digs have been closed for twenty years。 But I'm still here。 Boring？ A pointless existence？ Twenty years？ funny you should mention it。 Do I get resentful？ Do I get resentful？ Sitting here looking at these four walls； while my life ticks away？ What？
So regarding this object； this very last object that I ever recorded。 And which by implication would indeed appear to be the very object you seek。 And which you would like me to show you。 Buddy； it would be more than my job's worth to pull a stunt like that。 And I'm not messing。 The Suburban Book of the Dead
'There now；' said Mungo。 'Did I or did I not tell you not to panic？' The board members responded somewhat indifferently to Mungo's question。 It was almost as if they needed a mite more convincing。
Jason put up his hand to speak。 'Sir； the fortuitous survival of Dan et al does； if I might dare voice the feelings of the entire board…' （the entire board made 'no such thing' rumblings）'…does take a fair bit of swallowing； credibility wise。'
'Let us not beat about the bush； Morgawr；' Mungo dusted pollen from his lapel； 'something specific on your mind？'
'Well。。。 er。。。' Jason stared about at the surviving board members。 Their faces said； 'Go on； fuck yourself up。' 'Ah； nothing。 A lucky chance。 Fortuitous is the word I shall stand by。'
'Good。 Now regarding your technical staff。 How long before they will be ready for the off？'
'An hour； sir。 Two at the most。'
'And Morgawr； you are totally au fait with the situation； plotwise？'
'Oh yes； sir。' Jason's face bobbed up and down。 'Armageddon； that's what it's all about now； eh？'
Mungo made a thoughtful face。 'Yes； well it is and it isn't。'
'It is and it isn't。' Morgawr tried to look enlightened。 'It is Armageddon； but it's not Armageddon。 Yes I see。 I know it's not the Armageddon。 Which is to say； that although it is our Armageddon； which will appear to be their Armageddon； it is not really the Armageddon。 Which is what you are saying； is it not？'
'What I am saying is that whoever's Armageddon it turns out to be； it must have a happy ending。 One which will satisfy the backers； the Holy Writ and the viewing public。 Raise the ratings； not infuriate the advertisers； and allow me to sleep peacefully in my bed； should I ever wish so to do。 This is the kind of scenario； in fact the exact scenario which you envisage； is it not？'
'Well。。。' said Jason Morgawr。 'Well。。。'
The doors of the Dalai's private lift opened into his equally private apartments。 These occupied the entire floor toward the very apex of the Nemesis pyramid。 The four glazed； sloping walls displayed the panorama of endless blue； beneath which； and in terrible contrast； the artificial cloud heaved like a poison sea。
Gloria took a step forward but checked herself。 Dan's presence still hung in the air。 An unsavoury psychic miasma。 It said； 'Just you try it。' Gloria trembled； assailed by sudden doubt。 She had done the unthinkable。 She had murdered the World's foremost religious figure。 The man which many regarded as God。 That he was unquestionably a merciless tyrant hardly seemed to e into it。 He was worshipped； adored。 Gloria Mundi had murdered God。
And for what？ For the mon good？ For the sake of mankind？ The future of the race？ Gloria shook her head。 Out of revenge； out of a lust for power。 And now she had it； what was she going to do with it？ She realized for the first time that she really had no idea at all。
'e on dear； I'll fix us both a drink。' Ms Vrillium placed a fleshy palm upon the small of Gloria's back。
'Be careful。'
'Careful？' Ms Vrillium marched from the lift； the martial clicks of her steel heels losing themselves in the rich pile of the carpet。
'Can't you feel him？' Gloria was suddenly afraid。
'I can smell that filthy musk he pomaded himself with。 But nothing more。 e on dear； first night nerves is all。'
With faltering steps Gloria entered the apartment。 She had seen it all before。 The fine hangings。 The quilted sofas； their covers woven from the feathers of birds a century dead。 The high…domed display cases； clustered with enigmatic antiques。 The kilims and curios。 Seen it all before。 But somehow never really seen it。 Never in depth； in clarity。 Seen what it represented。 What He represented。
'Permanence；' Dan had said。 'Safety； the status quo。 I am part of all this； a metaphor； a symbol。 A whatnot。'
Ms Vrillium rattled the neck of a Venetian decanter into a silvered goblet。 'We'll have that out of here for a kick off。' She addressed her words to a full…length portrait of the lad himself。
'His painting？' The voice was half gone in Gloria's throat。
'Painting nothing。 That dear is what they call a patchwork quilt and it is patched from human skins。'
Gloria felt very sick indeed。
The ongoing situation currently ongoing between the Fundamentalists and the Jesuits was stepping up apace。 Although the weaponry involved was somewhat cobwebby and of dubious serviceability； the protagonists went about their respective businesses with a will。 For when both parties have God on their side； both can be equally assured of winning。
There had already been several unfortunate incidents involving certain 'Smart' weapons systems。 Having had five decades to meditate upon their own smartness； these appeared to have reached states of enlightenment which put them above the whim of mortal man。 Thus； few； if any； ever found their allotted targets。
Then； there was the matter of the anti…missile missiles； the anti…missile…missile missiles； the holographically…projected decoy missiles； the holographically…projected decoy confusion missiles； the jamming systems； the anti…jamming rejamming systems and the systems which did nothing in particular but were still exciting for all of that。 Adding to all this were the systems which failed immediately； those which reserved their malfunctionings until the vital moment and those； which included most of the foregoing； which required the skilled hand of the highly…trained expert。 A breed now long gone to dust。
One further point is worthy of note。 Both the edifices now currently under bombardment had withstood the now legendary Nuclear Holocaust Event； a time when men really knew how to chuck the sophisticated widow…making hardware about。 The bumps and grinds now currently on the go appeared to pose but little threat in the 'laying waste to' department。
L。 Ron Hubbard the twenty…third； sensing that Dan's tragic demise might well afford the opportunity for him to elevate himself from the role of two…dimensional character with hardly a sub…plot to call his own to that of major protagonist； paced the war…room floor unaided。 The Hubbards never got wherever they got by thinking small。
'Ma many great times granpappy would have known how to kick ass with these no…count low…lifes；' he drawled southernly。 'All fair game to great times grampah。' The sharp young men with the far…away stares bent low over their instrument panels and said nothing。 One didn't take liberties with the mighty L。 Ron。 Not any liberties。 Not nohow。
'All this bin a long time ing；' quoth the great man； as his personal stenographers keyed up their shorthand puters； eager to take down his each and every holy word。 'In a world gone all to hell with avarice and greed and never a hint of a takeaway tandoori or a Colonel Sanders（tm） Chicken Nugget ； a world of heartache and gloom； where few other than me ever glimpse the higher truths； such a world as this； my friends； and such a time as this； and did I ever tell you about the time my great times granpapa once sailed a ship halfway around the world and stopped off at this little island where the natives prepare a special brand of lobster which they take in a sauce of。。。' And it went on much in the same fashion； as it always did and no doubt always would； which gives the reader a fair idea why L。 Ron really didn't merit a more prominent part。 And why his forthing assassination at the hands of a jealous drug…crazed continuity girl over a love…triangle incident； which had nothing whatever to do with the controlling theme of this book； would go for the most part unrecorded； but； that is； for a brief mention of the sickening squelch made by his lifeless body as it struck the floor。
Pope Joan had always envisaged her role in the film version being played by Meryl Streep。 Or if Meryl wasn't available； then at the very least by that fine character actor Mr Michael O'Hagan。 Now she knelt in silent prayer。 Joan hadn't had much to say as yet； and sadly for her she wouldn't have much more； as it happened。 But； as she had always believed； it was in the way that lines were spoken that turned the words into an artform。 In the connotation rather than the denotation。 She considered language a means to convey； rather than an end in itself。 And though the song is ended； the melody lingers on。 And so forth。
'Although I have the body of a weak and frail woman；' she began。
Back in Aunty Norma's bunker imponderables were being pondered。 Four men were huddled in the furthest corner from the bomb…bunged door。 They prised possibly the most unlikely quartet in literary history。 Being： a risen…from…the…ranks bunker…boy； whose promotional p