by Hughes, Rhys
“As a matter of fact, I am on it,” said Jenny.
“I think you should log on and ask for some advice before you go and meet Maya,” suggested the Queen.
“Do you have a spare computer down below?”
“There’s one in my bedroom.”
“Lead me to it in that case, your majesty!”
“No, it’s too risky to leave the attic. Maya has her personal bodyguard patrolling the corridors without a break. She happens to be very security conscious. We’d never reach my bedroom without being apprehended. It is too dangerous even to try that…”
“What shall we do, then?” asked Jenny.
The Queen nodded at a bulky object in the shadows. “See that? It’s an early computer, a very early computer that Babbage invented for Queen Victoria before she got obsessed with stilts and gin. Maybe it still works? We can certainly try to boot it up.”
“Won’t kicking it damage the thing?”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant that we should try to get it working again so that you can log into Fascbook.”
Jenny agreed that it was worth making the attempt.
In the unsteady flicker of the solitary lantern they picked their way to the ancient machine. It was huge and glinted dully. It was made of brass and cobwebs hung from its surface.
“I can’t work out how to plug it in!” cried Jenny.
“No, it’s not electronic. It’s a mechanical computer and is full of cogs rather than circuits. You crank it by hand. I can do that, while you operate the programming levers. Sit here…”
The computer had a folding chair that was part of its frame. Jenny sat on it and peered into a crystal screen.
“Carved from a single block of quartz!” she marvelled.
The Queen stood to the side of the apparatus and began cranking a big handle. It was stiff and required both hands, so she had to put down her cutlass by ramming the tip into the floorboards. The sword quivered and sang as the handle creaked and cogs within the machine meshed and clashed and sweat trickled down the Queen’s nose.
Jenny pulled various levers. The screen shimmered.
“It’s working!” she chortled.
“Log in to Fascbook then,” gasped the Queen.
Jenny did so. This computer was very slow indeed but it worked well enough. She entered her password.
“Any new notifications?” asked the Queen.
Jenny blinked and nodded.
“An official invitation to a party,” she said.
“Do you want to go?”
“Absolutely. It will be fun to meet my online friends.”
“I don’t blame you,” said the Queen.
“I’ll just accept and then I’ll get down to the more serious business of asking advice from my contacts.”
Jenny pulled another lever and clicked on the ‘Yes’ option below the invitation. Suddenly the screen seemed to expand and she found herself surrounded by glittering lights…
“What is happening?” she muttered.
It was like entering the negative of the black hole!
She was rushing forward into the screen, into cyberspace, and she was unable to stop herself. The crystal screen was all around her and she was no longer in the attic of Buckingham Palace and the screen was somehow contained within itself, in its own world, in an artificial dimension outside normal spacetime. She blinked…
“I’m standing in Fascbook!” she cried.
And a chorus of unseen voices came to her above a hiss of menacing static. “Welcome Jenny! Welcome!”
“To the party, you mean?”
“Yes! To the party! The party of doom!”
Slowly her surroundings became clear. She was balanced on a grid of thin lines that stretched into infinity on all sides. The sky was a blank and the depths below were also blank. She teetered and regained her balance with difficulty and then she looked around.
“What’s going on? Where is everyone?” she cried.
“We are here, Jenny! Right here!”
Figures shimmered into existence ahead of her.
One of them flicked his greasy fringe and his moustache bristled as he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m Adolf!”
A stocky bald man next to him said, “I’m Benito!”
More figures materialised…
“Good day, Jenny. I am Idi Amin.”
“And I’m Stalin.”
“How do you do, Jenny? I’m Franco.”
“And I’m Papa Doc.”
“I’m Bokassa.”
“Greetings, Jenny. I’m Trujillo.”
“And I’m Hoxha…”
More and more figures appeared.
Jenny stepped back, but she remained inside the computer screen. She had been downloaded into the program!
“So the party is online, is it?” she enquired.
“Ha ha! That’s right!”
Jenny didn’t think that the atmosphere or environment was suitable for any sort of party and she said so aloud, but the dictators found this remark comical in the extreme. She fumed.
“Are you laughing at me?” she demanded.
“Of course! You are at our mercy now, that’s why.” It was Adolf who spoke. “We’ve got you at last.”
“You’ve grown too big for your boots, Jenny,” explained Benito. “We liked you a lot when you were just the dictator of Britain. It was pleasant to see that awkward country getting a dictator at last; but when you ended up ruling the galaxy, some of us started to resent you. And when you got rid of the Devil and became the dictator of Hell as well… We had a little meeting and made a resolution.”
“What was that resolution?” asked Jenny.
“To dispose of you, I’m afraid.”
“Betrayal!” bellowed Jenny. “You are traitors! This was a trick. I’ve walked into a trap, haven’t I?”
“Nobody likes a showoff,” explained Idi Amin.
Jenny turned but she couldn’t see the attic where she had come from. There was just the grid and nothingness.
“I don’t think much of your programming skills,” she sneered as she turned back to face her tormentors.
“Don’t be silly,” said Stalin. “This was a beautifully designed set but you’re using a computer with very poor processing power, so only the most basic framework is visible.”
“Pity,” said Adolf. “We filled it with amazing graphics.”
“What kinds of things?” asked Jenny.
“Dragons, trolls, a cyclops, a few vampires, a dozen werewolves, one rabid unicorn with a whirling horn, three gorgons, a poisonous duck, six carnivorous chairs, a fire monkey…”
“Well, none of those are present,” she observed.
“True. And that’s a shame because they were all programmed to kill you and devour your mortal remains,” explained Benito, mopping sweat from his hairless head with a napkin.
“So there are advantages to using a Babbage machine after all!” said Jenny with a confidence she didn’t feel.
Idi Amin conceded the point. “But you’ll still die, Jenny. Even though you won’t be torn apart by a monster, you won’t escape from here in one piece. The lines of the grid will get thinner and thinner. Eventually they’ll be so thin that they will be sharper than a razor blade and you will be cut into two pieces vertically. So there!”
“You cowards!” raged Jenny. “You jealous saps!”
Adolf sadly shook his head. “We are always being called cowards, just because we slay and destroy, but that’s a slander and it’s unfair. What we are is evil, not cowardly. Please remember that. Evil. I’m tired of history books casting doubts on my courage.”
“Farewell, Jenny. Enjoy your slicing,” mocked Benito.
“No one likes a clever clogs,” added Stalin.
“Don’t be too cut up about it,” said Idi Amin, and then he added, “On second thoughts… Do be! Goodbye!”
One at a time the dictators vanished from the grid.
Jenny was left alone, all alone.
&n
bsp; The lines were no longer as thick as before.
Jenny felt the pain through her shoes. She had a choice. Either she got cut into two pieces or she voluntarily jumped through one of the gaps in the grid and fell forever in nothingness until she died of thirst or hunger. Which was the least grotesque death?
It was time to make a decision! Jenny prepared to leap into emptiness. It seemed better than being sliced.
Another figure shimmered into existence.
Which dictator had come back?
None of them. This was someone new.
A girl. Maya Duesing!
Jenny blinked and said, “Come to gloat have you?”
Maya shook her head.
“Nope, I’ve come to get you out of here.”
Jenny was suspicious. “Is this another trick? I know you hate me. I’ve learned today that all other dictators are envious of my success and want to get rid of me. You’re no different to the others, I bet. And how did you know I was in here, anyway?”
“I’m a user of Fascbook too,” said Maya.
“But do you have an official invitation to this party?” Jenny’s voice was heavy with chilly sarcasm.
“I was invited to come along and mock with the others. They told me all about the trap they had set.”
“And what do you plan to do next?”
“Rescue you,” said Maya.
“But why?” demanded Jenny.
Maya sighed. “Don’t you know how rare female dictators are? There are only a few of us in existence! So it’s essential that we stick together and help each other in times of crisis. Really, it’s as simple as that. I am not forcing you to come with me…”
Jenny hopped from one foot to the other.
“Getting sharp now!”
Maya nodded. “All the more reason to leave.”
“How can we do that?”
Maya chuckled. “I brought a computer with me. Look.”
She opened the lid of a laptop.
“What use is that here?” asked Jenny.
“I downloaded the outer world, the world where we come from, into the memory of this machine. I’ll just start the program and we can step into the screen and go back home!”
Jenny whistled through her teeth. “Ingenious!”
“It was a school project.”
Maya pressed a few keys and a picture appeared on the screen. It was the attic of Buckingham Palace and included the Queen and the ancient computer. Maya gestured at Jenny.
“You go first. I’ll follow. But please hurry!”
Jenny lurched forward over the grid. The lines were so thin now they were almost invisible. She almost fell into the computer screen. Abruptly she found herself back in the attic.
Maya came right behind her, stepping on her heels.
“We’ve been sucked out of cyberspace,” she explained, “or rather we have been sucked from one cyberspace into another and the second is the real world. Are your feet bleeding?”
The gridlines had cut through the soles of Jenny’s shoes and a trickle of red liquid crawled over the floor.
But Jenny was too amazed to cry out in pain. She was transfixed by the sight of the Queen. “How much time has passed since I logged in to Fascbook?” she asked Maya urgently.
“About twenty minutes. But time runs at different speeds inside and outside a computer. Twenty minutes in that program was weeks or even months in the real world. Strange!”
The Queen was a skeleton. She must have been cranking the handle of the Babbage computer without a rest for such a long time that all her flesh had decayed and fallen off her bones.
“Is she dead?” Jenny asked.
“She’s a skeleton! Of course she’s dead!” said Maya.
“No, I’m not,” rasped a voice.
“Your majesty!” exclaimed Jenny and Maya together.
The Queen was a living skeleton. That was the long and short of it. And it didn’t seem likely that anyone would ever be able to explain how she had achieved this remarkable feat. She had kept on turning the handle of the Babbage computer, reluctant to abandon Jenny, and even after she died of starvation she kept turning it slowly.
Jenny was full of emotion. “You are the most loyal of my servants and I think I ought to give you a reward!”
“Thanks, your excellency,” croaked the Queen.
Maya was sceptical. “She’s a skeleton. She won’t have much use for sweets or lemonade, you realise that?”
Jenny considered the problem. “I know! I’ll knight her. Get on your knees, Mrs Queen. Where’s your cutlass?” The sword was still stuck into the floorboards. “Ah, there it is. So…”
She yanked it out of the ground and used it to complete the traditional ritual, touching the blade to the Queen’s shoulders and then to the top of her skull, which was still wearing a crown. “Gently!” said Maya as Jenny struggled to hold the old heavy sword.
“I thereby knight you Sir Queen!” intoned Jenny.
The skeleton climbed awkwardly to its feet. “This is the proudest day of my life, your excellency!” it rattled.
“Do you want to come downstairs for tea?” Maya asked Jenny. “There are lots of games in the playroom too.”
“Yes, my work here is done,” agreed Jenny.
“What about the troops you left on your spaceship?” pointed out the Queen. “You have forgotten them.”
“Silly me!” laughed Jenny. “Come on.”
The three of them went up the secret stairway and emerged onto the roof. The spaceship was still there and the brave trio went up the ramp and through the hatch. The soldiers were all skeletons. This was thanks to the time discrepancy between the inside and the outside of the Fascbook program. But unlike the Queen they weren’t living skeletons. They were dead, all of them, completely inert.
A thin voice warbled from the loudspeaker of the communicator and Jenny went pale. “This is Gran,” said the voice. “What’s going on? Isn’t she dead yet? Why won’t you answer my calls? It’s a simple task that I gave you. Jenny’s only a little girl. She can’t be difficult to assassinate. Hurry up and get on with the job…”
Jenny still had the cutlass in her hand. She took a mighty swipe at the communicator and smashed it up.
“It appears there are traitors everywhere,” she sighed. “If only I had paid more attention to what Machiavelli said. But his books were just so boring! There’s a lesson in all this!”
“What lesson is that?” inquired the Queen.
Jenny shrugged. “No idea!”
They all laughed and then Maya said, “Forget about politics for one evening. Let’s go and have our tea.”
In single file they descended into the palace.
The Cat That Chilled the Scene
Jenny was bored with power. She decided to abdicate and stop being ruler of the galaxy and spend her time eating sweets instead. So this is exactly what she did and it worked out fine, despite the concerns of her friends, who were rather worried that she might get restless. On the contrary, life in Buckingham Palace suited her perfectly.
She didn’t feel the need to do much at all, other than laze around, but her friends continued working as usual. Maya chose to remain dictator of planet Earth and the Queen was happy to remain leader of Britain. It took some getting used to, having a skeleton for a monarch, but the citizens of the land soon accepted her for what she was.
There was still the problem of Gran to be dealt with, of course. Jenny guessed that Gran was already getting ready to come to Earth to find out what was going on; it was important to prepare for her arrival, to erect an air defence system and assemble troops ready to repulse an invasion, but Jenny simply couldn’t be bothered to do so.
She realised she was getting addicted to laziness and that eventually it would be too much effort to climb out of bed or even think, so to stop and reverse this decline into terminal lethargy she forced herself to take walks through the palace corridors. Mainly she stayed in the passages that were most familiar to her, th
e ones full of guards.
She wore the Queen’s cutlass in a scabbard on her hip. It not only gave her more confidence but she liked the clank.
But one afternoon she wandered down a thin side passage into a part of the palace she had never visited before. It was dimly lit and very dusty and twisted and turned randomly, as if the architect had been drunk when he designed it. There was no carpet on the floor and the ceiling got lower and lower the further along it she ventured.
Soon enough she had to walk with a stoop and later she had to crawl on her hands and knees. Finally she reached a little round iron door like a porthole and she pulled it open with difficulty and peered into the strange chamber beyond. It was a perfectly spherical room and it was empty apart from a tall stool positioned in the exact centre.
On this stool sat Old Young Eyes, with his beard rolled into a cylinder under his chin. He turned his head morosely as Jenny crawled through the hatch and said, “So it’s you again, is it?”
“Yes, of course it is. Who were you expecting?”
“Nobody,” sighed Old Young Eyes.
“What are you doing here? I assumed you had died long ago, together with the soldiers on my spaceship.”
“But you didn’t find my body, did you?” he challenged.
“No, I didn’t,” confessed Jenny.
“I left the spaceship and entered the palace.”
“Well, I can see that for myself!”
“The truth is that I’m too old to die. I’m a century older than the oldest age permitted for death, so while the other occupants of your ship had no choice but to turn into skeletons, nothing at all happened to me apart from an increase in the length of my beard.”
“It was already remarkably long the last time I saw you and you kept tripping over it,” reminisced Jenny.
“Indeed I did. And now it’s much longer, so long that everyone else in the country would trip over it too if they had the chance. I had to roll it up like this to prevent that happening…”
Jenny said, “That’s noble and generous and thoughtful of you, but why hide yourself away in this secret room?”
