And they did.
23
The flying disc dropped down once more through the floor hole in the poo-splattered office. It drifted downwards and downwards and as it did so Eddie made enquiries regarding its motive power.
He received in reply a stream of technical data, which, even though he repeatedly smote his head in order to aid cogitation, passed over his head, due to its intricate nature.
“And these chickens created you?” asked Eddie as his knee parts wobbled uncertainly. “How did they do that, exactly?”
“You weren’t abducted only the once,” said his other self in reply. “They took you off several times during your tenure as mayor, They grew me from bits of you as one might grow a plant from a seed. Although the technique used was considerably more complicated than that. Would you like me to explain it?”
“No,” said Eddie. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“And of course, during your periods of abduction the chickens put a few ideas into your head regarding social reform in Toy City.”
“What?” went Eddie, in some alarm. “You put ideas in my head? How?”
“It was somewhat easier than you might think – we just added our own special sawdust.”
Eddie now whacked at his furry head. “I feel somehow … dirty” he said.
“Dirty?” And the other Eddie laughed. “If you think that us messing about with your head makes you feel somehow dirty, we won’t broach the subject of the tracking device we stuck up your bum.”
“No,” said Eddie. “I don’t think we will. So where are we going now?”
“To the launch site, of course.”
“Well, of course, where else?”
“We’ll be there in just a moment.”
The flying disc drifted downwards. Eddie viewed once more the massive engines and machinery of the ersatz-chicken production lines and shortly this was above them, as down they continued to the lowermost level of Area 52.
“Now let me ask you this,” said Eddie, “as some bright spark might, if he, she or it were observing this – why would the ‘launch site’ be on the lowermost level of Area Fifty-Two?”
“Good question,” said his other self. “But then why some things are underneath other things has always been a mystery, hasn’t it?”
“Has it?” asked Eddie.
“I watch a lot of TV,” said the other Eddie. “They have these programmes on about archaeology, digging up ancient sites. But the ancient sites are always underground. Along with the ancient roads. How do you explain that, eh? Why are ancient walls always four feet deep in the ground? Where did all that earth come from that has to be dug away? Does it mean that this world is getting bigger every year? Growing and growing? Perhaps that explains why there are so many worlds all next door to each other. What do you think?”
“I think I’m not very well,” said Eddie, and his knee parts gave out.
“On your feet, soldier,” said the other Eddie. “We’re nearly there now, see?”
And Eddie saw and Eddie was impressed.
Afeared also was Eddie Bear, but very much impressed.
They were dropping down now into a massive underground compound, a vast concrete expanse lit by many high-overhead lights, a concrete expanse on which stood at least a dozen spacecraft.
These were of the variety that Eddie had seen before. Like unto the one that had pursued him up the hillside of Toy Town.
Fine-looking tin-plate craft were these, with many rivets, many portholes and those big dome jobbies on the top that proper flying saucers always have.
“The propulsion units are fascinating,” said the other Eddie. “They employ a drive system powered by a cross-interflux, utilising the transperambulation of pseudo-cosmic anti-matter. Imagine that.”
And Eddie tried to. But did not succeed.
“You have to hand it to the chickens,” said the other Eddie, “I think it must have been that eternal question that sparked them into advanced technology.”
“You mean, ‘What came first, the chicken or the egg?’”
“No,” said the other Eddie. “‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’ I feel that the answer must be that the chicken needed to know what was on the other side. Really needed to know. And now they know what’s on the other side of so many roads and barriers between worlds and almost everything else. And one day there will be no life in the universe except chicken life and there’s no telling what they’ll do after that. Travel beyond death or beyond time, probably.”
“Well, bravo to those chickens,” said Eddie Bear once more. “Are we nearly there yet, by the way?”
“Nearly there, and … yes, we’re here.”
And Eddie had been watching as the disc came in to land. He had been watching all the activity around and about the flying saucers. All the comings and goings, all the liftings intos of stuff and fiddlings with all sorts of things. And Eddie had been viewing those who were all engaged in this industrious enterprise. For all and sundry engaged thus so were indeed of chicken-kind.
But somehow these were no ordinary chickens. No farmyard peckers, these. They were of a higher order of fowl. Clearly of superior intelligence, clad in uniforms and capable of using their wing-parts as a passable facsimile of hands.
Eddie viewed these dextrous appendages and wished like damn that his own hands had not been denied him.
As the flying disc settled onto the concrete floor, the other Eddie stepped nimbly from it and bid his wobbly counterpart to follow if he would.
Eddie stumbled onwards after his other self.
“Twelve spaceships,” the other Eddie told him as Eddie stumbled along, “each equipped with a thousand jars to store the essences in. It was felt prudent to speed up operations. Take all in a single gathering. Which ironically enough will fulfil certain prophecies promulgated by the various religious factions in Toy City. So I suppose there must be something to religion, mustn’t there?”
Eddie nodded slowly. There were no prophecies of doom to be found in the religious credo of The Midnight Growlers. There was love, there was laughter and indeed there was beer. But there was none of the grim stuff.
“The spaceships will fly out there,” said the other Eddie, pointing with a paw, “up that tunnel, out and through The Second Big O.”
“Surely they will be seen,” said Eddie Bear.
“By humankind? Probably. But it doesn’t matter. Those who believe in flying saucers are so vastly outnumbered by those who do not that their sworn testimonies are always laughed at. And as for those on the other side, they will never know what hit them. Fear not for them, Eddie. Their ends will be swift and painless. Their misery and enslavement will be over.”
“Will the chickens be hitting the meathead P.P.P.s?” asked Eddie, hopefully.
“Not yet. They’ll crash a single saucer, as they did here. The ‘survivor’ will wheel and deal with the P.P.P.s. Set up a production plant. Then they’ll add a few ingredients to the ersatz chickens, something to make the P.P.P.s and all the humankind on that side of the barrier compliant. The chickens will need their services as a workforce to redecorate Toy City. After that they will be redundant. Then they will be disposed of.”
“It’s all figured out,” said Eddie, “isn’t it?”
“Years and years of planning.”
“I am impressed,” said Eddie. “Now can I meet Her Majesty?”
“All in good time.”
“But I don’t have much in the way of good time left.”
“This is true,” said the other Eddie. “This is true indeed.”
And back beyond The Second Big O and up the Yellow Brick Road, a clockwork barman called Tinto said, “This is true indeed.”
“It is certainly true,” said Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis. “But what do you know about it?”
“Not much,” said Tinto, polishing furiously at a glass that needed no polishing. “I know Eddie’s missing because he hasn’t been in here for two days. And I think that’s a bit poor. It’s always me who helps him out on his cases and I wish to report the theft of my calculating pocket Wallah. Between you and me, I think that big boy Jack nicked her. Do you want me to fill out a form, or something? I have really nice handwriting.”