Centre: Um. Hold on, I’ll have a word with my supervisor.
Centre: (Long, long, period with muzak fading in and out, with blank periods in which there is utter silence, as if the connexion is broken).
Caller: (Panic stricken) Hello, hello, are you there? Hello? What’s happening? Is anyone there? Oh shit, no, please. Hello? Hello? Where are you? Hello?
Centre: Mr Jones?
Caller: Yes, yes – thank God – yes, I’m here. Oh fuck . . .
Centre: I beg your pardon.
Caller: No, no, that wasn’t for you. Some flea-bitten mongrel has just peed over my leg. Shit, that stings. I have a sore . . . but never mind. (Hopefully) What did your supervisor say?
Centre: I’m sorry, she’s out at lunch.
Caller: WHAT? What the fuck was I waiting for . . . look, you have to help me. I realise I should have my reference number, but I’ll pay a surcharge if I have to. Anything. Anything to get into body I booked in the first place. I’m supposed to be on a yacht in the Med, for Christ’s sake. I booked the body of a . . . look, hasn’t my wife called in? She must be missing me by now. Surely she’s been enquiring about me?
Centre: I’ll just scan the incoming calls for Jones . . . hmm, two thousand – Cynthia, wasn’t it?
Caller: Sheila. Sheila. S-H-E-I-L-A.
Centre: Schilla. Schilla. Yes, yes, I have a message here from a Schilla Jones. By the way, Mr Jones, did you have insurance with us?
Caller: Insurance? No, I have an annual insurance. It comes with my bank account – look, what difference does it make? I’ve been given the wrong body. It’s nothing to do with . . .
Centre: I’m just wondering if you’ve got Wrong Body Cover? Some companies have a clause which says the client is responsible. Act of God, something like that? It’s just a legal phrase of course. Everyone has a different God, or none at all, so the words don’t actually mean what they say, but there you have it, the legalese, so to speak.
Caller: This was not MY mistake. It was yours.
Centre: You mean the Company’s.
Caller: (Groans) Whatever. Oh, hell, I’m starving. I don’t suppose this poor soul has eaten anything for a week. Skin and bones. Never known what it feels like to actually be starving before - now I do, and it isn’t very pleasant, I can tell you.
Centre: So actually you are getting a new experience out of your holiday.
Caller: THIS IS NOT MY HOLIDAY!
Centre: Sir, sir, we’re getting stressed again. Please calm down. Ah, here it is. Yes, Mrs Jones. Is your reference number XT0673480937217?
Caller: How the fu . . . how would I know. I can’t remember my bloody reference number.
Centre: Sir, if you insist on using obscenities I shall have to clear down this call now.
Caller: Well, I didn’t actually finish the word, but sorry, sorry, I’m just very upset. You can understand that, can’t you? I mean, this is a horrible place, I’m in a foul-smelling old man’s body, and – and everything’s gone wrong.
Centre: Sir, good news, very good news. I’ve been in contact with the company and they’re going to give you another Body Exchange free of charge. Isn’t that good?
Caller: (A touch of irony in his tone) Free of charge, how magnanimous of them.
Centre: Yes, isn’t it? Now, sir, just stand where you are now and you’ll be beamed into another body. Now, is there anything else I can do for you today?
Caller: No, thank you Syxis, you’ve done more than enough.
Centre: You’re welcome, sir.
~
Caller: Hello, hello? Call centre? I’ve been waiting twenty minutes. Twenty bloody minutes. Oh, shit – someone answer? Someone please answer . . .
Centre: Good day, sir. This is Rroderr. How can I help you?
Caller: (With panic in his voice) Is that Syxis?
Centre: (Patiently) No, this is Rroderr.
Caller: Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Listen Roder. Listen very carefully. I was given the wrong body on my Body Exchange. Some guy who lives on a rubbish dump in – listen, I’m from Earth, OK? Earth. They gave me another exchange and now I’m in the fucking body of an ape. An ape, for shit’s sake.
Centre: An ape. And you’re a . . .
Caller: Human. Homo Sapiens. Jesus Christ!
Centre: A human. I don’t need your name at this stage, Mr Christ. But thank you for that. Hmmm. Human. I’m looking at the screen now and it tells me apes and humans are both of the family of Hominidae. Yes, definitely – chimpanzees, bonobos, gorillas, humans and orangutans. Known collectively as the Great Apes. So what appears to be the problem, Mr Christ?
Caller: Jones. There’s a HUGE difference between gorillas and bloody human beings. That’s what the problem is.
Centre: So, you’re a gorilla?
Caller: No – no, I’m some kind of . . . what’s a bonobo?
Centre: Just one second, I’m looking – yes, it’s a dwarf chimpanzee.
Caller: Well that’s what I am and I don’t want to be. I’m in this bloody wildlife park, or something, and it’s not what I ordered, any more than that other body is what I ordered. Get me out of here. NOW!
Centre: Are there any other bonobos nearby?
Caller: What’s that got to do with anything? Yes, I’m surrounded by the bloody things, and they’re getting far too curious. Stop that. One of them’s de-flea-ing me, the bastard. It won’t go away. Listen . . . (a jabbering is heard on the line).
Centre: Sir, Mr Christ, if you’re in a wildlife park, how are you calling us?
Caller: I stole a phone from a tourist. GET ME OUT OF HERE.
Centre: You stole? Sir, what is your reference number please? I can’t really help you without that.
Caller: My . . . my . . . oh, God, I’ve just realised. I’m not a male ape. I’m a bloody female. And that big bull chimp is coming at me. Help! Help! He’s coming, he’s coming. Please help me. Oh, God, I must be on heat. It’s got that look in its eye. You’ve got to do something, QUICKLY.
Female voice: Give me that, you . . . Bill, Bill, I’ve got my phone back from that monkey . . . it’s, oh my God, how gross. That’s disgusting, ekk, do you see what they’re doing? Hey, there’s someone on the line. Hello? Who is this please? Why are you calling me?
Centre: This is the Call Centre on Procyon 3.
Caller: Well get off my phone, will you? This is costing me money.
(Click).
The Human’s Child
‘He hath a body like a house but a tayle like a ratte, erecting it like a cedar, little eyes but great sight, very melancholly but wise (they say) and full of understanding for a beaste.’
[17th Century description of an elephant, taken from ‘The Honourable Company’ by John Keay]
~
In the high and far-off times, O Best Beloved, there were many schools of thought as to how the creatures of the Earth came to be.
One of the two main theories was that a Creator had taken some clay and filled some special empty spaces. Thus there was an empty space which had the shape of an elephant, where nothing else but an elephant could fit. And a space exactly the proportions of a stonefish, and the clay that filled this space resulted in that rather ugly, sqaumous being which now lives in tropical seas. Thus it was, or was supposed to be, with all living creatures. This mythical Creator took common clay and messed around happily as potters do, filling all these empty spaces and baking his creations in the sun.
The second theory drew its credibility from a profession called science, which most thought as being based in common sense. This idea proclaimed that a single cell was brought into being by a secret process known only to sunlight and water. Over time this cell grew this way and that way, forming its own shapes all over the place, sometimes taking into account the local environment when settling on its final form. Thus the giraffe, for example, came to be because he stretched his neck to reach the juiciest leaves at the tops of trees. And the playful crocodile, who enjoyed stretching the noses of elephants, developed these
huge snappy jaws with which to tug.
There was a third theory that came along later, rather subversive, which spoke of a party of extra-terrestrials who stopped by for a good time on this green planet of ours, and left some balloons of all shapes and sizes behind. Over the course of millions of years parasitic cells grew on the walls of these balloons, covered them on the outside as well as filling them on the inside. Eventually these peculiar shapes started walking around. Basically, what this theory was trying to say is that we are all alike, in composition: our particular cells just happened to choose different balloons. Some were attracted to the big balloons with tails and trunks and flappy ears, others to the upright long and skinny balloons with arms and legs and rather offensive feet.
Of course, O Best Beloved, we know now those theories are all tosh. We now know what really happened. There was a gathering of spirits, all much the same in essence, but all quite different from one another. Holding council near a great rock these spirits looked around the world and saw that it was empty of moving things. There was plenty of rooted life: trees, bushes, grass – vegetation. Plenty of flora but no fauna. The whale-spirit argued that the sea moved in great waves, and the eagle-spirit mentioned that the wind helped rather flimsy objects to roll around, but the majority of them were not satisfied with this picture. They felt it would be nice if there were creatures out there, warm and cold blooded beings, which trundled around, ate things, rolled each other amongst the rhododendrons, and generally put some dash and colour into the scene.
‘Why don’t we do it ourselves?’ suggested the elephant-spirit. ‘Why don’t we take on solid shape and form, and fill the world with our progeny? Once we’ve got a few years behind us, we shall have multiplied and there’ll be enough of us to fill all the hills and valleys, all the plains and seas, all the nooks and crannies and corners of the Earth. We can all try to fit in with one another, create a sort of life-cycle. We could call ourselves beasts of the field, birds of the air and fishes of sea. Some of us may eat the issue of the others, but that’s all right so long as one species we’ll call it, doesn’t try to dominate the planet.’
‘Damn good idea,’ said the mosquito-spirit, ‘but we’ve got to be careful. Once you start putting things into shapes, different forms, competition comes along, then struggle, and before you know it we’ll be trying to destroy each other’s descendants and doing the very thing our imaginative friend here, the elephant-spirit, is warning against.’
‘Well, I don’t really believe that,’ argued the human-spirit, ‘but what are you suggesting?’
‘All right,’ said the mosquito-spirit, ‘what we do is choose shapes now, but these will be rough casts. The first, and only the first, of our children to come along will have the opportunity to refine those shapes. They must come to us, the Council of Original Creatures, and request the changes. Some of them will be quite happy, of course, with what they’ve got. Others will want radical changes. We don’t all go for what our parents want.’
‘Brilliant,’ said the hornet-spirit. ‘They must argue for the changes and get support amongst the other creatures requesting alterations. I think we can congratulate ourselves here on building in some good safeguards for our populated world. Now, shall we get to it? Oh! Oh! Look at that. The tiger-spirit’s already done it! Wonderful. Burning-yellow ochre with black stripes? Such genius. And those eyes. Why didn’t I think of such a savage appearance, such a beautiful combination of colours? How profane. How superbly pagan. Now you’ve taken the best first and left me all at sixes-and-sevens. I might just try for something close, if you don’t mind tiger-spirit, if just a wee bit on the smaller side.’
And so, O Best Beloved, as you know they chose their shapes. Some were pretty flamboyant, like the parrot-spirit, others more conservative, like the elephant-spirit. Others still absolutely absurd, as with some of the deep-sea fishes or the jungle insects. Above all it was fun, O Best Beloved. They enjoyed it. They threw themselves into becoming us with such gusto. How innocent was the world in those high and far-off times. How naïve.
And when the firstborn of the spirits incarnate came along, they wandered the Earth, thinking about themselves, doing things, looking at how they were doing them and wondering what improvements they could make to these bodies bequeathed to them by their parents. Then, as time went by, they went to the Council Rock and requested changes. Some were granted, those which seemed reasonable and had support amongst the other creatures; others were rejected.
The snake’s child went along and asked if it could have a really good singing voice. Snakes that could sing? the question was asked. Already there had been complaints – too late now that it had been granted – about the mosquito’s horrible whine. Snakes could get anywhere, being slim legless creatures which would fit into a small hole. Under floor boards, in the attic, beneath the outdoor kazi. Who would want the thin strains of snake songs coming from the back of the loo?
Most animals, birds and fishes got what they wanted, because most requests amounted to a very small change. Some birds wanted longer beaks. Some big cats bigger claws. The cheetah asked for a bit more speed. The whale a little more blubber. Simple things. Easy for the Council to accommodate. A few were slightly more complicated. The kangaroo’s child went along, speaking for a few others of antipodean ilk, to ask for pouches in which to carry their young.
‘I never had a pouch,’ said the kangaroo-spirit, ‘and I managed to raise you all right without it.’
But parents of those children whose petitions were before the council were excluded from the final vote, since their judgement was impaired by their close affinity with their offspring.
There were some pretty weird requests. One type of snake asked to be able to fly: the ribbon snake. Bats wanted the ability to sleep upside down without getting a rush of blood to the head. The elephant’s child asked for a much longer nose, so that he could drink from a puddle while still standing up. Things like that. Some of them very silly, some encouraging laziness, a few downright ridiculous. Gradually, gradually, the first rush of request for changes slowed to a mere trickle, until it seemed that it was only certain creatures who were going back time and time again. Finally, the Council put a deadline on petitions. All had to be settled by midnight, the seventh day of the third lunar month. Those that were not, were forfeit.
The creatures who asked for the most changes, and got them, were the apes. They banded together as a group and sent along the human’s child, to ask for such things as the ability to walk upright, to eat anything they fancied, to have a cleverer brain than most. Since the human’s child was the spokesman he got the most of these requests, when they were granted, and came out just a little bit better off than his fellow apes. Not that the things he asked for were unique. Kangaroos could walk upright too, along with the basilisk and one or two others. There were a great many omnivores. And as for clever brains, why the dolphin’s child had it over the human’s child, it just couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be mammal or fish.
An hour to the deadline found the human’s child making its way to the Council Rock for the last time. On the track through the dark forest it met the elephant’s child.
‘Are you asking for one more change?’ said the human’s child.
The elephant’s child nodded his big head. ‘I am,’ he replied.
‘Tell you what,’ said the human’s child, ‘I’ll support you, if you support me. How’s that? Whatever I ask for, you stand behind me four-square, and I’ll do the same for whatever it is that you want.’
‘Fair enough,’ said the elephant’s child.
A short while later the human’s child was standing before the Council.
‘What is it that you want now?’
‘Well,’ said the human’s child, ‘as you know I speak for the apes, in general, and we would actually like opposable thumbs on our hands.’
‘What for?’ asked the Council.
‘To make tools for digging and ploughing, for planting seeds to gr
ow our own food – things like that.’
The dolphin-spirit spoke up. ‘I’m not sure that wouldn’t be very dangerous. After all, you already have a very clever brain, you walk around – one might say strut if one were to be unkind – all over the planet, even venturing onto the seas in that hollow log you call a boat. We’re getting horribly close to having a creature who could dominate the rest of our children. Tools is it? I for one am against it. I don’t like the sound of tools.’
‘But tools are perfectly innocent. It’s just that I’ve developed a taste for exotic foods and I need tools to grow them for my family, when it comes along. Also, I need to sew garments, because even though I’ve got some hair on my body, it’s not enough to keep me warm in the winter months.’
‘These seem legitimate things to ask for,’ argued the dog-spirit, ‘I have no objection to opposable thumbs.’
‘Nor I,’ said the cat-spirit, ‘for it seems to me a creature has to feed and clothe its young. The human’s child is not fast on its feet, can’t travel great distances like the camel, is quite vulnerable to enemies and the elements in that thin skin, and has no terrible weapons like a falcon’s beak, a shark’s teeth, or a lion’s talons. You have to give him something to ensure his survival as a species.’
The Council were undecided. Half were willing to grant the request, half were against granting it. Finally the Council said, ‘If you can come up with some support from other children . . .?’
The elephant’s child immediately spoke up. ‘I think the human’s child should be given what he wants.’
‘So it is asked for, so it is done,’ chorused the Council, gravely. ‘Next! Hurry, for midnight is almost on us.’
‘I would like some camouflage colours,’ said the elephant’s child.
‘What for?’ asked the mite-spirit. ‘You’re so huge. Why would you want to hide? On land you’re the largest creature and should need to fear no other over the whole Earth.’
‘It’s not for me, it’s for my children,’ said the elephant’s child. ‘They’ll be prey to tigers and lions. You’ve no idea how savage the big cats can be when they’re hungry. They jump on your back and rip you about with those big claws! That’s not so bad for me. I have a thick skin now, growing thicker by the day. And I grant I’m big. But my babies will need time to grow the protection they need. Camouflage colours, please.’
The Fabulous Beast Page 14
