“In the elevator, on their way down.”
“Really?” said the other Eddie. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
And he reached out a paw and pressed it down on a button on his desk.
And in the elevator all the lights went out.
“Oh dear,” said Jack. “I don’t like this.”
And then the elevator juddered.
And then it began to fall.
And Jack in the darkness went, “Oh dear me.”
And the elevator plunged.
22
Down went the elevator, down and down. Down and down in the dark. And up rushed the ground, it seemed, in the dark. Up and up and up.
And then there was a sickening sound that echoed all around and about.
Eddie heard something and felt something, too.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Nothing to concern yourself with,” replied his other self, taking up his beer between his paw’s and draining much of it away. “These paws are a real pain at times, aren’t they? No opposable thumbs –”
“I had hands with those once,” said Eddie sadly. “But tell me, what did you do?”
“Just switched off the elevator. Don’t go getting yourself upset.”
Eddie rocked gently upon his paw pads. He felt upset, he felt unsettled, he felt altogether wrong.
“You look a little shaky,” said his other self. “But never mind, it will pass. Everything will pass. But it is a great shame about the hands. They were very nice hands you had. I can’t understand why everyone thought them so creepy.”
“What?” went Eddie, raising a now droopy head. “How did you know about me having hands? I don’t understand.”
“I know all about you,” said his other self. “It is my job to know all about you. Learn every subtle nuance, as it were. Be you, in fact. I told you, we kept a careful eye on you when you were mayor.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Eddie Bear, “I really hate sighing, you know. Sighing gets me down. I have a normally cheerful disposition, but once in a while I really feel the need for a sigh. And this is one of those times.” And so Eddie sighed. And a deep and heartfelt sigh it was, and it set the other Jack laughing.
“And so why sigh you, Eddie Bear?” asked his other self.
“Because,” said Eddie, “I don’t understand. I consider myself to be more than competent when it comes to the matter of private detective work. I pride myself upon my competence. But for the life that is in me, I do not understand what is going on around here. I don’t understand why you’ve done what you’ve done, what you intend to do next, nor why you look just like me, and why this gormster –” Eddie gestured towards the other Jack “– looks like my best friend Jack.”
“And so you would like a full and thorough explanation, couched in terms readily understandable to even the simplest soul?”
Eddie sighed once more. “Please feel free to be condescending,” he said. “I’ve never been very good with subtle.”
“Nice touch of irony.” Eddie’s other self finished his beer and set his bottle aside. “All right, it is only fair. I will tell you all. Jack, you may leave us now.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
“I think so, Jack. Take your leave at once.”
“But he’ll go for you, sir – he’s a vicious little bastard.”
“Language,” said Eddie’s other self. “Eddie needs to know and it is right that he should know. Bears have a code of honour, don’t they, Eddie?”
“Noted for it,” said Eddie. “Along with their sexual prowess. And their bravery, of course. Bears are as noble as. Everyone knows that.”
“And so if I ask you to swear upon all that means anything to you that you will make no attempt to harm me during the time that I am explaining everything to you, I can rely on you to honour this oath?”
“Absolutely,” said Eddie Bear.
“Because you see, Jack,” said the other Eddie, “bears can’t cross their fingers behind their backs, so when they swear they have to stick to what they’ve sworn.”
The other Jack made non-committal sounds.
“So clear off,” the other Eddie told him.
And, grumbling somewhat, that is what he did.
“Care to take a little trip?” asked Eddie’s other self.
Eddie Bear did shruggings. “Is my Jack all right?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about your Jack. Would you care to take a little trip?”
“It depends where to.”
“I could just kill you,” said Eddie’s other self.
“I’d love to take a little trip,” said Eddie. “Teddy bears’ picnic, is it?”
“In a manner of speaking. Step a little closer to the desk, that’s it. Now, let me join you.” And Eddie and his other self now stood next to each other. “And if I just press this.”
And then.
The horrible chicken-poo-carpeted floor fell away.
Eddie and his other self hovered in the air, borne by a silver disc that, it seemed, shunned the force of gravity.
And this disc, with these two standing upon it, slowly drifted downwards.
Eddie peered fearfully over the rim of the disc. “What is happening here?” he asked in a rather shaky voice.
“Fear not, my friend, fear not. I am going to take you on a tour of this establishment. You will see how everything works and why it does. We shall chat along the way.”
“Hm,” went Eddie. And that was all.
And the slim disc drifted down.
“The technology that drives this,” explained the other Eddie, “is years ahead, centuries ahead, of the technology that exists upon this particular world. And the denizens of this particular world will never catch up with such technology. That will not be allowed to happen.”
“The chickens from space,” said Eddie Bear.
“Well, hardly from space, but in a way you’re right. There are many, many worlds, Eddie Bear, many, many inhabited worlds. But they are not out in space somewhere. They are all here, all next to each other, as the world of Toy City is next to the world of Hollywood, separated by a curtain, as it were, that only those in the know are capable of penetrating.”
The flying disc dropped low now, over a vast industrial complex, great machines attended to by many, many workers.
“And what is this?” asked Eddie.
“Chicken production,” his other self explained. “Humankind has this thing about eating chickens. But as logic would dictate to anyone who sat down and thought about it for five minutes, it is simply impossible to produce the vast quantity of chickens required for human consumption every day. It would require chicken-breeding farms covering approximately a quarter of this world’s surface. So all the chickens that are eaten in the USA are produced here. They are artificial, Eddie, cloned from a single chicken. The pilot of a chicken scout ship that crashed here ten years ago. Soulless clones – they are not real chickens.”
“From space?”
“No, not from space. Do try to pay attention. Recall if you will the various religions that predominate in Toy City. You have The Church of Mechanology, followed by clockwork toys who believe that the universe is powered by a clockwork motor. The cult of Big Box Fella, He Come, a Jack-in-the-Box cult that believes that the universe is a big box containing numerous other boxes. There is more than a hint of truth to their beliefs. But what I am saying is this: all these religions have a tiny piece of the cosmic jigsaw puzzle. The chickens just happen to have a far larger piece.”
“Yes, well,” said Eddie, “everyone is entitled to believe whatever they want to believe, in my opinion, as long as it causes no hurt to others. I happen to be an elder in an exclusive teddy bear sect, The Midnight Growlers.”
“You are its one and only member,” said the other Eddie as the flying disc flew on over the seemingly endless faux-chicken production plant. “My point is this. All religions are correct in one or other respect. All religions possess a little part of the whole. The followers of Big Box Fella are about the closest. All life in the entire Universe exists right here, upon this planet. But this planet is not, as such, a planet. It is the centre of everything. The centre of production, as it were. There are countless worlds, all next to each other, each unaware of the existence of the world next door. Sometimes beings from one world become capable of penetrating to the world next door. And do you know what happens when they do?”