Lost in a Good Book

back.

‘Plock,’ said Pickwick.

‘Dodo,’ said Molly.

Pickwick grasped Molly by the cuff and led her into the kitchen to show off her egg.

‘What do you do, David?’ I asked as I looked out of the kitchen window. I needn’t have worried; the two cars and their occupants were in the same place.

‘I’m a fund-raiser,’ he replied. ‘I’ve wanted to meet you for some time.’

‘Why?’

He shrugged.

‘Dunno. Interested to see the sort of person who can travel around in books, I guess.’

‘Ah,’ I replied absently, pausing to consider just how wholly unlikely it was that Cordelia’s guest had found my keys when other passing residents had missed them.

‘Can I ask you a question, Miss Next?’ asked David.

‘Call me Thursday. Hang on a minute.’

I nipped into the living room to fetch the entroposcope and shook it as I walked back in.

‘Well, Thursday,’ continued David, ‘I was wondering—’

‘Shit!’ I exclaimed, looking at the swirling pattern within the rice and lentils. ‘It’s happening again!’

‘Your dodo says she’s hungry,’ observed Molly.

‘It’s a scam for a marshmallow. Cordelia, would you give Molly a marshmallow to feed to Pickwick? They’re on top of the fridge.’

Cordelia put down her bag and reached up for the glass jar.

‘Sorry, David, you were saying?’

‘Here it is. How did—’

But I wasn’t listening. There was someone sitting on the wall at the entrance to the apartment block. She was in her mid-twenties, dressed in slightly garish clothes and was reading a fashion magazine.

‘Aornis?’ I whispered. ‘Can you hear me?’

The figure turned to look at me as I said the words and my scalp prickled. It was her, no doubt about it. She smiled, waved and pointed to her watch.

‘It’s her,’ I mumbled. ‘Goddamned sonofabitch—it’s her!’

‘—and that’s my question,’ concluded David.

‘I’m sorry, David, I wasn’t listening.’

I shook the entroposcope but the pulses were no more patterned than before—whatever the danger was, we weren’t quite there yet.

‘You had a question, David?’

‘Yes,’ he said, slightly annoyed, ‘I was wondering—’

‘Look out!’ I shouted, but it was too late. The glass marshmallow jar had slipped from Cordelia’s grasp and fell heavily on the worktop—right on top of the small evidence bag full of the pink goo from beyond the end of the world. The jar didn’t break, but the bag did, and Cordelia, myself and David were sprayed in gooey slime. David got the worst of it—a huge gob went right in his face.

‘Ugh!’

‘Here,’ I said, handing him a Seven Wonders of Swindon tea towel, ‘use this.’

‘What is that gick?’ asked Cordelia, dabbing at her clothes with a damp cloth.

‘I wish I knew.’

But David licked his lips and said:

‘I’ll tell you what this is. It’s Dream Topping.’

‘Dream Topping?’ I queried. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Strawberry flavour. Know it anywhere.’

I put a finger in the goo and tasted it. No mistake, it was Dream Topping. If only forensics had looked at the big picture instead of staring at molecules, they might have figured it out for themselves. But it got me thinking.

‘Dream Topping,’ I wondered out loud, looking at my watch. There were eighty-seven minutes of life left on the planet. ‘How could the world turn to Dream Topping?’

‘It’s the sort of thing,’ piped up David, ‘that Mycroft might know.’

‘You,’ I said, pointing a finger at the pudding-covered individual, ‘are a genius.’

What had Mycroft said? Tiny nanomachines barely bigger than a cell building food protein out of nothing more than garbage? Banoffee pie from landfills? Perhaps there was going to be an accident. After all, what stopped nanomachines from making banoffee pie once they had started? I looked out of the window. Aornis had gone.

‘Do you have a car?’ I asked.

‘Sure,’ said David.

‘You’re going to have to take me over to ConStuff. Dilly, I need your clothes.’

Cordelia looked suspicious.

‘Why?’

‘I’ve got watchers. Three in, three out—they’ll think I’m you.’

‘No way on earth,’ replied Cordelia indignantly, ‘unless you agree to do all my interviews and press junkets.’

‘At my first appearance I’ll have my head lopped off by Goliath or SpecOps—or both.’

‘Perhaps that’s so,’ replied Cordelia slowly, ‘but I’d be a fool to pass on an opportunity as good as this. All the interviews and appearances I request for a year.’

‘Two months, Cordelia.’

‘Six.’

‘Three.’

She sighed. ‘Okay. Three months—but you have to do The Thursday Next Workout Video and talk to Harry about The Eyre Affair film project.’

‘Deal.’

So Cordelia and I switched clothes. It felt very odd to be wearing her large pink sweater, short black skirt and high heels.

‘Don’t forget the Peruvian love beads,’ said Cordelia, ‘and my gun. Here.’

Molly and Pickwick were playing hide-and-seek in the living room but were soon rounded up.

‘Excuse me, Miss Flakk,’ said David in a slightly indignant tone. ‘You promised I could ask Miss Next a question.’

Flakk pointed a finely manicured fingertip at him and narrowed her eyes. ‘Listen here, buster. You’re on SpecOps business right now—a bonus, I’d say. Any complaints?’

‘Er, no, I guess,’ stammered David.

I led them outside, past the Goliath and SpecOps agents waiting for me. I made some expansive Cordelia- like moves and they barely gave us a second glance. We were soon in David’s hired Studebaker and I directed him across town as I switched back to my own clothes.

‘Thursday?’ asked David.

‘Yes?’ I replied, looking around to see if I could see Aornis and shaking the entroposcope. Entropy seemed to be holding at the ‘slightly odd’ mark.

‘Your father—how does he manage to stop the clock like he does?’

‘It’s a ChronoGuard thing,’ I told him. ‘Any activity in the timestream gives off ripples that are easily detected. Dad places us both in a sort of stasis—as soon as the Chronos pick up a disturbance, he’s already gone. Does that answer your question?’

‘I guess.’

‘Good. Okay, pull up over there. I’ll walk the rest of the way.’

They dropped me by the side of the road and I thanked them before running up the street. It was already quite dark and the streetlamps were on. It didn’t look as if the world was about to end in twenty-six minutes, but