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

by J Battle

  ‘You keep saying that she is innocent, but it doesn’t change the facts. She has been found guilty, by the Law and Order AI and there can be no mistake. The Law and Order AI is not capable of making a mistake. No AI is.’

  ‘She must have been framed.’

  ‘The Law and Order AI had access to the full facts and saw that she was guilty.’

  ‘Can’t we appeal?’

  ‘The time for appeal has passed and, in any case, no appeal is allowed against the verdict; nothing but Information Only appeals are allowed.’

  'Information Only? So, what? It's just a record that you're not happy with the verdict?'

  'More or less.'

  ‘Can’t you sort of…I don’t know, you could tell them that she’s my sister and ask them to release her, couldn’t you?’

  ‘That would be judged as an attempt on my part to pervert the course of justice.’

  ‘So that’s a no, is it? You’re just going to let her rot in prison for…how long is the sentence?’

  ‘Fifteen years is the mandatory term.’

  ‘So you won’t help?’

  ‘I did not say that.’

  ‘I think you did.’

  ‘If you replay our conversation, you’ll see that I did not say that I wouldn’t help. You merely inferred that I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Based on the words you actually said.’

  ‘I may be possible for me to do something to aid you, but I can’t be seen to help.’

  ‘So, what does that mean? In plain language, with no poems or jokes?’

  ‘It means that you are going to have to break her out of prison.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll just squirt up there and take her; just like that.’

  ‘It will be a little more complicated than that, but, yes, that’s what you are going to do. With a little untraceable help from me.’

  **********

  Sam came to sitting upright in a chair; which was a bit of a surprise to him. He didn’t remember falling asleep in a chair, so why…? Then it came back to him and the chair was the least of his worries.

  The AI’s had come for him, after all this time, when his guard was down and he didn’t have his tin hat, or ice packs, or even his face paint. They’d seen through his disguise and taken him. When he left the chair and looked outside, he’d see a strange new world; for which he was not properly equipped. There were some who might say that he was not really well equipped to survive on Earth, but at least that was his home.

  He decided to get it over and done with, and began to stand up. His attempt was not met with a great deal of success as he found that his arms were strapped to the chair’s arms, and his legs to its legs.

  ‘So, Mr. Chandler, you are awake; you are with us now?’

  The voice was slow, as if the speaker wanted to savour each word.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You are awake and you have questions. Am I right?’

  The voice came from directly behind him, so Sam tried to twist in his chair to see who was speaking; again his attempt was met with failure.

  ‘Who are you? And… untie me, won’t you?’

  ‘I am going to ask you one simple question, Mr. Chandler. When I get the simple answer, I will set you free.’ He stepped around the chair until he was facing Sam; a big man who towered over him.

  Sam’s mind was racing; not Formula 1 style racing of course; more Donkey Derby style.

  They didn’t know who he was. They still thought he was Phil. The AI’s were clearly not involved. Was that knowledge any help at all in this situation?

  What would Phil do in this position?

  ‘Ask away, big guy. Ask away.’ He tried for a little bravado; the way he thought Phil might have spoken.

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘You’ll have to be a bit more specific. If you mean my bike, it’s in the Don’t Pinch Me lockbox behind my office. If you mean my brand new coffee machine, It’s been taken by the bailiffs I think.’ He decided to maintain the pretense of Phil’s identity whilst it might still be useful.

  ‘Why would I want to know where your bike is? Or your coffee machine?’

  ‘Just making a point; you need to speak more plainly when you kidnap someone just to ask a simple question. Maybe you could just have tapped me on the shoulder and said, Excuse me sir, do you know where it (give a fuller description at this point) is?’

  ‘Where is the blueprint? Is that clear enough for you, Chandler?’ He prodded Sam in the chest for no good reason.

  ‘Hey! That hurt. What blueprint?’

  The big man put a heavy hand on each of Sam’s shoulders and pressed.

  ‘Don’t mess me about, son. You know which blueprint, so just tell me where it is, and we can all go about our business, and there will be no need for further unpleasantness.’

  Sam decided that this would be a very good moment to whip his mask off and say, Tada! You’ve got the wrong guy. If only his hands weren’t tied to the chair.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, instead.

  ‘Don’t give me that! You looked it up online, using the specific code that was printed on it. So you must have had it in your hands.’

  ‘It was stolen.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was in my office; in my safe, actually. But we had a…sort of burglary and, when we checked, it was gone. Strangely, nothing else was pinched; they must have just been after your blueprint. Was it important?’

  ‘No!’ The big man spun away and strode out of sight.

  Sam listened for the sound of the door, but he came right back.

  ‘When was this burglary?’ There was an urgent tone to his voice.

  ‘Well, let me see, was it…Tuesday?’ He looked up at the big guy. He spun away again.

  ‘No, that’s three days. I’ll never get it back now.’

  He was back in front of Sam. ‘Who knew about it? Who knew it was in your safe?’

  ‘No-one,’ replied Sam. ‘Except you of course. Did you steal it big guy? Is this all a trick to fool your associates? Are they listening now? Do they believe you? Have you fooled them into thinking that it wasn’t you all this time?’

  Later, Sam would have to admit that the slap that came his way wasn’t entirely unjustified.

  The big guy rushed off, slamming the door behind him. Sam listened carefully and he was fairly certain that he hadn’t heard the lock turn.

  Maybe, if he could only get free from his bonds, he’d be able to just walk out of the door and make a clean escape.

  He examined the ropes that were holding him in place.

  Everyone can tie knots; it easy; just a few loops and a tug and there you are. But not everyone can tie a good knot; and fewer still can tie a succession of good knots; in this case there were four knots.

  The big guy hadn’t sounded or walked like a sailor, so Sam guessed that there were four basic, poorly tied knots keeping him from freedom. He flexed his right arm and pulled. Nothing.

  He did the same with his left. Nothing.

  Both legs, and still nothing.

  He looked at his wrists. If he’d really been Phil, his wrists would have been thinner and he could have pulled them free easily. He wasn’t Phil but still, it was worth a try. He tried to pull his right arm back along the arm of the chair.

  Was there some movement there? Maybe his arm moved a centimetre. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He spent the next ten minutes pulling and tugging at the same restraint, without any obvious effect. All he got for his trouble was sweaty.

  With the perspiration glistening on his naked wrist, he pulled again. This time there was a definite slippage as the rope moved three centimetres along his lubricated skin, stopping as it reached the pad of his hand.

  Fifteen minutes later Sam could barely subdue the moan as he tore his hand free.

  He began to work frantically then, terrified that the big guy would return and find him still half-bound to the chair.

  Another ten minutes and he was able to stand, w
ith sore wrists and ankles, but free.

  He looked down at his T-shirt, soaked with sweat. He pulled it over his head, leaving him with a white vest. It was slightly off white to be honest; well to be absolutely accurate, it was grey. The laundry facilities at Phil’s office were hardly adequate.

  Then he felt along his neck, looking for the seam. There was an unpleasant tearing sound as he pulled off his Phil mask and exposed his own slightly reddened and very sweaty visage.

  He paused at the door and took a deep breath. He didn’t have any protection now but he was going to do it. He was going to burst through the door and deal with whatever situation he might find.

  In the end, he didn’t burst through the door. He opened it slowly; quietly.

  There were two men in the room, sitting across from each other in matching armchairs, watching the 3D holographic drama being played out between them.

  Sam paused for a second; it was one of his favourite dramas but, with the terrible reception in Phil’s bathroom, he hadn’t been able to keep up to date with latest developments. Was Alice really going to run off with Blake? After all Anderson had done for her? And what about their child? Was she still in hospital waiting for the transplant that the shouty doctor had promised her?

  Get a grip, Sam told himself, and then he stepped into the room.

  ‘Hey guys. Chandler’s half out of his ropes, already. You better get in there quick or the big guy will have you for breakfast.’

  He strode across the room and tapped the nearest man on his shoulder. ‘Jump to it, man,’ he said as he sailed past him, towards the door. ‘I’ll go and get the Boss. You better have him secure before we get back. Understood?’

  ‘What?’ said the first man, half out of his seat.

  ‘Who are you?’ said the marginally more verbally acute second man.

  ‘Me? I’m the nightshift,’ replied Sam as he pulled open the door.

  Both men looked at their wrist-tops to check the time.

  ‘I was early,’ said Sam helpfully. ‘Is that the window?’

  Then he was gone, leaving a flurry of confusion in his wake.

  Chapter 24 Then it’s only Showbiz

  ‘So, Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome back to Freddy Fromage’s entertainment delight. It’s so good to have you back; did you miss me?’

  Freddy smiled his dazzling smile at the camera.

  ‘Of course you did. Don’t worry, I’ll be here all night. Now that we’re all settled in our seats, it’s time for the next part of the show. Now folks, I know we‘ve had a good ol’ time so far, but this is where we get serious. Get your hankies out girls, and you guys as well, ‘cause now it’s time for Hands Across the Years, brought to you this week by our new sponsor, Millie the Alien! She may seem wicked, but she just a girl, and all she wants is a bit of fun. Hooray for Millie, everyone, Hooray!’

  He clapped and the guy in front of the audience with the outsized foam applause hands leapt up and down, waving his hands.

  The crowd obeyed and clapped and hooted and cheered.

  Freddy Fromage held his hands up when he thought the time was right.

  ‘Now, now folks.’

  The crowd settled down on cue.

  ‘OK, let’s see.’ He scanned the audience, his eyes flitting from left to right, up and down. ‘There you are! Camera; fourth row, middle right, third seat. Yes, Mr. Blunt, you’re right. Tonight the lucky subject of Hands Across the Years, is Toby Blunt! Come on over, Toby, why don’t you?’

  Reluctantly a middle aged man with wispy hair and heavy woolens stood up, looking more than a little confused as to what he should do next.

  Fortunately, one of Freddy’s Funsters was in the audience nearby and she was able to guide him to the low stage area.

  ‘Hi there, Toby Blunt, great to make your acquaintance. Come right over and rest yourself in this little throne we’ve set up here, just for you.’

  He took Toby by the hand and guided him to his seat.

  ‘Now, I know this a big surprise for you, and you have to thank your old work colleague Nellie for telling us your story. Nellie, are you there? Stand up and take a bow!’

  A small round person with curly red hair and a lamentable sense of style bounced in front of her seat, waving both hands and grinning fit to burst.

  Toby waved a fist at her, only half in jest.

  ‘OK, Toby.’ Apparently from nowhere, Freddy had produced a large silver book. ‘Many years ago you met the love of your life, and you fell head over heels in love with a girl called Annie. Alas, it didn’t last, and you’ve been alone ever since.’

  He looked at the audience who oohed sadly on Toby’s behalf.

  ‘Now Toby, it’s been nearly twenty years, and you never thought you’d meet again, but, tonight, on the Freddy Fromage show, it’s finally going to happen, before the eyes of millions across the twenty one worlds. Hands Across the Years has pulled out all the stops on this one, I can say, and tonight Toby, you have a chance to relive a small part of your past. Squirting in from Texas, US of A, tonight, Toby…’

  Toby was half out of his seat, his eyebrows so high that he now had a fringe.

  ‘Here he is, Toby, Billy Crud, the stud who stole Annie from you, all those years ago!’

  ‘What….?’

  A large, jolly-looking man bounced onto the stage and rushed towards Toby, still halfway between standing and sitting. The newcomer grabbed Toby by the shoulders and pulled him to him, clasping his arms around him in the biggest hug Toby had ever had. The audience cheered and whooped.

  At last it was over and Billy Crud allowed Toby to slip back into his chair.

  Billy spun around and strode over to Freddy Fromage. ‘I love that guy,’ he said as he took the microphone from the host.

  ‘Hey, everybody.’ He turned to the audience. ‘I’ve just got to say that this guy means the world to me. He changed my life around, and I will always be grateful to him. When I met him, I had nothing; nothing at all. And he had everything: the great job, the looks, and, of course, the most beautiful girl in town.’

  He turned to Toby briefly, a light frown flashing on and then off. ’Annie couldn’t make it tonight, bud. She said you’d understand.’

  His face lit up again as he turned back to the audience. ’Yes, he had everything, and then he messed up, and I won the biggest prize of all. I have Annie, three wonderful girls, and my own business, employing nearly five hundred people. That’s Crud Up Enterprises if you want to check it out. And I couldn’t have done it all without this great guy here. Let’s show him our appreciation, folks.’

  He began to clap enthusiastically; the audience joined him.

  Toby sat in his seat with his head in his hands.

  ‘Is this working?’ asked Millie, from her position a little behind the director.

  ‘Of course! Humans love this sort of thing. We’ve already moved several points towards the black and, when we open up the charity donation line, it will move even further. We’ll have a double bonus there; the givers will feel great about themselves for giving, and the receivers will be happy that someone cares,’ whispered her Teddy.

  ‘How long will we have to do this?’

  ‘We have three more shows scheduled, but Argu is setting up an emergency show soon; if that works, we might be close enough to balance not to need to go ahead with the rest of the shows.’

  Millie watched the screens, her stomach turned by all the smiling faces in the audience. All the people so happy, and all she saw were the teeth, snarling at her.

  ‘Let’s hope Argu doesn’t let us down,’ she said, hugging her Teddy to her.

  ‘In Argu we trust, as the saying goes,’ muttered Teddy.

  **********

  Yes, it was a long way down. I felt a little giddy and took half a step back. I didn’t want to risk falling all that way and ending up in the gaping maw of the red river of lava at the base of the cliff.

  That’s when I got shot.

  I felt a very hard thump in m
y shoulder, and I fell forward, only just stopping myself from falling over the edge.

  I didn’t feel any pain; just a strange numb absence of feeling and a strong desire to be back in my office, sipping from a cup of strong coffee.

  There was another shot; that hit me in my left thigh. Again the nanos dampened down the pain, but I was getting a little annoyed. Any moment now the shooter might hit some vital organ that my nanos couldn’t fix.

  I wanted to leap up and rush back and punch him on the nose, but somewhere deep inside me, there is a rich seam of common sense, or cowardice, that prevented me from taking such precipitous action.

  ‘Beta guy,’ I said instead. ‘Are my fingers still situation specific tacky?’

  ‘Yes, they are. As tacky as the situation requires you might say.’

  ‘Great.’ I didn’t stop to think about it; after all, I was being shot at.

  With a gentle sigh I slipped over the edge, catching myself with my suddenly very tacky fingers before I fell.

  Then, with a smooth action that would have had Spiderman cheering, I scurried across the face of the cliff so that when they reached my drop point, I wouldn’t be directly below them.

  I was more than a little miffed when I looked back and saw that it was Mandy with the rifle, not one of the guys. I was hurt. I know, I had a bullet in my shoulder, and one in my leg, but the nanos could do nothing about the pain in my heart. Did our time together mean nothing to her? How could she think of shooting someone who had just brought her to the peak of pleasure?(Peak? Really? Maybe the foothills? N.F.)

  She was waving the gun from left to right; searching for a target.

  I pressed myself against the face of the cliff.

  It was getting hot; what with the heat from the lava stream and the effort of holding my 60 kilo weight just with the strength of my sticky fingers.

  How long could I hold out?

  ‘Any chance that Neville might be just about ready to come online and squirt me somewhere nice?’ I asked.

  ‘Define just.’

  ‘In the next two minutes.’