The Educated Ape & other Wonders of the Worlds (45 page)

Which
was, frankly, no way to celebrate the dawn of a new century.

Mr
Bell tasted brandy and sucked upon his cigar. Things had gone well for him last
night. His scheme, although perhaps over-elaborate, had borne fruit and Lady
Raygun was now his ally, whether she cared for him or not. Surely in the light
of this success he could come up with some other cunning plan designed to ensnare
Lavinia Dharkstorrm.

At
which point a thought entered the head of Cameron Bell. And as before this
thought expanded almost instantaneously into a supposition and thence to a
proposition, which encompassed a plan of campaign and brought much joy to Mr
Cameron Bell.

‘I
think I can arrange the very thing,’ said he.

And
Mr Bell smiled. ‘I really love it when a plan comes together,’
[19]
he said.

‘Please come
together and follow me.’ A gentleman in a most wonderful costume, all braids
and tassels and toggles and woggles, with patent-leather thigh-boots and hat
with a high cockade, bowed before Lord Brentford, his monkey butler and the
intriguing Venusian ecclesiastic. ‘Her Majesty awaits you in the throne—room.’

‘And
the package has arrived?’ Lord Brentford enquired.

‘An
hour ago,’ said the gentleman, affecting a curious high-kneed gait as he
walked. ‘Her Majesty is eager for it to be opened.’

Darwin
looked up at Lord Brentford and then all around and about.

They
walked through the Blue Gallery, the work of the famous architect Albenoni
Dalbatto. The walls were bedecked with turquoise and silver wrought into the
most amazing tableaux. Here were scenes of ancient myth. Aboreus defeating the
Great Land Snail of Epecus. The storming of Krestica by the Papalations.
Feletious declaring his love to the Queen of the Meminites. Even Laneaus of
Cronica proving his manhood to the ten thousand sirens of Urethra.

‘Pretty
pictures,’ Lord Brentford remarked. ‘Read the Classics at Oxford, you know.
Remember that one well enough.’ And he gestured to a vast and intricate
representation of Polyphagia consuming the Harlot of Palsy, that he might win
the heart of Princess Phallicema.

‘Never
really got the joke of any of them, though,’ said Lord Brentford as he followed
the gentleman with the high cockade. The plaster casts were now off the legs of
Lord Brentford and he walked with a cane and the slightest of limps and no
complaint at all.

Queen
Victoria’s throne-room was not to be entered into easily, for there was
considerable security. Soldiers of the Queen’s Own Household Standers to
Attention stood to attention before the door, fearsome modern weaponry
a-bristling. One in considerable armour stepped forward to examine Lord
Brentford’s papers.

‘I
only have a
Daily Sketch.’
His lordship brought this out for close
inspection.

The
armoured soldier laughed uproariously at Lord Brentford’s unintended funny,
explained where the misapprehension lay and then told his lordship to hand
over the correct papers or be shot down where he stood.

Lord
Brentford parted with his papers. The armoured soldier looked long and hard at
the nobleman’s Monkey Butler Authorisation Certificate and held the sepia
identity photo-representation of Darwin close by the monkey’s face.

The
armoured soldier then looked hard at Leah. The Venusian regarded him with her
dazzling golden eyes.

‘Go
through,’ said the soldier, and the three went through.

Soldiers
lined each wall of the golden throne-room. Some had ray guns, some had swords
and some had bommyknockers.
[20]

What
Darwin could see of the throne-room had him most impressed. It was gold and it
was gold and yet more gold.

A
hymn of gold, it seemed, to the awestruck ape.

The ceiling was rococo, strewn with golden cherubim.

Columns of Corinthia adorned with golden leaf.

Golden statues too arose

In many a heroic pose

With golden hairs upon their arms, but no hairs
underneath.

Darwin
had never entertained any particular fondness for hymns about gold, and as he
looked upon it all, the splendour, the opulence, the goldenness, it all began
to make him feel just a little bit sick.

The
wealthy simply had too much wealth.

The
poor had too much poverty.

Darwin
was suddenly torn between rival emotions. Something instinctively told him
that this was all wrong! That so much wealth should be enjoyed by so few. That
it was immoral when so many went without. That it was, simply, wrong.

But
here indeed lay a problem, because Darwin had become an ape who enjoyed luxury,
who revelled in good food, fine wines, well-cut suits and things of a similar
nature. He found privilege amenable.

Darwin
the monkey butler shook his head. Once he’d had ideals. Once he had experienced
strong feelings about Man’s inhumanity to Monkey. Once he had felt that, as the
world’s only talking ape, it was his duty to do something about it.

But
what had he done?

Nothing,
that was what.

He
had
not
buckled down to fight for justice with Mr Cameron Bell. And when
Lord Brentford came back to reclaim Syon House as his own, Darwin had taken the
easiest option and returned to being a monkey butler, because in spite of
certain downsides (although the hated bedpan was now happily a thing of the
past), the benefits outweighed them.

Not
that he had enjoyed getting covered in falling frog and having to leave the
majority of his clothes in the hansom cab.

But—
‘Hurry along now, Darwin,’ said Lord Brentford. ‘You are dreaming again.’

Queen
Victoria sat upon her throne. Her costume was a triumph in this year’s black,
which was black. She wore her jaunty crown, a sash bedecked with glittering
broaches of office, rather dear little monogrammed slippers and a grumpy face.
To one side, on a Persian pouffe, sat Emily her monkey maid, and on the other
wheeled Caruthers her augmented kiwi bird.

‘Get
a move on, Brentford,’ called Her Majesty. ‘You are late and one does not have
all day.’

‘My
apologies, ma’am.’ Lord Brentford put speed to his stride. ‘Slight hold-up in
the Mall. Unexpected rain of frogs. Causing frightful chaos.’

‘No
interest in frogs,’ said the Empress of both India and Mars. ‘One wants to see
one’s present.’

Lord
Brentford looked towards Leah who shook her head and said nothing.

‘Not
strictly
a present, ma‘am,’ said Lord Brentford. ‘More a lendsies, really.’

‘A
lendsies?’
queried the Queen.

‘You
know, when you are lent something, ma’am.’

‘When
one is lent something, one
keeps
it,’ said Her Majesty the Queen. ‘That
is what being a Queen is all about.’

‘Quite
so, ma’am,’ said Lord Brentford.

‘Well,
open it, do,’ said the Queen.

Queen
Victoria’s Crowbar-Carrier-in-Residence handed Lord Brentford the royal crowbar
and the nobleman set about the packing case with vigour.

It
was a large packing case, perhaps eight feet in height and four feet to a side.
The words THIS WAY UP were largely printed, so it was the right way up.

Lord
Brentford strained with the royal crowbar. Sections of timber toppled away to
reveal waddings of wood-shaved packing.

Leah
stepped forward, drew in breath then blew away all these packings.

Wood-shavings
swirled and something wondrous was revealed. Something truly wondrous.

Hovering
three feet above the floor was what at first appeared to be a sphere of glass.

But
no such thing was this. Rather, what was to be seen was—

Nothingness.

Absolute
nothingness.

A
sphere of total

colourless,
textureless,

spaceless,
timeless

nothing.

All
in the royal throne-room stared in awe.

But
only one amongst them understood.

43

e
are most amused.’ Queen Victoria stepped from her throne and approached the
Sphere of Nothingness. She stretched forth a royal hand to touch it.

‘Oh,
Your Majesty, please do
not.’
Leah the Venusian barred the monarch’s
way.

‘One
does
not
say
not
to one’s monarch,’ said the Queen.

‘But,
ma’am.’ The Venusian smiled upon the Queen. ‘Were you to touch it, you would be
drawn into it, into the absolute void, never ever to return.’

Queen
Victoria’s hand withdrew. ‘One would not want
that,’
said she. ‘But you
may leave us now.

‘Leave
now, ma’am?’ asked Lord Brentford. ‘There are some matters to discuss.’

‘Later,
later, Brentford. I find this item entrancing. I wish to gain scientific
opinion regarding this.’

‘Let
no one touch it,’ counselled Leah.

‘You
are dismissed,’ said Her Majesty the Queen. ‘The sphere will be safe enough
here.’

‘I am
in agreement with that, ma’am,’ said Lord Brentford, bowing politely. ‘I wished
it to be brought here because I am aware of Mr Churchill’s fears for Your
Majesty’s safety. I know this room to be the safest place in all of the Empire
in which to keep it.’

‘Quite,’
said Queen Victoria. ‘Even the Masked Shadow, of evil memory, would not have
dared to enter here.’

‘Then
we will take our leave, Your Majesty, safe in the knowledge that this great
treasure will remain under your protection until the end of December, when it
will take its place in the Venusian Hall of the Grand Exposition.’

‘One
is looking forward to that,’ said the Queen. ‘Farewell.’

They walked from
the palace to the Mall. The going was uncertain, for although the rain of frogs
was over, many many many were the frogs around and about.

They
clogged up the gutters, hung impaled upon railings, cluttered flower beds,
smothered the Mall. ‘Twas not the prettiest sight.

Stepping
carefully, his lordship led Leah and Darwin, who stepped also most carefully,
gingerly and fearfully, to the area where now arose the Exposition’s halls.

‘Coming
on a treat, doncha think?’ Lord Brentford fished a cigar from his pocket, popped
it into his mouth and lit it with a lucifer. ‘Much of the framework up already.
Need to sweep those frogs out, though, before the glass goes in.’

Darwin
looked up at the acres and acres of ironwork. This building was larger than
anything he could possibly have imagined. Darwin’s little heart raced at the
sheer spectacle, and thoughts came and went inside his head in the way that
thoughts will do.

They
can create wonders, these humans,
Darwin thought.

Wonders
sometimes fearsome to behold.

Folk
were venturing once more onto the Mall, folk who stepped with daintiness,
prodding at fallen frogs with sticks and parasols.

‘Berty,’
said Leah, ‘I would like to go now, if you please. ‘‘Certainly, my dear. Just
wanted you to see how splendidly everything is coming along. Although all the
bods who should be working on the building appear to have sloped off. Taken
shelter from the rain of froggies, I suppose.’

Darwin
tugged at Lord Brentford’s trouser and pointed towards two fellows who were
approaching. They walked in that way that can only be described as
‘purposeful’, with chins firmly set and hands made into fists. They wore black
bowler hats, black ulster coats and black boots and each of them carried a
black leather case and each of them looked stern.