The Dance of the Voodoo Handbag (23 page)

But the
cargo didn’t come.

The
white men, seeing what the natives were up to, tried to reason with them. But
the natives weren’t having any. They
knew
what the white men were up to,
and they weren’t going to be tricked out of their share of cargo.

I
remember (perfectly) seeing a TV documentary about it in the early Sixties.
Armand Denis said to one of the elders of the cult, ‘But you have been waiting
nearly twenty-five years, don’t you understand? Your god John Frum is not
coming back.’

The old
native looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘You’ve been waiting nearly two
thousand years for your god to return,’ he said. ‘So what makes you think that
mine won’t get here first?’

‘He
will,’ I said and I rose from the sand. The book had described John as wearing
a white suit and carrying an umbrella. I thought about this. And then,
straightening my white lapels and swinging my umbrella, I marched off along the
beach towards the village.

Blazer Dyke stared off
towards the gasometer. The weather was far from tropical in Brentford and the
rain spat curses at his office window. Blazer turned and re-seated himself at
his cedar desk, glared across it and said, ‘I’m not impressed.’

‘Excuse
me, please,’ said Billy Barnes.

‘I’m
not impressed at all. In fact I am furious.’

‘I don’t
understand,’ said Billy.

‘You
have exceeded your authority. You have downloaded subjects into the Necronet
without permission.’

‘Only
one or two,’ said Billy.

‘Only
one or two? You fail to see the gravity of this.’

‘I do,’
said Billy.

‘Subject
one, Roger Vulpes.’

‘Con
man,’ said Billy. ‘He tried to rip me off.’

‘Your
chauffeur’s fiancé.’

‘He
might have been.’

‘And
you disposed of his body?’

‘Splosh!’
said Billy.

‘And
subject two?’

‘He
witnessed the disposal of the crypto-encoder. I was being careful.’

‘But
not careful enough. And what did you do with his body? Splosh! too?’

‘I have
it nice and safe,’ said Billy, ‘in a suitcase under my bed. I have a use for
it.’

‘You
have no idea what you’ve done, do you?’

‘No,’
said Billy. ‘What have I done?’

‘Possibly
jeopardized the success of the entire project.’

‘I don’t
see how—’

Well, I’ll
tell you. Subject two has escaped.’

‘From
the Necronet? That’s impossible.’

‘Not
from the Necronet. No-one can escape from the Necronet. Once you’re in, you
stay in. Unless someone here chooses to upload you back into your body. He has
escaped from our jurisdiction. His whereabouts are presently unknown.’

‘Delete
his file,’ said Billy. ‘Close him down, pull the plug on him.’

‘Can’t
be done if we can’t locate his whereabouts.’

‘Why?’
asked Billy.

‘Because
the Necronet is not fully on-line. It is not globally linked. The subjects
chosen to be downloaded into it are chosen with great care for the information
they can give us.’

‘The
grannies aren’t.’

‘The
grannies are harmless. They mostly think they’ve died and gone to heaven.’

‘So why
isn’t this chap harmless? I went to school with the twat, they don’t come much
more harmless.’

Blazer
Dyke sighed. We have certain programmes written into the system. Carrot and
stick programmes. The subject behaves well, then he enjoys his heaven on earth,
his world of fantasy sex and high living. If he behaves badly, then he is sent
for rehabilitation in the virtual hospital. It’s automatic, no-one has to press
any buttons at this end.’

‘I
still don’t see what the problem is.’

‘He
escaped. He didn’t take his virtual medication.

‘Then
you should thank me,’ said Billy.

‘Thank
you?’

‘For
exposing a flaw in the system.’

‘This
flaw in the system could cost us everything.’

‘I
still don’t see how. You haven’t explained to me how.’

‘Ever
heard of the term “computer virus”? This chap is buzzing around in there at the
speed of thought. He can be anywhere and everywhere if he puts his mind to it.
We could access valuable information and he could supply us with garbage and
we wouldn’t know the difference.’

‘You’re
over-reacting,’ said Billy. ‘It won’t happen.’

‘Oh,
won’t it though?’

‘No, it
won’t. If I know anything about him, he’s probably set himself up as a god to
some cult on a tropical island.’

‘You
really think so, do you?’

‘That’s
what I’d do, if I were him.’

‘Absurd,’
said Blazer Dyke.

‘It’s
anything but. Your standard adolescent fantasy: white god on a tropical island
with dusky maidens pandering to your every need. An obvious choice.’

‘Do you
realize what it would take to scan through every possible tropical island? And
every date?’

‘Not
necessary,’ said Billy.

‘And
why not?’

‘Because
he will go on doing the most obvious thing. Where was he thinking about when
his bad attitude got him automatically zapped straight into the virtual
hospital?’

‘A pub,’
said Blazer Dyke. ‘His local, the Jolly Gardeners. The information package to
ease him into his new situation was the landlord. It’s all automatic, it works
upon the subject’s trust.’

Well,
there you have it,’ said Billy. ‘And he’ll go back there, you wait and see. By
which time you will have tightened up your virtual hospital programme, turning
it perhaps into a virtual gas chamber.’

‘And
what makes you think he’ll go back to the Jolly Gardeners?’

Billy
sighed. ‘Because it’s so obvious. What do all those criminals who escape to
foreign parts say? “I really miss being home drinking a good old pint of
English beer.” He’ll go back when he gets bored with paradise. Trust me, he
will.’

Blazer
Dyke nodded slowly. ‘You’re a very clever boy, Billy,’ he said. ‘But don’t be
too clever. I shall watch your progress carefully. Do not let me down again.

Billy
smiled. ‘I won’t,’ he said.

I was pretty hot by the
time I reached the village, and was just thinking how much I’d enjoy a pint of
good old English beer, when I saw something that struck the thought from my
mind. In the middle of the village square was a large throne-like chair,
constructed from used car parts and bamboo, and sitting on this, surrounded by
bowing natives, was a chap in a white suit. He had an umbrella resting upon his
lap.

I
marched speedily in his direction. ‘Oi!’ I shouted. ‘Oi! You! What do you think
you’re up to?’

The
figure on the throne made a startled face. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘I’m
John Frum, of course.’

‘You
certainly aren’t.’

‘I
certainly am!’

‘You’re
not,’
he said.
‘I’m
John Frum.’

I
glared at him eye to eye. Well, almost eye to eye, he was up a bit from me. ‘You’re
bloody not,’ I said. ‘But I know who you are, you’re—’

‘Hold
it right there.’ The chap put up his hands and climbed down from his throne.
Waving his rising subjects aside he pushed me before him.

‘Stop
pushing,’ I said.

‘Just a
quiet word or two.’

‘I’m
not interested in any quiet words. You’re an impostor.’

‘So are
you.’

‘But I
got here first.’

‘Look,’
I said. ‘I know who you are. You’re Arthur Thickett.’

‘Sssh,’
said Arthur Thickett. ‘You’ll spoil everything.’

‘Spoil
everything? You’re deceiving these poor natives. It’s outrageous.’

‘It’s
perfectly harmless. And how do you know who I am?’

‘I read
your book. Your photo’s on the dust jacket.’

Well,
at least somebody remembers me.’

‘It was
a great book. But what are you doing here?’

‘I’d
have thought that was patently obvious. But what are
you
doing here? You
shouldn’t be here. This isn’t your dream.’

‘My
dream?’

‘It’s
my dream,’ said Arthur. ‘I’m dreaming this and you shouldn’t be here. So piss
off, will you?’

‘I
certainly will not. But hang about, your dream? Do you mean that you’re not in
the Necronet?’

What’s
a Necronet?’

‘Never
mind. But are you actually telling me that you’re dreaming this?’

‘It’s
called lucid dreaming. I’m in an altered state.’

‘Go on.’

Arthur
sighed. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘after the book failed I fell upon hard times. Took to
drink, it’s a common enough thing with writers; they might have some talent and
they’ve all got big egos, but most of them are weak underneath. They can’t
function in the everyday world, they can’t get relationships together. They’re
fantasists, they inhabit their own fantasy worlds.’

‘And
are you saying that this is one of those?’

‘In a
way. It’s lucid dreaming. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. Lets me
escape from the real world. You take this special drug that comes from the
Amazon and you go into an altered state. You can take control of whatever you
dream. Being on this island was the happiest time of my life. So I dream that I’m
here and I dream that I’m John Frum.’

‘Incredible.
So you’re dreaming now? Dreaming this?’

‘Exactly.
And that’s why you shouldn’t be here.’

‘But I
am here.’

‘Yes,
you are. So I’d better have my natives chop off your head.’

‘I
wouldn’t try it, if I were you.’

‘Oh no?’

‘Oh no!’
I thought about what it would be like to be fifty feet tall and looking down on
Arthur Thickett. And then I thought myself normal again, and helped him onto
his feet.

‘You
fainted,’ I said.

‘I can’t
do that,’ said Arthur.

What,
faint? You just did.’

‘No,
make myself grow like that. What drug are you on?’

‘I’m
not on any drug. And I’m sorry I frightened you. But listen. I want you to do
something for me.

If you
do it for me I will get out of your dream and never bother you again. How does
that sound?’

‘It
sounds wonderful,’ said Arthur. ‘All my natives have run away.’

‘They’ll
be back. Now this is what I want you to do. When you wake up I want you to go
to the police and tell them…’ And I explained to Arthur about Billy Barnes
and the murder I’d witnessed. And about Necrosoft and the Necronet. And when I’d
finished, I said to Arthur, ‘So, will you do that for me?’

Arthur
took off his Panama hat and scratched his head. ‘I do foresee one or two
problems,’ he said.

‘Like
what?’

Well, I’m
dreaming, aren’t I? And if I go to the police and make these accusations, and
they ask me for proof, well…’

‘Hm,’ I
said. ‘I see what you mean. You could lie of course, you could say that you
overheard a bloke in a pub talking about it. And think of this, when Billy
Barnes is arrested and brought to justice, you’ll be a hero. You can write a
book about it.’

‘Oh
yes,’ said Arthur. ‘I do like the sound of that.’

‘And
don’t forget, you must tell them all about Necrosoft and the Necronet. They’re
going to have to get someone who knows all about computers to release me from
here.’

‘Computers,’
said Arthur. ‘It all sounds so terribly futuristic.’

‘Cutting
edge of Nineties’ technology.’

‘Did
you say
Nineties’
technology?’

‘Of
course, what did you think?’

‘So you’re
saying that this crime was committed in the 1990s.’

‘Of
course.’

‘And so
you’re from the 1990s?’

‘Arthur,’
I said, ‘what are you trying to say?’

‘Only
this,’ said Arthur. ‘I’m not dreaming this in the 1990s. I’m dreaming this in
nineteen sixty-five.’

Agamemnon’s Beard

So much for the cat that won’t stand up,

Or the dog that won’t lie down.

Derek dug and dug and dug,

In the backstreets of the town.

He upped the cobbles in his yard,

And sunk some sample bores.

Then channel-grooved towards the north,