down； loosening ties and gulping water。 'We have all tried to keep this series going as long as possible。
And the Nose alone knows how many radical proposals and outrageous interventions there have been。 But the big boys upstairs will have no more of it。 They are adamant。 The series must go out on a high note。 Well； at least on a spectacular one。 And cheap。 Which will leave the way clear for something entirely new。'
'。Earth Two； The Sequel？' Morgawr suggested。
'Sadly； no。 We must play by the rules this time； I'm afraid。 There will be no more tampering with scripts； no more improvisations。 This is something altogether different and on a much larger scale。 I can't tell you about it now； but if I say the words 〃substantial salary increases〃； then I hope they will be sufficient to put your minds at rest。'
The board rose as a single Phnaarg； cast metaphorical hats toward the sky and engulfed Mungo in a sea of hearty handclaps。
An entire aeon of human history was drawing to a close。 A planet was about to be wiped from the heavens。 All memories； thoughts and dreams； all hopes。 Mankind was to be blotted out as if it had never needed to exist。 But these lads were getting a pay rise！
30
Doubt everything and find your own light。 Buddha
'I really can't see the point in dragging him along。 Why don't we simply kill him and have done？'
Elvis appeared to be stuck for a reply to this； but not so Fergus Shaman。 'You cannot kill the Dalai Lama； Rex。 It simply isn't done。'
'But the man is a mass murderer。 Only about two at a time； mind； but it adds up。 He deserves execution； at the very least。'
'That may well be。 But not by you。 You've never actually killed anyone； have you？'
Rex made a thinking face。 'No；' said he。 'I'm sure that I haven't。'
'Nor have you。' Fergus peered toward the man in the white sequined number。
'Two or three。' Elvis did shoulder swaggers。 'In self defence； of course。'
'No； you haven't。' Fergus grinned。 'You're the good guys。 You escape death by the skin of your teeth and fight for justice。 Even； if like Rex； you don't even know why you do it most of the time。 But you don't actually ever kill anyone。'
'Om；' said Dan。 'This being the case I will now take my leave。'
Elvis kicked him in the ankle。 'Never trust an alien；' he told the hopping holyman。
With Dan now muttering in muted tones that collectively； or one at a time； his persecutors would 'get theirs'； the four continued along no particular passage； bound it seemed； for no particular destination。 Or so it seemed。
'Holy shit；' cried Elvis Presley。 'Would you look at that？'
Now there have been rooms and there have been rooms。 And this one was a bedroom as it happened。 Of its furnishings and decor； it could be fairly stated that they were of the eclectic persuasion。 A kidney…shaped dressing table with a crazed Formica top hobnobbed with a gilded torchere which had once shed light upon Count Cagliostro。 A faux…bamboo wall…case displayed the spines of rare and priceless books。 The works of Crispin； Scott's Phallic Worship； the Brentford Octology； St Michael's Book of Microwave Cooking； Rushdie's The Satanic Verses。 Kaffe Fassett cushions bulged upon a settee designed by Salvador Dali。 And at the room's heart rose a Gothic four…poster covered with a candlewick bedspread。 Upon this； and creating the room's immediate centre of interest； lay a voluptuous blonde woman wearing nought but a weling smile。
'Goddamn；' swore Elvis。 'I mean； well； pardon our intrusion； mam。'
The blonde rose upon her elbows and thrust out her bosom； in the manner once favoured by the Page Three Stunnas of old。 She tossed back her hair and yawned silently。
'We're lost；' said Rex； rather foolishly。
'Yeah；' Elvis agreed。 'That's right。'
Fergus Shaman nodded his head。 'What amazing nipples；' he observed。
Dan said nothing。 But then this kind of sight was hardly new to him。
'Sorry to invade your privacy。' Rex was trying not to look； but failing for the most part。 'If you could just offer some directions； we will be straight on our way。'
'I'm in no particular hurry；' Elvis produced a monogrammed b and teased it through his quiff； 'if you guys want to go on ahead。'
'I think we should all stick together。'
Fergus shook pungent aromatics of an aphrodisiac nature on to his palm and began to pat them about his chin。 Dan said nothing for the second time。 The blonde on the bed rolled on to her side and fluttered her eyelids at Elvis。
'Sorry guys；' said the King； preparing for action。 'But it was really no contest； was it？ Here； Rex； you take scumbag out for a walk。 Say for a couple of hours。'
'I don't think so；' Rex pushed past the Dalai。 Or at least he would have。 As it was Rex pushed through the Dalai。 The image faded into the air； a broad Cheshire Cat grin hovering for a moment before doing a likewise vanishing trick。
'Trickery dickery；' cried Fergus； very much impressed。 There was a kind of loud pop and the entire room； blonde bombshell and all folded in upon itself and was gone。 The three men now stood knee deep in raw sewerage。 They began to sink。 Dalai Dan was nowhere to be seen。
'Aw； shit！'
31
。。。 we knew where it was for sure and it was remarkable how simple it actually was to discover what it was pretending to be。 Back in the nineties； the term for what we did was 'super hacking'。 puter gate…crashing on an international scale。 Subversives hacked their ways into the mainframes of all the major institutions： the military； banking houses； religious； even the Big Three。 Back doors were created whereby the hacker could override pass…codes； slip in and out at will； draw off programs； make subtle adjustments； alter records。 And introduce viruses which self…replicated and spread； crashing the systems。 At that time the biggest of these hacking circuses was called chaos。 I swear to God it's true。 Now the Buddhavision mainframe； MOTHER； so called； had security blocks on it from the first。 Punch in the wrong passcode and it fed back。 〃You were fried meat at your terminal。 Real mean。 They took hacking very seriously。 But there was a backdoor all the same。 Who got it in there； I can't say。 But it was there and we took it。 Called up the Department of Antiquities stock records and skimmed through to the last recorded entry。 And there it was。 Entry **％ 78：555：2323； All we had to do now was break right in and get it。 The Suburban Book of the Dead
In the world there are two kinds of tragedies。 One is not getting what one wants。 The other is getting it。 Oscar Wilde
The surviving members of the Earthers Inc。 executive board lined themselves against the wall； uncertain of what exactly was about to occur。 Mungo faced them from his chair。 This；' he displayed between thumb and forefinger a small sphere which glowed； as if lit from within； 'is a key。 The key； in fact。 It has lain in a secret place for over 1；000 Farther years。 From the time； in fact； when it was supposed to be used the first time。 But now I am informed by the backers that its moment has e for certain。'
'What does it do？' Jason asked。
'In short it ties up a lot of loose ends。'
'A McGuffin；' Jason suggested。
Mungo Madoc shook his head。 'You are a moron；' he said。 'Now just stay where you are and watch this carefully。'
Mungo took up the glowing sphere； popped it into his mouth and swallowed。 The board members looked on in wonder。 The possibilities were endless。 There was a long and ponderous moment； during which nothing happened。 Then； with a suddenness of trouser…filling intensity； everything did。 Mungo's head bulged hideously。 His fingers extended。 Like so many pink serpents they darted through the air to attach themselves to the walls and ceiling。 Then they began to pulsate。 The Goldenwood table sank into the floor and the tufted carpeting swept in from all sides to cover its departure。 A great cone of light sprang up and an impossible pressure popped ears and gritted teeth。 The room quivered and shook as the living thing it was。
And then it was done。 The room became still。 The pressure ceased。 Mungo's fingers returned to their natural proportions； his head shrank。 The cone of light remained； glittering about the edges。 Mungo whistled； shook his head and flexed his fingers。 'Yes indeedy；' he said。 No…one dared to ask。
Two menials in station fatigues carried the Dalai's portrait from the room。 At Gloria's elbow； one of a dozen telephones purred。 She picked it up。 The voice on the other end of the line was unknown to her。 It was shouting。 Gloria held the receiver at arm's length and regarded it with distaste。
'Shall I； dear？' asked Ms Vrillium。
'Please do。' Ms Vrillium placed the thing to her head and listened for a moment。 She then shouted； 'Fuck off；' before slamming it down。
'Who was that？'
'Artemis Scargill dear； chief convenor for the food and medico workers' union。 He says that unless the long…running dispute between management and the shop floor is settled at once； his members will be forced to place a vote of No Confidence in you。 And that just to be on the safe side； they are preparing for an all…out strike。'
'They didn't waste a lot of time； did they？