Strengthening laws and regulations was Harold Alcott’s central philosophy. Potent Policies, he called them, which was where he got his nickname, Harold ‘Absinth’ Alcott. He glared at the stranger whilst lighting up a cigarette.
“A lone man in a park is one on the prowl,” he growled, the white stick wiggling in his lips like a rising prick.
“You’re alone in a park,” Heidi pointed out.
“And indeed, I am on the prowl. But not for children,” his eyes darted to her breasts, none-too-subtly, and the compulsion to vomit was strong once more.
“Listen, Harold,” she protested, losing patience with his leering, when suddenly the nauseous urge became too much. She bent forward, bile rising in her throat.
A peculiar feeling was filling her head. It felt like a rush of blood, except the blood carried with it a multitude of thoughts and feelings, billions in number. They swirled around like angry — Wasp! — hornets infuriated at the disruption of their nest.
Yet in their astonishing number, all were united, driven by some greater hive understanding, their focus a man, someone she’d never met, yet for a brief moment understood. She saw within him, as did the billions of others. She felt what he felt, she tasted his self-loathing and disgust.
What the fuck was happening? Had her mind broken? Had that pervert Harold Alcott poisoned her with some date-rape drug? She forced an eye open and saw this was not so, for he too was clutching his head, screaming as the thoughts ran riot in his mind.
And if she listened closely, were there not his thoughts in her head too? One voice among billions?
But it was not Harold the multitude were concerned about; it was this other man, the one whose eyes they looked through, the one they desperately wanted to flee from.
A great tearing began, the community mind that had moments before been incomprehensible, now left, her psyche torn apart like dough. The thoughts departed as a frightened herd, and having lost them, she once again wailed in frustration and pain. Alone. She’d never truly understood such a feeling until this moment, when the voices lapsed into silence.
Heidi opened her eyes and looked around, trying to see her daughter. She opened her mouth to call out the girl’s name, but no words came out. The name of her only child had been removed from her head, along with countless other memories. All gone with the Wasp.
And like single particles drawn by gravity to the multitude, further parts of her were sucked away by the departed mass. One moment she was searching for a child, the next she was blinking, confused, motherly bond forgotten.
Shaking, Heidi got to her feet, and began to run. The world was shifting around her. Two buildings nearby shimmered and became one, as if she’d been cross eyed the whole time and they’d merely been the same object observed twice. Trembling ground threatened to throw her to the floor, and every nerve in her body screamed for her to curl into a ball and pray for safety.
But an overriding urge to flee was more potent. Not from the shifting world, not from the shaking ground, not from the confusion, but from a tall office block that overlooked the park. An office block that contained the mind that had disgusted every other in existence, the mind that had frightened the Wasp away.
Unable to resist, she turned and looked, somehow sensing a monumental change was about to take place in the fabric of the world. Windows on the top floor shattered, fragile beneath the awesome tonnage of water that suddenly poured through, a river-worth tumbling from the office without any possible source. It cascaded down, crashing into the streets below, tossing cars and frightened pedestrians in its wake.
Heidi averted her eyes and ran, never looking back, not even when water lapped at her heels. Not even when the world she’d known became lost.
All this, Elli Heidegger would have remembered if that experience hadn’t faded from her head, just as it had from everyone else’s; gone to join the Wasp. The event existed only in the Mariner’s, who’d lost it to the Pope, only to have it returned years later.
And as the Mariner reminded her of this, Heidi’s mind tried to retrieve the memory. Just as Absinth had of Claude. Just as Pryce had of the stars. And just as before, the search found no trace of the Wasp where trace should lay, the needle skipped the record, the human within awoke.
And so too did every other who heard his story.
Mavis craned her neck and bent her head to try and hear what the Mariner was saying. It was no use, her tired old ears just didn’t catch any-more. Getting old was tricky business, every passing day brought new bodily failures. Long ago she’d become accustomed to the digestive issues, but it was the slow degradation of the eyes and ears that gave a sour taste. They should stick with you till the end! How long would she have to go without? When would they finally give up the ghost? She’d rather die than live without, it would be terrible to linger on, deaf or blind.
Whatever the man was saying, it had the rapt attention of the whole gathering. Probably lurid descriptions of his crimes, it was always the gory details that kept people hanging (to excuse the pun). She would have to ask Heidi about it later. It would be a shame to miss out.
However, looking at the woman who’d served Mavis as a loyal captain, she was doubtful that Heidi would be able to recall anything. The young lady was beginning to twitch and shake on stage as if in the grip of a fit.
“Oh my goodness,” Mavis groaned. She grabbed the sleeve of the gentleman by her side. “Excuse me? I think my friend up there is having some sort of seizure.”
The man didn’t respond. How frustrating! To go one week from total power, to this! Ignored in the street. “Excuse me!” she yelled at him, anger brimming over.
Suddenly the man’s head twitched back, juddering as if electrocuted. Mavis dropped his arm and backed away, alarmed. “Are you alright?” she asked, but like before there was no reply, just another judder and grimace, as if the man’s facial muscles were being pulled against his will.
She turned, afraid, hoping to push through the crowd, but everywhere she looked people were beginning to twitch and growl. Heads twisted as if on wheels, eyes rolled like dice, and where there had once been silence, a low moaning grew.
Mavis, terrified in her old years, felt her bladder give way, and release warmth down her legs. They were all around her: Anomenemies. More than she could ever have imagined! Too scared to do anything else, she looked back at the stage. The Mariner had ceased speaking, instead he looked out at the audience with regret and tears streaming down his face.
“What have you done?” she tried to appeal, but her voice couldn’t penetrate the screams that erupted about her. The Mariner turned and ran, slipping past guards who’d dropped their weapons as their bodies gave in to spasms; as, in a strange way known only to the Mariner, they finally became fully human.
Hands grabbed at her frail body and fingers scratched her face. Rage filled voices rumbled through her mind, until ears were torn loose and blood filled the drums. Distorted faces, like those of beasts, danced across her vision, only blotted out as her eyes were dug from their sockets.
Gripped with terror, Mavis was plunged into a sightless, soundless void with naught else to sense but pain. Her earlier wish was granted however; it didn’t last very long.
45. CHRISTOPHER McCONNELL WISES UP
A CACOPHONY OF BELLOWS ROSE above the town like distant thunder. McConnell had been sitting on a pew, idly running beads through his hands. Now they dropped to the floor with a light patter.