interested； certain flowers bloomed pletely out of season。
Jovil Jspht pressed aside the leaves of a privet imaginatively pruned into the shape of a guitar。 Behind this； he and the captured king were hiding。 'There seems to be no end of fuss going on；' Jovil observed。
'Can't see from down here； chief。 Give us a hand up； eh？' Jovil picked up the sprout and pointed him towards the confusion。 'Pardon me for saying this； chief。 And shoot me down in flames if you think I'm on a wrong'n； but surely that is a 1965 Harley Davidson。'
Jovil nodded thoughtfully。 'There's something wrong all the way round。 None of this rings true。 What do you reckon？' The sprout hesitated so Jovil gave it an urgent squeeze。 'Well？'
'Well； give me your impression。 What does it look like to you？'
Jovil bit his lip。 'It looks like a film set；' he said slowly。
'Don't it just？ And check out the hedge。' Jovil did so。 'Artificial。'
He made a perplexed face。 'I don't get it。 We are in 1958； aren't we？'
'We're in 1958。 But I don't know if it's the real one or not。 It's more like a memory than the real thing。 Perhaps when you actually go back in time things aren't the way they are supposed to be。 Possibly when the present bees the past it sort of decays。 Gets all jumbled together。 Fragments。 The further back you go the more confused you find it has bee。'
'Sounds feasible；' Jovil agreed。 'So what about him？' He gestured with his free hand towards the hooded Presley； who was starting to put up a struggle。
'He certainly looks like the real Mr McCoy。 But listen； I really do think that now might well be the time for getaway rather than conjecture。'
'Yes； I think you're right。' Jovil thrust the sprout into his top pocket； dragged the prone Presley to his feet and bundled him across his shoulder。 He stooped to pick up the black box and the portable monitor。 Struggling manfully beneath the bined weight； he limped down a gentle incline towards further outcroppings of ersatz hedgery。
'Now why do I just know that there is an empty car with the keys left in the ignition； just beyond that hedge？' Jovil asked。
'Probably for the same reason I do； chief；' came the muffled reply。
'Best go with the flow； eh？'
The executive bar at Earthers Inc。 was yet another triumph from the trowel of Capability Crabshaw。 A splendid neo…gothic gazebo of a place； which swelled in carbunclesque fashion from an upper region of the great spiral tower and chased the sunlight。 It was divided into elegant bowers； each made gay by delicate fountains。 These cast scented water across a myriad tiny glass domes。 Each of these emitted a soft melodic tone。 But the beauty of all this was currently lost upon Fergus Shaman。 Like the legendary 'lawn' joke of old； Fergus was half…cut。 He peered into the bell of his cocktail lily and sighed plaintively。 Fifty floors below him a custodian lay dead before a violently flashing console。
Someone had mitted murder within the headquarters of the biggest TV station in the galaxy； and introduced。。。 what？ Fergus pondered on it。 Introduced some kind of virus； perhaps； into the cell system。 And that someone had to be Jovil Jspht。 There could be no other plausible explanation。 And the only individual upon the entire planet who knew this terrible truth was he； Fergus 'Oh； God's nose； what have I done？' Shaman。 And what had he done？ Jovil was obviously a basket…case； barking mad。
A waitress clad in a single figure…hugging sheath of vat…grown moss approached。 'Would you care for another； Mr Shaman？' Under normal circumstances Fergus would have made instantly with the improper suggestions； being something of a ladies' man。 But tonight he was just not up to it。
'Same again；' he mumbled； without looking up。 'And make it a large one； please。'
The siren turned huffily upon a five…inch root heel and wiggled away in a purposeful manner。 The lost soul sank into further miseries。 Big trouble was ing。 Had already e； for all he knew。 With no way to access the storage cells there was no way of knowing what Jovil might be up to。 Had been up to。 The waitress returned； displaying considerably more cleavage and a good deal of uncovered thigh。 She slid his drink towards him。 Fergus gazed up between her bosoms。 'Do you watch The Earthers？' he asked。
The siren shrugged。 'It's not pulsory； is it？'
'No； I just wondered。'
'I do some times。 But。。。'
'But what？'
The young woman stretched。 As she did so the sheath of moss parted in certain key areas。 It was eroticism unfettered。
'Well？' Fergus asked。
'Well。 It's dead dull； isn't it？ All those scabby people in those ghastly little bunkers。 There's no glamour； no romance。 It just goes on and on and on。。。'
'Hold it right there；' cried Fergus。 'What did you say？'
'I said it just goes on and on and on。'
'Nothing's changed。' Fergus sprang to his feet and did a foolish little dance。 'Nothing's changed。 Did you see it today？'
'Yeah。 I caught the end before I came on shift。 Wanted to watch Nemesis。 The Dalai is the only thing worth watching。'
'Nothing's changed。' Fergus punched at the sky。 'He can't have done anything。 Perhaps he got killed on the way。'
'No； he was on tonight。 There's a new theme song。 It goes： this is the time。。。 this is the place。。。 the time to face。。。'
'You really do have a cracking pair of charlies；' Fergus observed。 'What time do you get off your shift？' 'Ten；' the siren replied。
The car was exactly where Jovil knew it would be。 Opening the boot； or trunk； as it was then known； Jovil deposited his struggling cargo therein。 Slamming down the lid he joined the sprout； who was propped upon the dashboard。
'Where to？'
'Go with the flow； chief。' Jovil did so。 He twisted the key and pressed the car into gear。 'It's a dream；' he said as the 1960…Pontiac Firebird sped along the deserted highway。 'I couldn't know how to drive this car； could I？ It's got to be all a dream。'
'I have been giving the matter some considerable cogitation。 But as yet I'm unable to form any convincing postulations。 There is a turn off to the right along here。 I believe。'
'I think so。' Jovil spun the wheel and the car sped down another deserted road。 Rain began to fall。 In the distance a dark building loomed。 A sign flashed on and off。 It said THE BATES MOTEL。
Rex Mundi steered the in…town runabout towards the flashing sign and entered the car park of the Tomorrow…man Tavern。 He drew to a halt next to a certain Rigel Charger。 The property； he now knew； of a certain Rogan Josh。 Near at hand was also a Buddhavision security craft。 Broad bodied； black and sinister。 Its darkness relieved only by the station logo。 Three red tadpoles chasing each other's tails。 'A…ha；' thought Rex Mundi。 'A free ride home unless I am very much mistaken。' Rex smiled crookedly。 Things were going to work out OK。 As he was a little loath to brave the elements in his present condition he rooted about in the cab's storage partments。 A pristine…looking Barbour and one of Rambo's best caps came to the half light。 Quite the business。 Rex put them on over his radiation suit。 Very dashing。
He was about to scramble down from the cab when he saw them。 Light flared through the open doorway of the tavern。 Figures moved。 Two burly forms dragging a far lesser form between them。 The lesser form was struggling but his cause was a lost one。 A burly form clubbed him from behind and he stumbled forward to splash into the muck。
Rex cranked down the side window to get a better look。 The fallen figure was unmistakably that of Rogan Josh。 The others Buddha security。 One of these stepped forward and performed a quick sadistic act upon the fallen man。 Rex winced。 Then the two thugs dragged Rogan to his feet and as Rex watched； dumb with disbelief； began to rip off his clothing。 Josh pleaded for his life； but his cries were ignored。 The acid rain fell unceasingly。 The now naked man began to scream。 In the lightning flares Rex could see his attackers laughing beneath their weatherdomes。
Rogan stumbled about trying to protect his naked flesh from the scalding rain。 Rex watched in horror。 Blood began to flow。 Rex sank down in his seat and covered his face。 And then there was a crash against the front screen。 Rex looked up fearfully and stared full into the face of Rogan Josh。 Bone showed through the torn skin of his cheeks； one eye appeared melted in its socket。 Rogan's fist drummed against the windscreen。 Then weakened。 The face sank away and was gone。 The rain smashed down。 Rogan Josh was dead。
The side door of the runabout was torn open。 A terrific figure thrust the barrel of an automatic weapon into Rex's face。 A voice spoke on the open channel。 'Rambo Blood…axe；' it said。 'We've been looking for you。'
When you hear music； after it's over； it's gone into the air。 You can never capture it again。
Eric Dolphy
His divine holiness。 The umpteenth reincarnation。 The living God King and golden boy of the moment； Dalai Dan； rolled back his sleeve collar and pressed a silver disc to his left wrist。 The chemical pound penetrated his skin and was absorbed into his bloodstream。 Dan sank back into the settee cushions and took a deep breath。 Colour