Muggles Bereaved Read online

  “So we can’t travel out and no-one can travel in? Or are you saying that we are not authorised to make that jump? I ask because you previously told Jim that there was a portal on Mars.”

  “Ahh well, I couldn’t really answer issues about authority, except to say that an incomer using a portal would make quite a splash, especially an incoming Space-Time craft. Were one to arrive at Sculthorpe portal, for example, it would unfold and be away before I had time to manifest myself and take an image. We always image everything that goes out and comes in. It is a good way of finding out if someone is lost in the continuum. The relatives come and demand answers and I have the data.”

  “Since you mention it, you clearly think Sculthorpe is a likely destination for an incomer,” said Lim, firmly.

  “Think? Do avatars speculate? Yes, I suppose we do, and I suppose I feel that I have let an incomer slip through that portal. The portal has opened without apparent reason on occasion and at my fastest arrival I got not a glimpse of anything.... silvery. There I have said too much.” Clearly, he had said what he was programmed to say and that was never too much. He had said nothing about the feasibility of travel to the Mars portal.

  Lim wanted another piece of information, “Can an object thirty feet across travel through a portal?”

  “Yes, size does not matter. The transportee is dissociated into atoms and then into energy. In theory an ocean liner can be transported through a portal. One day, you might have your ships built on an iron asteroid and transported to Rowling world via a portal floating in an ocean.”

  “I see. I guess other people have been asking transporting objects and silvery vehicles. I am sorry if I embarrass you with our questions.” Lim was still surprised by the formality of his own speech, but was still on a fishing expedition. Who else might be checking the transport of silver flying saucers.

  “Not at all, I am one of an infinite number of manifestations of myself, you know. One of those manifestations was interrogated by the RAF police checking on incoming silvery vehicles. And before you suggest it, multiple manifestations are not in the least confusing; each manifestation is self aware but not aware of other selves, if you take my meaning. Think of me as an avatar projected by a central computer, though that computer may actually be ‘The Good’ or ‘The Quintessence’. I do have access to records made by any other Harbourmaster.”

  “Well, we have seen one of the silvery incomers at Sculthorpe and we know that they came in from Alpha Centauri Bb. We have documentary proof of that.” Lim was still probing.

  “In which case I can tell you that revealing this knowledge has triggered my manifestation to open a higher shell of existence. I can now tell you that The Good is well aware of the incomer and the incomer is what the ancients would have called The Prince of Darkness. By ancients I refer to a couple of millennia past, nothing earlier.”

  “The Devil?” asked Tracy incredulously.

  “Yes, what you now call The Devil. Or what surviving religionists call the Devil, except Muslims who call it Shaitan, and Buddhists who have Mara, Zoroastrians who have Angra Mainyu and....

  “Whatever,” interrupted Tracy, causing the Harbourmaster to review his notion of the Trio’s politeness, “Now look, the biblical Devil, Satan or Lucifer is suppose to be a son of God or The Good, and directly opposed to ‘The Quintessence’. Isn’t that so?” challenged Tracy.

  “A somewhat mediaeval description ignoring the Buddhist and Zoroastrian philosophies. Technically there are issues relating to matter in conflict with dark matter which have more pertinence. But for logical beings, the conflict does give rise to physical metaphors, though these are merely constructs of your brains. The creation of matter in all universes also spawned dark matter, if that can be regarded as childbearing, so be it. Dark matter would indeed be the son of matter to the primitive mind.”

  “Always the son and never the daughter,” gritted Tracy.

  “I did add the qualification ‘to the primitive mind’,” said the Harbourmaster benignly. He felt sure this was, in the arena of ‘tricking and treating’, the all-conquering trick.

  “But, just to be sure, what we have uncovered is the arrival of the Devil and some desperate attempts to deal with him by sending him back whence he came?” pressed Tracy.

  “That simplifies the problem. But yes, you do have a role in the defeat of manifest dark.” He read Tracy’s brain waves and said rather primly and with computer enhanced attempts at impatience, “No there is not a woman-fest dark. As for dealing with the incomer, you have to act on the basis of your own discovered Quintessence with whatever tools have been provided. In short you and your Superpowers are the answer that has been long awaited. You are The Messiahs in the primitive mind-view.”

  “No pressure then,” groaned Jim, “Our Superpowers aren’t exactly world class. I’ve been given the ability to fart and a cloak to cover my embarrassment with.”

  “The problem is that you all have to discover your individual Quintessence, bring them into synchrony and then deal with The Dark One. I detect that only two of you have discovered your Quintessence.”

  “I don’t like calling the enemy the Devil or Lucifer or the Dark One. Doesn’t he have a name that sounds a bit more challenging?” Tracy was impatient with any theological links.

  “He does have a name on Alpha Centauri Bb where the dark matter peaks, but of course he is an infinite number of selves, as am I. On Alpha Centauri Bb he is known as The Needful One”

  “They speak English?”

  “I translated for you. Your voice boxes could not cope with the actual sound of his name in the local tongue. Not that they actually have tongues. They have stridulatory organs.”

  “What’s special about Alpha Centauri Bb, that the incarnation of dark matter makes that place his base, his home?”

  “Sorry,” said the Harbourmaster, “that is a philosophical question quite beyond me. I cannot even speculate since the aggregation of a gender, a homeland, and a mission for a devil do not accord with anything I might know about dark matter.”

  Lim was grim faced. “If we are to deal with trapping of The Needful One, how do we even go about that without advice? What should we do next?”

  “It is believed that you will comprehend and accomplish that without input from the likes of me. But you did mention ‘trapping’, a concept that would not have occurred to me.” The Harbourmaster waited patiently, prompting, “maybe you actually have to set a trap.”

  “I guess we will have to give that some thought,” said Lim feeling a sense of despair deeper than had ever assailed his teenage years. Why on earth weren’t clever and experienced people involved in this? Why wasn’t Newton himself on the case? Perhaps with a character from some Gothic horror film, a Dr Van Helsing?

  “I believe Isaac needs to be distracted from Paralymphatology. He does get side-tracked. First it was alchemy which was doomed without nuclear fission or fusion. Now it is Paralymphatology. Oddly enough Newton was a professing Christian and very much into Good vs Evil.” The Harbourmaster actually tapped his nose in a knowing way. He had also given away that he could read the minds of humans. It was all a matter of sensing and mapping the infinitesimally small interaction of synaptic discharges in their brains. It did not always work with exceptional people like the three before him.

  An idea was dawning in Lim’s anxious brain. He saw that the same thought was lighting up the minds of his companions. He thanked the Harbourmaster and stepped away from the bench portal which duly closed. The Harbourmaster slipped back into the hedge fold and Lim finally spoke.

  “Newton!”

  “He’s the key!” Jim was enthusiastic. ”A churchgoing genius – he’ll definitely want to be involved in defeating The Needful One.”

  “It isn’t ‘The Needful One”,” said Tracy, “It’s just The Needful.”

  “Old Ned then,” said Jim, “instead of Old Nick!” I have given Jim some exclamation marks to use, but he really should have had a drum to go �
��der-DUM’ after each of his quips.

  “He must get involved!” enthused Tracy, embracing Jim.

  Lim had observed an increasing closeness between Jim and Tracy and was a bit amused by it. Neither was ordinarily touchy feely, but since the incident with the tiger, they had become closer. Lim had it in mind to use the neat phrase “Get a room, you two,” but this implied an intimacy way beyond what was likely or seemly for their years. He felt a bit ashamed that he had wanted to deploy this phrase and blushed. He reasoned that maybe he was feeling a bit isolated. He shrugged this off as a mere characteristic of leadership. That was his turn on, being an effective leader.

  “So chief,” said Jim agreeably, “how do we nobble Sir Isaac?’

  “Well, said Lim, there is just the one opportunity in the immediate future. And it dawns tomorrow.”

  “The Hooke memorial lecture!” Tracy got there fractionally ahead of Jim who she now released as she leaned forward excitedly.

  “Exactly!” chortled Lim, “ and we even have the perfect ‘hook’ to land him with, and I do not mean Robert Hooke. Think about it.” A der-DUM was missing.

  The others looked puzzled.

  “What is Newton’s current obsession?”

  “Paralymphatics? I don’t see....” said Tracy, her voice dwindling away as she suddenly did see. She turned and poked a finger into Jim’s chest, “You, Jim, are our way to the great man.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” said Lim. “Newton is studying paralymphatics because a Professorship was endowed by Andrew Carnegie for that research. And Carnegie was moved to do so by an experience in his new library in King’s Lynn!”

  “The sliming.” said Jim miserably.

  “The Sliming. Soon to become a film starring Rupert Grint,” said Tracy. “Yes, all you have to do to get Newton’s ear is to push forward as the boy who slimed Carnegie. After being hit on the head by an apple, Newton is bound to have his eyes opened by a sheet of slime! He’s positively a pushover for mysterious signs – or ‘slimes’. Your Superpower had a definite purpose after all!”

  “Slime the Lucasian Professor of Mathematics in public? I’ll be a media and internet villain.”

  “Far from it.” said Lim, “You will be the hero who directed Sir Isaac Newton into the most profitable research of his life. I emphasise ‘profitable’ because Sir Isaac is a bit of a gold-digger, by all accounts.”

  “But you must positively lecture him on Good vs Evil, the ultimate contest and the need for a steadfast Christian warrior.” Tracy was very enthusiastic.

  “Wait a minute,” worried Jim, “I am not the intellect here present. Won’t you two be with me?”

  “Oh sure we will, said Tracy. You will just be exhibit Number 1, expected to vomit up a sheet of slime. Think you can manage a bit of exhibitionism?”

  “What if I cannot perform, ”said Jim, feeling as nauseous as an actor about to enter stage right. Or stage fright.

  “Well, Carnegie will be there and he is sure to recognise you. Just eat a load of sprouts so that you can generate one of those farts,” giggled a merciless Lim.

  “Very funny. But how do we let him know that we will be at his lecture.”

  “Simple,” said Lim, “we tell Margery, the Librarian, that the boy who slimed Carnegie will be attending the lecture in the hope of apologising.”

  “The young man responsible... “ amended Jim

  “OK, said Lim, “The ‘young man’ or the Stinky Slimer of Old Lynn Town, it does not matter. Are we agreed?”

  “And I want to be the Cloaker not the Slimer!”

  “Or the cloaca!” Tracy said producing an inelegant snot bubble with her mirth. She and Lim fell about laughing. Their Latin really was up to the task. Thanks be to the dead Potter for giving them the urge to study the extinct language, though it was already a compulsory subject on the school curriculum. It had given rise to a wide knowledge of the Latin scholar’s poem;

  Latin is a language

  Dead as Dead can be

  First it killed the Romans

  Now its killing me.

  All are dead who spoke it

  All are dead who wrote it

  All have died who learned it

  Enjoy that rest you’ve earned it.

  Lim took Jim by the ear, in mock-Beadle fashion; “I suggest we go to the library now. There you will put on your best ‘Oliver asking for more’ expression and speak to Margery about the fouling of her library.”

  Jim accepted the ear-tugging in good humour, “Latin, Dickens, what am I, top specimen in an Olde Curiosity Shop?”

  “You will be the youngest curiosity ever to beg forgiveness of a librarian.” Said Lim.

  Tracy made a “League of Gentleman” shopkeeper’s face, snubbing her nose with her thumbs, “You’re not local, are you, Mr Curiosity,” she said.

  Tracy and Lim had already taken an arm apiece and were leading Jim away towards the library. He felt nervous enough to express a cloak of slime right then and there and it would serve them both right. But he couldn’t manage it.

  As it happened, Margery Kempe was delighted that the culprit who had slimed the American benefactor had come forward. She was very anxious to be of service to the great man and to Professor Newton and she rang Andrew Carnegie’s secretary there and then. It was agreed that Carnegie would meet the three of them on the following morning at the school, though the secretary could not promise an introduction to Sir Isaac. Lim was sure that this would not matter in the least because Jim was supposed to be the exemplar of paralymphatic possession. How could he be kept from the greatest brain in the universe. I use Sir Isaac’s own description of himself here, but would remind the Lucasian Professor that there are trillions of other universes.

  The Companions of the Order of the Spectacles were jubilant as they left the library. Two of them more jubilant than the third. But Jim was warming to the idea of being central to Sir Isaac Newton’s investigation at least until Lim’s next tease;

  “You know, Sir Isaac is a very great vivisectionist and has looked at more exposed brains than anyone other than Leonardo Da Vinci.”

  Tracy got out her handkerchief, not just to mask her mirth, but because these snot bubbles were so unpleasant. She finally reassured Jim in the time honoured way;

  “We’re teasing you old Bean. This is a psychological phenomenon and opening your skull wouldn’t help in the slightest.”

  “There’d be nothing inside, anyway,” said Lim who felt cheated out of his opportunities to tease.

  “Now stop the bullying,” commanded Tracy, hugging Jim to her as one might cuddle a giant teddy bear, or a small, ginger, freckled teddy bear.

  Lim joined in and made it a group hug. Jim pretended that he was not pleased.

  Chapter Nine – Netting a Newton

  The morning of Newton’s discourse on Hooke saw the Companions of The Order of The Spectacles dressing with unusual care. The boys donned suits, white shirts and dark ties and Tracy wore a business suit of her mother’s. The call came, from Headmaster Sledge and The Companions trudged off to a first meeting by their bench in The Walks. They scarcely recognised each other.

  Tracy was the most surprised. She always dressed smartly, but the boys....

  “Well, well,” enthused Tracy, “you boys scrub up well. Very fetching.”

  “There is something that puzzles me,” said Lim, blushing and changing the subject., “are we really able to proceed like this, talking to the Harbourmaster, meeting Newton and all that without The Needful One knowing about us?”

  “Perhaps,” offered Jim, “The Needless One is a competent hacker. The Harbourmaster is an avatar relying on zillions of lines of program code. Suppose there is some backdoor malware that piggy-backs all conversations.”

  “He’s The Need-ful One Jim, not the least bit need-less. But you could be right. The Harbourmaster practically pointed us towards Newton. A hacker would know that. And would also know each of us.” Only Tracy would so directly cha
stise Jim. “What if The Needful One wants to get us all together before it does its dark matter stuff on us who are all made of matter and matter not in the least.”

  Jim’s mouth now made the big ‘O’ over a firm chin. It was partly horror and partly the strain of trying to decipher Tracy’s last phrase.

  “Well,“ said Lim grimly, “Let us suppose that The Needful One is on to us. He could also have set the tiger loose. We need to be on our guard. I know the tiger incident occurred before our pally little chat with the Harbourmaster, but who knows what other facilities The Needful One may have.”

  “The Needful One is a bit of a mouthful,” said Jim, “I shall call him ‘TONI’, short for ‘The One Who Needs Information’. And how can we be “on our guard’ is the big question.”