"So the Devil hasn’t always ruled the world?" I said carefully. "God was in charge, once?"
"Oh, yes…Word is the Devil snatched control of the world away from God after he persuaded the Romans to crucify the Christ. The Son of God was never supposed to die! He was supposed to stay with us forever, teaching us how to live proper lives. But with him gone, the Devil sneaked in and stole creation away from the Creator. And we’ve been stuck with the bastard ever since. Screwing up everyone’s lives, in his own private torture chamber, just for a giggle. This way, squire. Mind the step."
Bert led me out the back of the church and into a large antechamber packed with men and women sitting around long tables. They all wore bright red robes, complete with hoods. They were reading newspapers, magazines, and books, and making careful notes in their laptops. A few looked up and nodded to Bert before returning to their work. All four walls were lined with bookshelves crammed full of books and bound magazines from floor to ceiling.
"Here is where we study the world," Bert said grandly. "Through its media, its history books, and every up-to-date commentary. There’s another room where they do nothing but watch every single news channel, all day long. We have to rotate those people on a regular basis, or they start developing conspiracy theories, and next thing you know you’ve got a schism on your hands. And of course there’s our wide-ranging net of supporters and fellow travellers tucked away in governments and religions and big businesses all across the world, keeping us aware of what’s really going on. If you knew what Bill Gates was planning to do next, you’d shit yourself. We’re always looking for that crucial factor, that pivotal moment, when tipping over one small domino will set all the others toppling…Come on, come on; lots more to see."
He led the way down a long wooden spiral stairway that creaked alarmingly under our weight and finally gave out onto a low-ceilinged stone chamber deep beneath the church, full of bubbling chemical vats almost as tall as I was and a lot broader. Garishly coloured liquids surged up out of the vats and along through what seemed like miles of thick rubber tubing stapled to the walls and ceiling. All around there were gauges and valves and wheels and some fairly primitive filtering systems. I’d seen stills that were more complicated. Bert darted back and forth across the chamber, fussing over the equipment, adjusting a valve here and turning a wheel there. He tapped one gauge with a knuckle, sniffed at the reading, and then turned to smile proudly at me.
"It’s a very delicate setup," he said, patting a nearby vat affectionately. "Needs constant monitoring, of course. The founders put all this together, years ago, and they won’t let me change anything. Even though they’re far too intellectual to actually come down here and get their hands dirty on a regular basis. Not that I want them messing about with things, now that I’ve got everything running just right."
He looked at me, inviting me to say something. I hadn’t a clue what to say about his precious setup, so I retreated to something else that had been bothering me.
"If the church’s sanctity is enough to hide you from the Devil, why do you need the uncertainty spell as well?"
Bert looked distinctly disappointed in me but soldiered on with his answer. "That’s not exactly a spell, as such. More what you’d call a side effect, really. Comes from the Red King, down in the dream chamber. Or Professor Redmond, as he was. We call him the Red King after the character in Through the Looking-Glass. Remember him? He was fast asleep and dreaming, and everyone was afraid to wake him, because they believed he was dreaming the world and everything in it. So if he did wake up, they’d all cease to exist. Would you like to meet him? We don’t normally show him off to visitors, but then you’re special, aren’t you?"
I was still trying to form an answer to that one when we were interrupted by the arrival of a man and a woman through the door on the far side of the chamber. They were both wearing the ubiquitous long red robes, and they both carried a definite air of authority about them. They were middle-aged, with long, ascetic faces and severe expressions. Bert just nodded to them, conspicuously unimpressed.
"Thank you, Bert," said the man. "We’ll take it from here." He gave me a cold smile. "I’m Brother Nathanial, and this is Sister Eliza. Welcome to the Sceneshifters, Edwin Drood."
I nodded coolly in return. I didn’t like his eyes, or hers. They both had that look; that certainty beyond any doubt, inhumanly focused, merciless in their logic. Fanatic’s eyes.
"I’m here looking for some answers," I said.
"Aren’t we all?" said Nathanial. "Come; ask us anything. We shall conceal nothing from you. Bert, there’s been a spillage in the secondary systems. If you wouldn’t mind…"
"All right, all right, I’ll go and clean up your mess while you give Edwin the old pep talk." He nodded easily to me. "Have fun with the Red King, and his dreams. Don’t have nightmares afterwards." He gave me one last cocky wink and left the room.
"Marvellous fellow," said Nathanial. "An invaluable member of our staff, though I’d never tell him that. He might want paying more. Now then, Edwin; Sister Eliza and I run things here, in as much as anyone does. We like to think of ourselves as a cooperative. Don’t expect dear Eliza to say anything. She has no tongue anymore. Sometimes the small changes we make have the most unexpected repercussions…"
"Bert said something about founding members," I said, just to be saying something.
"Oh, yes, that’s us. There were six, originally, but now there’s seven. Another side effect…"
"How many people are there in the Sceneshifters?" I said, trying for a question that might possess even a slim chance of having a definite answer.
"Oh, more than you’d think," said Nathanial, smiling coolly. "Certainly far more than your family thinks. You’d be surprised, Edwin. Our ranks are growing all the time, as we open people’s eyes to the terrible truth. We’re the real salvation army, fighting a holy war against the Devil and all his works. Bert has filled you in on the basics, hasn’t he? Good, good…I think it’s time for you to meet the centre of our operations, our very own Red King, Professor Redmond. We’re all very proud of him. This way, please…"
"But there are questions I need to ask you," I said. "About my family, and why I was declared a rogue…"
"Yes, yes," said Nathanial. "All in good time. You really can’t appreciate what we’re doing here until you’ve met the Red King."
He and the silent Sister Eliza ushered me politely but firmly through the maze of chemical vats and looping tubes to a door at the back of the chamber, and then through it into a long stone corridor that stretched away before us, sloping down into the earth. Thick pulsing tubing was stapled to the rough stone walls, while from the ceiling hung a series of bare electric bulbs. We followed the tubes down the corridor, descending for some time, until I lost track of just how deep we were under the church and the London streets. The air was chill and damp, and water ran down the walls.
"Don’t you have any security down here?" I said after a while, just to break the silence.
Nathanial shrugged easily. "The uncertainty effect keeps out the riffraff, while the church’s sanctity hides us from the Devil and his disciples. And the Red King dreams he’s safe, so he is…"
"How does this all work?" I said just a little desperately. "This whole…sceneshifting business?"
"It’s really very simple," said Nathanial in that smug kind of way that tells you it isn’t going to be at all simple. "While the Red King sleeps, he dreams. Constantly. And while in that state he is able to see behind the scenes of reality, as it were. How things really work, and how they’re put together. We can influence his dreams and persuade him to make small changes. And the alterations he makes there, affect things here. In reality. We only deal in small changes, never big ones, no matter how tempting. They might be noticed by…You Know Who.