Billy pushed upon the door, which opened groaning on its hinges. He stuck in his head and sniffed. The air smelt stale. He stepped into the shop. It had evidently once been a draper's. Most of the old fixtures and fittings remained, hung with cobwebs and downy with dust. Wan light fell through the unwashed windows, illuminating here, a tailor's dummy standing like an impaled torso, and there, some mouldy balls of wool that looked like shrunken heads. These were not sights to inspire confidence in Billy.
The lad glanced down at the floor. There were the signs of many footprints, leading from the shop door to- Where?
To a stairway at the rear.
Billy crossed the shop floor and felt his way up the unlit stairs. At the top a door, and Billy pushed it open.
'Come in,' said a voice. 'You're late.'
Billy found himself in a dull little room. Lit by a single dangling bulb and containing nothing but a table and two chairs. Behind the table on one of the chairs sat a young man. He was pale and hollow-eyed, stubble-chinned and shabby. 'Sit down,' he said. And Billy sat.
'Right then,' said the young man. 'I was just going to ask how you did it, but I see your parcel. Very enterprising.'
'Thank you,' said Billy.
'And polite with it,' said the young man.
'I do my best to please.'
'I'll bet you do.'
'Is this the office of Necrosoft?' Billy asked.
The young man nodded, spilling specks of dandruff 'You were expecting something far more flashy, I'll bet.'
'You can't always tell a book by its cover,' said Billy with care.
'You can if it's written by Johnny Quinn,' said the young man. 'So, let's have a look at you. Stand up.'
And Billy stood up.
'Sit down.'
And Billy sat down again.
'Stand up.'ќ
And Billy stood up once more.
'And stay.'
And Billy stayed.
'It's impressive, isn't it?' said the young man.
'What is?'
'The way you do exactly what you're told.'
'If you say so.'
'I do. And I'll prove it. Whip your willy out.'
'What?' said Billy.
'Your willy. Whip it out. Let me have a look at it.' Billy slowly unzipped his trousers and exposed himself to the young man.
'Mine's bigger than that,' said the young man. 'Now tuck it away and sit down.'
Billy did so in considerable confusion.
'Wondering how it's done? Why you did what I told you?'
Billy nodded.
'Get out your little plastic something.' Billy took it from his pocket.
'Put it on the table.'
Billy tried to, but he couldn't.
'Don't want to part with it, eh? They never do.'
'I don't understand.'
'Of course you don't. But I'll explain: the plastic something is impregnated with a special chemical. It's addictive and it makes you subservient.'
'There's no such chemical,' said Billy.
'Oh yes there is. It comes from the Amazon. Johnny Quinn discovered it.'
'And who's this Johnny Quinn?'
'You've never heard of him?'
'Never.'
'That's because you're different, you see. You're like me, I'm different too. In a few years from now things are going to be very different from the way they are today. And that's when folk like us will really come into our own. We're the vanguard of the new movement, we are.'
'Are we now?'
'Yes we are. The world's full of greedy bastards who'll happily sell their old grannies. But we're not looking for them, well, we are of course, but not quite yet. For now we're looking for the different greedy bastards. The special ones. The ones special enough to use their initiative and find their way here.'
'It didn't take that much initiative,' said Billy. 'It was pretty straightforward.'
'Don't be modest.'
'OK,' said Billy. 'I won't.'
'That's right, you won't. Not if I say you won't. In fact you'll do whatever I say. Whatever I say. I can make you do anything I want, just by asking. So you'd better be polite to me, if you know what's good for you.'
Billy nodded, thoughtfully. 'Do you have one of these little plastic impregnated somethings yourself?' he asked.
'Of course I do.'
'Please show it to me.'
The young man took his from his pocket and held it tightly. 'I won't give it to you,' he said. 'So don't waste your time asking.'
'Oh, I had no intention of doing that. But surely your one is bigger than mine.
'Like my willy,' said the young man.
'Indeed,' said Billy. 'But I bet mine weighs more.'
'Don't be absurd,' said the young man.
'I'll bet it does. Here.' He extended his hand. 'Take it and feel the two together. Tell me I'm not wrong.'
'Okey doke.' The young man reached across the table and took the bright plastic something from Billy's outstretched hand. Billy felt a sense of terrible loss as it left his possession. As if the most precious item he had ever owned was being torn from his grasp. He bit at his lip and gripped the edge of the table. Sweat broke out on his brow and his breath came in strangled gasps.
'Here take it back,' said the young man. 'It's exactly the same as mine really.'
'No,' said Billy, through gritted teeth. 'You keep it.'
'Oh, thanks very much.' The young man grinned hugely and tucked Billy's treasure into his trouser pocket.
Billy took several very deep breaths and then he too grinned hugely. 'Now,' he said slowly, 'show me your willy.'
The police fished the young man's body from the canal a week later. The coroner's report stated that he had been the victim of a violent sexual assault. But this was not the cause of his death. Death was due to asphyxiation, a small bright plastic something being lodged in his windpipe.
Vanguard of the New Movement
9
Life is a Joke
J. PENNY II
(Scrawled upon his school blackboard in 1977 shortly before he took his own life, aged seventeen.)
'I'm impressed,' said Blazer Dyke. 'In fact I'm very impressed.' He sat at his cedar desk in an airy office with an open window that overlooked the churchyard of St Joan's Church in Brentford.