‘Your morning tea,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want you to see her, or more importantly for her to see you at that moment. It was very unfortunate because the woman is in treatment and at a very critical stage of her cure.’
‘Oh dear, what’s wrong with her?’ I asked, I was just about to take a slurp of tea and held the container in front of my face.
‘It is sadly becoming very common. There are so many women who have no hope of ever finding a male partner to share their lives with. Many of us are happy about that; myself for instance. I have never felt a burning need for male company. The poor woman you saw is having a kind of nervous breakdown, if she ever sees a man on the street she cannot stop herself from approaching him. Her life lies in ruins, she has a daughter who she cannot look after any longer. It’s a very sad and all too common occurrence.’
I lowered my tea. ‘Oh, I see, but she seemed like a fairly good looking young woman, surely she can find a bloke in the end.’
Nkoyo looked at me for a while without speaking. ‘No, Gavin,’ she said eventually. ‘She has virtually no chance of finding a male partner, even a mere male friend is very hard to find.’
‘But I’ve seen loads of men, there was a big crowd at Pete’s store when they mended my plane that’s now hanging in the museum.’
‘Yes, there are men in London, but they are far outnumbered by women. We have also found that many of the men you will have met are not interested in devoting their lives to one woman, your nephew Ralph is an unusual exception. While it’s true you will have seen plenty of men who are in one relationship and who look after their offspring, this is becoming increasingly rare.’
‘So, there’s just not enough men to go around?’
‘Precisely. It’s a very difficult balance, I know you spoke with Professor Etheridge about the current imbalance and the influence of the Weaver women.’
‘Yes, I did,’ I said carefully, fully expecting to be questioned about my visit to the Erotic Museum. No question came.
‘Anyway,’ said Nkoyo after a deep sigh, ‘I wanted to talk to you about your drone.’
‘Aeroplane.’
‘Yes, as you wish, I know you are anxious and upset about it.’
‘Well, it was a bit of a shock,’ I said feeling my blood rise. I was still angry but it was focused and clear. ‘No one said anything to me. I know I just landed here, I understand I have no rights, but blimey, common courtesy, openness, you know, like honesty, transparency, you’ve given me the impression those were all things you valued.’
For the first time Nkoyo bowed her head, I could see what I had said actually affected her, I could sense that she found the moment unpleasant and awkward and of course I immediately felt guilty.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, I couldn’t help it.
‘I am very sorry too, Gavin,’ she replied eventually. ‘I have had a word with the Mayor’s office and it was their decision. You need to understand we have very strict rules about airborne devices. We no longer allow them in the sky, this is an old law dating back over one hundred years and no one could be sure you wouldn’t try and fly in the machine again. It is deemed too dangerous to have such machines in the air, we had a great deal of trouble with drones many years ago, I’m sure Professor Etheridge would explain the details and point you in the right direction to learn more of the reasons behind the global ban. We no longer need drones for transportation or any other reason, they are a redundant technology. Obviously your machine is of great historical interest, there was no desire to destroy it and it was seen as the best option to put it on display. That way the many people who are intrigued by your story can see the machine for themselves. It’s currently the most popular display in the museum.’
‘I could see that,’ I said. ‘But what am I supposed to do, stay here?’
‘Well, I can’t think of what other options you have,’ said Nkoyo rather flatly.
I shook my head in frustration, what she was telling me was eminently sensible, I completely understood it but it did mean I had no chance of leaving, of making any sort of attempt at getting back to my own time. I knew of course this was never going to happen, what ever had taken place to bring me here was way beyond me, and it seemed way beyond the people who inhabited London even with their kidonges, self-driving cars, huge garden squares and print-on-demand meat.
‘I want to go home,’ I said rather pathetically.
‘I understand,’ she replied. ‘It’s very difficult; the adjustment could take a long time. However, I want you to know you are welcome here, you are a valued individual and you do have rights. They are rights that are held in a framework of responsibilities to others of course, and one of those responsibilities is not to put people in danger by flying around in a heavier than air drone machine.’
17
Back to School
Ralph came to collect me early the following morning and I assumed, although I tried to hide my dread out of politeness, he was taking me on another nightmarish shopping trip.
However, he wasn’t alone, he was accompanied by a young girl who I immediately knew to be his daughter.
I remembered the picture he showed me at the cafe and to my confusion a fairly clear image of the photograph appeared before me, kind of overlaid on the real image of Ralph and Natasha, I also suddenly knew her name.
Ralph was grinning and looking if anything even taller and thinner than last time I’d seen him.
‘I’m just walking Natasha to school and we wondered if you’d like to come along, some of the teachers have asked if you would be happy to visit and maybe give a short talk to the children this morning.’
So it was worse than shopping, at least if I went shopping I wouldn’t have to give ‘a short talk’ to anyone. I remembered the last time I had been asked to talk to a load of kids, in the learning hall at Goldacre Hall in Gardenia. That didn’t end well. I was just rubbish at talking to people, especially kids.
‘Oh, right.’
‘You don’t have anything else to do,’ said Ralph as if it was obvious, which it was. I suppose it was pointless making rubbish excuses, he’d known in some spooky, kidonge-based way that I was doing absolutely nothing other than eating breakfast and sitting with Doctor Markham for an hour in the afternoon talking about my mum, my childhood and my sexual fantasies. They are rather dull by the way. They involve what I now understand to be fully consensual sexual intercourse between a man and a woman in private, in the dark, under the covers.
‘Yes, sure, I’d enjoy going for a walk,’ I said. I don’t think it sounded like I thought it would be fun, but then Natasha smiled at me and held out her hand.
I glanced at Ralph. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘She’s only seven, she’s not allowed DT yet.’
‘DT?’
‘Sorry, of course,’ he turned to Natasha. ‘5-G Uncle Gavin doesn’t understand a lot of things yet darling, but he’s learning fast,’ he turned back to me. ‘Dual Transaction, she is not able to charge you, you can give her pocket money if you want, but she’s already had her allowance this week.’
‘Oooh, dad, you shouldn’t have told him!’ said Natasha, sounding just like a seven-year-old. She was so tall that I had assumed she was much older.
I held Natasha’s hand and we walked out of the Institute and turned left, not something I’d done before.
‘How far away is your school, Natasha?’ I asked as the heat of the day engulfed me.
‘If I run all the way I can get there in exactly thirty eight minutes.’
‘Wow, that’s still quite a long way,’ I said, ‘can’t you get a bus or something? Do you have to walk or run there every day?’
Natasha turned and looked up at me with a peculiar expression on her perfect face. ‘Yes,’ she said, as if my question was utterly absurd.
It took us alm
ost an hour to get to the school but the walk was pleasant if at a pace that was just short of a jog for me. I’ll say one thing for the inhabitants of London in 2211, they are no slouches.
Of course walking through a city without being surrounded by mechanical traffic is a very different experience from the cities I’d grown up in. The only sound was the breeze in the trees, bird song, the chatter of passing people and occasionally music coming out of open windows. I soon worked out that this wasn’t some sophisticated sound system; this was people playing actual instruments. Through a window just above street level I saw a woman playing a cello.
The school was a building like most of the others in London, part of a terrace maybe three storeys high and facing a large area of woodland which seemed to cover the square.
‘What an amazing place to go to school,’ I said, looking around. ‘You’re very lucky, Natasha.’ I was saying this in my ‘this is how you talk to children’ voice, it didn’t seem to impress Natasha, she shrugged and jumped up the three wide steps that lead to the ubiquitous sliding glass door at the entrance.
She turned back towards Ralph and I as she stood in front of the door, other children passed her as she looked back at us.
‘Bye bye sweetest child,’ shouted Ralph. ‘I’ll see you this afternoon.’
Natasha smiled, waved and ran inside. It was such a normal vision, a child entering school and yet as I was about to discover, this was very unlike any school I had ever seen or heard of.
‘Listen, Ralph,’ I said as I stepped back to allow a gaggle of children to pass. ‘I really don’t want to talk to all the kids, I’ve got nothing to say and I tend to get upset. It just reminds me of what I’ve left behind; it’s too hard to deal with. I never had children and I left my wife all alone and she thinks I died in a plane crash. It’s all a bit difficult.’
‘That’s fine 5-G Uncle,’ he replied. ‘Don’t do the stress thing. The headmistress asked me if you’d be happy to talk and I said you were very chatty but if you get upset, she’ll understand. I thought you’d like to see how a school in London works though. You might learn something yourself, you never know.’
Large numbers of children were now arriving at the wide school entrance, two enormous trees stood sentry either side of the entranceway giving blessed shade to people entering and leaving. London was so hot, I really appreciated a bit of shade.
We joined the slow procession up the wide steps toward the entrance, many of the kids around us were walking with their fathers. There were one or two women were walking with children, most of whom were girls from what I could make out. I started to check to see if I could see any boys.
‘Is this an all-girls’ school?’ I asked Ralph. Again I got that look, the look that told me I was some kind of moron or possibly a pervert.
‘No, it’s a school, just an ordinary school,’ came the slightly offended reply.
‘Oh, right,’ I said. ‘It’s just that I can’t see any boys.’
Ralph turned and pointed to two boys coming up the steps behind us. ‘What are those then, goats?’
‘Good morning, Mister Meckler, what a great privilege to have you visit the Greer Academy.’ I turned to see a grey-haired woman standing in the large entrance lobby. She was tall and wearing a long grey tunic of some kind and she had similar coloured gloves on. In fact she looked almost ghostly because her skin was so pale and her eyes were a weird grey colour. It was as if she had tinted contact lenses.
‘Um, thanks,’ I stuttered. ‘It’s, um, well, it’s a lovely surprise to be here.’
‘We would like to welcome you in the staffroom before this morning’s assembly. I know many of the children are excited to meet you.’
I walked along a corridor with this woman who I somehow knew to be Candice Jago, the headmistress of the Greer Academy. ‘Um, the thing is, I’m not very good at speaking in public,’ I said as I trotted to keep up with her. Even old ladies walked fast in London. ‘Especially to children. I did a talk in a school once, years ago.’ I wanted to cover up the fact that it was merely months ago and in a learning hall that might very well never have existed. ‘I found it very challenging. I have no idea what to say.’
A door slid open on our left and I entered a room full of men. They all started clapping as I walked in, I looked around for Ralph but he was nowhere to be seen. I wanted to understand why these men were clapping, I was completely in the dark. Somehow I knew things like the headmistress’s name, but I could not understand this admittedly cheerful response to my appearance. I nodded a greeting and waved rather pathetically at the group of men in the room.
‘This is my wonderful teaching staff,’ she said with a sweep of her very long arm. ‘Good morning chaps.’
‘Morning, Miss Jago,’ said the men, almost in unison and almost in a jokey sort of way. Almost, but not quite. The headmistress passed me a cup of coffee, again in the ubiquitous utilitarian steel mug.
‘They all know who you are, Gavin. You understand that, don’t you?’
‘Um, well, yes, I’m learning, it’s very confusing.’
She put a gloved hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s fascinating, I have never met an adult who hasn’t had a kidonge since they were a baby, you are a very unique case. So allow me to explain. As you know we all have a kidonge, it’s a simple communication enhancement and with practice it is, as you may have discovered, very useful.’
‘It’s amazing, baffling even.’
‘Well, imagine you are say, five years old and suddenly you have all the information that has ever existed in all human experience immediately available, can you imagine what that might do?’
I was desperate to say ‘cause a bit of a head fuck?’ but I didn’t, although just thinking that made the headmistress’s weird grey eyebrows jump a little.
‘I imagine it would cause a few problems.’
‘Instant insanity,’ said the headmistress without humour. ‘So here at school we teach the children how to access the information in a controlled manner. Unlike in your era where certain facts and figures needed to be learned, where the rather frail human memory system was the often the primary arbiter of intelligence, all our children, indeed everyone, has the potential to know everything. The human mind cannot deal with such abundance, I understand you have experienced overload at times.’
I nodded.
‘It’s not pleasant. Knowing how to filter, access and interpret such abundance is what we teach here. We do it by talking, by communicating without the use of the kidonge, we then slowly allow the children to access certain levels of information as they become more adept.’
The ‘wow’ was on my lips but I suppressed it. I wanted to appear knowledgeable and intelligent, I didn’t want this woman thinking I was a Stone Age thicko.
‘I completely understand,’ I said. The headmistress smiled revealing her teeth, even they were grey. The woman was a freak.
‘I’m quite sure you don’t fully understand, Gavin, and that is nothing to be ashamed of. We are all learning as we go along, that is the way it should be and there is no shame in ignorance. Ignorance is the fuel of knowledge and understanding.’
‘Okay, fair enough,’ I said. She was quite something this Miss Jago. She turned to the men standing around us. I had been unaware that they were all listening to our conversation.
‘Chaps, if you could escort Gavin into morning assembly, I think we should get started,’ said the headmistress.
‘Yes, Miss Jago,’ they said, and again I couldn’t quite fathom out the emotion behind their response. It was absolutely automatic, it wasn’t like some recently imposed ruling, they were all used to it. It must have been me; I found it a bit disturbing that a group of grown men took an order from an elderly woman, regardless of how commanding she was.
I followed the group of men out into the corridor and down a wide fligh
t of steps.
‘This must be so weird for you, dude,’ said a blonde man about my height. ‘I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like. Do we seem kind of unusual to you?’
I stared at him for a moment, he looked fairly human and normal really. True, he was wearing a kind of one piece almost yellow suit thing, but then I was wearing a similar outfit so I couldn’t judge. ‘It’s utterly confusing most of the time. I never quite know what’s going on, are you all teachers?’
The men nodded. An Indian man said, ‘We’re mostly part-time. I have a young daughter so I only do mornings.’
‘Most of us have kids to look after,’ said the blonde man, he had a fairly strong American accent. ‘I do two days a week but I came in special today. My dad’s looking after my daughter.’
We turned left and entered another huge auditorium. The headmistress was already stepping onto the slightly raised platform at one end of the space but as soon as I entered there was a deafening round of applause and much cheering. I don’t know how many kids were in that room, a couple of thousand at the very least. They all looked very happy and healthy, many races were represented and they were mostly female.
Again I waved rather pathetically as I followed the other men onto the stage.
‘Good morning everyone,’ boomed Miss Jago above the din, the schoolchildren soon settled down. The blonde man, who I suddenly knew was called Porlock, showed me a seat just behind the lectern at one side of the stage.
‘As you know, we have a very special visitor today, his name is Gavin Meckler and he comes from a long, long time ago. I expect you’ve heard your mothers and fathers talk about how he arrived here, through an anomaly in space-time. You may not know that the Physics Institute on Lovelace Square is investigating this phenomenon at the moment.’
Against all my expectations of children, this lot looked thoroughly interested in the work of the Physics Institute on Lovelace Square. Somehow, I could not imagine a group of kids at a comprehensive school reacting in such a way back in 2011.
News from the Squares Page 18
