Web Site Story

'It will benefit every Brentonian,' said Mr Speedy. 'Keep the riff-raff out and preserve the borough in its state of stasis. Mr Shields wanted to avoid any change here. Clearly you wish the same. We wish the very same. What could be more harmonious than that?'

'The locals won't take to any fences,' said Derek. 'They're all wound up at the moment as it is. People have been vanishing, the locals believe that The Rapture is in progress. They nearly killed this chap called Charker last night. Some lunatic bishop had them believing he was the Antichrist.'

'Charker?' said Mr Speedy and he looked at Mr Shadow. Mr Shadow did noddings towards Mr Speedy's briefcase laptop jobbie and Mr Speedy keyed letters in and peered at the tiny screen.

'Do you know where Charker is now?' he asked Derek.

Derek shook his head.

'But you would say that some kind of Christian fundamentalist revival is going on in the borough?'

Derek sadly nodded his head. 'It will probably blow over,' said he. 'These things usually do.'

'Oh no,' said Mr Speedy. 'We wouldn't want that. In fact I think we should positively encourage it.'

'What?' said Derek.

'Is there a shrine?' asked Mr Shadow. 'There's always a shrine. A place where some miracle occurred. Like Lourdes, or Fatima, or Guadalupe, or that underpass in Paris where the spirit of Diana cured the beggar of athlete's foot.'

'I thought it was scabies,' said Mr Speedy.

'No, definitely Paris,' said Mr Shadow. 'But there's always a shrine. Do you have one here?' he asked Derek.

Derek hung his head in dismal affirmation. 'There is,' he said gloomily. 'My mum told me about it this morning. The Plume Cafe, where the tour bus crashed. People have been piling up bunches of flowers there. They say that the first man to be Raptured, was Raptured from there after the crash.'

'Malkuth,' said Mr Speedy, and he pronounced the unpronounceable name.

'Indeed,' said Derek. 'But how did you know that?'

'Everything is on file,' said Mr Shadow. 'Everyone is on file. We at Mute Corp always make a point of disclosing this fact to those we deal with in business. It reinforces trust and discourages duplicity.'

'You mean you resort to blackmail, if they don't do what you want them to.'

Mr Speedy looked once more at Mr Shadow. 'Of course,' they said. 'It simplifies matters no end.'

'Well / have nothing to hide,' said Derek.

Mr Speedy laughed. 'You certainly have no secrets from us,' he said. 'But a bit of advice for the future. And strictly off the record. The next time you buy an old-fashioned computer game from a dodgy supplier, do it in cash. The movement of stolen goods is far harder to trace that way.'

Derek's jaw fell open.

'So let's not waste any more time,' said Mr Speedy. 'A massive marketing exercise is about to be put into motion. The Suburbia World Plc web site will be going online tomorrow and shares will be floated on the stock exchange by Monday next. We all want this to be a big success, don't we?'

Derek's jaw was still hanging open.

'Crad barges,' said Mr Shadow.

Derek's jaw moved up and then came down again. The word 'What?' came out of his mouth.

'Oh yes,' said Mr Speedy. 'The crad barges. Part of the Brentford Waterworld experience. The crad barges used to come down the Grand Union Canal to the Thames. We'd like some. At least three. To convert into floating restaurants. They'll go down the canal, into the Thames, around Griffin Island then back again. Serving local delicacies. One will be dedicated exclusively to sprout cuisine.'

'What?' went Derek. 'What?'

'Best get at least four crad barges,' said Mr Shadow. 'We can cannibalize one for spare parts.'

'I'm sorry,' said Derek. 'I don't understand what you are saying?'

Mr Speedy shook his head and a look of a certain sadness was to be seen on his face. 'You are to organize four crad barges,' he said. 'Acquire them.'

'Me?' said Derek. 'I'm a newspaperman.'

'You may now consider yourself a company man,' said Mr Speedy. 'And company men do whatever the company requires that they do. Unquestioningly.'

'Have you quite finished?' questioned Kelly. 'I fear that I have no more places left for you to probe.'

She lay naked and spreadeagled upon a cold steel table. About her lay a range of hideous intrusive medical instruments.

The doctor removed her surgical gloves and wiped away beads of sweat from her brow. 'You must want this job very much indeed,' she said.

'Oh I see,' said Kelly. 'This was some kind of initiation test, was it? To see how much humiliation I would be prepared to endure?'

‘I’ll pass you Double Al,' said the doctor. 'Please get dressed and report to Mr Bashful in Training.'

The office of Mr Bashful was hung with artworks. These were of the old school. Possibly St Trinian's. Mr Bashful wore an eight-piece light blue suit that was cut from a man-made fabric. His desk was made of wood and very dull indeed.

'Fabarooni, [15]' said Mr Bashful, as Kelly entered his office.

'Fabarooni-do, [16]' said Kelly.

'I'm very pleased to welcome you aboard,' said Mr Bashful. 'I think you're going to love it here at Mute Corp.'

'The experience thus far has been positively orgasmic,' said Kelly.

'Really?' said Mr Bashful. 'I was watching your medical examination on CCTV and you didn't seem to be smiling very much.'

Kelly chewed upon her Cupid's bow and teased at a lock of golden hair. 'Broadcast throughout the building, was it?' she asked.

'We have no secrets here.'

'Perhaps you'll let me watch the recording of your medical later, then.'

'You can watch it now if you -want.'

Kelly raised an eyebrow. 'No thank you,' she said.

'So,' said Mr Bashful. 'To work. To work. If you'd be so good as to walk this way.'

‘I’ll try,' said Kelly. ‘I’ll try.'

Mr Bashful led Kelly from his office and through many corridors. All were hung with priceless artworks. Some led somewhere, some led back from somewhere, others led to other somewheres, others back again. Finally one led to a single door, which Mr Bashful opened, with a special plastic card kind of jobbie. 'You'll be issued with one of these,' he told Kelly. 'It's a Unicard, gives you access to all the areas you're allowed access to. I'm allowed access to almost all areas, but that's because of my status.'

Kelly smiled at Mr Bashful. 'Security must be a big concern here,' she said. 'Are all these corridors and rooms covered by CCTV?'

'Gracious no,' said Mr Bashful. 'Only the reception area and the doctor's office. We have no need to spy upon our own operatives.'