Then I took a few questions, but answered in vague terms, leaving the journalists scratching their heads. I preferred being an enigma, to being told I’d ‘sold out’ or become ‘too extreme’. Whatever words I used, I’d be roasted by certain traditional media outlets. Because of this, I’d learnt to keep things general and lowest common denominator.
To keep them happy, I left Gene to answer any other questions.
I battled my way through the squeezing throng with some help from my security team. I still struggled with this aspect of fame. On the one hand, I wanted to be there with the general public. I’m one of them – just an ordinary kid born in a house who went to school … before meeting Guy. On the other hand, I sometimes felt incredibly threatened by the squeezing masses, even if they don’t mean me any harm. It’s just a matter of numbers. There’s only one of me.
‘Love you, Falco.’
‘You da man.’
Even once the main gates were closed, the throng thrust and billowed. Hands reached out for me, even just touching my clothing, as if a touch would give them luck or eternal life, or some kind of healing.
After a tour of the community and a discussion with their leaders, I was whisked off to Anfield for the ‘main event’. It was the usual show, with pyrotechnics, special guests and video screens.
Television cameras had also been allowed in and I was handed the prepared speech to open the occasion.
It was the usual old stuff: planet Earth dying … we are to blame … and need to change our ways …
As always, people lapped it up and applauded.
I mentioned numens and our communities, ending with, ‘So it’s really up to you. Only you, in your own heart of hearts, know the truth. Doing nothing is not an option. Which path will you choose?’
The applause was loud and lengthy. My team allowed themselves to relax with congratulatory smiles and fist-bumps. I, on the other hand, decided to improvise. Their nervous expressions returned.
‘The things I have experienced and learned have been phenomenal. I’m not the person I was a year ago. When I realised I had the power to fly and shape-shift, everything I thought I knew about myself and the world was smashed to smithereens. People ask me about the unpredictable weather we’re having, and about the tragedies around the world. Well, I do have an answer for you. Gaia – Mother Nature; Earth herself – has spoken to me. She says this: ‘Change your lives. Change your behaviour. Change your attitudes. Before it’s too late! If all insects disappeared, then no life would remain on this planet. If all humans are wiped out, then life and all other species would flourish. You have been warned. Perhaps the only answer is to get rid of the problem. You need a world to live on … but I don’t need you’.’
At that very moment I really felt as if Her message was directly given through me.
No applause interrupted my silence this time. I walked off through the still silent crowd waiting for the main event to begin. Although, having said that, for many just seeing me in the flesh was the main event.
Chapter Five
The news headlines became incredibly alarming.
Much of Devon and Cornwall had been flooded whilst also experiencing earthquakes at levels never previously recorded in the UK; the reports from that area were catastrophic. I decided to fly to Plymouth first to see what support I could offer and the hellish scenes awaiting me were truly devastating. Whole communities had been destroyed, with streets upon streets of houses smashed apart and swept away by the raging torrents, or disappeared down gigantic sinkholes. First the Tamar had completely burst its banks, creating havoc by all accounts, before the sea decided to rage onto the land nearly five miles into its natural shoreline. Many were killed and never stood a chance.
People told me that lives had also been lost due to flooding and collapsing buildings in the Cornish towns of St Austell, Lostwithiel, Looe, Helston, Penzance, Durgan and St Columb. Such beautiful areas completely destroyed and uninhabitable. It all seemed far too harsh. Were we really to blame for this?
Other parts of the UK – particularly in northern England – suffered equally badly; Skegness, Hull and Carlisle, for instance. I visited them all and spoke to the rescue services, councils and schools, offering as much money and publicity as I felt necessary to help them out in their dire need.
Our Gaia Communities continued to take in hundreds of refugees who’d abandoned their homes. The floods then also brought the misery of mosquitoes, midges and disease. Cases of malaria and Ebola appeared in the West Country and in Cumbria, causing understandable panic; in many parts of the country, swine flu, foot and mouth disease, bluetongue and sheep pox reared their ugly heads again. Lincolnshire was badly affected and had to be quarantined in its entirety. All the rescue services were overworked and understaffed, completely dependent on volunteers and overseas help.
Gene and I continued to visit as many areas as we could.
In areas such as the Kielder and Galloway forests, biblical swarms of flying ants and midges made the areas impenetrable. Reports from Norfolk told of plagues of greenfly and caterpillars. Insecticides were being sprayed from aircraft, but doing so only devastated valuable crops, at the same time killing off other insects such as bees needed to pollinate the flowers, and ladybirds, a natural defence against greenfly.
The depletion in bee numbers affected those birds who fed upon them, such as magpies, blackbirds, starlings, swallows and flycatchers. The loss of certain bird species also allowed the slug and snail numbers to rise; bad news for key plants and crops. Ecology in action. Gaia striking back.
Snowstorms hit huge regions of Britain in the middle of summer followed by a burning desert heat; it rained for twenty-four consecutive days in the south-east; then a balmy calm was suddenly ruined by thunderclouds. Excessive lightning strikes – with some places recording nearly a thousand strikes per hour – killed people who’d set up temporary homes and tents in the Lake District or on the Yorkshire Moors. These makeshift refugee camps had to be moved on to less dangerous locations. Hail fell during one blistering hot spell in the Peak District. Fires in Clocaenog Forest burnt down swathes of one of the last Welsh habitats for red squirrels. The list of freak weather and natural disasters went on. People talked about the end of the world and Armageddon.
For want of a way to respond to these tragedies, I accepted an invitation to appear on the BBC’s The Graham Norton Show. He normally had about three guests at a time, but for this ‘special, it was just me, and he encouraged me to speak my mind.
I made another of my impassioned appeal – off script.
‘We need to kick out this useless government. What exactly have they achieved? They only seem to care about keeping rich people and big business happy – not the people who actually voted for them. We hate political corruption. This Prime Minister is just another privileged, wealthy, professional puppet. Let’s get rid of these useless so-called world leaders!’
The audience cheered with great energy, and the next day’s papers all had me on their front pages. But the pictures of me made me look insane, with flecks of saliva at the corners of my lips. What a nutter. What the hell was I thinking?
‘You worry too much,’ Gene said, sympathetically. ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity. Most people trust you more than some rich, private-school educated, professional politician. Don’t worry about it.’
He was right, but I did worry.
And when I heard the early evening news I was horrified.
‘Today the Prime Minister came under fire from thuggish pranksters. Getting out of the government limousine this afternoon while attending a function at Cambridge University, a shot was heard, causing the security team to panic after what was initially thought to be an assassination attempt. Fortunately the shot was only from a paintball gun. The coloured pellet was, however, enough to knock the Prime Minister over. The masked gunman was quickly apprehended and taken into police custody. The Prime Minister, who was shaken but unhurt, went against security
advice and continued the official visit, but further mishap was to befall. A suspect package was discovered during the banquet, and the whole campus had to be evacuated. Bomb disposal experts were brought in, and while the package was destroyed in a controlled explosion, it was announced later that it was a harmless decoy.’
I watched the pictures of the Prime Minister, now with a bruised forehead, being taken back to Westminster by army helicopter. At first I didn’t link it to what I’d said, but the newsreader quickly made it clear.
‘Downing Street have also reported that the Prime Minister has food poisoning, and the kitchen staff at the college have been taken in for questioning. It is believed that all suspects work for environmental activist and popular celebrity, Falco. Police and the Government have stated that this counts as a serious breach of national security. In fact, the word “terrorism” has been used on a number of occasions. We are trying to investigate whether the police are officially detaining the suspects of all three incidents under the Counter-Terrorism and Security Act.’
What? Work for me? Was I being suspected of treason?
Did they really think I’d do that? This seemed like a slap in the face, after all I’d said about peace and unity. Did they really not understand what I stood for? They must know by now that I’d never advocate such attacks. The entire point of my message is the connections between all of creation – not condoning hate and revenge.
‘This attack comes just a few hours after Falco’s call to take down the government.’
The report cut to me on The Graham Norton Show saying, ‘… this Prime Minister is just another privileged, wealthy professional puppet. Let’s get rid of these useless so-called world leaders!’
I must admit, however, that the way the clip was edited and shown did make me look slightly unhinged.
‘And some analysts believe these to be Falco’s code words to his followers. Police don’t believe the assault was meant to kill the Prime Minister, but it has raised doubts as to the security measures taken for our leading statesmen and women.’ The camera closed in on the newsreader, whose face became grave. ‘It also raises questions about just how far these people will go.’ The camera was held tightly framed on his ponderous expression before cutting away to a video tape of the next news item.
They believed that I hired some people to attack the PM? What the …?
My PR team warned me that the police were on their way, so I got myself ready. When they arrived, they asked me very politely to go with them in order to help them with their enquiries. We all knew what that really meant. I took Kerry, the fire elemental, who was also my most trusted lawyer.
At the station I was taken directly to an interview room and the questions began without any preamble. The inspector was a Sikh with a formidable grey beard.
‘Mr Falco, do you deny inciting violent acts against Her Majesty’s Government?’
‘Of course I deny it.’
‘But you’re on camera saying—’
‘Yes, I know what I said. But “getting rid of” means voting them out, not trying to kill them. You can’t make a direct link between words spoken in anger and the actions of an idiot who can’t think for himself.’
‘So you do admit that those words were said in anger?’
‘Yes … no. What?’
Kerry leaned forward and put up a hand to stop us both in our tracks. ‘Inspector Agarwal, do you have any solid evidence that links my client with the events you mention? Any direct evidence, I mean, other than some spurious throwaway comment made on an entertainment show?’
‘No physical evidence or witness accounts, no.’ If the inspector was annoyed at having to admit this, he didn’t show it.
‘Then my client wishes to leave. He feels he has helped you all he can with your enquiries. If anything else occurs to him then he will be in touch.’
‘Please stay where you are.’ Inspector Agarwal got up and exited the room.
Kerry screwed up her nose and shrugged. ‘We’ll be out of here soon.’
A few moments later the Inspector returned with a man in a grey suit. ‘This is Mr Corey from Special Branch He wants to speak to you. Is that OK with you?’
I looked at Kerry who nodded and gestured for the men to sit down opposite us as if it was her living room. Mr Corey was completely bald with huge, thick-veined hands.
‘We’re going to need to go through your company accounts and emails, Mr Falco. I’ve been given special licence to investigate every area of the Gaia Foundation. Do you knowingly have any links with foreign organisations that have previously come under the suspicion of Her Majesty’s Government?’
‘No,’ I answered immediately, feeling mostly certain of my answer. Of course, I couldn’t swear blind on it, but I had to hope I could trust my team who dealt with these matters.
‘The Prime Minister is very interested in you and your foundation, and I want you to be aware that we are monitoring your progress, individually and as a private corporation, with considerable care. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?’
I nodded. ‘I thought people were innocent until proven guilty in this country.’
‘When someone wields as much influence as you do, perhaps you need to be extra careful about what you say in public, son. Fame brings along with it great responsibility. People look up to you and will follow what you do.’
‘Are you saying that the general public are gullible?’
‘No. But I am saying that there are gullible people – very much the minority, but it only takes one person to shoot the Prime Minister or to set off a bomb. You get what I’m saying?’
‘Of course. Yeah.’
… and you’d happily arrest the wrong guy just to get early retirement or a shiny medal, eh? You dumb gorilla.
Kerry shot me a look. How can you be sure he’s not a numen?
She had a point.
‘And there is something else that causes us to point the finger of suspicion at you: the suspects all escaped arrest. Of course, they’re numens and they simply transformed into their animal form and got away before being identified.’
‘But I don’t control what numens do. It’s up to each person to use their power responsibly. I can’t be blamed for that.’
Kerry stood up. ‘So basically you have no evidence against my client. Can he go now?’
The two men glanced at each other.
‘Sure. We can contact you again if we need further help.’
‘Of course,’ I replied, getting up.
Mr Corey remained seated. ‘The Prime Minister has asked me for daily updates on your exploits.’
I smiled before leaving, unsure exactly what to do with that information.
I never did find out who was behind the PM’s day of bruising, fake bombs and diarrhoea. But I gained a lot of street cred from it. So thanks, guys. In fact, I got so much support from the general public over the PM incident that it made me realise I might be able to push my luck a bit further.
The more I thought about that man Corey and the idea that the Prime Minister was keeping an eye on me and my business affairs, the angrier I felt. Perhaps I’d been too nice and polite until now. The interview hadn’t had the effect of tempering my thoughts; in fact it made me feel a little more bolshie and pro-active. Who the hell did they think they were?
On my many flights around the world – always with Gene in tow – I usually take my specially adapted camera to film the landfills, garbage islands, oil spills, smog clouds, chemical-spewing pipes and frothing chimneys belching out contamination into our precious air. I continued to name and shame the companies most guilty; those who ignored warnings from the United Nations, or from pressure groups that I worked alongside such as Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth. My techie team posted the films on my website regularly and I kept up my weekly vlog, quite clearly becoming angrier and angrier. Why are some companies and their owners such greedy, selfish bastards?
‘Gaia is sick and she needs your help if sh
e’s going to survive. Don’t be part of the generation that didn’t care. It’s your indifference and apathy that allow these immoral corporations to kill her off. It’s a slow and painful death, but once our planet dies – we die with her. Tomorrow could be too late. Act now.
‘Are your government doing enough to stop global warming and the overuse of plastics? Are you sure? We all need to stop buying plastic. Now! Do you know about the five ocean garbage patches? The biggest is called the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, which some scientists estimate could be as large as five million square miles – fifty-three times the size of the UK. The word ‘garbage’ is misleading, as the patch actually contains billions of tiny particles of plastic from bottles, bags and wrapping that we have thrown away. These particles might be tiny – many microscopic – but some plastics will take a thousand years to decompose. Some don’t appear to biodegrade at all! The truth is that scientists don’t actually know. But we do know that marine wildlife is continually found with bellies full of plastic. These plastics contain toxins, which, if they don’t kill the animal that tried to digest it, might kill the animal that eats that creature. That could be you eating fish and chips tonight.
‘Governments and big companies who don’t listen to our call to stop pollution, deforestation, global warming, dumping of plastics, destruction of species and habitats need to learn a lesson. Don’t vote for politicians, presidents or local councils who refuse to meet our demands. Our voice must be heard. Boycott those companies that continue to force plastic on us. They have been warned. In a democracy, who makes the rules? The ordinary people? Or the autocrats and mega-rich? Sometimes, perhaps we need to break the rules and take back power in the name of Gaia!’
Was this really me spouting this stuff? Hell, yeah! If being nice didn’t work then maybe the world needed to see my passion and sense of injustice.
And my message was heard. Yup. It was heard all right.
Over the next few days, various crazy events set the world into anarchy. Some panicked that World War III was about to begin.
Gaia Page 3
