Lollipop

by David Fletcher

  'It's you, Orphenia, isn't it?' interrupted Renton for a second time. 'You're the Master. I knew all along.'

  Orphenia looked at him, but still with eyes of stone. And then the Master spoke again.

  'Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you,' he said, 'but I'm not anywhere near as pretty. Indeed, I'm not what you'd call pretty at all. I'm more what might be called "aesthetically pleasing". You know, beauty through form, elegance through construction. The sort of elegance one might attribute to a well-proportioned container, one with a fine polished finish…'

  'Jesus!' exclaimed Renton. 'You mean… you mean…'

  And, of course, there it was, sitting just where he'd first seen it - on a bench in the middle of the room: that beautiful container. A beautiful fragile container, which would have found it impossible to dodge maser fire. No wonder they'd not wanted a battle in this room. No wonder they'd used those damn pipils.

  But more to the point - a container! A bloody container! A bloody designer pedal-bin! And that was the Master. That was the seat of their power. It was almost too absurd to take in, too outrageous to be more than a joke… But presumably that was its strength, its very special ingenuity. Who would suspect? Who would ever believe that a bin was their “id”, that a bin was the source of their life?

  'Golly Jeez!' announced Boz. 'You means yous that cylinder thing over there, the one with the virus stuff in?'

  'That's right,' replied the Master. 'It's almost ridiculous, isn't it? But it works. And I mean that it not only sustains us, but that it also shields us from danger. Just think about it. If that Bessie woman had guessed that something so improbable was so important, we'd have been finished. Even with all your help. But she didn't. She didn't find the real "Master". And we were therefore safe.'

  'But why a bin?' asked Madeleine. 'Why take on the shape of a bin? And how did you? I mean, how did you do it?'

  These questions were directed to Orphenia. Madeleine, it appeared, was having the same problem Renton was having: recognising an inert metal container as a sentient something-or-other. It was easier to deal with a goonie… even a goonie with marbles for eyes.

  'I'll tell you how. But first let me tell you why… Now that you've seen our Earth…'

  'You are from Earth, then?' interjected Madeleine. 'This is your planet?'

  'Oh yes,' responded the Master. 'This is our planet alright. And once it was a beautiful planet…

  'Yes, once upon a time, it was doing pretty well. It was green. I mean, properly green. Forest green. And within that green, there were spangles, spangles of colour, the millions of creatures that lived in the forest. And above the forest there were countless birds. And in the seas - and there were lots of seas on our world - there were all kinds of fish. It was a treasure house. It was fabulous…'

  And here the Master hesitated.

  'I'm sorry,' he continued. 'But just thinking about it… Well, you know, I get carried away. And it's difficult to be just clinical… But I'll try. And anyway, it's easier to be clinical about man…

  'You see, to start with, he was just another spangle, just another creature living in the forest. But it wasn't too long before he decided to leave the forest - and not long after that, that it started to go wrong.

  'It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd decided to use his intellect wisely. But unfortunately, he did just the opposite. It was all that self-importance, the stuff I've already talked about. And so, as he "developed", he wasn't very careful. He tended to be rather reckless - and rather stupid. And this had its consequences.

  'It all took time, of course. After all, there were only a handful of humans then. And the damage they could do to a whole world was barely noticeable. But eventually there were far more of them. And with their vast intellect and their stunted imagination, there were soon billions of them. And they were growing at a rate that was almost exponential. And by now, they weren't just damaging the environment, they were demolishing it. They were fouling everything about them. The air was filled with their filth, the rivers ran with their mess, and the land… well, the land was simply murdered. And everything on the land. There was nothing out of bounds.

  'The green was turning brown: sewage brown, desert brown, parched-prairie brown. And with the green went the creatures. Thousands upon thousands of different species, countless millions of desperate individuals - all of them overwhelmed and then crushed by the onslaught of man.

  'And still they didn't see it. Still these so-called intelligent life forms didn't see what they were doing. It just wasn't important. And it… well, it just wasn't there. It wasn't in their comfortable houses. It wasn't in their air-conditioned malls or their air-conditioned cars. It wasn't sitting with them in their glitzy workplace nor travelling with them in their business-class cocoon. And therefore it didn't matter.

  'And it still didn't matter, even when disaster was staring them in the face. And this was happening now. Real catastrophe was facing the world - and far sooner than anybody had thought.

  'It was overheating. It was exhausted. It was poisoned… And very soon it would succumb completely. And there would be total annihilation. The collapse of the lot. And the end of mankind and the world it abused…'

  'So what did they do?' asked an impatient Renton. 'How did they cope?'

  'How did they cope? Good question. How indeed? Well, Mr Tenting, let's just say that superstition entered its golden age. The world had always been wrapped in religion, but now it was smothered in it. It was suffocated by every faith and every cult you could ever imagine. And, as I suspect you might equally imagine, it did about as much good as it ever had done. Which was precisely no good at all. And the Earth stayed ruined and its people stayed doomed…'

  'But there's us,' maintained Madeleine. 'And there's… well, there's you as well. So somebody must have survived.'

  'Oh yes, somebody survived,' agreed the Master. 'And that's why we're here - doing what we're doing.

  'You see, while most people were praying for salvation, a few people were doing a bit more. There was a whole bunch of them - mostly the rich and the powerful - who were planning to scarper, and to make a new life on another world, on anywhere they could. And that's where we came in. Because we could see what this would mean.'

  'I'm not with you,' said Madeleine.

  'Well, this was a time when space travel was in its infancy. Even getting a sizable spacecraft airborne was still a problem. And as for hypertravel… well, it just didn't exist. So the idea that anybody could actually succeed in colonising another planet was regarded as nonsense. Which is largely why those who were seeking to do this were left to get on with it. And people had their own problems to deal with anyway…

  'But there were a few of us who saw things differently. We were just a handful. Just a couple of hundred or so. And well, what we saw was not the futile efforts of a few nutters, which were doomed to failure, but rather the probable escape of a dangerous organism that ultimately would infect the whole of the cosmos with its deadly presence. It might take generations, thousands of generations. But just as surely as man had overwhelmed his world, he would overwhelm every other world he arrived on. And he would arrive on thousands of them. And then tens of thousands. We were quite sure of it. His intellect and the potential of this intellect to drive his technology would simply guarantee it. And that would be it. This Earth animal would have ended up destroying the whole bloody universe and everything in it.

  'So we decided to act. We "borrowed" a spaceship. It was destined for some government bigwigs of some sort. But we thought we had a better use for it. And anyway, when it came to the crunch, and it was time to leave, some of the rich and famous bottled out, and some of the ships left half full. But that's by the way. The important thing is that quite a number of spaceships did make it away, and did, after years of travelling, find this other world. And so did we. We were there with them. And we even helped them in the building of their second home.'

  'So what you're saying,' observed Renton, 'is tha
t although you were there with them - you were there to stop them. And if you were, why didn't you… well, you know, why didn't you just sort of kill them?'

  'You still haven't got it, have you? But you see, just as we don't want to harm them now, we certainly didn't want to harm them then. We simply wanted to help them. And in fact, the only people who were going to be "harmed" in any way at all were ourselves…'

  'I don't understand,' said Renton.

  'We were facing a problem that would not emerge for generations,' pronounced the Master slowly. 'And then, when it emerged, it would continue for further countless generations - until everything was completely buggered. Whereas we would all be dead within just years. And the prospect of breeding successive generations of converts to our cause looked more than improbable. So we somehow needed to stay around in some other form…

  'The Lagooners,' said Renton quietly.

  'Well, yes,' agreed the Master. 'But they were more the product of the solution, rather than the solution themselves. You see, somebody had to come up with this damn cylinder thing first. And fortunately we had this guy with us, who was not only a genius, but also a wizzo in just about every branch of science you can think of. And when we asked him to come up with a self-maintaining, virus-incubating, intellect-distilling, drone-controlling, drone-sustaining, infinitely-long-living something-or-other, he came up with me. And he even came up with the blueprint for the virus. And his name, incidentally, was Gutto. You might remember him. He's the Lagooner we lost at Tumara…

  'But that wasn't really him, was it?' challenged Renton. 'It was his Lagooner.'

  'You're learning, Mr Tenting. Gutto, along with all the rest of us, died thousands of years ago…'

  'You mean…'

  'Yes, Mr Tenting. Gutto's "machine" would only become operative when it was charged with the intellect of a group of people - and, incidentally with their compassion and their beliefs - and when it had a group of drones to control.'

  'You all just killed yourself?' asked an incredulous Renton. 'You all just gave up your lives - and trusted that they'd end up in that machine…?'

  'Well, I don't want to appear touchy, Mr Tenting. But I'm not really a machine. I'm more a… Well, let's just say I'm a bit more organic than most machines. And I certainly have feelings. Or that's to say, we have feelings, the feelings of the people we once were.'

  'Oh, I didn't mean…'

  'No, I'm sure you didn't. And you're quite right. Killing yourself and hoping that you'll be invested in a pedal-bin - no matter how smart a pedal-bin - is rather scary.

  'Anyway, that's what happened. And then it was just a matter of waiting - while the technology grew up around us and while we prospered in our own right - so we could go on and develop the virus and then equip ourselves with a means of delivering it - of which the Lollipop is just the latest manifestation. And all the while, more and more worlds were being colonized, and more and more worlds were in need of our attention. Although unfortunately, we were a little too late for the Earth…

  'And maybe your coming to this planet will help you understand us…

  'And I'm not talking about how our perpetual motor works, or how we keep our drones in order. I'm talking about what we do: our underhand control of all mankind. You see, nobody did it on Earth. And you've now seen the consequences. And nobody in his right mind could countenance more of that….

  'So let me just thank you again - for what you have done. Let me thank you - on behalf of mankind - for saving the future.'

  …which, of course, is rather more than Renton had expected to achieve when he'd first set out on his hunt for a toothbrush…

  62.

  And so they'd done it. Not only had they frustrated a plan that would have seen the universe drowned in a flood of humans, but they had also ensured the future of the Lagooners. And that meant the Lagooners could now go on with their well-intentioned manipulation of mankind. And if they were right, the universe would end up a safer and brighter place. But would it? And even if it did, could this manipulation business, no matter how well intentioned, really be the right thing to do?

  Renton was grappling with both these questions. And it was the manipulation one that he now had in an arm-lock.

  Just think about it: humankind being manipulated on a grand scale, humankind being actively managed by some other agency - and not even being aware of it. And this agency exercising the ultimate control over its human flock, the control over living itself.

  How could that be right? For wasn't that what humans did themselves? Wasn't that their prerogative? Indeed, wasn't that what defined them: their manipulation of their environment, their management of their own existence - and their control of all else that existed?

  But, at the same time, wasn't that possibly one of the causes of all that subversive self-importance? Or did he mean a symptom, an unhealthy manifestation of this self-importance? Something to be regarded with concern? Well, he wasn't really sure. Philosophy, just like philately, had never been something he'd studied. And all he was doing now was confusing himself.

  Maybe he should consider the safer and brighter future bit. He suspected this might be easier. And he was right. And the Master was right. Nobody who had witnessed the Earth in its present sorry state, and who for only a few seconds had considered what this implied for all that had gone before, could doubt for a single second longer what it all so clearly meant: that it couldn't ever be allowed to happen again. No matter what.

  And that was it: it couldn't be allowed to happen again, no matter what. And that meant that whatever might not allow it to happen again couldn't itself be stopped, no matter what. And that meant the Lagooners couldn't be stopped, no matter what. And that meant the Lagooners couldn't be stopped, no matter that they were into this worrying manipulation business. It was just like algebra, really. Forget the philosophy and just do the maths.

  And never lose sight of the danger of self-importance and what it can lead to. Whether you're the population of a planet or an over-ambitious bully like Bessie, a belief in your own unassailable importance leads to nowhere but disaster. And if you're the human population of the universe, and you can't kick the self-importance habit, just be grateful that you're being manipulated for your own good. And even better, just remain unaware that you're being manipulated and get on with your own lives - but not at the expense of everything else.

  Which was all beginning to sound a bit too much like philosophy again, and where Renton broke off his musings and went to find Madeleine and Boz - who, he was happy to learn, had come to the same conclusion as himself.

  Although apparently, not through the use of algebra…

  63.

  So where are they now? What rôles are the players now playing?

  Well, the Lollipop's still there, still skimming through the skies with its barrel load of lust. And the Lagooners are still there too, the Master and all his drones - still with their incredible secret - and still with their vital task.

  Every few days, they redeem a new planet. Unknown to its human inhabitants, they save it from being smothered - and from ending up with a future of just roaches and rats…

  But meanwhile life goes on. And the partnership of Aukaukukaura, Maiden and Tenting goes on. And its partners continue to thrive. And Renton, despite his hair and despite his waist… well, he's never been happier - and all thanks to Madeleine.

  For Madeleine made him admit it: that he loves her - and with no reservations. And she admitted she loves him - again, with no reservations. And although this was only stating the blindingly obvious, it was the first time that either of them had got round to doing it under “normal” conditions - and not while they were in the grip of some adventure. And this made Renton a very happy guy indeed. But on top of this mutual bond, on top of all this undying love stuff, there's what Madeleine did for him…

  It was to make amends - for the way that she and Boz had needed to trick him. Yes, it's her hair, you see. She now wears it blonde. Oh, and not
only that. There's more. And it maybe the only one in the universe. But she had it done as soon as she could: a tattoo on her tit, a tattoo of a toothbrush. It made Renton weep.

  Mind, she's still not as tall as the woman who never was. But that would be stretching it, wouldn't it?

  THE END

  The Renton Tenting Series

  Dumpiter

  Ticklers

  Lollipop

  Also by David Fletcher

  Crats

  Eggshell in Scrambled Eggs

  www.thetrouserpresspress.co.uk