What Kind of Fool?: A Science Fiction Comedy (These Foolish Things Book 2)

by J Battle

‘I can't climb that,’ I said, because, obviously, I couldn't. It was vertical and smooth, and really, really dangerous.

  'It won't be a problem for you, Phil. You will be able to climb the wall like a spider.'

  ‘I haven't got any climbing gear,’ I said, not knowing what I'd do with it if I had.

  'You don't need climbing gear; you have sticky fingers.'

  ‘What?’ I must admit that threw me. If I'd tried to anticipate what Neville would say to me, sticky fingers would be low down on my list, just behind apricot sundaes.

  Then I tapped the index finger of my left against its opposing thumb and, you know, they were sort of tacky. I tried my other hand, with the same result.

  So, I had sticky fingers, I thought, probably my nanos, I thought.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘They're a bit sticky, but not enough to carry my weight, or stop me falling from a dangerous height.’

  'Their tackiness ratio is entirely situation dependent.'

  ‘And that means?’ I said, because, when you’re hanging from your fingertips at a great height, it’s nice to be sure.

  'They have a low level of tackiness now because that is all that is required. When you are hanging by your fingertips 120 metres from the ground, you'll find the level of tackiness has increased to fit the requirements of your situation.'

  ‘So, what? I just trust myself to the little nanos?’

  'I think you'll find that that is an oxymoron; little is implicit in nano.'

  ‘I'll just write that down, shall I? in case it ever becomes a useful and pertinent thing to say.’

  'There's no need to get tetchy. Just climb to the next level and then we can leave.'

  ‘It's as simple as that?’ I can sometimes be a little naïve.

  'Almost. Would you like a game of hangman before you leave?'

  ‘What?’

  'Just to relax you and build up you self-esteem with an easy victory over a much more intelligent adversary.'

  ‘So, you'd let me win?’

  'I can't see you winning any other way; can you even spell Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch? (This is a real place in Wales that only the locals can pronounce; but please give it a try. NF) I would be sure to be subtle about it.'

  I walked towards the wall and placed both hands against its glass smooth surface, my fingers splayed. I pulled down and my fingers didn't budge. I put all my weight on my hands, collapsing my legs beneath me in a most elegant manner. I was hanging there for a moment or so when Neville prompted me.

  'Go on, my son,' he said; putting me off a little. 'Your arms have been strengthened so you should be able to pull yourself all the way to the top.'

  Despite a little fellow called Common Sense shouting at me to stop through a megaphone, and a tall lady called Self Preservation giving me a disapproving frown, I began to climb.

  I pushed my left hand a few centimetres up the wall; there was no resistance at all, until I pressed it against the wall and pulled it downwards, then it held firm. I repeated the maneuver with my other hand, and then again, and again.

  I paused to evaluate my position. I was 20 metres above the ground, clinging to a smooth vertical wall, and I was quite relaxed.

  I know, it's hard to believe, but I was.

  I began to climb then in earnest, hand over hand, easy as pie. I wondered how big my biceps must be now, to be so strong. Would I be able to start wearing sleeveless T-shirts? Or even take my top off on the beach without fear of a face full of sand?

  I climbed for, I don't know, ten minutes maybe, and I could see the top; a black line visible through the mist.

  Another couple of pull ups and I'd be there.

  Then something moved in the mist and I wasn't feeling quite so relaxed at all.

  Chapter 14 Then… a way out?

  Julie was sitting at Phil’s desk with both computers up and running, displaying different views of Chandler Investigation's financials.

  On her left was a spreadsheet; it didn’t look good. To her right was a pie chart; it looked even worse.

  Unless the business received a big cash injection; a fast big cash injection, then they’d have to close the door and declare bankruptcy within a matter of days.

  She’d even tried her parents; that’s how desperate she was. Her mother had merely lifted the corner of her top lip, as if to indicate that it had always only been a matter time. Her father had enthused about the new book he was about to unleash on an unsuspecting public. It was bound to go viral and then he’d be able to help her out. ‘Just a couple of weeks, and then the monster that is The Pope and the President will be out there and people will finally discover the truth, hidden for a century, behind the death of JFK.’

  She’d smiled at his words, as she always did. Was the truth according to her addled father any less valid that the hundreds of conspiracy theories that had endured through the years?

  She considered her own savings, gathered together over the past two years as she’d worked for Phil. They weren’t much, and they wouldn’t keep the business going a day longer, so she might as well keep them to herself.

  ‘Hey, Sam,‘ she called.

  ‘Yes?’ He was in the doorway of the bathroom, looking all relaxed with his hands in his pocket and his foil hat at a jaunty angle.

  ‘You got any money?’

  He jiggled his hands in his pocket, either to show her that he did indeed have money, or because, well, a boy needs a hobby doesn’t he?

  Just then, a series of loud, insistent knocks began, threatening to undermine the integrity of the outer door.

  ‘You better get that as you’re the secre…’

  Sam was gone, the bathroom door firmly shut behind him.

  ‘Oh, I’ll get it then, shall I?’ she said as she slipped from behind Phil’s desk. The strange thing about conversations with Sam was that, the more you talked to him, the more you seemed to be talking to yourself.

  ‘Good…afternoon,’ she said breezily, when she'd opened the door. ‘Please come inside and tell me what we can do to help you, sir.’

  He was a big guy, round and wobbly in his too tight business suit, with a bright yellow tie that went with absolutely nothing.

  ‘Hello there, young lady.‘ he reached out with one large, pink, slightly damp hand. ‘So nice to meet you.’ The words seemed to ooze from his lips as if lubricated by an excess of saliva.

  Julie took his hand between her thumb and two fingers, gave it the briefest of shakes, and then left it to its own devices as she tried to disguise the shudder of disgust that burst across her body.

  ‘This is a lovely, lovely place, I must say,‘ he said, as he settled into the chair on the client side of Phil’s desk.

  Julie sat opposite him and tried not to notice the way he wiggled his plump buttocks as he tried to make them comfortable on the hard chair.

  ‘What can we do for you today, Mr…?’

  ‘Oh, if you don’t mind me saying, dear girl, it is surely more what can I do for you.’

  ‘In that case, perhaps you can explain what you can do for us, Mr…?’

  ‘I am fully aware of the regrettable financial situation your brother has allowed this fine business to descend to, and it saddens me no end, I don’t mind telling you, no I don’t, young lady.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to offer your sympathy, Mr…?’

  ‘Oh, I have much more to offer that mere sympathy, my dear Julie. Believe me now; much more.’

  ‘Well I’m sure that’s very kind of you, but unless you have a shed load of money to give us, Mr…?’

  ‘A shed load? What a lovely expression. Do you mind if I use it? A shed load of money; a shed load of trouble; a shed load of cuticle cream. Excellent; excellent. It will go down very well at the club, I can tell you.’

  ‘If you have something to offer, perhaps you could explain it clearly to me, Mr…’

  ‘Of course, my dear. That’s just like me, running off at the mouth and not actually saying anything
germane. I should give you a big stick and every time I wander off point you could give me a bang on the head; what do you think?’

  ‘Back on point, Mr…’

  He took a deep breath that seemed to make his belly even bigger.

  ‘OK; here we go; get to the point man. Are you ready, young lady, my dear? And your friend in the rest-room, is he ready?’

  ‘OK, mate; just say what you’ve got to say, alright?’

  ‘Oh, now; there’s no need for tetchiness; not on a first date.’

  Julie felt that she could throw up at the idea.

  She glared at her visitor. Phil always said he’d rather face a tiger than her glare; as long as it was a nice friendly, cuddly sort of tiger.

  ‘I would like to buy your business; how’s that? Clear enough for you, my dearest young lady?’

  ‘But… I can’t sell it to you. It’s Phil’s business.’

  ‘Can I speak to Phil then?’

  ‘He’s not here; he’s away, somewhere. Could be a few days, could be longer.’

  ‘Do you think the business can last until he gets back? Can you contact him wherever he is?’

  ‘No, I can’t, but we might be able to wait a couple of days.’

  ‘You might be able, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot. The deal must be done today, or I’ll take my shed load of cash elsewhere. Did you like that? I really am going to use that.’

  ‘Can’t you wait until…’

  He shook his head and his several chins wobbled.

  ‘Today or not today, that is the question, to paraphrase a long dead writer.’

  Julie looked over at Sam’s face, visible through the cracked open door; he was shaking his head.

  She looked away, back at her computer screens, and then at her visitor.

  ‘How much?’ She said at last.

  His smile was so oily it’s a wonder he didn’t slip out of the chair and end up in a pool on the floor.

  Chapter 15 Then…I can see Giants!

  I looked down, which was a mistake, of course. But I didn't want to look up in case I saw the big jaws that might be about to bite my head off.

  I was still hanging by my sticky fingers on the sheer black wall; 250 metres above cold hard ground and about 10 metres from being someone's lunch.

  'You really should get over this obsession with being eaten, Phil. It's hardly likely to be the default reaction to meeting a member of an alien race. For example, you've met several aliens now and you have not made an attempt to consume any of them, have you?'

  He was right of course, but I'm a nice guy, and there's always the first time, which would be my last, if you know what I mean.

  ‘So, you want me to continue up in the hope that they'll be really nice and not hurt me?’ I said, just to be sure that I hadn't misunderstood the situation.

  'I believe that is an adequate summing up of the situation.'

  ‘Are you ready to squirt me to safety if I see any teeth?’ I asked, still not moving.

  'Of course,' he said, a little too quickly for my liking.

  That set my mind racing.

  ‘Squirting takes a lot of power, doesn't it?’

  'Yes, of course. Is this something you really need to know now? Shouldn't we get moving?'

  ‘No, listen,’ I said. ‘I'm not just delaying,’ I said. I was, sort of, but this was something I felt a sudden and urgent needed to know, and if it would delay lunch, then that was just for the best.

  ‘What power source do you use, and how long does it take to power up?’

  'Effective power up requires 3.2 seconds.'

  ‘So, what am I supposed to do during those 3.2 seconds if I'm being attacked?’

  'Duck?'

  ‘What about the power source? It's not nuclear, is it? I don't want to die of radiation poison, thank you very much.’

  'The squirt machinery is not nuclear powered; it is a much more technological developed process. How can I explain it in words that you might understand? It's like, really, really strong magic, man.'

  I started to climb again; anything to shut him up.

  I'd just reached the top and was working up the courage to peep over the edge (this takes considerably more than 3.2 seconds) when I felt the wind as something swept past just above my head.

  I looked up and it appeared to be a hand; a long, thin, many fingered hand, about the size of a small car.

  ‘Time to squirt,’ I hissed. It seemed like a hissing sort of moment.

  'Not just yet; you haven't seen any teeth, have you?'

  ‘We should have an emergency word,’ I said. ’So you know when I need you to squirt immediately without any argument. The emergency word is squirt. Got that?’

  'It's not very imaginative, is it? What about 'The swallows arrive in the Spring' or, maybe 'The red river roamed relentlessly.'

  ‘Squirt will do, so, SQUIRT!’

  I was still hanging from the wall.

  ‘What went wrong?’ I asked.

  'Too soon. You should climb up and see what you might find.'

  I pulled myself up easily and stood upright; really very impressed with how strong my arms had become.

  Then I saw them, and any thought of my biceps slipped from my mind.

  There were five of them, and they were giants. Dressed in filmy, flimsy looking gowns, all in pastel shades, they sat on massive black stone chairs in a sort of semicircle, with their long, bony limbs bent and their heads surrounded by wreaths of silver hair.

  They didn't look that bad, I thought, as I stood there waiting to be noticed. They were talking to each other, in deep bass voices that made the bones in my body vibrate.

  They took turns speaking. The one closest to me said, maybe half a dozen words, and then he swung one long arm out, sweeping it above the edge of the plain.

  Then he stopped talking and the giant opposite him began to talk, and swing his arm.

  ‘What are they doing?’ In my head I was whispering.

  'No idea.'

  ‘What?’

  'I've no idea what they are doing, although I can say that this is all that they do. Sit and talk to each other, and swing their arms.'

  ‘You knew they were here?’

  'Yes, that's why we came. To see if the presence of another alien life form would affect their behavior.'

  ‘You mean, they might jump up and eat me?’

  'There you go again. Do you really expect to be eaten? Is that how you think you'll die?'

  It a fit of heroism that I should really take something for, I walked over to the nearest giant and tapped him on the knee.

  There was no immediate reaction; he seemed engrossed in the words of his opposite number, so I had to stand there, like a child, trying my best to resist the temptation to slink away and pretend that none of this was really happening. I'm quite good at that sort of thing, but my slinking never gets the recognition I think it deserves.

  Up close, they're really big and everything seems long and thin on them; their legs, arms, finger, faces, ears, noses and beards.

  The giant whose knee I'd just tapped started to talk, and then he swung his arm and snatched me from the ground; all in one smooth, remarkably quick movement.

  It was so quick that I didn't have time to shout 'SQUIRT!!' before I found myself 10 metres from the ground, looking down on the hairy head of the giant who had now risen to his feet; all the better to scare the life from me. I was quite surprised to notice his extreme case of dandruff; you'd have thought he'd just been caught in a snow shower.

  I'd just got to ‘SQ…’ when he threw me away; like, I don't know, something he didn't want, and I was flying through the air.

  ‘…UIRT!!’ I yelled as I sailed in a great arc through the clouds, rising all the time but knowing that wouldn't last forever.

  'We are in luck,' said the most stupid AI there has ever been.

  I was at the apogee then, so I couldn't respond as I was working on the loudest scream you'd ever hear; if you were there,
to hear it.

  'No, really. He's thrown us so far that we'll miss the first step, and probably the next two as well; which is good.'

  I couldn't help myself; nothing that he'd said so far sounded good.

  ‘Why?’ I said. It might have come out as AAARGGHHH!!!

  'It gives us sufficient time to power up for the squirt, before you hit the ground.'

  In my head, I counted. When I got to four, it was time to panic. Not that I wasn't already panicking; it's just that it went to Extinction Event level.

  ‘Why haven't we squirted?’ It seemed a perfectly reasonable question to me, and one that I shouldn't have needed to ask.

  'I thought you'd want to enjoy the moment,' he said, and, you know, he sounded put out that I wasn't enjoying myself.

  Then I was standing calmly on the ground and everything was just fine.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, because I think you should always thank someone who has just saved your life, and ignore their complicity in putting it in danger in the first place.

  'You are very welcome, but you had no need to worry.'

  I was looking along the black plain, or step I suppose I should call it.

  ‘Have we squirted back to the step we climbed to?’ I asked.

  'No. we are several steps lower.'

  ‘So, why can I still see those giants, sitting in their chairs and chatting and waving their hands?’

  'Those are different giants. You'll find them on every second step, right the way down to the bottom, and all the way up to the top.'

  ‘How far down does it go?’

  'The steps go right through the planet’s crust, through its centre, and out the other side.'

  ‘How is that even possible?’

  'Good question. I'll let you know when we have the answer; if you don't die of old age first.'

  ‘What happens now?’

  'Are you ready to go?'

  I looked at the big guys and wondered what it was all about. These stairs, their chat, the arm swinging, the poor taste in clothes, the bad grooming. But the idea of going home really appealed to me, so I gave them a little wave and said, ‘Whenever you are.’

  I closed my eyes and prepared to open them to my wonderful normal office, my lovely comfy chair and, maybe a great cup of coffee.