyed being at a disadvantage, Bonaparte looked irritated.

  “Bonjour empereur. Je crois que vous êtes bien.”

  “He’s not emperor yet Mum. I’ve been into Napoleonic Wars and brought him here in 1800.”

  “So, he’s First Consul.”

  “Wow.” Podric was impressed.

  “To whom do I have the honour of addressing?”

  Speaking French in his Corsican accent, Napoleon was all courtesy.

  “I’m Podric’s mum. We’re just sitting down to supper. Won’t you join us?”

  “Enchante, madame. Les rosbifs?”

  “No, that’s a traditional English Sunday lunch, but I presume you’re staying a little while.”

  ***

  Alannah was already home when Archie, Cosima and Dog arrived back from Wales the following day. The house was spotless and Archie could find little fault with the state of his computer laboratory.

  Not knowing what had brought about the change in Cosima, Alannah was interested to see how much her boss’s daughter had altered. All Archie would say was that they had had a heart to heart. Whatever had happened, the moodiness and ill manners were gone, replaced by a strikingly independent young woman.

  Archie hadn’t been back an hour when the H-V HK500 was down the drive and crossing Drinkwell. Pulling up outside the Moons’ house, Archie pressed the bell. The door was answered by Barbara waving an artist’s paintbrush.

  “Dr. Light. Welcome.”

  “Is Podric home?”

  “He is – in the garden with our guest.”

  Barbara didn’t wait for Archie to enter but went back through the house out into the garden and her studio – the shed reclaimed from Podric.

  Vaguely following in her footsteps, Archie found his partner sitting in a hand-painted deckchair.

  “Back from Wales, then.”

  “No Podric, I’m an illusion!”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Podric twisted a chair around but Archie walked a few paces away.

  “So, what have you got?”

  Podric returned to his recline position.

  “This and that.”

  “You can be…”

  “Has Podric offered you a cup of tea?”

  Barbara, brush in hand, leaned out of her studio.

  “No, but I won’t. Thank you.”

  Given he’d decided to visit Podric rather than call him, Archie felt more infuriated by the second. Laughter was heard coming from upstairs in the house.

  “I want you to programme Cosima into UAR. She wants it and I want it.”

  “You know where the microchips are.”

  “Don’t be sma
rt, Podric. It’s my daughter we’re talking about.”

  “You mean because it’s your daughter, you don’t want to risk an attempt because you don’t know how to do it.”

  “You little…”

  Just then Amy ran into the garden followed by Napoleon. Podric’s sister wore a Mexican poncho complete with sombrero. The First Consul had taken off his coat, revealing his waistcoat and breeches.

  “Kids’ party, is it? More amateur dramatics?”

  Napoleon burst into some jolly French/Corsican invective as he slumped into the chair Podric had offered Archie.

  “He’s quite good.”

  “He should be.”

  The sun dipping, Podric pulled off his shades.

  “The image you can see is Napoleon – or at least Napoleon in Napoleonic Wars.”

  “Crap!”

  “I brought his games self out.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Really? You can see him, can’t you?”

  Archie didn’t reply but he obviously could.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to play the game with him – here in our time – challenging him.”

  “And that’s a big deal?”

  “I reckon – plus it’s all part of understanding what UAR can do.”

  Archie walked up to Napoleon.

  “Do you remember me? We met in Toulon in 1794. You’d been wounded and I assisted the doctor attending you.”

  Archie’s French was quite good.

  “Unlikely he’ll know you. He wasn’t programmed then.”

  Napoleon shrugged.

  “I do not recollect.”

  “I had my dog, with me. Big wolfhound.”

  Archie turned to Podric.

  “So, seeing him, how are we now?”

  “We’re in an outside-the-game UAR state. Anyone profiled can identify Napoleon, otherwise, he doesn’t exist.”

  “A big dog you say? You’re its master?”

  “I have that honour.”

  “Ha! The English and animals.”

  “Are you as arrogant as history records?”

  “I am a genius.”

  “So am I.”

  “Really? What have you achieved to suggest such?”

  “A twenty-first century scientific brain creating a reality other people only dream of.”

  “You didn’t do that.”

  “Who says? Think he could have done it by himself? Anyway, I wrote your game. You’re just about the most conceited ogre to ever sit astride Europe.”

  Archie was back in a sneering mode now.

  “Napoleon. Tortillas, are you coming to make them?”

  Having run into the house, Amy called from the conservatory, her mobile on Google translate.

  “Of course, cherie.”

  Napoleon got up. Although only thirty-one, he looked older. His hair was thinning and the rotundness he was later noted for, was already beginning.

  “Napoleonic Wars simply reflects my achievements.”

  “Allowing a player to challenge you.”

  “Maybe I will get to play you?”

  Napoleon studied Archie.

  “But I believe I am right about your Achilles’ heel. Arrogance usually hides inadequacy.”

  “Is that what drives you then?”

  “The dream of France drives me.”

  “A cover for your own ambition.”

  “Hmm. Yes, likely, but I changed my world.”

  Archie watched him go.

  “I hope you’re pleased with your little experiment. Have you played him yet?”

  “I was going to this evening.”

  “Make sure you destroy him.”

  Archie turned, intent on leaving.

  “And Podric, given you’re the genius, you’ll ensure to programme Cosima. Partner! Talking of which I’ve got a meeting in town tomorrow about our agreement.”

  “Looking to terminate?”

  “Like that, would you?”

  “Your call. You’re having the meeting.”

  Arriving at a little hedge that divided the garden from the drive, Archie turned back. For several seconds, he said nothing.

  “Enjoy yourself tonight and remember, nothing less than annihilation.”

  Some hours later, Podric’s intentions to play Napoleonic Wars were thwarted when told that the First Consul was left-handed!

  “You wish to play me at my game, but I cannot be so disadvantaged.”

  Deciding he couldn’t face going to Archie’s laboratory to get another microchip and the gun, rather than play conventionally (Podric could barely remember virtual reality games where he used Xbox or PlayStation controls), he activated alternative reality. Not playing Napoleonic Wars, Napoleon and Podric sat in Podric’s bedroom looking through the game.

  Navigating the First Consul through the challenges – Options, Tasks, and Criteria – was initially amusing. The period 1794 to 1800 largely triumphant, Napoleon was all too aware of what he had achieved. Whilst thwarted by Nelson when waging his Egyptian campaign, he laughed with glee at the Battle of Marengo – ‘the ordnance was more difficult and if I’d had the supply I demanded, my victory would have been even greater!’

  However, the first years of the new century were mixed and unknown to him. He watched the aborted conquest of England, his coronation, Trafalgar and then his triumph at Austerlitz. This was a high but Napoleon’s distress mounted with the advent of the Russian campaign.

  “Stop!”

  Agitated and opening his eyes, Napoleon got up and began pacing about the room.

  “Release me from this state.”

  Podric did so.

  “Never mind playing your partner’s little game, I do not wish to see more.”

  Napoleon looked out over the Moons’ garden.

  “Viewing the future – it is more than a man can bear…”

  Podric studied a virtual reality visor. To his eyes, it seemed archaic.

  “It was my mistake to bring you out. I’m sorry. Forget Archie, I just wanted to play you at your own game.”

  Napoleon turned and put his hand on Podric’s shoulder.

  “You did not do wrong. With your réalité ultime, you have created something amazing, my young friend. Amazing and compelling. But you will have to be careful that this alternative life of yours does not take over your existence.”

  “I sometimes wonder if living in it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  Napoleon laughed.

  “How can you say that with your crazy mother and sister? Don’t forget, Podric, they need you. But what you’ve invented for yourself is another dimension. Adventures whenever you want them.”

  Napoleon turned away, reflective.

  “You know – seeing a little of my fate, life was simpler in 1800.Live. Die. Eat. Starve. The things we have spoken of – electricity, space, this!”

  Napoleon held up his left wrist.

  “What you have inserted into me has more technology than the whole world had two hundred years ago!”

  Picking up his green coat, Napoleon flicked some dust off the fabric.

  “There is one thing I wish to know. When I return into my game’s existence, will I be aware of these experiences?”

  “You should be unless I remove the microchip.”

  “Ah, the wrist again! If this remains inside me, it will add an interesting dimension to my life in the future.”

  Podric reflected that this was an important moment. Although his was only a computer game entity created by Podric’s warping, Napoleon in UAR obviously felt himself to be alive. Such was the craziness Ultimate Alternative Reality had thrown up.

  22

  To Play or Not to Play?

  Next morning, Napoleon announce
d that he would attend Wendbury High. This put the Moon household into chaos as everyone was trying to leave within a few minutes of each other.

  Bonaparte taking time with his toilette caused a log jam for the bathroom. Being intrigued by the lavatory cistern, Napoleon began taking it to pieces exploring its construction! Barbara banged on the bathroom door.

  “Napoleon, Podric and Amy have gone. The school bus – they had to go.”

  Opening the door, Napoleon was crestfallen.

  “They went without me?”

  “We were all calling you, but they couldn’t miss the bus.”

  “I am Napoleon.”

  Barbara looked at him.

  “Yes you are, and while I know you’re a great man, driver Linklater is unlikely to be so appreciative.”

  Bonaparte’s shoulders sagged. He could be like a child on occasion.

  “Come on. Come and have a cup of coffee.”

  The two went downstairs where Barbara found her phone vibrating. A message from Podric suggested that she drop Napoleon at the Lighthouse on her way to work.

  Passing the school bus in his repaired Faciella, Archie headed up the London road. A couple of hours later he negotiated his way into the city, and parked his car in Mayfair. Walking around to his solicitor’s offices, Archie requested Kaliska Monroe, and was shown into a meeting room.

  For all Archie’s recent adventures, nothing had diminished the stylish Kaliska’s appeal. He made a note to ensure that she was profiled into UAR at the soonest opportunity.

  “Dr. Light. Thank you for coming in.”

  Archie made a brief reply. When attracted to someone, he often appeared abrupt. Sitting opposite him, Kaliska opened a file and took out some documents.

  “This is the draft agreement for MoonLight. It isn’t complicated.”

  Kaliska paused. She looked at Archie with her clear blue eyes.

  “But it’s not the contract I wanted to see you about.”

  Scanning the papers, Archie looked up.

  “Oh?”

  “Pasaro want to sign Podric exclusively.”

  Archie’s face went hard.

  “Exclusively?”

  “Personally. For a lot of money.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because while contacting them about Agrolution, Mr Schepesi told me that they want the game but they also want Podric.”