“Created to maintain our curious nature. He said it was useful to strive for knowledge even though there is no end to the knowledge that we could gain. It might take two hundred years more to figure out how the universe came about, or five hundred to devise a grand unifying theory. But when we finally crack those questions, they will still remain a sideshow, a mere exercise, he said, to offer us valuable groundwork to solve even greater problems of incalculable complexity.”
Madeleine frowned. “Such as?”
“Why the toast always falls butter side down. Why you can look for something for hours and then find it in the first place you looked. These are the
“There isn’t an answer to those,” murmured Madeleine doubtfully. “It just happens.”
“That’s what they used to say about lightning,” replied Pandora, “and rainbows.”
Jack greeted them both, took a satsuma from the fruit bowl and walked through to the living room. He stared out the window and peeled the fruit. He had bested Friedland and stopped him trying to pinch the Humpty investigation, but he didn’t feel as good as he thought he would. By unmasking Chymes as a charlatan, he had the feeling that he might have let the genie out of the bottle when it would have been better for everyone concerned to keep it in. Was Chymes the only one, or did
“Your daughter is an exceptional woman.”
It was Prometheus. He was standing at the door with the light behind him. He looked ethereal, unreal almost.
“She takes after her mother.”
“And her father.”
“I was being overprotective last night, and I apologize,” said Jack as Prometheus moved forward into a pool of light thrown by the reading lamp.
“I’d be the same, Jack. I want to marry her.”
Prometheus repeated it, and Jack sat on the edge of a table.
“But you’re immortal, Prometheus. I’m not sure I want my daughter marrying someone who will stay young as she grows old.”
“It’s more of a partnership than a marriage,” he explained. “I can get British citizenship and then we can — ”
“So it’s a marriage of convenience?”
“Let me explain. Remember I told you about the ills of the world that the first Pandora let out of the jar?”
“Sure.”
“Your Pandora wants to put them back in!”
Jack frowned. “It seems quite a task.”
“A titanic one.” Prometheus grinned. “Mythology has been static for too long, Jack, I’ve decided we’ve got to get it moving again — and Pandora is the one to help me.”
Jack took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. “I never thought I’d have a Titan for a son-in-law. Promise me one thing.”
“Name it.”
“Renounce your immortality.”
“I shall, after we locate the ills or, failing that, on Pandora’s fiftieth birthday. We’ve got it all planned.”
Prometheus smiled, and Jack put out his hand. As he grasped it, a strong feeling of power seemed to emanate from the Titan. There were so many questions still unanswered about him, but now there was plenty of time.
“Drink?” said Jack.
“Nah,” said the Titan, “Friday night is strippers night down at the Blue Parrot — Just kidding. Let’s have that drink. Let’s have several.”
37. The Man from the Guild
ALBINOS DEMAND ACTION ON MOVIE SLUR
The albino community demanded action yesterday to stop their unfair depiction as yet another movie featured an albino as a deranged hitman. “We’ve had enough,” said Mr. Silas yesterday at a small rally of albinos at London’s Pinewood Studios. “Just because of an unusual genetic abnormality, Hollywood thinks it can portray us as dysfunctional social pariahs. Ask yourself this: Have you ever been, or know anyone who has ever been, a victim of albino crime?” The protest follows hot on the heels of last week’s demonstrations when Colombians and men with ponytails complained of being unrelentingly portrayed as drug dealers.
Jack got into the station at nine. It was Saturday, and the whole place was buzzing with activity over the Jellyman’s visit later in the day. His Eminence’s Special Protection Group in collaboration with DCI Chymes had taken charge, and everyone had to go through a metal detector and be issued a color-coded badge that related to how close you could be to the Jellyman. It ranged from red for “close proximity” all the way through the spectrum to violet, which meant “no proximity.” Jack’s was violet.
After picking up a Jack Spratt no-fat special bacon sandwich and a cup of coffee, he went and sat in his office. He stared at the pertinent points written up on the board. If it had been an ordinary murder inquiry, they would have had armies of officers and an incident room the size of a gymnasium, but this was the NCD. He knew he was understaffed and had to make do with the cast-offs and social misfits that no one else wanted, but he liked to think he did a reasonable amount with not very much.
As he was sitting there trying to figure out exactly
“Yelblf,” said Jack with his mouth full of bacon sandwich. “Can I helbpf you?”
“I’m looking for Detective Inspector, er…” He looked at a sheet of paper he had on a clipboard. “Jack Spratt.”
“That’s me. What can I do for you?”
“Ah!” said the tall man, looking at the clipboard again and then at the tiny office as though there had been some sort of mistake.
“My name’s Brown-Horrocks. I’m from the Guild of Detectives. I’ll be observing you today and reporting back to the selection committee.”
It took a moment for Jack to take this in, but when he had, he carefully wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose to shake the man by the hand.
“How do you do?” he said, trying to sound all professional and businesslike. “Won’t you come in and take a seat?”
Brown-Horrocks stooped once more and just about managed to get his large frame into the tiny room and sit in Mary’s chair by folding his legs in an uncomfortable manner.
“Thank you,” said Brown-Horrocks, looking around in an agitated manner. “Aren’t these offices a bit small for you?”
