A Cure for Cancer

He left the little complex and closed the door behind him.

Shining the torch up the stone staircase he climbed to the top and opened the surface door. Then, stopping at each and winding them up, he walked back down the avenue of long-case clocks. The gallery was soon filled with their merry ticking.

As he strolled away from the Ashmolean towards the carpark of the Randolph Hotel, he heard the clocks begin to strike nine o'clock.

He started the Phantom VI and turned the car into the Broad, switched the taper to Nina Simone singing Black Swan, and lay well back in the driving seat until he reached the Western airlock which he passed through without difficulty. He blinked as he broke into the bright, warm morning.

Soon he could see Milton Keynes.

The new conurbation rose out of the greenish ground mist, each great tower block a different pastel shade of pale chrome yellow, purple, gamboge, yellow ochre, chrome orange, vermilion, scarlet, red (ost), crimson, burnt sienna, light red, cobalt, cerulean blue, turquoise, ultramarine, prussian blue, mauve, leaf green, emerald, sap green, viridian, hookers green, burnt umber, Vandyke brown, orange (ost), ivory black and grey (ost).

Entering the quiet streets of the great village, with its trim grass verges and shady trees, Jerry was filled with a sense of peace that he rarely experienced in rural settlements. Perhaps the size of the empty buildings helped, for most of them were over eighty feet high, arranged around a series of pleasant squares with central fountains splashing a variety of coloured, sparkling water or with free-form sculptures set in flower gardens. There were terraced gardens with vines and creepers on the buildings themselves and the air was full of butterflies, mainly red admirals and cabbage whites.

Jerry drove at a leisurely pace until he came to the middle of the conurbation. Here were the main administration buildings and shopping arcades, the schools and the play areas, and here were parked the armoured vehicles, the tanks and the helicopters of the advisory force. Neat, newly painted signs had been put up and it was easy for Jerry to park his car and make for General Cumberland's headquarters in the tall, domed building that the planners had intended for the town hall and which now flew the Stars and Stripes.

As Jerry climbed the steps, a detachment of unhappy marines broke from the building and surrounded him with a ring of sub-machine guns. 'I was hoping I'd find Frank Cornelius here,' Jerry said mildly.

'What you want with Colonel Cornelius, boy?'

'I have some information for him.' A faint shock ran from the left hemisphere to the right of Jerry's brain.

'What sort of information, fella?'

'It's rather secret.'

The marines sniffed and rubbed their noses with their forearms, keeping their steely eyes fixed on him.

'You'd better tell the colonel I'm here, I think.'

'What's your name?'

'He'll know who it is if you describe me.' One of the marines broke away and trotted inside. The circle closed up. Jerry lit a Romeo y Julieta and dropped the aluminium tube on the ground. Still staring unblinkingly at his prisoner's face, a marine with pursed lips kicked the tube violently away.

Frank hurried out.

'Jerry! You made it! Great!'

The marines withdrew behind Jerry and came to the salute with a crash of boots and armour.

'Did you have any luck with the machine?' Frank put a cold arm round Jerry's shoulder and guided him into the new town hall.

'I can't complain.' Jerry spoke through his cigar. 'And are you satisfied?'

'Relatively, Jerry. Look, we'll go to my private quarters. That's the best idea, eh?'

They went through a glass door, crossed the open quadrangle and entered the building's northern wing. 'It's just here.' Frank stopped, unlocked his door and led Jerry into an airy, pleasant room in which Rose Barrie was arranging flowers on a sideboard.

That's fine, Rose, thanks.' Frank smiled. The girl left.

'You're pretty loathsome, Frank.' Jerry took a golden chrysanthemum from the vase and smelled it.

'So would you be. I was never the favoured son, Jerry. I had to fight for what I wanted. You had it easy.'

'Until you fought for what you wanted.'

'Oh, that...'

'I've just been to see Catherine.'

'How is she? I was wilder in those days, Jerry.'

'She's keeping pretty well.'

'Our family always were great survivors.' Frank grinned. 'Do 'you want a...? No,. I suppose not. But let's face it, Jerry. You got where you were by luck — by intuition, if you like. I had to do everything by thinking. Hard thinking. Logical thinking.'

'It made you tense, Frank.'

'That's the price you pay.'

Jerry put the chrysanth back. Then he smashed the vase from the sideboard and looked at the fallen flowers, the spilled water and the broken glass on the carpet.

'Don't lose your temper, Jerry.' Frank was laughing. 'You are a hothead! What's wrong, old sweat?'

'I'd love to be able to kill you, Frank. Kill you, Frank. Kill you, Frank.'

Frank spread the fingers at the end of his extended right arm. 'Jesus, Jerry, so would I...'

'I'd love to be able to kill you, Frank.'

That's a remote possibility.'

'It's all too fucking remote.'

Jerry swayed from the waist, eager for his gun.

'Calm down, Jerry, for Christ's sake.' Frank snapped his fingers at his sides. 'You'll need removing. Is this the time? Is this the place?'

'Space is all you ever fucking think about.'

'Somebody has to. Listen, Jerry, I've got a moral responsibility. I never had that. I have changed. I could lose it all. Split. I'm going to keep it. The power's building up.'

'You'd have thought Einstein had never happened!'

'Maybe he shouldn't have happened. It's running too wild. We need something concrete — definite — solid. Something hard.'

'I want something easy.'

'Exactly. Connect, Jerry — just for a moment.'

'Shit...'

Technology is potential freedom from brutality. I should know. The old can't riot and have no power. We must forfeit the right to breed in order to retain the right to breathe. Immortality is just around the corner!'

'Mortality is space.'

'You've got too much imagination. That's what I mean.'

'What's the matter with you, Frank? You...'

'I'm older. You can never be that.'

'Piss...'

'Man is the only animal with the imaginative characteristic developed to any degree. No competition, see? The trait has become over-developed. A survival characteristic turned into an anti-survival characteristic. We must limit imagination. Destroy it, if necessary, in the majority, limit it in the rest. Jerry, it's our only chance to get back to something worthwhile. To normality.'

Jerry stared vaguely at his brother. 'Get back? Get back? But we're moving on. The abstract...'

'... can only destroy civilization...'

'... as we know it.'

'You see.'

'See? Death.'

'Death — and life.'

'Sure.'

'Then...?'

'Kill you, Frank.'

'No!'

Jerry felt faint. 'You're fouling things up, Frank. You were nicer when you knew it.'

'Forget Time.' Frank slapped the sideboard. That's what's important right now. A cleaning up. A getting back to fundamentals.'

'Forget Space.'

'Jerry — when I returned I decided there had to be some constructive thought. We mustn't fight.'

'Catherine. You killed our sister.'

'You killed her.'

'You made me.'

'Who's the guilty one?'