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

by J Battle

  Then we were inside and it was nice and warm, and I'd started to shiver, which was a lot of use; just like me to be one step behind the situation.

  The big guy still had his arm around me, which I thought was a little unnecessary at first, but then it became clear that I wasn’t staying in this lovely warm room. No, there was a doorway on the other side of the room and that was where he was taking me.

  Without a word he just pushed me unceremoniously through the door and I ended up in a heap on the floor and the door was slammed closed behind me, and I just knew it would be locked.

  I stood up and brushed myself down. There was absolutely no need for that roughness and, when I got the chance, I fully intended to pull him up about it.

  My cell was a small room, three metres on a side. There were no windows or other doors and a lighting strip in the centre of the ceiling provided the only light. There was an old wooden upright chair in one corner and a bundle of clothes in another.

  I sat in the chair for a while and started work on my escape plan. I needed a plan, and it would occupy my mind whilst I was locked up and, in any case, it would need to be ready to be put into action when the opportunity arose.

  I spent a couple of moments with my hand supporting my chin, and my elbow supported by my knee, as I ran through all the opportunities available to me. Then I changed position, because it wasn't at all comfortable, and not conducive to clear thought.

  I was slightly handicapped in the development of my extraordinary and world-shaking escape plan, as I didn't know where I was, it was really quite cold outside and the big guy looked like he could handle himself, and me. Also, I had kind of got used to having Neville around. They can't have killed him, can they? I asked myself. I knew he was not really alive but, if he's been 'fried,' that's murder in my book. And I made a mental note to myself to be sure to make them pay for it, just as soon as I could find myself a policeman.

  The door swung open after a couple of hours, and there was a figure in the doorway. It was the woman, and she'd taken off her coat and she was wearing a tight jumper and I wasn’t looking; really I wasn’t. Well, I was, to be accurate, but not the way I used to, like a hormone driven 14-year-old slathering at the sight of a pair of breasts.

  It's not at all appropriate behavior for a man of my age, so I’ve been working on using my peripheral vision; I have great peripheral vision. You don't get the same definition you get with full eyeballs on, but then you also don’t get the slap in the face.

  'Follow me,' she said and turned away. I followed. What else was there for me to do? I wouldn't have learned anything in my little cell, would I?

  It felt very lonely without Neville. And that’s a sentence I never thought I'd say.

  Chapter 18 Then…it’s a fair cop, Guv..

  It was late and Julie was getting ready to turn in, although she didn't expect much in the way of sleep again tonight. Last night she hadn't had a wink of sleep, worrying about what she'd done. Selling Phil's business without him knowing was a desperate measure, but what else could she have done?

  If she'd waited for Phil to return from wherever he'd gone, it might have been too late; and at least he was now debt free. And they could start up a new business, somewhere else, couldn't they?

  She'd kept telling herself that, but it still wasn’t working. She wished that Phil was here, but, at the same time, she dreaded his return.

  Somehow she had to find a way of explaining her actions, and that wasn't going to be easy.

  She was interrupted by the buzzing of her door.

  'Sh… that's not him, is it?' she hissed as she flipped open her wrist-top.

  Her screen showed two men outside her door and neither of them was her brother.

  More than a little relieved, she spoke into her wrist-top's mike.

  'Hello, what can I do for you?'

  'Good evening Miss…' The man closest to the camera checked his wrist-top, 'Chandler. Please open the door. We are representatives of the Law and Order AI and we need to speak to you urgently.'

  'Can you tell me what this is about?'

  'Of course we can.'

  There was a pause where Julie waited for him to continue, and he obviously felt that he'd answered her question.

  She weakened first and buzzed them in.

  'So, what…?' Julie started pleasantly enough, though she was naturally concerned.

  The first of the men stepped close to her, towering over her in a lanky, I'm going to fall on you sort of way. His companion slipped to one side and prepared to record the proceeding on his wrist-top

  'Julie Elizabeth Chandler of 27B Lucky Lane, Manchester M16,' said Lanky. 'You have been charged and convicted in absentia with Crimes against Others and we are here to arrest you and take you to a place of confinement to be confirmed at a later date, where you will commence your mandatory prison sentence of 15 years, live, or nine years of suspended consciousness imprisonment, or compulsory permanent exile to a planet of the Law and Order AI's choosing.'

  He paused to take a breath, giving Julie a chance to jump in.

  'What do you mean? What crime? This is rubbish! You've made a mistake. Give me your names so I can make an official complaint.'

  'What? Why would you make an official complaint? We are just doing our jobs, and it's a thankless job, I tell you. No-one ever thanks us; people are rarely even polite to us, are they Bill?' He turned to his companion, who merely nodded in agreement.

  'And we can't tell you our names; we act on behalf of the Law and Order AI and our identities are secret.'

  'That's OK; just prove that you do in fact represent the Law and Order AI. You must have some proof of identity.'

  'But... if we show you our ID's, you'll know who we are.'

  'Can't see it working any other way, mate. You could be anyone, barging into a young woman's home like this. Sounds suspiciously like a Crime against Others to me.'

  'We represent…' he paused and looked at Bill for support, but he looked in vain as Bill wouldn't meet his eyes.

  'Alright, but this doesn't change anything; not at all.' He flashed his badge quickly to Julie and nudged Bill to do the same.

  'So, Ben and Bill, ' said Julie breezily, sounding much more self-confident than she felt. 'What’s this all about? What am I supposed to have done?'

  'There is no supposed about this, young lady. You have been convicted in absentia and your guilt is a registered fact. You should come quietly.'

  Bill snorted. 'He always tries to get that in.' he said, in such a quiet voice that it was unlikely that anyone heard him.

  'But, what have I done? I haven't done anything.'

  'Your guilt is a registered fact,' repeated Ben. 'Look, if you really want to, you can make an appeal. An Information Only Appeal, of course, because the Law and Order AI can't be wrong.'

  'What happens to the appeal?'

  'It’s logged against your name.'

  'And…?'

  'That's it. You'll have a record of your appeal.'

  'But it doesn't go anywhere?'

  'Where would it go?'

  'What have I been convicted of doing?'

  'Don't you know?'

  'No, you haven't told me.'

  'But, surely you know what you've done?'

  'I haven't…done…anything. Do I have to spell it out to you?'

  'Now, there's no need to be unreasonable about this. Is there Bill? Why don't we sit down for a moment, maybe have a cup of tea to calm us all down? And then we'll escort you to the nearest squirtbooth and you can be off. Oh, it's come through now, you'll be going to the low security orbital facility, Only if You don't Mind, so, that's nice, isn't it?'

  'Just read out the charge to me.'

  'OK. If you insist, I'll read out the Judgment to you. Here we go,' he took a deep breath, and half a step back. 'Julie Elizabeth Chandler, you have been convicted of Crimes against Others in that, on the 12th of this month, you fraudulently sold the private business of a certain Philip Humphr
ey Chandler to an individual whose name lacks significance to this case, without the rightful permission of said owner.'

  'But he's my brother.'

  'That make no difference, Miss Chandler, a crime's a crime for all that.'

  'He loves to say that as well,' muttered Bill to himself.

  'But…'

  'But me no buts, young lady. The facts are irrefutable; the judgment is irrefutable; the sentence is irrefutable.'

  As they lead the dejected prisoner from her home, Bill muttered to himself, ' I knew we wouldn't get a cup of tea; we never get a cup of tea, or a biscuit, or anything.'

  Chapter 19 Now…a crowded head.

  This has stopped being fun. To be honest, it’s never been fun. Now, I think it’s just getting worse.

  Something is going on in my head and I’m not sure exactly what it is, but I know I don’t like it. The way you know these things; like, I‘ve never eaten a bull’s testicle but I know I wouldn’t like it, or caviar; what’s that all about? Fish eggs; ugh!

  Now something is happening; I can feel it. I’m thinking strange thoughts again, as though I’m looking at the world through someone else’s eyes. No, they’re my eyes, but there is something alien about the way I’m interpreting what I see. I wish I could explain it better. It’s like, I can see Ing has a foil hat on his head, but I can’t work out which is his hat and which is his head. Or I can see the door to the outside world, but I don’t know what it does.

  ‘Aargh!!’ That wasn’t me; or was it?

  ‘Aargh…arfth…sock.’ Did it just say ‘sock’, or was that me?

  ‘Piffkle…aargh…white sock.’ The words are echoing across the wide open spaces of my mind. Hey, that’s quite poetic, don’t you think?I'll get my Narrative Facilitator to keep that in.(Now he's an editor? N.F.)

  ‘Concentrate, Phil. We are almost there.’

  ‘What’s this fascination with footwear?’

  ‘Just go with it; make no judgments.’

  ‘Nsssh…nosh…nash…brogues.’

  ‘Try to establish contact now.’

  ‘Er, how?’

  ‘Just say a few words; the more you say, the more she will have to work with. She’s quite intelligent.’

  ‘By your standards or mine?’

  No comment from Neville. So, what do I say? I’ll have to download a book about this when I get home. There’s bound to be a book; 27 Things You Should Never Say on First Contact, or How I Made a Million from my First Contact.

  ‘Hello,’ I say. It’s a start.

  ‘Plimsoles,’ she came back with, quick as a flash.

  ‘I’m wearing trainers,‘ I say and look down at my feet.

  ‘Trainers?’

  ‘Yes, you’ve got it.’

  ‘What do…What do they train your…feet to do?’

  ‘Nothing. To run, I suppose.’

  ‘Run?’

  ‘It’s like walking, but faster.’ I’m getting into the swing of it now; it’s not that hard.

  ‘Walking is where you move your feet across the ground to move from one place to another. I see.’

  ‘Your talking is coming along fine.’

  ‘I have been infested with your complete vocabulary by your machine; not infested; provided, that is a better term, is it not?’

  ‘You sound really nice and here’s me thinking you were a bloodthirsty monster.’ I probably shouldn’t have said that, but she won’t mind, I don’t think.

  'Why are you here?'

  'That's a very good question, and I wish I knew the answer. To make friends? How's that for a start? To see if we can develop a mutually beneficial relationship?' Hey, that sounded pretty good, don't you think? Maybe I am the man for this job after all.

  'In what way will you be able to benefit me?'

  Straight to the point; has she never heard of diplomacy?

  'That is the purpose of this discussion; to develop ways to help each other.'

  'You should really involve Ing in this part of the discussion.' Interrupts Neville, just when I'm getting a flow going.

  'How?'

  'He has some telepathic abilities, so If you allow him to, he can join in the discussion.'

  'So I'll have all three of you in my head?'

  'There's plenty of room.'

  'Very funny. I think you've used that one before.'

  I remember when I used to have my head to myself, in the good old days. Now everyone wants a piece of me. Well, I suppose one more won't make much of a difference, and he's always so polite.

  'Go on, then,' I say; magnanimously I think.

  'Thank you so much, Philip. How far have you got in your discussions? Have you mentioned developing a mutually beneficial relationship?' Ing’s thoughts in my head sound sort of fuzzy, and a there’s something of an echo, echo, echo…

  'Of course; do you think I'm an amateur?'

  He says nothing to me, but I can still hear a sort of distant echo; he's saying something, just not to me.

  'Hey,' I say.'You can't keep me out of this.'

  He doesn't answer me.

  'Neville?'

  He doesn't answer me.

  'Kleptrip?'

  She doesn't answer me.

  There's a three way discussion going in my head, and I'm not involved. Is that all I am to these people; a meeting place?

  'Hello, Philly babe.'

  Things have just got a hell of a lot worse.

  'What do you want?'

  'Just to keep you company. I can see you are lonely, and you're being ignored. That's not very nice of them, is it? Leaving you out of the conversation like that; I think they are laughing at you, Phil. Can you hear them?'

  Something very much like distant laughter is echoing in my head, but I won't let her fool me; not again.

  'What do you want, Millie? And how did you get in my head?'

  'I want what I always want, Philly.'

  'And what's that?'

  'Everything.' She giggles. 'Shall we go for a walk?' she asks.

  'No, I'm a bit busy here.'

  'Busy being ignored.'

  I seem to be walking towards the door now. Did I decide to do that? I don't remember; I must have.

  So, I'm going for a walk. I've been sat around for a while so it's probably a good idea. Thanks goodness she's gone now; she always makes me nervous, and having four people in your head is just ridiculous.

  I'm outside the ship now and I'm looking at the caldera across from me(Rim. N.F.) . Perhaps I'll go and have a look at the sea; I've always liked the sea; it's all powerful and enigmatic, and it helps you put your problems in a different perspective.

  'Where are you going?' Neville's back.

  'I thought I'd just go for a walk, whilst I'm being ignored by all the important people.

  'Don't sulk, Phil. It's not at all attractive.'

  ‘How do you know? You can't see my face.’

  'It's what I've been told.'

  ‘Who have you being talking about me with?’

  'It's hardly relevant now, is it Phil? And why are we approaching the rim?'

  ‘Just taking a look at the sea; nothing else for me to do, is there? Unless you need my input in your little three-way.'

  'You should remain at ground level, Phil. It might be dangerous to climb this high.'

  ‘No, I'm OK. I've got a head for heights.’

  It's getting steeper and Neville has gone quiet. He's probably making important decisions in my head, so I might as well leave him to it. When he wants a contribution from me, he'll through me a stick.

  Hey, this is great. I'm at the highest point of the rim of the caldera (see what I did there?) and I can see the waves splashing ferociously against the other side. It doesn't feel windy so does that mean this planet must have a large moon to cause tidal movement?

  If Neville had any concern for me, he'd be here to answer my question, but he doesn't, so he isn't.

  I have to say that, even though my head is full of people, I feel quite lonely.
/>
  'I'm here Philly, babe.' As ever there is just too much enthusiasm in her voice.

  'I don't want you. Why don't you just leave me alone?'

  'Fancy a swim, Philly? That water looks lovely and cool; it might help you relax.'

  You know, I do feel a little tense; what with all this squirting and being ignored by everyone, and being so very far from home. Maybe a bit of a splash around would do me the world of good.

  Stop! Stop! A part of my mind doesn't want me to do this, but I can't think why. Alright, I can't swim, but how hard can it be anyway? Baby ducks take to it days old, I've seen dogs swimming; they don't look at all elegant but, if a scruffy mutt can do it, surely I can. And, if I don't like it, I'll just climb back out and shake myself off.

  Swimwear; I haven't got the appropriate swimwear. But nobody's looking anyway.

  I have my T-shirt off now and I'm folding it up so it will be neat and un-creased when I get back. Now it's my jeans. I'll keep my undies on for modesty's sake, just in case someone is looking.

  I'm hanging over the edge now, looking for a good place to enter the water and…

  'Phil! What do you think you're doing?' Neville sounds a bit miffed.

  ‘Just taking a dip.’

  'That water is cold enough to stop your heart on immersion and, even if you survive the cold, you'll be smashed against the rocks, if you don't drown first.'

  ‘No, I'll be OK. Don't worry about me.’

  'Phil, listen to yourself. This is not the real you talking. You'd never take a risk like that, or stand around in your superman underwear.'

  ‘But...I just… Millie said it would be…’

  'I see; she's involved. Phil, very carefully now, step back from the edge.'

  But…ssh..he’s right. I was just about to jump into that water and kill myself; not only would I be dead, I’d also feel a right fool.

  ‘Thanks Neville,’ I say, then. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t like being called Neville do you? What would you prefer me to call you?’