And then there would only be the Lagooners to sort out. As well as another raft, of course…
46.
Renton was back in his cabin. He was a free man again. As were his partners and all the Lagooners. All, that is, except the Master. And he was the reason that there'd been this surprising outbreak of liberation.
The Trampul representatives on board the Lollipop had secured both its power plant and its communications hub. And with the Master as hostage, Bessie had decided that none of the goonies would dare raise a finger against her. The ship could therefore function normally. Its non-goonie crew and its fare-paying passengers would be totally unaware of what was happening, and the goonies would just get on with their work. Which, if you had a hijack to sustain and only a handful of busty blondes to sustain it, was by no means unhelpful.
So while Bessie had been extracting the secrets of the goonies' virus from their lord and master, Renton had been having a much-needed rest in his room. He'd had some sleep to catch up on. And now he'd done that, he had some thinking to catch up on too. He had to come to terms with what had happened while he'd been on board this ship.
Brady's singles bar now seemed a lifetime ago. And the lunchbox and the pepper penis. They were all like childhood memories, events that had happened in the dim distant past, a time when life had been simple. When all he had to do was to chase a mirage, a toothbrush that didn't exist…
OK, some of it had been hard work, and there had been pain and there had been embarrassment. Hell, there was always embarrassment. But he'd been able to handle all that - and he'd coped. Even when the complication of the Lagooners had emerged, he'd still had control. And that had been fine. But then things had begun to wobble. The exposé by Mad and Boz had been a major jolt. Finding out that he was part of another assignment - and one completely unconnected with a tattoo on a tall lady's tit… well, that had been quite hard to take. He could well understand his partners' tactics, but it had still been a blow.
But it was as nothing compared to the recent revelations on the theme of mankind's planned demise. Not only had this news depressed him, but it had also really shocked him. Hell, how could it not? And how the hell could you come to terms with it? With the news that a bunch of second-hand humans were in the process of extinguishing the real ones - and that the only thing to stop them was a plan that was equally insane? Like, you either ended up with no humans in the universe or a universe positively stuffed with them. And just what sort of horror was that?
Things were bad enough to need a list!
But before he could start, his cabin door opened, and in shuffled Boz.
'Hi, sleeper,' said his giant partner. 'How's the ole karma? Gittin' itself sorted, is it? Out o' the storm yet, is it?'
'My karma's been calmer,' responded Renton. But it's coming together. You know how it is.'
Renton now took it for granted that Boz could read him like an open book, and his greeting had been no surprise. Boz would have been well aware of the sort of upset Bessie's bulletin might have caused him. And his question had been a serious one - delivered with humour, but meant all the same.
'Good, cos we've got oursel's an appointment. You, me and Mad. And it's with someone you know. Someone you know pretty well.'
'Who?' asked Renton abruptly. 'Who?'
And then he saw that peculiar twinkle in Boz's eyes, and he knew immediately. Boz had that knack.
'Orphenia,' murmured Renton. 'It's Orphenia, isn't it?'
Boz nodded. 'Yep, sure is,' he said. 'An' she's got somethin' to tell us. Somethin' that's burnin' a hole in her conscience, by all accounts. So we better git goin', an' quick.'
'Her conscience?' queried Renton. 'Are you sure she's got one? Are you sure any of them have?'
'Jury's out on that one, ole son,' responded his partner. 'You know, you never can be sure. An' sure as is sure, I ain't so sure.'
And with that reassurance on the nature of sureness, Boz and Renton left the cabin to keep their appointment with Renton's former friend. His list making would have to wait.
47.
To describe Renton's reunion with Orphenia as awkward would be to make a sizeable understatement. It was terrible. In the first place, he now regarded her as no more than a fiend. And then there was his state of mind; he was still in a state of near-shock, one not yet relieved by even a post-dénouement debrief with Madeleine and Boz, let alone the warm balm of a list. So he felt just a little bit frazzled - and quite unprepared for a meeting with a ghoul…
The result was inevitable. Renton instantly receded into a sullen sulk. And it was left to Madeleine and Boz to make the running.
Predictably it was Boz who ran first.
They were gathered together in a small room, bare but for a row of seats against one wall. It was these that Boz referred to as a way of breaking the ice.
'Hey, we gonna see a movie?' he enquired. 'Or you fixin' to have a carpet laid? Cos if you are, I can sure lend a hand. These here claws, you know… well they can come in real useful for stretchin' an' pullin' an' things. So jus' let me know…'
'We're going to see a movie,' interrupted Orphenia. And with that, she invited Boz and his friends to take their places on the seats.
'Hey, well wadda y' know,' sang Boz. 'I wuz right on numero uno. An' that's good. Cos I like a good film. I really do. An' specially them horror ones. Oh yeah, I really like them.'
And it was, but he didn't.
It lasted about fifteen minutes. It was set in a beautiful tropical forest, and its principal characters were a wonderfully buttressed tree as tall as the sky and a sleepy old sloth who lived his life with the dial turned to “slow”. It also featured a grotesque yellow machine that ended up raping the forest by tearing down the tree and, in the process, killing the sloth. It was a horror film alright, but clearly not the sort that Boz had in mind.
At the end of it he looked deeply dismayed. So too did Madeleine; there were tears in her eyes. And Renton! Well, he was beside himself with anger. What he'd just witnessed was not only sad, but it was also bloody outrageous. He felt furious - enraged - murderous. And he also felt confused. After all, what was this film supposed to mean? And what did it have to do with the Master's megalomania?
Well, maybe he was about to find out. For Orphenia was now standing where before there'd been the image of the film - and she was about to speak. She had the look of a lecturer about to deliver a lesson. And she had something else. She had the undivided attention of her class. The film had done that. Even though, to start with, she appeared to ignore it…
'We've been misrepresented,' she began. 'That description of our virus, the way it works, and what its purpose is, they're all twisted. And I need to tell you how. I need to tell you the truth. So please hear me out.'
There was no way they wouldn't. But Madeleine had a question, a question she clearly couldn't keep to herself, a question relating to Orphenia's opening words - and in particular to her reference to “our virus”. It simply wouldn't wait.
'Can I just get one thing straight?' she said. 'You have just acknowledged the existence of this virus, haven't you? And presumably it does do what we've been told it does? I mean, it does suppress the desire to reproduce? You're not denying that?'
'No, I'm not denying that at all,' replied Orphenia. 'Nor the way we manufacture it, nor the way we get it into an atmosphere. What the woman told you was all true - but only up to a point. And that's where the distortion comes in. And whether that distortion is intentional or whether they've just got confused, I really don't know. But it's grossly distorting, I can assure you. In fact…'
'What do you mean?' interrupted Madeleine. 'I don't understand.'
'It's where I was going to begin,' continued Orphenia. 'With the way the virus works. How it spreads.'
And then she did begin.
'You see, it was the one thing the woman didn't explain: how the virus grows. How it manages to grow to the point where it can surround a whole world - and then infect its
whole population. Because to do this, it needs food. And not just any old food, but a very special food. Something only found in the atmospheres of human-populated planets. Something humans generate themselves: human pheromones. Quite simply, the virus feeds on human pheromones. That's the way it grows.
'And it's a pity she didn't explain this. Because if she had done, you may have worked out yourselves that our virus is not intended to harm mankind at all. But that, on the contrary, it's intended to help it…'
Renton hadn't worked out anything. And he could see from the expressions on the faces of Madeleine and Boz that they hadn't either. And then Orphenia went on.
'Just think about it. And think about what would happen with Reprocil, with what they intend to do. I mean, the Reprocil will stimulate the desire to create more children. And as you have more children - and an ever bigger population, so you get more pheromones. And with more pheromones for the virus to feed on, you get more of the virus, more of the Reprocil and more children. The process is never ending and the result is inevitable: an exponential growth in the human population. The thing is like a chain reaction: more people, more pheromones, more viruses, more Reprocil, more desire to procreate, more people, and so on and so on…'
'But if you have a virus that does the opposite,' interjected Madeleine, 'one with Fornicil - which suppresses the desire to procreate - you have a sort of controlled reaction. I mean, like there's a counterbalance, something to keep it in check.'
'Precisely,' confirmed Orphenia. 'As the virus population grows it begins to suppress the human desire to reproduce. And the human population begins to decline. But, of course, as it declines, so too does the pheromone level in the atmosphere. And eventually the viruses begin to starve - then their population declines. So much so that their ability to suppress the desire mechanism wanes - very significantly - and the human population begins to recover…'
'…and the pheromone level rises,' finished Madeleine, 'and then the virus population begins to recover and the suppression starts again. And we're into a loop.'
'That's exactly how it works,' confirmed Orphenia. 'And for any particular planet, we can tailor the virus to achieve the optimum human population. Of course, that population oscillates around a mean as the human and the virus populations are alternately declining and then recovering. But we can keep it to within a fairly narrow band - something like 5 to 6% of the optimum. And that's easily good enough…'
'Hey, hang on!' challenged Madeleine. 'What's all this "optimum" stuff? And who the hell is deciding what the optimum should be? OK, even if you might not be planning to exterminate us, you're sure as hell trying to control us. I mean, that's what you're talking about, isn't it? Controlling the human population - and on as many planets as you can - and without their consent or even their knowledge. I mean, that's creepy, my dear. That's very, very creepy indeed. And who the hell gave you the right? I mean, who the hell in this universe has the right to do something like that? It's criminal. It's diabolical. And why? What can you possibly achieve?'
'A better future for the universe,' responded Orphenia deliberately, 'and a better life for everything in it.'
'Pardon me?' said Mad disbelievingly. 'A better future? A better life? Well maybe. But only for those you allow to get born. I think that's what you're saying, isn't it? It's hardly going to help the ones that never make it, the ones you rob of their existence.'
Orphenia stared at her accuser. Her eyes were fixed on Madeleine's face. But then they changed. They seemed to lose all their life. Suddenly they were different. Suddenly they were balls of polished marble - and there was nothing there behind them. Orphenia had gone.
Renton had noticed this, and he suspected his colleagues had as well. For now there was a new quiet in the room, a silence that would not countenance one further question. And then he knew. He knew there was going to be another revelation, something more than a clarification of the workings of a virus - and its impact on mankind - and something much more than Bessie's treatise - as delivered by her second in command. This was going to be the real thing, the meaning of life bit, the grand exposé, the purpose of it all, the essential “why” that supported the “how” - and he began to shiver. It seemed like a good thing to do.
'Well, Miss Maiden,' started a new Orphenia, 'you've made a valid observation. But, of course, you've also made the cardinal error in your observation. You've considered the situation from your very own perspective - from your very own human perspective. You've not considered it from any other at all.'
'Shit,' said Renton to himself. 'That's the Master speaking. I'm sure of it. And Orphenia is in some way just part of him. She must be. And all the other Lagooners. They're all just the same. Extensions of some central being. No wonder they can't exist when they're taken off this ship. He gives them life. He is their life. And without him they're nothing. They just can't exist. Wow, this is heavy. I mean, this is very, very heavy indeed!'
'And you see, that's the real problem', Orphenia's voice continued, 'the problem that confronts our entire universe: human thinking - and what that thinking leads to, and what it means for everything else that isn't human.
'And I'm sorry. But I'm now going to give you a bit of a lecture. I'll make it as short as I can. But if I don't do this, you'll never understand. And you'll never take other than an exclusively human perspective on anything. And I don't think that's right. So with your forbearance…'
And the threesome forbore… and the Master began his lecture.
'Let me kick off by telling you about these humans, about these creatures we plan to control. And about their very essence. An essence, incidentally, that doesn't necessarily manifest itself on an individual level, but that is certainly there when we look at mankind as a whole. And what I'm talking about is self-importance. That's their essence.
'And it's not very nice, this self-importance. Because it's ended up making them think that not only are they very important, but that they're also totally unique. And so much so, that they're even prepared to deny their common ancestry with other primates - or, indeed, with any other life form. They're really that unique.
'And they also believe that their uniqueness can be equated with some sort of "supremacy of merit". That mankind - with its superior and totally unique intellect - is the only life form that counts - and that everything else is just there for the taking.
'And you know why? Well, I'll tell you. It's all to do with another aspect of man's "self": his self-confidence - or more precisely, his lack of it. You see, being burdened with such a prodigious intellect means you also get burdened with doubt. "Perhaps we're not the only act in the show. Perhaps there are others with merit. Perhaps there are others who deserve a look in. But that's bad. That spoils our patch. No, better to be sure. Better to rid ourselves of this doubt. Yes, let's reassure ourselves of our uniqueness. Even if it means being dumb. Even if it means denying our own intellect - and cloaking ourselves in superstition. Yes, that should do the trick".
'And do you know where that leads? Where cloaking yourself in superstition leads? Well, I'm sure you do. But let me remind you anyway. Because it leads to the top of a pedestal. A pedestal where there's only room for one. For man. And that means everything else is left to wallow in the swamp, only ever of interest if it's useful. And I mean useful to him - to mankind.
'It all gets a pretty bad deal. Whether it's another animal or whether it's a plant, it just gets treated like so much rubbish. And that was the theme of the film. And we've got more films, all of them showing just how desperately thoughtless mankind can be. How he can treat everything that's not mankind with callous disregard - and how cruel this can be and how ruinous it can be.
'I've heard it described as the four D's. And those four D's are: degradation, despoilment, destruction - and then denial. Yes, they never admit it. Despite the appalling evidence of their actions, they deny there's a problem - until it's far too late. It's as though they can't quite reconcile all that importance and all that u
niqueness to such senseless behaviour. And they'd rather ignore it than face up to it - even if it leads to a fifth D: disaster.'
And at this point the Master paused - as though he was considering what to say next. Then he continued.
'Well, my friends, by now you may be thinking I'm insane. That I'm some sort of mad thing who hates all mankind. That I think all humans are monsters, unworthy of life, a species to be extinguished as one would extinguish a fire. But you'd be wrong. Remember, I'm not looking to wipe them out. I just want to help them. Not least because of people like yourselves. You, you two humans, you're not monsters. I can tell. And few people are. OK, often they're shallow and vain, and stupid and blind. And they go blundering through their lives, knocking over all the treasures that surround them. But they're not wicked. They don't deserve extinction. Not by a long way. But they do need help. And I don't mean the sort of help they might dish out themselves - when they're "helping" animals by culling them. I mean some real help - to help them keep what they've got.
'You see, individuals aren't the problem. It's their number. That's when it all goes wrong. That's when the forests come down. That's when the damage goes so deep it can't be reversed. And you'll have seen it yourselves. Go to any planet that's in the early stage of human colonisation - and whatever they'll have done to it, they'll not yet have ruined it. Most of the planet will still be as it was, and most of its life forms will still have a place. It might not be as good as it was without them, but it gets along. It can sustain them and contain them. But now go to a planet where they've been a long time. And I'm not talking about the city planets here - where the whole world has been encased in a shell. They're beyond redemption. No, I'm just talking about a well-populated world where "well-populated" is a human euphemism for "over-populated". And what do you see? A degraded landscape, denuded scenery, little in the way of wild places, even less in the way of real wildlife. In short, they'll have screwed the place up. Totally.
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