Web Site Story

The Reverend Jim and the landlord were sharing a joke about a knitted woollen hat at a bus stop in Penge in the year of 1972.

'I really am going,' said Kelly.

'I'm coming with you,' said Shibboleth. 'The Reverend Jim is leaving.'

'That was quick.'

'He's a real professional. He always leaves them wanting more.'

Kelly followed Shibboleth, who followed the Reverend Jim. She bid the Tomorrowman Tavern a silent farewell, vowing that she would never ever return there under any circumstances. Or at least until they put on some decent entertainment.

Such as a sitting-down-and-staring act.

Or a moving-quietly-in-no-particular-direction spectacular.

Or…

But the secret really is to leave them wanting more.

'There he goes, on his toes,' said Shibboleth.

And indeed the Reverend Jim was moving very fast for a fat lad. He fairly bounced along.

'Did he just outrun you before?' Kelly asked, as she trotted along behind Shibboleth. 'He's very light on his feet.'

The light was uncertain. Which is to say that there wasn't much of it about. The occasional security searchlight, turning above a bungalow gun turret. A single streetlight bound in a barbed-wire cocoon. The Reverend Jim moved in and out of the uncertain light and bounced along on his way.

'I'm not surprised he keeps losing you,' whispered Kelly. 'I can hardly see him most of the time.'

'Put these on,' said Shibboleth, handing Kelly a pair of goggles.

'Infra-red?'

'Yes and Mute-chip free.'

Kelly put the goggles on. Shibboleth did likewise with another pair. The bouncing redly-hued image of the rotund high priest went bob-bob-bobbing before them.

It never seemed to be doing any looking back. Which might have meant any number of things. That he didn't care. That he did care, but knew that it didn't matter. That it did matter and he did care, but he knew that he didn't have to care, because whether it mattered or not, it didn't matter whether he did care or not. Or possibly a combination of any of these. Or no combination at all. He just bounced and bobbed along, taking odd little sidesteps, then dancing forward, then steps backwards and dancing forward again.

'And there he goes,' said Shibboleth. 'And there he's gone.'

And he was.

'He has gone,' said Kelly. 'But where did he go?'

'That's a question I've been asking myself ever since I saw him do it the first time.'

Kelly followed Shibboleth to the approximate spot where the Reverend Jim had vanished and stood looking into the darkness that spread all around and about. 'Where are we?' Kelly asked. 'What is this place?'

'It's nowhere,' said Shibboleth. 'Just a bombed-out car park. No buildings and no trapdoors leading into subterranean workings. I've been all over the place in daylight. It's paved solid. There's nothing. You tell me where he went.'

Kelly took off her goggles and stared at Shibboleth. What there was to be seen of his face looked genuinely baffled.

'Let me get this straight,' she said. 'The only evidence you think you have that the chapel is here, is that the man you think is the high priest of this chapel always vanishes right at this spot when you follow him.'

'Nicely put,' said Shibboleth.

'You idiot,' said Kelly. 'You clown. You stupid…'

'Easy,' said Shibboleth.

'You have no evidence. Absolutely none.'

'I wouldn't go so far as to put it like that. It is here. I know it's here. I'm not messing you about. I'm on the level. I know it's here.'

'Hold on,' said Kelly: 'Say that again.'

'I know it's here.'

'No, before that.'

'I don't remember exactly what I said. I'm on the level, I said that.'

'Exactly,' said Kelly. 'That is what you said.'

'I'm baffled,' said Shibboleth. 'What did I say?'

'Level,' said Kelly. 'You said, level. As in levels in a computer game. This is what all of this is about. Well, some of it anyway. Most of it, as far as I can make out. Games. And in computer games you go up from level to level and you do that by scoring points and gaining energy and reasoning things out. Bear with me on this. What if the chapel is here? Right here.'

'It is,' said Shibboleth. 'I'm sure of it.'

'Then what if we cannot gain access to it without some kind of password? Without knowing the cheat. We have to find the Easter Egg. The secret way onto the next level.'

'Go on,' said Shibboleth. 'I'm listening. What do you think the Reverend Jim did, then?'

'He did something,' said Kelly. 'But then he might have had something. Some electronic key. Some remote-control unit. Something.'

'Nothing computerized works around here,' said Shibboleth. 'Mobile phones don't work. Laptops, nothing.'

'Give me a moment,' said Kelly. 'I need to think about this.'

Shibboleth gave her a moment.

'Any joy?' he asked, a moment later.

'Yes,' said Kelly. 'I think I know how he did it. Let's walk back to where we were when he vanished.'

Kelly and Shibboleth retraced their steps as best they could.

'OK,' said Kelly. 'We were behind him here, and what did he do?'

'He bounced and bobbed along in front of us and then he vanished.'

'No, he did more than that. He danced along. He took little sidesteps and went forwards and backwards.'

'A pattern,' said Shibboleth.

'On the paving stones,' said Kelly. 'He danced out a pattern from one stone to another. No doubt without stepping on the cracks. It's hopscotch. The oldest game in the world.'

'I thought that was prostitution.'

'That's the oldest profession. But I'm sure that whores played hopscotch too.'

'They'll play anything you want, if you pay them enough. I met this girl once who…'

'This is neither the time nor the place,' said Kelly.

'That's what she said at first, but money talks.'

'I will hit you,' said Kelly. 'I have very little patience left.'

'So what do we do?' Shibboleth asked. 'Follow the high priest again tomorrow and try to dance on the same stones that he does? We could sprinkle talcum powder over them earlier in the evening. I saw that done in an old movie. What are you doing?'

'Just watch me through the goggles,' said Kelly. 'There's an old hand-held computer game called simon. It flashed lights on different squares and you had to copy what it did. I shall do as the Rev Jim did, you do what I do and let's hope for the best.'