The politicians scuttled up the steps and ran across the chequer-board floor of their club. The spectre’s call for an audience had come late and thus many senior figures were leaving a serious debate at the same time. This could not help but draw the attention of the press. As they made their way across Whitehall to their club, heavies in leathers rough-handed the journalists, stopping them in their tracks. No one should know where they were going.
Sir Owen Thatcher, Michael Blair-Heath, Admiral Doenitz, Anna Hailsham Hoggsk Widd, William Thatcher-Major, Paddy Thorpe, Sir Chris Evans and many other front and back benchers, Party loyalists all, strode towards the Gentlemen’s Withdrawing Room. The major-domo halted them as they passed the glass case containing an unearthly porcelain sea creature.
“Gentlemen and ladies, this is an exceptional occasion,” he said. “I am forced to show you this, but then again we are under unprecedented pressure. The sons of men are manifesting amongst the Edenites and vice versa.”
A couple of the politicians sniggered at the mention of the word ‘vice’, but their fellows jabbed them in the ribs to fall silent as the major-domo’s glance froze them in return.
“The ambassador will not be shown disrespect.”
From the shadows armed guards stepped out, smothered in black protective cladding, thick visors and their very heavy, menacing guns at the ready. These were secret service men, licensed to kill. They levelled their weapons at the gathered politicians and snapped to attention by the side of the glass case.
The turtle-squid thing with domed blue shell, flippers and tentacles, snapping beak and long antennae seemed to shiver suddenly. The assembled politicians stood petrified. The six eyes of the monster shone with the light of a hideous inner soul and the glassy glaze of the porcelain sweated with real slime. It was coming alive. This effigy was in fact an entry point where the representatives of the Slimey Council in The Desolation of Cain could manifest themselves in the world of humans. None of those present had seen the living original except in the realm of Eden. As the creature came slowly to life, the temperature in the room dropped almost to freezing. One of the men gasped heavily and saw his breath steaming in the air before him.
The ambassador shuffled forward, its tentacles twitching. Behind it lay a trail of fresh, fizzing indigo pills. In an eternal minute the foul thing’s oozing sphincter exuded the precious packages of transition. Six eyes darted around the room, piercing the hearts of all they fell upon.
The major-domo stepped forward. A glassy coldness returned to the creature as it withdrew itself from the human realm, its effigy once more resuming a China-clay existence.
Cautiously, the major-domo held a thick handkerchief over his mouth and opened the glass case. An unspeakable stench immediately filled the room.
“Here gentlemen,” he said, holding up the indigo pills. “Get them while they’re fresh!”
A clattering of heels was followed by the creek of a lavatory door and a hawking and gushing. Not all the Party members had the strength of stomach needed to face the ambassador in the flesh. The rest took their pills between pursed lips.
In a dark chamber annexed to the main hall of The Stock Eggs Change they found The Brotherhood of Bedlam once more in session. All the members of parliament and top business representatives who took the pills manifested in Cain as trolls, ogres and goblins. The spectre’s ten personal ministers, with black hooded gowns, stood in their famous anonymity. The gowns covered their faces and bodies and their hands were concealed in their robes. They stood in a line and in front of a podium. On the podium, blazing with dark flames, stood the spectre, the spectre who had deposed the ogre known as Julius. Although Anthrax the fomorian sorcerer was dead and many human agents who were working for him had perished as a result the spectre and his immediate followers were still thriving. This was owing to the spectre’s own powerful Magick. What did he care that a few humans had met an untimely end?
In the growing silence, his voice boomed out.
“You mortals come to me from your puny debating chamber. Well, listen to my debate. Like Plato and Aristotle, I too have theories pertaining to the structure of society. I believe in the market place. I see it as the inalienable right of every living thing to do anything it wants in order to survive as a single entity. I believe that any unselfish act is a sign of weakness and should be treated with the utmost contempt. I believe that everything is based on competition and that the quality of life depends on the survival of the fittest. I therefore believe that the strong have the right to rule the weak. This is why I rule you. The ultimate aim of every living thing should be the acquisition of power over every other living thing. I do not see physical or cultural differences as an excuse for not attempting to do this. I see it as every living thing’s responsibility to attempt to rule or destroy every other living thing. I believe that this will ultimately leave one living thing left or one living thing in charge with absolute power over every other living thing. This one living thing is to be me.”
He glared at the creatures quivering before him.
“I hate love. It is a weakness. I hate all art. It is an enfeebling weakness. I don’t mind sport but it is merely a practising ground for the real thing. The real thing is warfare! The only successful conclusion to this constant warfare is the complete and utter destruction of Eden and everything on it. This is unavoidable and inevitable! It is my personal duty to embrace these beliefs and act on them with every breath I take.”
The flames flickered and guttered in the gloom as the spectre loomed closer to his terrified minions.
“I enjoy seeing life forms suffer because it usually means that I have been the cause of the suffering. As far as I am concerned this provides me with all the proof I need that I am being a successful competitor in the market place. Ultimate success in the market place means the total destruction or subordination of all other competitors. I believe that all the living things who exist outside of the Desolations are no match for me. I see their adherence to co-operation and understanding as a weakness that will be their undoing. Those that exist inside the desolations are my pawns to use and abuse where necessary. You who have sought my protection are also my creatures. My last main belief is that I will be the one to see the eventual destruction of The Tree Of Life. For me this is the law and the order that everything else should live and die for. If I want something, everything else must be made to get it for me!”
His foul breath blew over the gathered creatures, making even these vile and insufferable deformations of life feel ill and want to gag. None dared abandon the gaze of worship they held for their glorious leader though.
“Now I am going to consolidate my leadership,” said the spectre. “My forces are soon to be coming under threat in their building of the motorway. We must prevent this and expand our building and spread tarmac all over Eden. I am a confirmed genocidal maniac and I will destroy all of you unless you come with me into battle against the forces of life. Nothing must rule except me. Nothing must exist save for that which is under my power.”
He raised his hands and addressed his devotees.
“Chant the chant that will focus our hatred for Eden. Chant the chant so that I may send its energy to our construction site. Chant the chant so that we may receive energy in return and feed off the destruction of Abel. Chant the chant. Chant the chant.”
They then began their wailing hymn of destruction. Roughly based around one single note it went something like this....
“Land
of hope and glory,
Marching off to war,
With the spectre’s banner,
Going on before.”
An ogre who was leading the procession of machinery through Able waved a huge flag with the spectre’s insignia on it. The insignia comprised of an ‘S’ dissected by two vertical lines. The ogre strode ahead of the oppressive parade with the sign blowing in a brown wind generated by saws and cutters as they sliced through tree after tree behind him. The motorway was beginning to take shape now, a gleaming spew of tarmacadam plastering itself over the grass and flowers that once flourished in the forest.
Back in the spectre’s head-quarters his personal ministers rushed amongst ogre and troll politicians and handed each of them a shovel, pointing to fuming cauldrons of tar that they would be expected to load onto the living soil as this battle escalated. The cauldrons were on giant carts that were part of a second convoy of destruction that was making its way out of the meeting through a space/time portal in a side wall. The portal led directly to the rear of the first caravan of hate so that it could be lengthened in an all out attack by the spectre’s followers.
“Go, my minions,” screamed the spectre. “Rush to the front. This shall be the final struggle!”
The transformed politicians and business leaders, shaking with fear, greed and envy, trudged out of the head-quarters and through mud and filth into Able and onwards to what they hoped would be victory.
“Land
of hope and glory,
Marching off to war,
With the spectre’s banner,
Going on before.”