Rambo struggled to free himself from the harness about his ankles。 Rising to his feet he straightened his lapels and put his hair in order； before delving into his trouser seat； to remove something singularly distressing。 'I feel we might dispense with further formalities and stick this where it belongs。'
'All in good sweet time。' Elvis opened his jacket； exposing his considerable weaponry。 He tossed a handgun to Rambo。 'Stay loose。'
'I have every intention of doing so； Lord King。'
'Someone untie my hands；' moaned the Deathblade。
'It's your feet that are tied； close friend of mine。'
'Ah yes。 I see my mistake now； thank you Rambo。'
'Don't mention it； Eric。'
'Now just you listen；' said Dan； whose telepathic cry for help now echoed about the building。 'You are making a terrible mistake。'
Elvis shook his head。 It was a very definite shake。 It said a very definite no。
'End transmission；' said the Dalai Lama。 But he didn't say it from the studio floor； where he stood trembling。 He said it close by the ear of Rex Mundi。
'Shock horror！' Rex lurched back in his borrowed chair。 Dan leaned forward； his wide eyes showing only the whites。 'End transmission。'
'Stay away from me；' Rex lashed out at the holyman； his fist struck empty air。 'A hologram。'
'A holygram；' said Christeen。 'A tulpa； an astral body。' The other Dan turned slowly away from Rex； the pupils returned to his eyes； one from above； the other from beneath。 It wasn't a pretty sight。
'He can see you；' croaked Rex。
'Of course he can； in his present state we occupy the same plane。' Christeen walked slowly toward the tulpa； smiling sweetly。 Her fingers were cupped demurely before her。 She drew back her beautiful face and brutally head…butted him。 Back on the studio floor Dalai Dan collapsed in a heap of holy confusion； clutching a bleeding nose。 Rambo and Eric went into a big twentieth…century American cop routine over him。 Legs akimbo； both hands upon the gun。
'Are we rolling？' Elvis squinted into the lights。 Rex gave an invisible thumbs up。 Elvis tucked away his weapon。 'People of the World；' said he； addressing the automated camera with the red light on。 'I wonder if you're lonesome tonight。'
Now it might have been a blinder of a speech。 A heartfelt heart…string puller； a rowdy rabble rouser； or a wise and witty tickler of ribs。 It might have been a Churchillian upper…lip stiffener or even a metaphysical mind…blower。 （Well； it might have been。） Or of course it could well have been a load of old pussy…cat poo。 But whatever the case； that's as far as it got。 Because just then the stage doors opened to reveal the Dalai's special guard； the Orange Agents； as they are unaffectionately known。
They were stunningly clad in this year's look。 Heavily…padded shoulders giving that fuller feel。 Belts worn at a jaunty angle； rakish high…boots beneath hip…hugging bat trousers； pocketed for convenience at thigh height。 The stun guns； grenade launchers； flame throwers and rapid…fire machine pistols were all standard issue； but the straps and fittings had been whimsically toned in bold primaries； which although adding that essential splash of colour； in no way detracted from the bold； macho image。
'Nobody move。'
Rambo and Eric； now both tooled up； turned their inadequate firepower upon the intruders。 'Drop those weapons；' called Eric； whose plete lack of prehension； regarding the sudden shift in the balance of power； had a certain naive charm。 'Give yourselves up。'
Elvis sighed deeply。 Up in the control room； Rex Mundi said； 'Phase Two。' He pulled from his radiation suit a pre…recorded transmission disc Elvis had given him for the occasion。 It was entitled ELVIS PRESLEY'S GOLDEN GREATS。 Something about going out on a song； the King had said。 Rex slotted it into the desk housing and sat back awaiting further events。
On the studio floor a little tableau was now arranged。 At its centre knelt Dan； somewhat green about the gills and red about the hooter。 About him were ranged Eric； Rambo and Elvis； their guns were angled down towards the kneeler； aimed at points of their respective choosings。
'Back off fellas；' called Elvis。 The Orange Agents looked at one another； they looked at Elvis； they looked at the Dalai。 'Now；' encouraged Mr Presley； before all the looking got out of hand。 'And clear the decks； we're leaving。'
Dan looked up bitterly； 'I'm wounded；' he plained。 The look on Elvis's face told him all he needed to know。 'Quite so。 Kindly move back； gentlemen。'
'Cue it in； Rex；' Elvis called up to the control box。
Rex tipped the switch。 The passionate strains of the immortal classic filled the studio air。 'It's now or never；' it went。
Elvis said； 'Let's go。'
Rex turned towards Christeen； she had gone； and once more all memories of her had gone too。 The disc was running and now it was his turn。
Four men dashed along the studio corridor。 Three held guns； one held his nose。 'Into the lift。'
'They will cut the power；' said Eric。
'Very good； Eric。'
'Thank you； Rambo。'
'They won't；' Elvis bundled Dan into the lift。 'In you。' Dan had nothing to say。
'Up； Lord King？' Rambo enquired。
'Up to the landing platforms。'
Eric was bobbing his half a head about。 'This really is exciting；' said he。
'Never a dull moment； old inseparable bosom friend of mine。'
The lift ground to a shuddering halt and the lights went out。 'What's happened？' Eric asked。
'They have cut the power；' Rambo told him。
'The bounders； who ever would have thought it？' In the darkness； Eric went to scratch his head and missed。
'No sweat；' said Elvis。 The lights went on and the lift continued up the shaft。
'There。' Rambo was all smiles。 'Is this man the Second e； or what？'
'Forward planning is all。 I had Rex slot in an automatic over…ride earlier in the day。'
'I shall prostrate myself before you when there is little more room； master。 Rex； did you say？ That wouldn't be Rex Mundi by any chance； would it？'
Up on the landing platform Rex revved up his air car。 It appeared to him extremely doubtful that the battered craft could actually carry five people。 It could possibly take three at a push； if one was prepared to travel in the trunk。 But five？ No way。
The lift doors to the motor pool rattled open and three revolutionaries and a hostage bundled out。 The night rain was now falling hard。 Rex couldn't see a lot through the rear wind…screen。 He heard the trunk open and close； then the canopy swung up and Elvis clambered into the cab。 He squeezed himself in beside Rex。 'Take her up。' He waggled his weapon towards the sky。 Rex turned his mouth into a bitter line。
'You are leaving those two； then？'
'Fortunes of war； Rex。 And the guy with all the head ain't no fan of yours。' Security lasers cross…meshed the landing platform； the rattle of machine pistols put paid to any further discussion。 Rex took the air car hurriedly aloft and made off into the storm…tossed darkness。
25
。。。 you dug for stuff back then。 That's all you did。 There were these schemes； job opportunities and youth training and the like； for some of us； those who weren't just stuck in the bunkers with no hope； anyway。 We were picked out to dig。 I dug。 I never knew what we were supposed to be digging for。 Food； weapons； anything serviceable。 We were never told。 We just dug。 Three hours a day was about all you could take。 And we did it because that was what you did。 That was 2001 and Arthur C。 Clarke had got it all wrong。 Nuclear night； no seasons and some smart…arse had e up with decimal time。 Ten minutes to the hour； ten hours to the day； ten days to the week； and so on。 Stupidest idea you ever heard of。 So we dug and sorted and handed it in。 I reckon now； looking back； that they had us searching for one specific thing。 And I reckon too that they must have found it。 Because one day the scheme just closed down and we were all sent back to our bunkers。 Just like that。 Stupid scheme； stupid time； stupid world。 What a life； eh ？
The Suburban Book of the Dead
You're probably wondering why I'm here； well so am I； so am I。 Frank Zappa
'Am I here？' Fergus Shaman addressed the glorious confusion of tendrils； membranes； pulsating pseudopodia and bulbous dendro…posites； with digital read…em…outs； which posed the interior of the Phnaargian spaceship。 'It's all somewhat sudden。'
'You are now on Earth；' came a voice of oozy user…friendliness； 'first star on the right and keep on until morning。'
'I must have been asleep。'
'Indeed you must。' It may be of interest to note that the puter voice in the Phnaargian spaceship was identical to that of Rex's air car。 Or there again； it may not。
'Will I require a spacesuit or something？'
'No sir； you just step right out there。'
'Could I have a visual then； please？'
A circular screen before him displayed the immediate panorama。 Remnants of a building or two； their contours dulled by decades of acid rain； ruin and rubble。 A monochrome gloom beneath a dun…coloured sky of sliding cloud。 Fergus shivered。 'Where exactly am I？'
'Ten leagues north of the Nemesis Pyramid； as requested。'
'Oh； really； then thank you。