And then, through the curtains, came the stranger. He was wearing an armoured flying suit and carried a pistol in his hand. His skin was green and his eyes were lumps of burning coal. He stood, tall as a titan, filling the room with a choking, phosphorescent light.
Charlie opened his eyes and screamed. He turned and clawed at the door, desperately trying to find the lock. His knuckles knocked out the key and sent it spinning across the floor. He fell back, kicking out with his legs, sweeping the floor with outstretched hands.
‘Freeze, monkey-man, and you won’t get hurt!’ the stranger roared. His voice was huge and rolled like thunder. He tightened his fist on the pistol.
‘Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me!’ Charlie sobbed. ‘I’m not wearing any pyjamas!’
The stranger shot him in the head.
6.
When Charlie woke up he was stretched naked on the floor of his living room with his arms folded neatly over his chest. He felt immensely cheerful and was grinning vacantly at the ceiling. His body seemed to be melting away and he couldn’t work his arms and legs.
He lay on the carpet and he thought: I’m dead and I never knew what hit me and there’s nothing left for me now but to wait here until my spirit leaves the carcass and floats away to heaven. And then he thought: or perhaps I’m not dead but dreaming still and soon I’ll wake up and there’ll be sunlight at the bedroom window and all the ghosts will have gone with the night and the horror will have vanished. And then, after a long time, he managed to raise his hand to his face and feel for the wound.
His fingers fumbled for his mouth, searched for his nose and counted his eyes. There was nothing missing. He brushed his hand against his brow and burst a wobbling bubble of blood. There! The wound was a tiny puncture mark placed neatly in the centre of his forehead by a high velocity sedative gun. The pellet had dissolved on impact and filled him with enough anaesthetic to make him feel he could float though walls.
While his fingers probed the bruise he sensed something moving across the room, saw a shadow spreading over the ceiling. He rolled his head and grinned to find the monster looming over him. He no longer had the wit to feel alarmed or the strength to protect himself. He lay on the floor and stared up at his assailant and his jaw remained locked in a ghastly grin.
The creature stared back with its curious, glowing eyes. Its face was very narrow and seemed almost human beneath the huge green pumpkin skull. But its mouth protruded like a beak and it had the ears of a goblin, very small and sharply pointed, marbled with fine, black veins. It was a freak, a devil, a terrible travesty of a man.
It stared down at Charlie and hooked the pistol to its flying suit. The suit was made from articulated armour plate, like the scales of some prehistoric fish. The feet were clad in metal boots but the hands were sheathed in tight, transparent gloves. Surgeons’ gloves. Torturers’ hands. Charlie tried counting the fingers and thumbs.
‘It’s time to wake up, monkey-man!’ the monster bellowed and gave Charlie some encouragement by jabbing at him with a boot.
Charlie moaned, crawled as far as his old armchair and managed to hoist himself aboard. ‘There’s money in the bedroom,’ he croaked. ‘It’s not much. It’s all I have. Take it. Take all of it. But please don’t shoot me again.’ He was grinning and wagging his head in horror. He tried to curl up in a ball, pulling his knees against his chest and clasping the top of his head in his hands in an attitude of surrender.
The stranger looked astonished. The fingers tightened on the pistol butt. ‘I’ve come for the dog.’
He was a Deep Time Mariner from a giant solar system on the edge of the Cyclops Cluster. This was his first mission to one of the planet’s cities and he was almost as frightened as Charlie. He’d been told that monkey-men were the most dangerous species in all the chartered galaxies. Charlie certainly didn’t look dangerous but when you were six long light years from home you couldn’t afford to take any chances.
‘What?’ Charlie groaned. He looked at the intruder and quickly turned his eyes away, for despite the powerful sedative he felt repelled by the creature’s appearance.
‘The dog,’ the Mariner said. He turned and pointed in the direction of Einstein who was lurking beneath the window. The dog cocked one ear and growled.
‘What’s wrong with the dog?’
‘He has to come with me.’
‘Fine,’ Charlie said. ‘He’s not mine. That dog doesn’t belong to me. I mean, I didn’t steal him.’ He was confused. He’d adopted Einstein years ago when he’d found him running wild in his garden. The brute had been starving. ‘He was lost,’ Charlie said. ‘I didn’t do him any harm. I gave him something to eat and then I couldn’t get rid of him. Take him if you want. Take anything.’
The Mariner paused and wiped his hand over the huge and shining skull. ‘It’s not that easy, monkey-man,’ he rumbled. He glared at Einstein who cringed away and pretended to hunt for crumbs in the carpet.
‘Yes,’ Charlie said eagerly. ‘He looks nasty. But that’s just his usual expression. He’s housetrained and won’t bite.’
‘He won’t come with me,’ the Mariner complained. ‘He says he wants to stay here with you.’
‘Einstein? He’ll go anywhere for a slice of liver sausage,’ Charlie said. He closed his eyes and moaned. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to fall to the floor and sleep.
‘You talk to him!’ the Mariner shouted impatiently. ‘Tell him I have to take him away and then we can leave you here in peace.’
‘Talk to him?’ Charlie mumbled. ‘Talk to him? Dogs don’t talk.’
‘That’s because nobody ever asked them an intelligent question,’ Einstein said.
7.
‘No!’ Charlie shouted. ‘I don’t believe this is happening!’ He’d had enough. He was going to finish this nightmare in bed. He launched himself from the chair and fell in a heap on the carpet. The drug was still working its way through his system.
‘Why don’t you stop moaning and get dressed?’ the dog growled in disgust. ‘You’re like a skinned rabbit. It's disgusting. You’re making us both look ridiculous.’
Charlie managed to pick himself up and hobble into the bedroom. As he wrestled with his clothes he looked around for the ashes of his father but the old man had vanished. Charlie wasn’t surprised. He struggled to pull on his pants and forced an entry into a sweater, wrenching it over his head and punching his way through the twisted sleeves.
By the time he’d returned to the living room he had broken into a cold sweat and the floor was swaying beneath him. He found the dog perched on the table, licking peanuts from the bowl. The monster had wedged his massive frame into Charlie’s armchair. He sat there brooding, his head thrust forward, his hands splayed across his knees.
‘Do you think I’ve damaged him?’ the Mariner asked, as they watched Charlie stagger across the room.
‘No,' Einstein said. ‘They’re born fighters.’
‘Do they bite?’
‘Soft teeth but a positively poisonous mouth,’ Einstein slobbered, trying to lick salt from his snout. ‘It’s their diet. They’ll eat almost anything. You wouldn’t believe it.’
‘What’s happening?’ Charlie pleaded.
‘We’re in big trouble,’ Einstein told him.
‘What have I done?’
‘You’ve just encountered a Deep Time Mariner.’
The Mariner leaned forward and stared into Charlie’s frightened face. ‘Prepare yourself for some bad news, monkey-man!’ he bellowed. ‘It’s the end of the world!’
He paused for dramatic effect, expecting Charlie to fall down in a faint or lash out in a sudden explosion of panic. But the stupid animal just stood there, with his mouth open and a string of saliva on his chin. So he grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air.
‘We came here on a rescue mission but now it’s impossible!’ he thundered. His eyes glowed like lanterns, burning with some wild and terrible despair. His fingers tightened on Charlie’s thro
at. ‘What have you done to the place? How could you make such a mess of it? So much damage! So many innocent victims! We’re too late, too late…’
Charlie honked and paddled his feet. His face was turning black. The Mariner hissed in disgust and dropped him to the floor. Einstein threw back his head and let out a mournful howl.
‘The end of the world?’ Charlie wheezed. He turned and crawled to the window, pushing his head through the threadbare curtains, staring down on the grey, deserted street. And he thought, so this is how it ends—not with a bang but with silence after the sudden, killing rain. Clouds of acid ten thousand feet deep suffocating the sleeping cities. This is how it ends—not with fire and brimstone but with a pale and failing sunlight, the dawn fading into twilight, the twilight sinking into night. The planet a vast ball of bones and hair, rubber sheets and plastic shoes, wrapped in the ice of perpetual winter, spinning away through the dark eternity of space.
It couldn’t be true! It couldn’t be happening here, on this dismal autumn morning, without warning, without the collapse of authority, revolution and the threat of war.
He turned on the TV, punching buttons, searching for news but found sex and shopping on every channel. A smiling man in a turtleneck was demonstrating a power drill by making holes in a block of concrete. A woman sitting in a bath was searching between her legs for the soap.
‘The end of the world?’ Charlie whispered. He was still stupid with sleep. He shook his head, desperately trying to clear his brain.
The Deep Time Mariner nodded.
‘The end of everything?’
‘Everything.’
‘How long have we got?’ Charlie whispered. His voice sounded very far away, a faint echo from a locked room.
‘How should I know?’ the Mariner said impatiently. ‘You think I can forecast the future? Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Next year. Who cares? As soon as we’ve completed our task it’s farewell, goodbye, goodnight, the end.’
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie said. ‘I don’t know. I need time to think.’ He looked forlornly around the room, blinking, wiping his palms against his sweater, as if waiting for the furniture to offer instructions.
‘It’s too late,’ the Mariner said.
‘But I can’t just walk out!’ Charlie protested. ‘I still don’t believe this is happening. And why should I trust you? I don’t even know where you want to take me.’
‘I’m not taking you anywhere, monkey-man!’ the Mariner roared, prising himself from the chair. ‘I came for the dog!’
‘But you can’t leave me here!’ Charlie wailed. ‘What will become of me? What will happen?’
‘You’ll die,’ the Deep Time Mariner said.
8.
‘I’m hungry!’ Einstein said. He chased a peanut over the table and watched it drop to the floor.
‘Shut up!’ Charlie snapped.
But the Mariner bent to the dog and scratched him gently between the ears. ‘What do you fancy?’ he asked. As he touched Einstein, the monster’s expression seemed to change. He smiled. His face was flushed with a beautiful green phosphorescence
‘Well, since you ask, I think I could manage the remains of that roast chicken chilling in the fridge,’ Einstein said hopefully, sneaking a guilty glance at Charlie. ‘A morsel or two.’
‘That’s mine!’ Charlie protested. ‘He can’t have that. He always has a bowl of Spillers for breakfast.’
‘You think I can live on hard tack and water?’ Einstein complained.
‘And your Mr Bully Boy™ Choice Cut Meaty Chunks and Rabbit Gravy Dinner,’ Charlie reminded him.
‘No wonder I have such problems with my bowels,’ Einstein said lugubriously.
‘I never heard you complain before,’ Charlie said. ‘I thought you liked Mr Bully Boy™ Meaty Chunks.’
‘Have you ever eaten a bowl of compressed sheeps’ lung?’
‘Give him the chicken!’ the Mariner commanded.
So Charlie led them into the kitchen, took the chicken from the fridge and reticently placed it on the floor.
The little dog whimpered with pleasure, snatched up the bird in his fangs and dragged it into a corner. He was drooling. He couldn’t believe his good luck.
While Einstein tore at the chicken the Deep Time Mariner tried to explain to Charlie what was happening in the world and why he needed to take Einstein away. He told him that the Mariners had constructed a flying ark, roughly the size of Australia, and now the ark was moored behind Mars. He told him that the purpose of the ark was to contain all the listed life forms on Earth and transport them to another blue planet on the far side of the Cyclops Cluster. The ark had been designed like a giant seedpod and each seed was a bubble of oxygen large enough to hold a forest. Some of these chambers had been planted with tropical jungles, some had been chilled to polar conditions and some had been flooded with salt water to accommodate fish and marine mammals.
For the past forty years the Mariners had been coming to Earth and collecting their precious living cargo. It was dangerous and depressing work. Many species were already lost. Many plants had already vanished. The rescue operation would soon be abandoned and the ark would begin her long voyage home. He told him that he couldn’t predict the future of the planet but frankly he didn’t fancy its chances. And when the Mariner had finished explaining these things and Einstein had nearly finished the chicken, Charlie still didn’t understand.
‘Why?’ Charlie said. ‘What are you planning to do with all these creatures? I don’t understand why you want them.’
‘The Deep Time General Council marked the planet as a red alert disaster zone nearly a hundred years ago,’ the Deep Time Mariner said, watching Einstein crack chicken bones. ‘It’s the talk of the Cyclops Cluster. I’m surprised you haven’t heard the news.’
‘You mean we’re going to die?’ Charlie blinked. He had an uncomfortable notion that he might be talking to an angel, sent by God to warn mankind of future perils. A flood. An earthquake. A threat of war. When the vision was complete and the angel departed he’d be obliged to broadcast the message. Nobody would believe him. He’d get into all kinds of trouble. At the very least he’d have to buy himself a bible and read the Book of Revelations. He’d become a Jehovah’s Witness, with a sour smile and a damp handshake, banging on strangers’ doors. Have you heard the good news? You’re going to Hell and this time God isn’t going to save you! The ship is sinking and we’ve burnt the lifeboats! No. It wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t do it.
‘Everything will perish,’ the Mariner said. ‘There’s no doubt about that. You’re living in the time of the last great plague.’ He picked up a carton of milk, squeezed it open and held it under his nose. The smell seemed to intrigue him. He dipped a finger into the milk and licked it clean with a flick of his long black tongue.
‘There’s a plague? What sort of plague?’ Charlie ventured. For behold, tomorrow this time I will cause it to rain a hail mixed with fire, very grievous, sayeth the Lord, such as hath not been in Egypt since the foundation thereof even until now. And if the hail doth not finish thee off then taste the waters of the river for they are grown bitter and runneth over with blood and I shall fill thine house with frogs and thine women with lice and thine barns with flies and thine fields with locusts and thine faces with boils breaking forth with blains such as hath not been in Egypt since the foundation thereof even until now. And that’s just for starters.
‘How can you ask such a stupid question?’ the Mariner roared. ‘Open your eyes and look around. Six billion monkey-men. You’re the plague. You’re the pestilence. And it’s too late for cheap remedies. A hundred years ago there might have been some glimmer of hope. But now…’ He paused, peering down at the greasy-gobbed mongrel. ‘My instructions are to take the dog.’
‘Screw the dog!’ Charlie shouted. ‘What about me? What about the women and children? You can’t leave all mankind to perish!’
‘It’s Armageddon for you, monkey-man. The slaughterhouse. The knacker
s’ yard. You’ve done enough damage for one solar system. You should have stayed in the trees.’
‘But we must be worth more than beasts,’ Charlie insisted. Armageddon! The Witnesses’ favourite forecast. Serpents with seven heads and dancing with the whores of Babylon. ‘You can’t leave us here to die.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re brothers,’ Charlie said desperately, trying to forget that he was talking to a thing from outer space with a head like a giant marrow. ‘Two superior civilisations greeting each other across the vast darkness of space. Men have dreamed of this moment since the dawn of time. We share a common destiny. Together we can conquer the stars.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ the Mariner said.
‘We must seem primitive to you…’ Charlie agreed.
‘You are primitive!’ Einstein chortled. ‘You’ve no sense of smell, you’re virtually deaf and you can’t even lick your balls.’
‘But look what we’ve already achieved,’ Charlie protested. ‘Art and science. Law and order.’
‘Defoliants and striped toothpaste. Nylon shirts and Odor-eaters™. Leg wax. Nostril trimmers. Low fat milk. Ronald McDonald™,’ Einstein added helpfully.
‘Shut up!’ Charlie hissed at him. ‘We’re God’s chosen children. We came down from the trees and built great cities in the wilderness. We created civilisation.’
'That was your first big mistake!’ the Mariner shouted. ‘You weren’t designed to leave your trees. You weren’t supposed to build roads and drive to Shoppers Paradise™. You mutilated the land!’
‘Progress,’ Charlie argued. ‘We were making progress.’
‘No! You should have been sitting in your trees, sucking fruit and admiring the view. As soon as you hit the ground there was trouble. You were frightened of other creatures and fear made you want to conquer them. You went blundering into the forest to hunt the wolf and the giant elk, the antelope and the pig. You ate their flesh. You wrapped yourselves in their skins and wore their teeth as necklaces.’
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