I, Writer Read online

  This puzzled the Explorer, as over the coming weeks it became obvious that both sides were identical in every way.

  His opportunity to stop the madness came a month into his time on the planet. Following a battle, a group of wounded from both sides were resting close to the battlefield. It was with relief that they saw the Explorer shake hands with each in turn and say: ‘friend.’

  It took but a week for Consensus to die, and reason to be born.

  THE FORMULA

  ‘So, the formula is correct.’

  The professor sat back, satisfied. ‘It seems so. And it works perfectly.’

  It was publicized as the greatest achievement of all time. Its benefits would be incredible, even though there were side effects – perhaps dangers. And mysteries still clung to the subject. But with the wealth it could bring …

  Well, surely a chance worth taking. And yes, it would mean the end of the present order – a new way of doing things, the collapse of governments, of institutions, perhaps even of religions. But we must, mustn’t we?

  The reaction was swift. Religious leaders condemned it. Politicians demanded it be banned, even though they didn’t really know what it was. And even on the streets, people were disturbed.

  The riots were many. And when the assassinations began …

  Indeed, the true death toll may never be known – the absolute cost to the economy unimaginable. But it had to be done. We had to know.

  ‘And the formula was what, professor?’

  ‘Quite easy my friend. Take an air of mystery, combined with the promise of wealth and power, spice it with a touch of fear, and leave the rest to man …’

  Not for nothing was the professor the greatest sociologist of all time.

  ‘… and before long it doesn’t matter whether it was a lie or not.’

  Stories 25 – 30

  (25) The Bounce (26) Behind the Door (27) The Long Walk (28) She's Perfect For Him (29) How I Met My ... (30) No Journey's End

  THE BOUNCE

  Some things it is best not to understand.

  I never thought I’d hear myself say those words. After all, I’m a scientist. Ha! That’s a laugh. Perhaps I should say, WAS a scientist. But no more …

  ‘The principle is simple,’ my colleague said as he surveyed the apparatus in the laboratory.

  It was a valid experiment, of sorts.

  It is known that tens of thousands of people disappear each year without trace, and he had a simple hypothesis for it:

  ‘Time is measured, and seeing it is measured, it is broken up into units. Now, is this simply a man made concept, or does time, indeed, have gaps between its units? I think the latter, and if so, can we disappear – bounce, as it were – out of our time and into a parallel universe running alongside this one, but occupying our space?’

  He discovered a means of attempting to find out in the mysterious world of particle physics, where energy seems to exist in ‘packets’, or quanta, hence the term ‘quantum’. And as he set the machine in motion, and stood within its confines, I doubted his sanity in attempting to move beyond the time unit we experience ourselves.

  Well, predictably, he disappeared. He simply dematerialized before my eyes, and I somehow knew I would never see him again.

  Until, that is, that very night, when, awoken from my sleep, he stood before me, translucent.

  It was soon apparent what had happened. Whether that parallel world existed, I don’t know. But I do know he now existed just out of time, forever unable to catch up.

  As for me, I’m no longer a scientist, plagued always by his form, his echoing, far away screams, and the knowledge of my knowing that ghosts DO exist.

  BEHIND THE DOOR

  Jessie was fifteen and impressionable – just getting to the age when childhood was giving way to womanhood. This was a confusing time for her as she tried to negotiate the psychological maze of interaction with others. And typically, she often got it wrong. Indeed, her friend, Roxy, told her this time and time again.

  ‘You’re just a witch,’ she told her, ‘always ruining things for me.’

  Maybe growing up is the same as being young, thought Jessie, because she’d thought herself as a ‘witch’ before.

  To get away from it all she went to visit her Nan for a couple of days.

  And as she sat on the bed, the ‘witch’ thing came back to her with a new intensity. After all, it was in this very room that the wardrobe stood – the very wardrobe around which her Grandfather had told her so many stories before he died.

  ‘There’s a witch in there,’ he used to say scaring her half to death. And even now, at fifteen, she had never dared open the door.

  Of course, the fantasies were many. Was this the entrance to the magical land of Narnia, as C S Lewis would have us believe? Or was the ‘witch’ of a much more sinister nature?

  Well, thought Jessie, it is time to put childish things away and open the door.

  It was with a sense of trepidation that she approached the door. Reaching out, she noticed her hand was shaking, but steadying it she gripped the handle, pulled open the door, and looked into the mirror.

  THE LONG WALK

  To say my feet ached would have been an under-statement. What with blisters and bad circulation, I began to imagine they would never survive the walk.

  Well, I call it a walk. It was more like the long march. Why I agreed to do it, I don’t know. Well, that’s not true either. I did it because Rod goaded me into it – super-fit Rod, out to get one over on me, again! And like a fool, I rose to the challenge.

  Or so I thought. But once into the tenth mile, my error became obvious. Rod was fit. I wasn’t. But on and on I went, Rod constantly going a little ahead, and then coming back to pretend to encourage me onwards, but actually patronise me.

  That incensed me, of course, and I decided I was going to complete this thing – AND, ahead of Rod.

  By the twentieth mile I was in quite a state. My second wind had come and gone a long time ago, and I was like an automaton, simply plodding on as if a machine with nothing else to be done. And it was then that Rod made his mistake. Walking backwards just a little ahead of me to goad me more, he tripped over a fallen branch and twisted his ankle.

  Well, that appeared to be Rod out of the game and I marched on with renewed enthusiasm. Until, that is, Rod passed me, hobbling along and held up by the branch that had made him fall.

  Anger seemed to take me over, then. Indeed, it was a rage. And I was just about to quicken my pace when the realisation hit me, and I stopped and left the game.

  Defeat, I suppose, is no shame if you’re only taking part due to ego – and a goading fool like Rod.

  SHE’S PERFECT FOR HIM

  She was beautiful. Her long blonde hair flowed, encompassing her angel face. Bright blue eyes, full of life, were fixed upon him, and her lips formed for the kiss she knew was about to come.

  Before approaching her, he took in the sight of her tight, trim body, and imagined his arms around her, his body pressed against hers – and it felt so good.

  But she was more than her outer self. She was perfect in every way, her personality shining with the same beauty, her dedication to him complete, and his to her. And he approached her, her arms opened, welcoming him, and their lips met in a moment of unimaginable passion …

  Then he leant back against the chair and sighed. He’d written enough of his story for today. And again he went out in search of her.

  HOW I MET MY ….

  It is hard to know I’ve got it absolutely right, but looking back over so many years, and with these newly discovered letters to guide me, I’m fairly sure that what follows is accurate.

  She had left her previous relationship a while ago – a brooding, sultry relationship. Yet, with so much unresolved, it had taken a long time to be trusting once more. But when HE appeared in her life, it was like a breath of fresh air – at first.

  I can imagine her initial delight at meeting someone new and so un
complicated – so different from the circumstances that led to my temporary incarceration a short time later.

  But I digress. They seem to have been happy. But doubt entered her mind about the same time as the man first appeared in the shadows. She would spy him occasionally, undefined, stalking, and she imagined him to be obsessed. And although she feared this unknown element to her life, she seemed to place it alongside the disquiet rising over her relationship.

  It must have been a dark place to find herself in – almost as dark and disorientating as the place I was later incarcerated. But just as it was inevitable I would end up there, she inevitably found her life being turned upside down. Indeed, my circumstance inevitably followed from the outcome.

  Her new man, you see, was a bore. He had everything a person needed, except that spark of life that offered excitement, passion and more.

  Whereas the man in the shadows was of a different order, she was sure. And no matter how much she feared him, she was drawn to him.

  Slowly, whenever she caught a glimpse of her stalker, she would encourage, not caring what fire she was playing with. And it was obvious that one day he’d come to her, disclose himself, and …

  Well, on the day he did, her shock formed a scream which was soon cut short …

  They kissed passionately as she recognized her previous lover, who could never have left her for good. And nine months later I escaped my incarceration, travelled to the light and met my parents.

  NO JOURNEY’S END

  Manders looked out the view screen and sighed. It had been so long since leaving Earth. Of course, it hadn’t taken its toll on his age – deep-space travel had sorted that problem out centuries ago. At least, he thought it had. But …

  He felt the chill as he turned away. He remembered having to go ‘out there’ – when the engine blew. It had taken so long to fix, and it had been damn cold. Space, he knew was far colder than you can image.

  But that had been the least of his problems.

  The starship ambled on. The journey should, of course, have ended by now. But the repairs had not been complete, and only a quarter of the power was available. Which meant the journey may never end.

  And then there was the drop-off they couldn’t make. ‘We’ll cope,’ the skipper had said as he brought Manders round for his watch. Yes, ‘we’ll cope’. But Manders knew it wasn’t to be.

  And it was now his call.

  Power, you see, was depleting once more; and all those extra people who missed the drop-off, here for eternity, or at least the extra ride? Until the power depleted once more. Until he had to begin shutting off the systems one by one.

  Manders sighed once more as he entered the room, and he knew the chill was worse than he had experienced ‘out there’. Yet it was a chill within his very soul. But how, he wondered, would he select?

  He looked at the faces in their cryogenics chambers one by one. Eugenics suddenly seemed a far more ugly word - but if there was any hope of finishing the journey, a dozen simply had to go. For fridge space he simply couldn’t afford.

  Stories 31 – 36

  (31) The Big Office (32) The Greatest Change (33) Message On a Bottle (34) Getting There (35) The Fool (36) Nuts

  THE BIG OFFICE

  He had been here an eternity. But he would have, wouldn’t he? He could survey his entire creation from where he sat, behind the big desk; and it was a creation bigger than mere mortals could imagine. Oh, they had written about him from time to time – tried to capture its majesty, his power – but could provide only a mere reflection.

  He controlled it all from his Big Office. And the office itself could be anywhere he wanted it to be. Today, it was among the stars, where he felt he really belonged. Distance was irrelevant when you were this powerful; when your creation was so much of yourself. And anyway, his assistants Michael and Gabriel had little difficulty making sure his whims were met.

  Eventually he decided it was time to leave the office for the day. He walked outside. To his left, Peter stood by the gate, his face shrouded behind the big white beard. He was busy checking the dead-looking people as they walked through. And as the man from the Big Office joined the queue, Peter felt only pity.

  Perhaps he had been a nurse at the Big Biz CEO’s rest home for too long. After all, they all ended up here.

  THE GREATEST CHANGE

  They say you’re always alone – you know, for those times of change – those times when nothing can ever be same again.

  I don’t have to be alone – not physically. I could have support around me; help in what has to be done. But it is all irrelevant, for I know it is me, and me alone, who must raise the …

  Raise the what? Courage? Understanding? Raise the what?!

  The thought of it makes me dizzy. The knowledge that from now on I must be the super hero. The knowledge that it is down to me.

  Down to me to conquer my fears. To go forward with such responsibility. With such …

  It’s momentous. I’m frightened. No! I’m terrified!

  If only I could have got the training to do what I’ve got to do. But is there such a thing? Can it be learnt?

  I take deep breaths. Realise that it has been done before, and will be done again.

  Yes, that is the key – the knowledge that whilst I am alone in this, others have been alone, and succeeded.

  As I will succeed.

  I stand. Open the door. And take my new born child in my arms.

  MESSAGE ON A BOTTLE

  It seemed crazy. I know I wasn’t myself at the time, but this?

  I’ve no idea where I was. It all seemed so hazy, but it was a hot, dark place and I felt so disconnected from ordinary life. But then again, I suppose I was, wasn’t I? Not myself. Not part of life at all.

  The bottle was just floating there. It looked so cliché, as if straight out of some satirical story. It floated there, and I thought: I wonder if there’s a message in it.

  Slowly, painfully, I picked it up, and it was immediately obvious there was no message in it. Then I looked at the label and realised the message was ON it, not inside – and it was stark:

  OPEN THIS AND YOU’LL DIE

  Well, what can we say about that? Was it meant for anyone or me in particular? And if me, how did the sender know I’d be here? And anyway, when did I ever listen to advice?

  I held the bottle a while, and eventually I opened it. I was just about to put it to my lips when I suddenly sat bolt upright, screaming, covered in sweat …

  Yea, even more clichés. It was a dream, and I guess the sender knew it would be me – it was my unconscious. And I suppose I tried to obey, but as the shakes began, and I saw the half full bottle of whisky by my side …

  GETTING THERE

  The urge had to come. He’d been just lying around too long. And when it came he just dived. Down the shoot he went, not stopping, now, for anything. The impulses drove him onwards and downwards, and when he exited into the light, he looked at all the happy faces, but knew his birth was only the beginning of getting there.

  He moved further to getting there when he started school. He always felt better than the rest, and soon asserted himself, becoming the leader of the gang. And the impulse didn’t stop when he reached adolescence and realised the value of – well, you know – girls!

  Of course, they didn’t distract him from getting there, and at university he simply had to be the best, getting his first class honours degree. Which certainly helped him to get the best job around. Yet still he didn’t feel he was getting there. But he knew he would.

  Getting there was more than just career, though, as you can imagine. Getting there also included getting the perfect wife. And I suppose this is where it was frustrating trying to get there. At least, that was his excuse for his four marriages and four divorces. Although he did seem to get there with his children – three of them. Although they doubted he had got there, especially as they had trouble remembering what he looked like.

  He began to think he had
come close to getting there when he made his first million, but almost as soon as he’d made it he realised he wanted to make another. Getting there, it seemed, was a bigger thing than he’d ever imagined.

  Which was maybe why, in his fifties, he had such a big midlife crisis. Never mind the Porsche – he had to have a fleet of Ferraris – and young girls by the … well, quite a lot.

  It was as he was in the midst of his midlife crisis he suddenly realised something profound. Namely, getting there just wasn’t worth it. And that’s when he became the philanthropist and took a small cottage in the country looking at life for the first time. And you know what?

  Finally, he got there.

  THE FOOL

  It was hard for him living there. Where is not important. All that is important is that he lived there, and so did others. And it was those ‘others’ who were the problem.

  Well, I say ‘problem’, but not to him, but themselves.

  He’d just get on with his life, in his own peculiar way, doing this and that just as he felt he should. And the ‘others’ would watch him, and think: ‘what a fool.’

  Now why would they think that, you might ask? And the answer was quite simple. They thought him a fool because he did things differently to them. And in doing things ‘differently’ he simply had to be a fool. After all, didn’t THEY know how to do things properly?

  Of course, he never realised they thought this of him. After all, if he did, he really would have been a fool – ‘cos only a fool would live among fools.

  So which is this ‘fool’, you may ask? Well, it’s him, and him, and him; oh! Don’t forget him. Yes, they were all different, and in this, they were all the same.