'Ten leagues north of the Nemesis Pyramid； as requested。'
'Oh； really； then thank you。'
'Thank you； Mr Shaman； and have another day。'
'Get inside。。。 close the door Rex。' Rex swung shut the bunker door。 They had flown about blindly for half the night and now they were here。 Aunty Norma's。 Rex closed his eyes to it。 'Why here？'
Elvis was lashing the Dalai into Uncle Tony's chair。 'Where else could it have been？ Stick the TV on Rex； let's see what's to do。'
Rex recalled what he had done to the terminal。 'Can't；' said he。
'Can。' Elvis indicated the reconditioned terminal which now replaced it's defunct precursor。 'All planned for； I told you。' Dalai Dan said nothing。 Rex gave the place the once…over。 Aunty Norma was no longer to be seen。 Uncle Tony had been swept away。 Elvis plucked up the remote control and flung it to Rex。 'Viva the revolution；' he said； a little too cheerfully for Rex's liking。 Rex sank unfortably into his aunt's chair and thumbed the controls。
The TV cranked into action。 It jiggled and popped and then the face of Elvis Presley appeared。 'And that；' said the voice of Gloria Mundi； 'is the face of the Devianti terrorist； who just eight hours ago kidnapped our beloved Dalai Lama。'
'Good old Gloria；' Dan piped up。 'Loyal to the end。'
'His demands are as follows；' Gloria continued。 'Close down all TV channels； cease all food and medico production to the population and impose a twenty…four hour curfew。'
'What？' Elvis's eyes popped unpleasantly。 'I never 。。。'
'The Devianti terrorists have been tracked on radar to their hideout。 They are known to possess a pre…NHE nuclear warhead； which they intend to detonate if their demands aren't met in just one hour。'
'They what？' Elvis's bottom lip became a passable bidet。 'I what？'
An on…screen hand passed Gloria a sheet of paper。 She mimed the reading of it。 'Ah；' she said； all smiles。 'We have just received a telepathic message from the Dalai。 It reads： 〃Do not fear for my safety。 Refuse all demands。 I look forward to seeing you all again in my next incarnation。 PS。 I would like Gloria Mundi； my loyal and trusted second in mand； to take over all my responsibilities until I e amongst you once more。〃 Message ends。'
Dan's mouth open and closed； but it didn't say anything。 Elvis performed likewise oral perambulations。 Rex wondered if they were miming some song。
'The detonation can be seen live only upon this channel； so don't touch that dial。 But for now we continue with a programme of silent meditation。 Om…mani…padme…hum。'
Rex touched the control。 The screen fell into darkness； Rex fell into laughter。 'They're going to blow us all up；' he gasped where he could。 'They'll launch a missile。' He turned a momentary glare towards Dan。 'Just like last time。' Then he doubled up again into further convulsions。
'No；' croaked Dan； 'this can't be happening； this is all wrong。'
Elvis looked at him sternly。 'Shut your rap；' said he。
'But they're going to kill us； kill me。。。'
'Well； that's not a problem for you； is it？' Tears rolled down Rex's unwashed cheeks。 'Straight on to your next incarnation； eh？'
'It's not always as simple as that。'
'Simple as that？' Rex clutched at his knees； hysteria was taking over from mirth。
'Shut up buddy and that means you。'
Rex chewed upon his lip and tried to sober up。 'What a waste of time；' he said。
'I'm perplexed；' said Elvis Presley。
'We forgot about Gloria； chief；' came the voice from his head。 'Can't understand how we overlooked her。 Thought it was all sewn up。'
'We are all going to die；' moaned Dan。 'We're all doomed； doomed。'
'Yeah；' Rex agreed。 'Really stinks when it's your turn； doesn't it？'
'There's still time。 We could fly back to Nemesis。 Well； I could and once I was back there。。。' Two men were looking at him。 They were both shaking their heads。
'No？'
'Uh uh；' said Elvis。
Dan looked toward Rex。 'My dear boy； I appeal to you。' Rex shunned the snappy rejoinder。 Dan continued to speak； but through the medium of mental telepathy。 'e now； Rex； this is all a big mistake。 Why throw away your retirement； those two lovely ladies； all that sweet food and drink； all that luxury？ All for this foolhardiness。 You don't want to die； do you？ Such a stupid waste。'
Rex scratched at his stubble； he didn't want to die； this was true。
'Catch him off guard and off with his head。' Rex turned his gun between his fingers。 'Between the eyes？' he thought。
'No； not that； you would damage the。。。'
'The Time Sprout？'
'Exactly。 I deplore waste。 I could put that thing to great use。'
'I'll bet you could。'
'Snip； snap；' thought Dan。 'Time is running out。'
'Why don't you simply do your vanishing act； despatch your tulpa back to Nemesis？'
Dan's thoughts turned toward his nose。 Rex felt the twinge of pain。 'Fuck you；' thought Rex。
'Bravo； chief；' chortled the Time Sprout； who had been listening in upon the unspoken converse。 'Thought we'd lost you there for a moment。'
'No way；' said Rex Mundi。
Fergus Shaman picked his way across the precarious landscape。 It smelled about as bad as it looked。 He fanned at his nose； but that only seemed to make matters worse。 All in all Fergus wasn't a happy Phnaarg。 It was more than possible that even now his movements were being observed by the viewers of Phnaargos。 All wondering who this new character might be and indeed where the plot was leading。 They weren't alone in this latter thought； as it was very much to the fore in Fergus's mind。 What had started out as an inspired idea to boost the flagging ratings seemed now to be degenerating into chaos。 If only these morons would stick to the plot。 If only throughout their history they had done what was required of them they would all be living in Utopia now。 But Earthers never seemed to get it right。 They had been given the whole planet to play with and the end result was this。 It didn't say much for them as a race。 But perhaps it wasn't really their fault。 Perhaps it was some genetic cock…up； some in…built wish for destruction。 But possibly； and here a terrible thought entered Fergus's mind； possibly it was all the fault of Phnaargos。 Perhaps if the Earthers had just been left to get on with it； rather than being nudged along for the sake of good television； they might have done very nicely； thank you。
'No；' said Fergus； 'it wasn't our fault； not all this。' But it did seem a terrible shame； nonetheless。 But there was still time。 There was always still time。 In fact time was the key to the whole issue； and Fergus； who for reasons unknown even to himself now felt an awful sense of responsibility； was certain that there was still a chance to sort it all out。 The all but altruistic Phnaarg plodded on through the danger zone。 And finally； there ahead of him； sighted a little jewel in the bleak and corroded setting。 Rex's battered air car； parked close to a bunker door。
Fergus straightened his shoulders； thought positive and tripped flat on his face。
26
。。。 and now the book has e to me。 Through coincidence； through chance？ Forget about those； through fate。 My parents taught me aide English。 The archaic written word。 They changed all that after the NHE； an entire new alphabet； so no…one could read the truth about the past； I guess。 The terminal spoke and showed you the way。 We watched and learned and clocked up credits。 No other options。 Only the lord high terminal。 The new god。 He who gave or took away； depending how long you spent at your devotions before him。 So you worship in your shrine； your home； your tomb。 But I had the word。 The Logos。 I was the last； it had to be passed to me and it was。 I could confide in no…one。 Hardly Norma。 But then Rex was sent to us。 I studied and I studied and at last I began to piece it all together。 And I began to realize what I should be looking for and ultimately where it was to be found。 And in the mean time I played the fool； the mad uncle； until I could teach the boy。
The Suburban Book of the Dead
Macbeth hath murdered sleep。 Anon
I have done questionable things。 Roy； Nexus 6
Gabba Gabba Hey。 The Ramones
The silver spaceship still stood upon the upper deck； atop the spiral tower of Earthers Inc。 In it sat Mungo Madoc； he was picking his nose。 Before him screens displayed the current state of things。 Three men in a bunker。 One Phnaargian struggling to his feet。 A beautiful woman in a control room。 A curious vortex； which was probably just interference。 The doings in his own boardroom。 He would have to put a lock on that cigar box。 Mungo examined a fingertip； made a face and applied scented drops to a now upturned nostril。
'It won't do； will it？'
Mungo； alone of all Phnaargians； knew the speaker's voice。 The series' backers municated with only the station head。 And to him rarely。 'I hardly feel that I can be held directly responsible。'
'Oh； then perhaps you wish to step down from your position of responsibility。'
'I didn't say that exactly。'
'But it amounts to the same thing。 The buck stops with you。'
'I would have thought that ultimately it stops with you。'
'Oh； no。 It never does that。 Non…intervention is