Part 2, Chapter 12, of RFV.

TWELVE

 

    After a couple of minutes silence to make a convenient break in this section, Mel pointed along the road. “Look,” he said, told you it was a waste of time tryin to escape.”

    Two Angels were flying along the road towards them, about twenty feet above the ground.

    “That way!” Mel shouted, indicating where the man had gone into the fields.

    The Angels waved and flew after him.

    Roger watched them flying off then remembered something he wanted to ask. “Derwent’s Universe,” he said, “where is it?”

    “It’s first left through a Black Hole,” Mel answered. “Reason I’m tellin you is because you won’t be able to find it anyway. Some of you tits can’t even cross the road without gettin run over so what chance have you got of findin yer way through a Black Hole?”

    Off in the distance they heard a scream and saw the two Angels swoop down into a field. Shortly afterwards they flew up again. When they came closer Roger could see the man who’d tried to escape dangling upside down, each Angel holding an ankle.

    “Allo Debrett!” Mel called, waving. “Never learn, do they?”

    Debrett shook his head. “Bled all over my f*****g robe as well!”

    “Typical!” Mel said to Roger as the Angels flew off. “Can’t take a bit of punishment you lot. Alright when you’re dishin it out but when it comes to evenin up the score,” he shook his head.

    Roger sat in silence for a few moments, thinking about something then turned to Mel. “Wait a minute, if people get punished here in Purgatory and they get punished on Earth by…by…”

    “Karma,” Mel supplied.

    “Yes, by Karma, that means they’re getting punished twice. That’s not fair. Why should they get punished twice?”

    “They don’t get punished twice,” Mel replied, a crafty smile on his face. “It gets halved. Half on Earth, half in Purgatory up here.”

    “Well it all seems a bit complicated.”

    “It is, Roger, it is.”

    “But why go to all the trouble of halving it? Why couldn’t we get it over with on Earth?”

    “Oh it’s that f****n Angel Services Commission!” Mel spat, disgust in his voice.

    “Whatever’s that?” a puzzled Roger asked.

    “A bunch of bleedin bureaucrats, that’s what it is!” Mel retorted. “They find jobs for all the young Angels. Somebody came up with this scheme so they get work experience for a year. Angel Opportunities Programme it’s called. Still, I suppose it keeps them from hangin round the clouds all day formin gangs.”

    “You sound as if you don’t think much of them,” remarked Roger.

   Mel sneered. “Young Angels these days!? Rubbish most of ‘em! The way they dress! The way they act! An the music they listen to! Some of ‘em are flyin round all day with them personal stereo things on. What’s wrong with bloody harps!? It used to be harps all the time when I was an Angel.”

    “Oh so you haven’t always been an Archangel?”

    “Na. Used to just be an Angel. Hoverin round Big G at important functions or when he was posin for biblical artists. That sort of stuff.”

    “So how did you get to be an Archangel then?”

    Mel grinned. “Grovellin, mate! Likes a lot of grovellin does Big G. Tell you this, Roger,” Mel whispered conspiratorially, “if you want to get anywhere in this life--”

    “Or the last!” the bold Roger cut in.

    Mel grinned. “This life, or the last, or the next, then remember that Big G appreciates a good bit of grovellin!”

    “Grovelling,” said Roger. “So if I grovel a lot on Earth--”

    “And don’t enjoy yourself too much!”

    “…then I get to be an Angel in the next life?”

    “So long as you haven’t any Karma to get squared away.”

    And is there some sort of ceremony when this happens?”

    “Sort of,” said Mel. “Big G makes a rare personal appearance. Lets the recent stiff run up to him an grovel some more. But then they usually say somethin like, ‘What is the great secret, Master? What is the purpose behind it all?’ Then Big G tells them about the card game an that there is no purpose behind it all an that pisses them off but then He makes them an Angel an gives them eternal life an that makes them happy again.”

    Mel knocked the dead tobacco out of his pipe and put it away.

    “So what do you do as an Archangel?” Roger asked, desperately trying to postpone his visit to Purgatory.

    “Ah yes, Miracles an Religious Sightins, that’s me!” said Mel. “That’s where I carry out the odd miracle on one of Gig G’s planets �" maybe cure somebody that’s dyin of some horrible disease. Then the Sightins bit is when I maybe make some blood come out of one of Big G’s statues. Keep up the interest down there.” Mel stood up and stretched. “Anyways, Roger, we can’t sit here talkin all day. It’s time for you to go.”

    Roger glanced down the road towards Purgatory and swallowed. “Can’t we talk a little longer?”

    “Sorry, mate. I’m scheduled for a Religious Sightin on Mars in an hour. You’ve got to go, mate.”

    “Suppose I run away?”

    “No good,” Mel reminded him. “You saw what happened to the last would-be escaper. Come on.” He grabbed Roger by the arm.

    “Stop it! Let go of me!” Roger said, pushing his arm away.

    “Now come on, Roger,” Mel said, tugging at him. “You can’t put it off any longer.”

    “I won’t go!” Roger squeaked. “I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!”

    Mel grabbed his other arm and they started struggling.

    “Come on, Roger!”

    “No! No! No!”

    “You’re only makin things worse for yourself. You’ll have to go.”

    “I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!”

    “Come on, Roga! Roga! Wake up, bro!” said Hub Cap.

    “I won’t go! I won’t…,” Roger opened his eyes, “…go!...I say, I’m back on my Ship!”

    The Ship’s Computer, Boy Paddy, applauded. “Well spotted!” he said.

    Roger sat up on the bridge couch and looked round. “Hub Cap!” he said in surprise. “Is it you?”

    “Yeah, it’s me, bro!” Hub Cap replied, laughing.

    “And Clarence!” said a grinning Roger, standing up and slapping palms with him.

    “My my, check our Mr Street-Cool!” remarked Boy Paddy.

    “Welcome back, dude!” said Clarence.

    “Not forgettin Teacha hea,” said Hub Cap, putting an arm round her.

    She smiled and waved to Roger.

    Roger grinned back. “My God! That was certainly one very strange dream I had! I dreamt I had died and I met an Archangel and was going to Purgatory!”

    Clarence laughed. “That was a ganja dream, my man!” he told him.

    “Well it was pretty powerful.”

    “So was the weed you was smokin befoa the execution.”

    Roger frowned. “Oh yes, the execution. Remind me,” he said to Hub Cap, “How did you swing that?”

    “You has Teacha hea to thank for that. Tell him, babe,” he encouraged.

    Teacha smiled. “My fatha is the Executiona hea,” she told Roger. “I’s talkin wit him an we thinkin no need t’ be executin you jus cos you wite. So we puttin a blank bullet in the gun.”

    Roger looked down at his crimson-stained Fleet Pilot’s outfit.

    “Its red dye!” announced Boy Paddy.

    “Red dye?” mouthed Roger. “How do you know that?”

    Boy Paddy sighed. “I think they are called sensors,” he explained patiently.

    The other laughed. Roger flushed.

    “Hey Rog, I likes that Computa of yours,” said Hub Cap.

    “Ah, a man of taste!” responded Boy Paddy.

    Hub Cap bowed to him.

    “Me-thinks you should all take a bow,” said Boy Paddy. “For saving James Bond here.”

    They all hee-hawed. Even James Bond laughed.

    “So tell me, Hub Cap, how did you get me from the Execution Post back to my Ship?”

    “Hmm,” said Hub Cap, frowning. “I thinks…I thinks…yeah, me an Clarence carried you!”

    Even Boy Paddy laughed at that one.

    “I mean how did you get round Big Lucas?”

    “Easy. I told Big Lucas befoa the execution that me an Clarence hea would bury you an he agreed. He had otha things on his mind besides �" one of the sistas from the Choir!”

    Roger grinned.

    “Then when the execution ova, we jus go up, untie you an takes you away for burial,” supplied Clarence.

    “Anyways, folks losin interest then an wants to get back to partyin,” explained Hub Cap. “Plus they was a bonus. Don’t think you’ll rememba but Big Lucas shootin one unfortunate dude in the crowd befoa the execution.”

    “So we come back an take his body an bury it instead of you,” Clarence said.

    “Fortunate for me, unfortunate for him,” said Roger.

    “Yeah, it was Marcus Quibble,” Hub Cap told him.

    “Marcus Quibble!?”

    Hub Cap laughed. “Only jokin, Rog! It was some useless trash piece. Always wasted an causin trouble. Nobody gonna miss him.”

    Roger nodded

    “Anyways, it’s the middle of the night an everybody’s still passed out afta the party,” Hub Cap went on, “so it safe for you to go now, bro.”

    “What about my Ship?” asked Roger. “Won’t Big Lucas notice that it’s gone?”

    “Hell no!” Clarence told him. “There’s a s**t load of Ships all parked up hea. He won’t notice one’s missin.”

    “Well in that case…I suppose it’s time for goodbyes.”

    Boy Paddy started sobbing. “Oh no! Not goodbyes! I hate goodbyes!”

    Everyone laughed.

    “Well goodbye, Teacha,” Roger said, hugging her. “Thanks awfully for everything.”

    “Yous welcome,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

    “And, uh, goodbye, Clarence,” said Roger, hugging him. “Thanks for the ganja.”

    Clarence grinned and tucked a fat envelope into one of Roger’s pockets. “A little somethin for the journey, bro!”

    “Drug alert! Drug alert!” announced Boy Paddy. “Illegal drugs aboard a Fleet Ship!!”

    Hub Cap laughed. “Shua dig that Computa,” he said. “Well this is goodbye then, bro. Bin cool knowin y’all.”

    Roger and Hub Cap hugged. Boy Paddy supplied some sad violin music.

    “Thanks for showing me round,” began Roger.

    The violin music became more soulful.

    “And for Scabby Sue.”

    Boy Paddy started sobbing gently along with the violin music.

    “And for saving my life.”

    “Oh don’t go!” wailed Boy Paddy. “Don’t go!”

    And on that note, they parted, laughing.