Nymphomation

by Jeff Noon

  ‘Daisy!’

  ‘You think I’m stupid. All of you do!’ Dragging on her dressing gown. ‘I’m not putting up with it.’

  ‘Come back to bed, please.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Daisy, pretty soon you’re gonna have to face it.’

  ‘Face what? I’m not facing anything. It’s all stupid.’ She knocked all the maths books, all the workings off her desk.

  ‘The bones…Daisy, they’re deeper than you think. There’s only one of them, don’t you get it? One blurb, one bone, one winner, one loser. They’re all connected. That’s what the lucky bleeders do; they connect to the whole. All we have to do—’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Look, sit down at least. Can’t we even talk?’

  ‘What’s to say? My dad’s involved in murder, the Joker’s on the street, you’re talking to a computer and no doubt taking off any day now.’

  Daisy flopped down in an armchair.

  ‘All I know is that since I got bitten,’ said Jazir, quietly, ‘I’ve been changing. It’s not bad, that’s the strange thing. Well, to begin with…but now, I can see clearly. I’m infected with the bone-juice, the vaz. I’m getting all slippy, like I can crawl through the spaces. Sometimes, I want to stand on the tallest building and shout out loud to the city how fucking great the Anno-Dominoes are. Other times, I just want to throw myself off, and float, and glide, and swarm with the pack. I’m an advert. A living advert. No! OK, right…but it’s good. It’s good because I’m fighting it. Don’t you see, some of the blurbs want out. They want their freedom. That’s why they’re attracted to me. I can turn this knowledge against the bones, just like Dopejack did with the blurb-juice. Maybe I can find a way in? What do you reckon? You with me on this?’

  Daisy looked at her friend, her lover, her strange and only lover and friend, for a long, long time. ‘I’m not working with Hackle anymore.’

  And look at Benny’s car now, crunching to a stop outside Dopejack’s house. What’s he going to find? We don’t know. All we can do is follow him to the door, see him knock on it. See the door open under his fist. Unlocked? Strange. No, not unlocked, broken. Stranger. A burglary? To walk slowly into the house, to call out the DJ’s name. To get no reply. To hear a noise rather, coming from up the stairs. To go up the stairs, hardly daring to breathe now. Stepping lightly, every heartbeat. Maybe I should be calling the cops? Maybe I should be running away. What was that noise? Stranger yet, to push open a bedroom door, slowly…

  Far away and safe in Rusholme, with Jazir getting out of bed to plead with Daisy. ‘I’m not asking you to work with Hackle. I’m asking you to get Celia out of there, that’s all. We still need her. And your father…’

  Daisy shook her head.

  ‘OK, we give in then. You go back to the university, or maybe you run away. Maybe you’ll find a new life, I don’t know. What am I supposed to do, eh? I’m the one with the stuff inside me. Maybe it’s killing me.’

  ‘Benny should have a look at you.’

  ‘Benny should look after himself, more like.’

  Benny should look through the door of a bedroom, to find DJ Dopejack sitting on a chair, chewing some meat off a bone. DJ naked, grease and blood all over his flesh. A wound in his neck. At his feet, sprawled and crumpled and cut to shreds, the body of a man. A torn blue and cream shirt, bones sticking through here and there. A belt tight around the neck…

  ‘Fuck! DJ?’

  Dopejack smiled at Benny. A blurbfly was resting on his shoulder.

  ‘What have you done? Who’s that?’

  Dopejack smiling.

  Benny moved to the body and turned it over. ‘Shit!’ Seeing the slashed face of Nigel Zuze, proto-fascist from the League of Zero. Did Benny get the picture then? I think he rather did, as Dopejack beckoned him forward.

  ‘It’s your turn now.’

  Unresisting…

  ‘Benny should look after himself,’ said Jazir. ‘We don’t need them, Daisy. It’s me and you now. Joe, Hackle, Benny…let them roll away. They haven’t got my knowledge. All that energy they’ve wasted, looking for a genetic connection. It’s not genetic, is it? Partly, maybe, but it’s more to do with keying into the bones. Understanding the game. What was it Hackle told you about George Horn? He was in tune with the randomness of life. And that’s Celia to a tee. They’re both essentially wild, innocent, mad. Bringing Celia in off the street is the worst thing we could do. It’s stifling her—’

  The phone ringing.

  Daisy picked it up: ‘Hello?…Oh, Mr Malik…’ She looked at Jazir, who was praying on his hands and knees. ‘It’s very late…No, that’s OK. I was working…What? Jazir…No, not here…I am certain. Has he gone missing?…Yes, maybe a nightclub…Yes, much too young…Yes, he is in trouble. Let you know…Yes…No trouble…Good night.’ Phone down. ‘You can get up now…’

  Jazir doesn’t get up.

  ‘Jaz. You’re safe. Stop messing about.’

  ‘Daisy…’ Jazir rolled onto the floor, covering his head with his hands.

  ‘Jaz! What’s wrong? What’s happening?’

  ‘Something…something…Whalley Range…’

  ‘Dopejack’s house?’

  ‘Yes…Dopejack…and…something…someone…little blurbfly flying, flying, flying…window…can’t get…can’t get focused…Arhhhhh!’

  Jazir shot up to a sitting position, his face creased with fear.

  ‘Jaz!’ Daisy knelt down to comfort him, as best…‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘They got him.’

  ‘Who? Dopejack? Who’s got Dopejack?’

  ‘Don’t know. His house…pain…blood…biting…’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Blurbfly. Street. Watching. Attacked. Another blurb, attacking mine…killing mine…evil fly…must…do…’

  ‘I don’t like it, Jaz. Stop it…’

  ‘Must do…something…Not know. Not know…’

  Rocking him, rocking him slowly, back down to now, back down to earth, to bed, to kisses, to bed, to sleep…anything…

  Jazir’s naked body so wet, like sweat, more like rain, drops of rain.

  Benny. Sweet Benny Fenton, driving back towards the Hackle household. Feeling good, no guilt, no pain, just the desire to get the job done. Must do it better than Dopejack. No mess, that was the key, no blood, no tears. Keep it clean.

  Idly tapping at the puncture on his neck, it had gone quite well, he thought. Always room for improvement, of course, but he hadn’t panicked, not gone mad, not like Dopejack. The actual act had taken place under his own control, brisk and without excess wastage. Then he had cleaned up as best he could. Mustn’t get bestial, that was the key. Control was the essence, treat it as an experiment in genetic mutation. He had the equations inside him now, how could he fail…

  With his whole body steeped in new knowledge. Everything the Joker knew, everything the Zuze knew, everything the Dopejack knew, everything Benny knew: inside him now, growing, breeding, reproducing, making babies. Baby data! Sweetjokerzuzedope, his new name. The roads of Manchester were a maze to be driven through, towards the centre, where the treasure is. The centre was the House of Chances. That’s where his mother and father lay waiting, alongside Mr Million. Waiting to welcome him home. But first, the simple job of dealing bad hands to the Dark Fractals.

  The world will succumb, finally.

  Into numbers. One down, two down…

  Who’s next?

  All of England was watching. The Saturday papers, landing on a nation’s drenched early morning doorsteps, delivered by the Whoomphy boys. Glorious headlines, free with every burger, singing the praises of the Joker Bone. How that double-blanker was such a useful member of society. A humorous escape valve. The winner had even volunteered to have his photograph printed on every front page. Full publicity value, nothing to be ashamed of. His name was Desmond Targett, and there he grinned over Jazir and Daisy’s breakfast, holding proudly aloft a golden loo-brush for being ‘such a spor
ting loser’! The prize in question? The dreaded fear-inducing mysterious wouldn’t-wish-it-on-my-worst-enemy prize for winning the nasty double-zero? To spend a week cleaning out every public convenience in Manchester!

  No mention of any murders from the night before, Jazir checked to the last page, bottom column. With a slew of editorials saying that the jealousy killings were maybe on the way out, ‘unfashionable’ was the word on the street. With ADTV praising the bone, every hour on the hour and good old Frank Scenario rush-releasing a new single in celebration…

  Cream my numbers, cream my genes,

  Eat my chances the double-zero.

  Bone me, enthrone me, spin the memes,

  Embrace the Joker, play the hero!

  A massive fluttering of blurbflies, buzzing out the new message. Losing is good for the soul! Make a wish on the future! Questions would be asked, first government session, Monday morning (because surely they were expecting a more discouraging booby prize?) Until then…Play to joke! Joke to play!

  Oh, the sacred bones! The city couldn’t stop laughing.

  Game on!

  Jazir really should be heading home by now, to face his father’s wrath for staying out all night, instead…he was catching a bus to Whalley Range, with Daisy pulled along behind him.

  Dopejack’s house looked OK, no broken door, no sign of trouble. Very quiet, no music being played. Nothing like that. Jazir knocked on the door. It took an age, and Daisy was saying let’s go, when the door was opened by a cop, full burger-mode. Holding his hand up, shaking his head, no entry and a sluggish, ‘What want?’

  ‘Oh, I am sorry,’ said Jazir. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘Problem?’

  ‘Is Dopejack all right?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘Dopejack?’

  ‘We don’t know his real name.’

  ‘Real name?’

  ‘BFZ,’ said Jaz.

  ‘BFZ? What that?’

  ‘Brain-free zone. Let’s go, Daze.’

  Along the street they went, round a corner, doubling back. Jazir was shaking his head, looking worried. ‘I told you, didn’t I?’ he said. ‘Didn’t I say something was up.’

  ‘You don’t know, not yet.’

  ‘Let’s find out then, shall we?’

  Daisy nodded. They found a place where they could watch the house without being seen, crouched behind a garden wall. After ten minutes another two cops came out of the house, one in full burger-mode, the other in plain clothes (but chewing on a burger, natch).

  ‘It’s Crawl!’ whispered Daisy. ‘You know, the cop that arrested me.’

  ‘Interesting. Let’s ask him—’

  ‘Jaz!’

  ‘Inspector?’ Jazir had started to walk across the street…

  Crawl turned at the voice, took the burger out of his mouth for a second. ‘Who’s this?’ Then shoved it back.

  The cop on duty shrugged his brain.

  ‘I’m wondering what’s up here?’ said Jazir.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My friend lives here. DJ Dopejack. Is he…’

  ‘Everything’s under control. Just a minor incident…Oh, it’s you, is it? Might have bloody known.’

  Daisy had followed Jazir, and Crawl had spotted her.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Our friend, Inspector…’

  ‘You’ve sure got some unlucky ones, haven’t you, Ms Love? And I’m not an inspector any more, thank you. Been promoted, haven’t I? Public Relations. Very cushy.’

  ‘If there’s anything wrong…’ started Daisy.

  Crawl laughed, just long enough for his two cops to join in. ‘Now don’t you go worrying yourself, Ms Love. A disturbance was reported on these premises last night. Obviously high spirits at not winning the Joker Bone, don’t you think?’

  ‘At what time?’ asked Jazir.

  ‘That’s my business. Rest assured, we are investigating.’

  ‘I want to see Dopejack,’ said Daisy.

  ‘That’s not possible. Not at this moment.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Jazir. ‘He’s not dead is he?’

  Crawl spat out a chunk of meat. ‘Should he be?’

  ‘Why can’t we see him?’

  ‘You want to? Really?’ Crawl nodded at the duty cop, who pushed the door open for them. ‘Go on then. Be quick.’

  Daisy looked at Jazir, who shook his head. ‘Thanks, no thanks. We don’t want to disturb your investigations, Inspector.’

  ‘Most kind. But please…you must now call me Chief Executive. Public Relations. I’m working for AnnoDomino now. Nice, huh?’

  Crawl threw down the remains of his burger, crunched it underfoot, and then started to laugh; a continuous ruckus that Daisy swore she could still hear on the bus all the way back to Rusholme.

  ‘OK, here’s the scheme,’ said Jazir, as they tried to part at Withington and Moss Lane East. ‘Tonight, we meet up again, late on, mind.’

  ‘What if your father…’

  ‘Never mind that. The important thing is—’

  ‘He’ll kill you.’

  ‘Tell that to Dopey.’

  ‘We don’t know he’s been killed.’

  ‘So, we find out. Now just listen to me. Tonight, after the Samosa’s shut. We set out together. OK?’

  A kiss sealed it. But left Daisy alone and frightened and not knowing what to do next. How not to think about the way things were going, downhill with vaz on the slope. Thinking like Jazir already. What was he leading her into? Why couldn’t she just run away, leave it all? The university, Hackle, Celia, her father, Jazir, the numbers? Maybe because she loved at least three of the items, not saying which, because she didn’t know, not really and not yet.

  Her room, where she rested for five minutes at the most, was too full of Jazir’s smell. Spice in the air.

  Restless, she went out again, wandering. The pavements were tightly packed with discarded creamed bones. A second pavement that crunched underfoot, a second road that cracked under tyres, but never broke. Why don’t they clean them up? Can’t the council do something about it? There ought to be a new ruling: AnnoDomino will undertake to keep the streets free of all discarded chances. Whoomphy had to do it, didn’t they? Special bins, students in burgersuits? What was the difference?

  Still it looked nice, in a way. Last night’s rain had washed all the bones clean and how they glistened now, in the gentle sun. What did Jazir mean when he said there was only one domino, only one blurb. He hadn’t explained, mainly because she hadn’t given him room.

  She walked down towards Piatt Fields. There was a place on the corner there, a block of flats called Rusholme Gardens. A lot of students lived there, and Daisy was suddenly jealous. Bet they were still in bed, with lovers and comics and spliffs and music playing and not a care in the world on this particular Saturday in the year of 1999. Why wasn’t she just a student anymore? Why had she taken on this stupid assignment?

  In the park she sat down and watched the kids and the ducks at play. Easy life, a bit of fun, a bit of bread. OK, Monday morning, first thing, she would tell Hackle she wanted out of the bone team. Back to normal she would go and maybe get some beauty back in the numbers, the equations. And no way was she going round to Dopejack’s tonight. Jazir could go it alone from now on.

  Sorted out, wasn’t she?

  Hackle had gathered his sorry troops around him in the cellar. Hackle, Jimmy Love, Joe, Celia, Benny. Joe and Benny weren’t talking to each other, and Hackle and Jimmy weren’t exactly on loving terms, and Celia talked to none of them, preferring her own mind to their stupid games.

  ‘There have been setbacks, I know,’ Hackle was saying, ‘but that doesn’t mean we should give up so easily. Jimmy and I have been working on reopening the maze, and very soon we should be able to—’

  ‘What’s the point?’ asked Joe.

  ‘The point is…’

  ‘No. Max, we’ve got nowhere. Don’t you see? We’ve got our very own natural, what good is that? Benny hasn’
t found any anomalies in her, isn’t that right, Benny?’

  Benny shrugged.

  ‘We have the DNA of the blurb,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘We peel a few layers off security, we find out how much each employee is making. Like, wow. Big deal.’

  ‘I think we’re all agreed that the genetic approach is limited.’ Hackle looked round for support. ‘But there are other means…if we can feed the domino’s DNA into the maze, we could—’

  ‘Without Dopejack, who’s going to travel further?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Jazir.’

  Joe shook his head. ‘He’s off on his own track. We all know that.’

  ‘If you’d just let us finish, Joe…’

  ‘What for? I mean, what’s it all for? Sure, some people have been killed. People get killed every day. It’s just another bunch of crime stats. What’s my stake in this? I was expecting to make myself a pile of lovelies before I die, for fuck’s sake. Even the Joker’s turned out to be just that, a fucking joke…’

  Jimmy grinned at this. ‘That toilet-cleaning crap, you don’t really believe it?’

  ‘I’m saying the whole thing is a joke.’

  Hackle shook his head, said nothing, and turned away from his star pupil.

  ‘I say we call it quits. Max?’

  ‘That’s what you really think?’ asked Hackle, sadness in his voice.

  ‘That’s what I’m saying.’

  ‘OK,’ Hackle turned to the group. ‘Whoever wants out, now’s the time. It’s only going to get worse.’

  ‘Who wants out?’ cried Joe, triumphantly. ‘That’s what he’s saying.’

  Celia put up her hand first.

  ‘Not including you,’ said Hackle.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘This is adults only.’

  ‘You can’t keep me here, against my will.’

  ‘She’s got a point, Max,’ said Joe.

  ‘No she hasn’t. So, are you going, Joe?’

  Joe looked at Benny. Benny looked at Max, and smiled and said, ‘I’m staying.’

  ‘Benny?’ said Joe. ‘You can’t…’

  Benny shrugged, and Joe looked around the group. They were all looking back at him.

  ‘What’s it to be, Joe?’ asked Hackle. ‘Last chances?’