Other Ways of being: The Gargoyle

 

  "Wow!" Zizzi muttered, "even better than it looks from the computer pictures."

He had never been so impressed by any other planet he had visited. Blues, browns and green swirled around each other, tempered by white puffs of mist.

He was pleased as well with his new Ranger X57 telescope. It was so powerful, that he had been able to examine in detail this planet which had always fascinated him. And he was even more pleased with his Scout 750 Traveller which had brought him into the Earth's orbit. He would be able to take a good look now at these strange figures that adorned the grand buildings he had found out were called cathedrals. His powerful Extender computer had made a thorough analysis of the Earth language spoken in these parts and he would be able to use its translator to understand anything he read or heard. The Mentor would surely be pleased with his project. He was going to investigate why the Earthlings had representations of Zogoids - Zizzi's own race - on their churches.

The traveller was now entering the Earth's orbit. Zizzi activated the vessel's visibility shields. He stared out through the scanner screen.

.Zizzi slowed the craft right down. He would have to be careful about switching from visibility shields to the chameleon drives - even the powerful Scout could not handle both at once. In the spilt second that the 750 became visible, he must make sure that no-one saw him.

Zizzi smiled at the computer's choice of chameleon stance: the Scout would look like one of the strange figures he was about to investigate, and would wait on the wall of the big cathedral. He quickly flicked the visibility shield off and the chameleon mode switch on. But something was not right. He looked again  at the computer screen. Oh no! Yes, the Scout looked like a gargoyle alright - the only one on the West Face!

"But perhaps no-one will see," thought Zizzi. "It is dark, after all."

Dark was something Zizzi did not know on Zogo.  When that planet turned away from the sun, artificial daylight flooded the living areas. Not the soft yellow light he saw now coming from the cathedral and the street lights. Zizzi decided he liked the artificial light on earth better. It was more mysterious somehow.

He watched the people going in and out of the cathedral.

"That will do," he thought. He pointed on the screen to the little girl with black curly hair. She wore a long orange scarf-come-hat, a yellow jumper and yellow tartan trousers.

Zizzi found himself at the cathedral entrance, a yellow scarf-come-hat on his head and white tartan trousers and top. "Not bad," he thought. But then he saw the boy in the striped sweatshirt, black chinos and blue deck shoes. Ooops! Then again, he had never been known for his dress sense on Zogo either.

The boy scuffed his feet along the ground as he walked. Zizzi followed him at a distance. The boy looked bored. Zizzi noticed that lots of people were avoiding walking on some of the stones on the floor that had writing on them. He caught sight of the little girl whose costume he had imitated.

"Words!" she said, pointing down at the paving-stones.

"Yes," said the tall man who was holding her hand. "Those are people's graves. You should try not to walk on them."

"Graves?" asked the little girl.

"Yes, where you put people who have died!"

"Oh!" The girl still looked puzzled.

Zizzi shuddered. How unhygenic! Fancy leaving dead bodies around to rot! On Zogo, once you had stopped living, your body was annihilated. Zapped! Broken up into particles which were recycled at once. Nobody wrote messages about you on the floor!

The boy in the black chinos had his hands in his pockets. The corners of his mouth turned down. His forehead creased in the middle and two lines came up from his nose.

"He looks cross," thought Zizzi.

"Look at this Gareth!" Gareth walked slowly over to where his mother was looking at a box on stilts which came almost up to her shoulders.

"St Swithun's monument. You know, if it rains on the 15th of July, it will rain for another forty days. They say it's because they buried him inside and he wanted to be buried outside!"

"That's rubbish, Mum."

"Funny way to forecast the weather," thought Zizzi. "I wonder how they do it for the other 325 days?" Of course, that was why they had to put all those bodies under the floor. They hadn't learnt how to control the weather on Earth yet. So they had to know what it was going to do!

Zizzi wandered what rain felt like. It hadn't rained on Zogo for centuries. He didn't even know what water felt like. Zizzi's ancestors hadn't liked the feel of water, so they had invented a way of cleaning themselves with gentle laser guns.

Zizzi followed Mum and Gareth round the cathedral. They stopped in front of a group of statues who looked as if they were in a barn. Zizzi thought they were made of wood or stone. They looked like Earthlings, but they were shorter, although if they had been as tall, they would have been much thinner. They were a bit ugly too. But not as ugly as gargoyle or a Zogoid. And their clothes were different from those of the people walking around the cathedral. They all wore long robes which didn't look very practical. Three of them were better dressed than the others, and they wore jewels on their head. They were kneeling down looking at a baby in a primitive crib. There were animals too, less intelligent Earthlings, also staring at the baby.

"Gosh! We wouldn't let the unthinking Zogoids near our newly hatched babies," thought Zizzi. "Not clean!" But he was impressed that they used straw for the baby's bedding, just like what they put the Zogoid eggs in.

"Two thousand years on and nothing's changed much!" said Mum. "Peace on Earth and good will to all men, indeed!"

"It's rubbish, Mum," said Gareth. 

"He's not very impressed by anything," thought Zizzi. "Perhaps he'd like it better on Zogo." Zizzi was fascinated by the cathedral. That soft yellow light was everywhere. And those enormous arrangements of bright red flowers with their pointed leaves. On Zogo, all the plants were very pale, and you always had them to match your room exactly.

Not that Zizzi was dissatisfied with Zogo. There was always plenty to see and do, especially now that he had the new telescope and the Scout. And the Extender computer always came up with good ideas.

The Gareth and the Mum made their way towards the place Zizzi read was called the “North Transept.”  They were soon walking over some highly patterned tiles. Zizzi saw a notice which said that the tiles were from the thirteenth century and that visitors should take care of how they walked on them.

"Better hover across," he thought. To his disgust the Gareth and the Mum just walked across normally. Zizzi hoisted himself into the air, and glided across. Something made the Gareth turn round. His mouth dropped open when he saw Zizzi suspended in the air.

"Mum!" he shouted.

"They're really beautiful, aren't they? said Mum. 

"No, but Mum..!"

It dawned on Zizzi then. Humans don't hover. He dropped to the floor at once.

"Come on," said Mum. "We'd better go and get Grandpa's present. The shop will be shut soon."

Zizzi decided to keep his distance. He looked at some of the decorations on the walls.

"I hope it's not raining. You didn't bring your coat," she continued.

Rain! He would have to see that!

Mum and Gareth were now hurrying towards the exit of the cathedral. Every now and then Gareth looked back towards Zizzi. Zizzi would not meet his eyes. He watched them from the big doorway, - the West Door, he read - as they rushed across to the Cathedral Shop opposite. There was water falling from the sky.

"Rain! Great!" thought Zizzi. "I must try this!" He stepped out into the cold.

The rain was blowing towards the West Face of the cathedral. The droplets of water fell on Zizzi's hands and face. They stung. He had to close his eyes.The scarf was no protection. It only took seconds for his top to be wet through and Zizzi did not like that feeling. It was slimy, like when you touched a Zogosnail, and it was like having lots of pins stuck into you. Like grey dull metal. He felt cold and he shivered. No wonder his ancestors didn't like water. He'd had enough of rain. Should he return straight back to the Scout? But he hadn't found out any more about gargoyles yet. He looked up at the cathedral. Just one ugly face looked down at him and he knew what that was.  A gust of wind pushed him towards the open door of the cathedral shop.

Yes. He would go to the shop! Perhaps he could make Mums and Gareths his project instead. And he would like to find more about that baby who had been born two thousand years ago.

Zizzi watched the shoppers. They seemed to go to a counter with the goods they wanted and then hand over some pieces of metal or a flat rectangle. The Mentor had told him about something like this on Zogo as part of a history lesson. Now if you wanted to buy something, you got the shop on the computer screen and paid for it by authorising credits with your voice. This shop was much more interesting, even if it did take much longer. It was great to be able to see the goods and even touch them.

He spotted the Gareth and the Mum by the counter.

"It's naff," said the Gareth. "But I suppose he'll like it." He was holding one of those stringy things that Zizzi had seen around the necks of some of the men in the cathedral. It was richly coloured and had pictures of those people in that barn again.

Zizzi carried on browsing. He was in the section with books. Zizzi's grandfather used to talk about books. Now the only ones you could get were those you charged up from the computer. Older people liked to read them when they were in the sleeping cells. But most Zogoids preferred to read direct form the computer. He had found some more information about the baby. It was a boy called Jesus. And he had been born in a place called Bethlehem, although his parents came from another place called Nazareth. But he couldn't find out much more from the books, because they were written for Earthlings who knew the full story.

Then he saw it. "A History of Gargoyles". The one on the cover looked just like him. And inside there were ones like the Mentor, like his mother and his father, another just like his bother Tobo and even one like his pet, Horendz, with its long double ears and scaly back. He would have to buy this.

He felt in the pocket of his trousers! Yes, there were some of the strange metal Earthling coins there.  He pulled them out. There were four heavy gold-coloured ones, a strange, large seven-sided silver coloured one, two smaller seven-sided silver ones and an assortment of silver and copper coloured coins, both in two different sizes. He looked at the numbers on the book. £4.99. He supposed he had enough. He would have to watch everyone very carefully at the counter.

But then the Gareth saw him.

"Eh, Mum," he said. "It's that geek again. The one who floated ...."

A loud ringing noise suddenly started coming from the back of Zizzi's chameleon suit. 

"Zotto!" he thought. "I forgot to charge the battery! I've got two minutes to get back to the ship!"

Zizzi was still clutching the book as he ran through the door of the cathedral shop.

"Hey, you haven't paid for that," shouted the man behind the counter. Zizzi speed hovered over the square between the shop and the cathedral. Fortunately, it was dark and the Earthlings couldn't see how he was moving so fast. The Gareth and several others were following him, though.

Only the Gareth saw him jump up. As Zizzi landed on the West Face of the cathedral, next to his Scout, the battery on the suit finally gave up altogether. He now sat there in his Zogoid form.

"Can you see him?" called the Mum. The Gareth turned to face her.

"I.. er .." he started.

Zizzi hurried into the Scout and set her off through the Earth's atmosphere. He would have to do two orbits to get her up to power. He flicked on the Ranger's screen and zoomed on to the cathedral. The Gareth and the Mum were talking to a man in a dark navy uniform.

"He just seemed to jump up," said the Gareth. "But when I looked up there was nothing but a couple of those funny statues. One was about six times as big as the other."

The man in uniform sighed and shut his note book. He looked up.

"Are you on something, Sonny?" he said. "There are no gargoyles on the West Face."

The main screen of the Scout's communication system crackled on. It was the Mentor. Zizzi had been dreading this.

"Well that didn't go too well, did it? You know you will loose your Scout licence if you reveal yourself three times without permission from Explorer Corps. You must be more careful Zizzi."

Zizzi hung his head.

"Well, anyway, cheer up. Did you find out any more about the gargoyles?"

"Well, there aren't any on the West Face of Winchester Cathedral."

"Hm. Was that worth the risk?"

"And I have got a book."

"You stole a book, you mean."

"Mmm. Yes."

"Well, we'll have to find a way to compensate."

"Actually, I was thinking."

"Yes?"

"Maybe gargoyles aren't so interesting. I'd like to find out more about the Gareth. And perhaps about that baby."

"Well, perhaps. We'll discuss it when you get back to Zogo. Peace to Zogoids."

"Peace to Zogoids."

Zizzi was now leaving the Earth's orbit. He took one last look at the planet. It looked like a giant marble, all blue and white swirls. It would be good to return to Zogo, where life was easy and pleasant and much more modern than on Earth. But he would be back! Oh yes, he would be back!

         

Other Ways of Being: Water

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 Carl turned on the tap that would allow water into the levies running through the cabbage fields. It shouldn’t be a problem. There’d been plenty of rain earlier in the year and anyway, they were still connected to the main grid. Ever since everything had settled down after the Changes, there had never been any problem with the water supply. Someone was still managing the big reservoirs, so it seemed, and the climate, despite the predictions of the previous century, was behaving well. The cycles of winter and summer, cold and heat, rain and sunshine, and all that they brought, had carried on just as before.  

It was hot, now, though and it had been pretty dry for the last six weeks. All the crops had to be watered, clearly, but the cabbage was now particularly important. Deprive it of water now and they might lose all of it.

Carl pushed back his base-ball cap and wiped the sweat form his forehead. Any second now he would hear the gurgle that told him the water had arrived in the pipe, and the woosh-woosh as the levy filled. He could imagine himself putting his hand into the cool water, cupping it, and taking a welcome drink. So, what if irrigation water wasn’t recommended? He’d been drinking it for years and had never had any ill effect. What usually took seconds seemed to be taking hours, though, today. Carl shut his eyes and waited.

There was suddenly a loud clunk and the pipe leading up to the tap began to hum.

“What the blazes…?” said Carl to no one in particular.

 

Carl sat in the Great Hall fanning his face with his hat. The air con units still worked but they were used sparingly: since the Changes energy as well as water was precious.

“So you tested the whole network?” said the senior Proctor. “And there was no sign of a leak anywhere?” 

“Nope!” said Carl. He had checked. Absolutely thoroughly. Not that he’s needed to. He and Barnaby always kept the pipes in excellent order. “The leak must be before it gets to us,” he said. “Or else it’s a problem with the reservoir.”  

“Very well,” said the Proctor. “I’ll send a team to investigate. I’d like you or Barnaby Jackson to head the team. Not both of you.”   

It would be the first time anyone had left the Compound in over five years. The last time had been when they’d buried those that had died of the mystery illness. They’d gone as far away from the survivors as they could without putting their lives at risk in other ways. The reservoir was at least a week’s journey away, if they kept stopping to listen for leaks. 

Carl nodded and left the Hall. The coolness of the dark corridors outside was welcome. It didn’t make him feel any more comfortable, though. Now he had to go and have a difficult conversation with Barnaby Jackson. Yet, he felt strangely excited.

 

Carl stared at the great expanse of water that stretched in front of him. He hadn’t realised the reservoir would be so big. It looked still and calm but the breeze was enough to make small waves ripple at its edges. It matched the turquoise of the sky. Where the sides weren’t built-up there were sandy beaches. He suddenly had a longing for the days when people took leisure trips to places such as this. Families having picnics by the side of the water. Kids swimming and young men diving off the rocks. Older guys like him fishing or perhaps taking a boat across.

There was no time for that sort of thing these days. They only survived if they worked.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” said Patrick O’Leary. He was pointing to the high water mark. It was only about a foot above where the water was now. “There must be something blocking it up right here,” he said. All of the pipes they’d listened to had been totally empty.  

Carl nodded and got down from his horse. He was saddle-sore but otherwise glad he’d come instead of Barnaby. There’d been no straw pole in the end. Banrnaby had a wife and three daughters. Carl was single. It had been a no-brainer. And it had all been worth it. They’d seen plenty of water on the way. There were lots of other supplies they could use if there was something wrong with the reservoir, though it would mean piping them. He’d been overwhelmed, too, by the richness of the scenery; the lakes and streams, obviously, but the pine forests with the deep blue sky setting off their dark green needles, and the mountains in the distance, terracotta fingers, nails lacquered with snow. He knew he would have to find other excuses for leaving the Compound. Now he had seen all of this, though, he could not be without it.

“So what’s the plan?” said Bradley Spenser, the one who’d been mainly responsible for finding the way here.

“Try to find out who’s been looking after this place,” said Carl. “And see what’s wrong. Maybe we can help.”    

 

Two hours later they had found out very little. There was a cottage where it looked as if someone had lived for a while. It was untidy and abandoned and whoever had lived there had left in a hurry. There were the maggot-infected remains of what looked like a half-eaten meal on the kitchen table. And it whiffed.

“I’m going to barf if we don’t get out of here soon,” said Wilf Atkins.

Yes, Carl knew what he meant. It stank. But it still didn’t help them to work out why the water supply had failed though the water was plentiful.

“Why don’t we go for a swim and look again later?” suggested Bradley. “It’ll give us a bit more energy.”

Well it wouldn’t hurt,

It was quite good in the end, even if it hadn’t been the type of family holiday leisure day out Carl had thought about earlier. It just wasn’t the same with a group of ugly middle-aged men skinny-dipping and telling dirty jokes. Still it was good to feel clean from the water and then sleepy from the sun on your back as you stretched out to dry. 

Until Patrick shouted out just after he’d gone into the water for the third time. “Cripes, mate, will you look at this? Holy shit, I can’t move it.”

The others rushed back into the water. Patrick kept taking a deep breath and diving down. “It’s a body,” he said. “And it seems to be blocking up the main channel out of the reservoir. There’s some sort of door down there, and it’s half shut. Mates, I think we’ve found the problem.”

It took them another hour to get the body out of the water. They were as hot and thirsty after they’d finished that as they were before they’d had their swim. They got him out at last and even managed to open the door so that the water could flow freely again.

“There must be some sort of system to that,” said Bradley. “And I bet he’s the only geyser who knew how it worked.”

They found a set of keys in his pocket. Carl guessed they would be for the cottage and perhaps something to do with some engine room that worked on the gates of the reservoir. 

Carl stared at the body. It was bloated and grey. Half of its face was missing. Eaten by fish, he supposed. Poor guy. “How long do you think he’s been there?” he said.

“About a week before we lost our water supply?” suggested Bradley. “That’s how long it would take the pipes to empty, I’m thinking.”

That made sense, he supposed. He didn’t have time to think about it for long, though. Suddenly they could hear motor-bike engines. 

“Where’ve the bastards get their fuel from?” murmured Wilf, grabbing his clothes and picking up the rifle that never left his side.  It looked good but it would be useless if the visitors posed any real danger: ammunition other than blanks for it had run out more than ten years ago.

“We’d better hide,” said Bradley. 

Carl and Spenser picked up their clothes and followed Wilf into the bushes.

Carl watched the two riders get off their Triumphs. For a few seconds he envied them. Before the Changes he used to own a small Triumph. One of the classier ones like one of those had been next on his shopping list.  

The riders took off their helmets. One of them shook out long straight hair. It looked just like the hair in one of the old shampoo ads. How did they mange to stay so well-groomed?

The strangers walked towards the water’s edge and stood right in front of the bushes where the men were hiding.

“Plenty of water here,” one of them said.  Cripes, it was a girl.

“Shall we set up camp here, then?” the other rider replied. Another female.  

The first girl turned towards where they were hiding. My god, she was gorgeous. Carl wished he could touch her. He’d not come across a woman who’d made him feel like that in a long, long time. He mouth was dry and his heart was pounding. And for the first time in months he was getting an erection that he hadn’t induced himself. She was so close now. It was unbearable. He turned so the others couldn’t see; there had been no time to dress. 

Atkins fired his rifle into the air. The plainer of the two girls shrieked. Then both of them ran towards their bikes. Seconds later they were riding back towards the road. Carl’s erection collapsed.

What did you want to do that for? thought Carl. We could have got to know them, maybe invited them back to the Compound.  They’d surely make good breeding stock? It was getting a bit critical back there. A shadow of the erection returned. He wouldn’t mind being involved in that particular programme. Not of that girl was one of the females.   

All at once, though, he couldn’t move. Cripes, this hadn’t happened since before the Changes. It was a rare form of epilepsy, the doctors had said. They’d given him some medication that kept it under control. Of course that ran out shortly after the troubles started. But he’d never had another attack, and he guessed it was because life was actually even less  stressful once everything had settled down than it had been before it all kicked off. He felt himself topple to the ground.

“God almighty, Carl,” he heard Wilf say. “What’s up?”

Bradley felt his pulse and then put his ear to his chest. “Nothing,” he said. “I think he’s gone.”

Get a mirror, you bastards, Will thought. He was still breathing and he did still have a pulse, though both would be very hard to track without a stethoscope. He could hear and see but he couldn’t move a muscle.

“Poor bugger,” said Wilf.

“Quite a nice way to go, though,” said Bradley.

I’m not dead, you clots, thought Carl. Don’t you dare try to put me six foot under.

“Hey,” laughed Wilf, “you don’t think it was because he got a bit too excited about that one with the blond hair, do you? I’d swear he’s still got a bit of a stiffy.”

“Oh, come on mate,” said Bradley. “You shouldn’t joke about the dead. We’d better do something about these two.”

Fortunately, it was too hot for the men to do more than just dig two very shallow graves, put the two bodies in and cover them with leaves. Carl could still breathe. It was just a matter of waiting.  

 

Six hours had gone by, Carl reckoned, by the time he could move again. It was dark but at least there was a bright moon. The others had taken his clothes and his horse. His first priority was to find something to wear.

When he raided the reservoir keeper’s cottage, he found that the stench that had almost made Wilf barf came not from the leftover meal but from the bodies of the woman and the baby he found upstairs.

“At least you had a woman, you lucky sod,” he whispered to the reservoir-keeper as he laid the woman and child to rest in what had been his own grave, “and she must have been okay  to shag if you managed to impregnate her. Well, you’re lying together again now. Enjoy.”      

He soon got the place tided up and found out how to work the doors and gates on the reservoir. All of the machinery still worked beautifully. He smiled to himself when he thought of the folk back at the Compound amazed at how lucky they were that the reservoir was still holding out. He wondered whether they’d held a memorial service for him.

But he didn’t want to try and get back. There would be too much explaining to do. Besides, it was glorious here. He could enjoy the trees against the sky and the snow-capped mountains all of the time now. The cottage was cosy and there were plenty of fish in the reservoir. If he got a bit lonely, he would go and talk to the graves of the reservoir-keeper and his wife.

And who knows, one day he might hear the sound of a Triumph motorbike again. And it might even deliver a beautiful blond woman.