rr.eastofealing-第17章

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d　old　watering　hole。　Through　the　Swan's　upper　windows；　now　being　double…glazed；　the　dark　walls　shimmered。　Beyond　them　the　sun　shone；　but　here　in　Brentford　a　thin　drizzle　hissed　upon　the　pavements　and　trickled　down　the　gutters。　Old　Pete　hobbled　in；　shaking　rain　from　his　cap　and　muttering　under　his　breath。　As　he　passed　his　coinage　over　the　counter　the　young　barman　tut…tutted　and　warned　him　that　such　cash　transactions　would　soon　be　impermissible。　Old　Pete　muttered　something　in　reply　but　it　was　only　the　word　'pox'　that　caught　the　ears　of　John　and　Jim。　Pooley　lit　up　a　Passing　Cloud　and　drew　deeply　upon　it；　he　opened　his　mouth　to　speak　but　no　word　came。　Omally　read　the　expression　and　the　open　mouth　and　nodded　hopelessly。　There　was　no　need　for　either　question　or　answer；　nobody　knew　what　they　were　going　to　do　next；　or　even　why。　When　the　barman　called　time　six　minutes　early　the　two　men　parted　with　no　words　spoken　and　wandered　away　into　the　night。　
　The　disappointments　and　the　hopelessness　of　it　all　were　beginning　to　take　their　irrevocable　toll。
　Pooley　lay　on　his　bed；　hands　cupped　behind　his　head；　awake　to　the　sounds　of　the　night。　The　room　was　now　heaped　with　a　pointless　array　of　useless　and　expensive　articles。　The　wardrobe　overspilled　with　tailor…made　suits；　shirts；　and　shoes。　Quadrophonic　record　players；　all　lacking　plugs；　and　most　not　even　unpacked　from　their　boxes；　lay　half…hidden　beneath　every　Frankie　Laine　record　Jim　had　always　promised　himself。　He　had　riffled　every　Brentford　store　in　the　vain　attempt　to　spend　his　wealth。　Finding　an　estate　agent　with　property　deeds　still　for　sale　he　had　purchased　all　available　for　wallpaper。　The　things　he　ordered　arrived　by　the　hour；　to　lie　in　soaking　stacks　on　the　pavement。　Jim　went　about　the　business　with　a　will　but；　as　with　everything　now；　the　task　was　hopeless。　He　could　never　outspend　his　own　wealth。　Progress　across　the　cluttered　room　was　made　the　more　precarious　for　fear　of　sinking　to　his　doom　in　the　marshland　of　expensive　shagpile　carpets　heaped　one　upon　another。　He　should　have　been　sleeping　the　sleep　of　the　drunk；　but　no　matter　how　many　pints　he　struggled　to　down；　nowadays　he　still　remained　fiercely　sober。　None　of　it　made　the　slightest　bit　of　sense　to　Jim；　there　seemed　no　purpose　to　any　last　bit　of　it。
　Pooley　pressed　the　time…speak　button　on　his　brand　new　Lateinos　and　Romiith　wristlet　watch。　'Eleven　forty…five　and　all　is　well；　Jim；'　said　the　polite　little　voice。　Pooley　made　an　unseemly　sound　and　suggested　that　all　was　very　far　from　being　that。　Professor　Slobe　had　called　him　and　John　to　a　midnight　rendezvous　this　very　night。　No　doubt　the　Professor　felt　the　need　to　impart　to　them　more　prophecies　of　impending　doom。　Jim　did　not　relish　the　thought。　And　to　think　that　he　had　once　considered　the　old　man　to　be　a　stimulating　conversationalist　and　source　of　enlightenment。
　He　climbed　down　from　the　most　expensive　mattress　printed　palms　could　buy　and　sought　out　a　pair　of　matching　shoes　from　the　undisciplined　regiment　which　stood　before　him。　Having　kicked　about　for　several　minutes；　to　Jim's　immense　chagrin　he　unearthed　one　lone　matched　set；　his　tired　old　work…boots。　Muttering　something　about　the　curse　of　the　Pooleys；　Jim　drew　the　wretched　articles　on　to　his　naked　feet。　Having　recently　had　a　nasty　experience　in　the　bathroom　with　a　puterized　umbrella　which　opened　automatically　upon　contact　with　water；　he　left　the　thing　rolled　up　under　the　bed；　and　braved　the　drizzle　in　a　new　tweed　shooting　jacket　with　matching　cap。　Neither　fitted。　Jim　shook　his　head　…　everything　money　could　buy；　but　it　was　all　rubbish。　The　new　calfskin　waistcoat　had　looked　a　bundle　in　the　shop；　but　no　sooner　home　than　the　buttons　had　begun　to　fall　off　and　the　leathery　smell　vanished　away　to　be　replaced　by　one　of　plastic。　The　same　smell　which　permeated　everything　he　had　bought。　Jim　sniffed　at　the　'tweed'　jacket。　Yes；　even　that。　Bewailing　the　millionaire's　lot；　Pooley　slouched　on　to　the　Professor's。
　Omally　was　already　there；　fortably　ensconced　'　in　a　fireside　chair；　wearing　a　natty　three…piece　whistle　Jim　had　given　him；　his　right　hand　wrapped　about　a　whisky　glass。　Professor　Slobe　was　at　his　desk　amongst　his　books　and　Sherlock　Holmes　was　nowhere　to　be　seen。
　Upon　Jim's　noisy　entrance；　the　sole　of　his　right　boot　having　chosen　this　inopportune　moment　to　part　pany　with　its　aged　leather　upper；　John　and　the　Professor　looked　up　from　their　separate　reveries　and　greeted　the　new　arrival。　'Help　yourself；　Jim；'　said　the　old　man。　'I　think　you　will　find　the　fruits　of　my　cellar　eminently　more　stimulating　than　those　of　the　Swan。'
　'Praise　be　for　that；'　said　Jim　Pooley；　liberally　acquainting　himself　with　the　decanter。
　'So　now；'　said　the　Professor；　once　Jim　had　hopped　into　a　fortable　chair　and　eased　off　his　rogue　brogue；　'there　are　a　good　many　things　that　I　must　tell　you　this　evening。　Few　of　which　you　will　find　forting；　I　fear。'
　We're　off　to　a　good　start；　thought　Jim；　but　he　kept　it　to　himself。
　'As　you　are　both　aware；　Brentford　is　now　pletely　surrounded　by　an　impenetrable　barrier。'　The　two　men　nodded　gloomily；　they　were　a　long　way　from　Rio　and　that　was　a　fact。　'And　no　doubt　you　have　been　asking　each　other　why？'
　'Never　gave　it　a　thought；'　said　Jim。　Omally　leaned　forward　and　smote　him　a　painful　blow　to　his　naked　sole。
　'Thank　you；　John。　Now　it　is　my　wish　to　put　you　both　in　the　picture　as　far　as　I　am　able。　It　is　essential　that　you　understand　what　we　face。　Those　of　us　with　the　power　and　the　will　to　fight　grow　fewer　by　the　day。
　Soon；　if　the　thing　is　not　stopped；　there　will　be　none　remaining。'　Pooley　did　not　like　the　sound　of　that　very　much　at　all。　'I　will　start　at　the　very　beginning。'
　'Do　so；　sir；'　said　Jim。
　'In　the　beginning　was　the　word　and　the　word　was　with　God　and　God　was　the　word。。。'
　'Hold　hard　there；'　Pooley　interrupted。　'From　Genesis　to　the　Revelation　is　a　long　haul　by　any　standard。　Might　we　just　skip　right　through　to　it　now？'
　'All　right；　but　let　me　briefly　explain。　The　God　of　Adam　brought　something　to　the　world　which　had　not　existed　before。　He　brought　light。　To　our　perception　there　is　but　one　God；　the　true　God。　But　our　forefathers　believed　in　an　entire　pantheon　of　Elder　Gods。　These　rose　and　fell　with　their　temples；　for　how　can　a　god　exist　when　there　are　none　to　worship　him？　It　is　the　balance　of　equipoise；　the　harmony　of　the　spheres。　Each　new　and　rising　god　replaces　his　predecessor　when　his　temple　is　cast　down　and　his　followers　no　longer　believe。　Allow　me　to　suggest　the　possibility　that　dark　and　sinister　gods　existed　prior　to　the　word　which　brought　light　to　our　Mother　Earth。'
　'Sounds　pretty　iffy　so　far；'　John　observed。
　'Oh；　it　gets　far　worse　later　on；'　the　Professor　replied。　'This　is　just　the　prawn　cocktail；　by　cheese　and　biscuits　you'll　be　thoroughly　sick。'
　'I　have　a　strong　stomach；'　said　John；　refilling　his　glass。
　'Now；'　the　old　man　continued；　'in　the　beginning　of　the　world　we　know；　our　God　brought　light　and　created　man。　Before　this　time　existed　only　utter　cold　and　utter　confusion　where　reigned　the　Elder　Gods　of　darkness；　unchallenged。　With　the　ing　of　light　and　the　creation　of　man　they　were　cast　down　with　their　temples。　But　gods　do　not　die；　they　sleep　and　they　dream。　The　old　serpent　entered　Eden　to　tempt　man　back　to　the　darkness；　he　sowed　the　seed　of　doubt　in　him。　Doubt　in　the　power　of　his　Creator。　God　drove　back　the　serpent　but　the　damage　was　already　done。　The　serpent　never　left　Eden　you　see；　he　slept；　and　he　dreamed；　awaiting　the　time　when　he　would　rise　again。　That　time　is　now　upon　us。　Through　the　exercise　of　what　man　thought　to　be　his　own　free　will　he　has　furthered　the　aims　of　the　serpent。　The　prophecies　are　even　now　being　fulfilled；　as　testified　by　your　palm　there；　Jim。'　Pooley　pocketed　his　tattooed　mit。　'Man　has；　through　the　influence　of　the　serpent；　given　genesis　to　his　own　replacement：　simply；　the　thinking　machine。'
　'I；　Robot？'　said　Omally。　'I've　read　all　that。　Machines　do　not　think；　they　are　programmed　merely　to　respond；　they　answer　questions　but　with　the　answers　that　were　already　fed　into　them。　puters　do　not　have　souls。'
　'There　now；'　said　Professor　Slobe；　'you　have　saved　me　my　old　breath。　They　have　no　souls。　It　is　man's　soul　alone　which　prevents　him　slipping　back　into　the　darkness。　The　soul　cries　out　to　the　light；　the　soul　worships　the　light。　Replace　man　and　the　temple　of　the　lord　of　light　is　cast　down。　The　darkness　returns。'
　'The　whole　menu　was　a　bowl　of　sprouts；'　said　Omally　bitterly。　'I　am　going　to　be　sick。'
　'It　all　sounds　somewhat　eclectic；'　remarked　Jim；　surprising　even　himself。　'I　do　not　pretend　to　understand　much　of　it。'
　'Like　the　sprout；　it　takes　a　bit　of　swallowing；'　the　Professor　replied。　'What　I　am　trying　to　say　is　this：　puter　science　is　founded　upon　the　silicon　chip。　It　has　long　been　suggested　by　scientists　that　life　might　exist　elsewhere　in　the　universe；　life　possibly　with　a　silicon　base。　They　do　not　seem　to　realize　that　they　have　created　it　here　on　Earth；　at　the　behest　of　a　hidden　master。　When　man　is　made　subservient　to　the　machine　he　is　no　longer　in　control　of　his　own　destiny。　Therefore　he　is　no　longer　the　dominant　species。　The　people　of　Brentford　are　being　replaced　one　after　another　by　duplicates　of　themselves。　Soulless　robots　programmed　to　worship　their　master。　Unless　we　act　quickly；　then　all　we　have　ever　known　will　be　lost。'
　Pooley　solemnly　removed　his　wristlet　watch　and　cast　it　into　the　fire。　The　plastic　crackled　amongst　the　flames；　and；　to　add　further　horror　to　a　conversation　which　had　already　been　a　far　cry　from　a　cosy　fireside　chat；　a　shrill　voice　shrieked　out　from　the　flames　calling　for　mercy。
　Omally　crossed　himself。　'I　believe；'　he　said　simply。
　'Then　you　will　fight　with　me？'
　'I　think　that　we　have　little　choice。　Jim？'
　Pooley　raised　his　unmarked　palm。　'Count　me　in；　I　suppose；'　said　he。
　
　17
　The　conversation　wore　long　into　the　night。　John　and　Jim　were　anxious　to　know　exactly　what　plans　the　Professor　had　formulated；　but　the　old　man　was　obstinately　vague　in　his　replies。　It　was　either　that　he　was　as　yet　uncertain　as　to　what　had　to　be　done；　or　that　he　had　already　set　certain　wheels　in　motion　and　feared　the　two　men　might；　out　of　their　eagerness　to　pitch　in　for　the　cause；　confound　them。　Whatever　the　case；　Jim　at　length　returned　to　his　rooms　and　fell　into　a　most　uneasy　sleep　beset　with　ghastly　dreams　of　mechanical　monsters　and　bogey　men　who　loomed　up　from　every　darkened　corner。　Omally；　as　ever；　slept　the　sleep　of　the　just；　which　was　quite　unjust　of　him；　considering　he　had　no　right　to　do　it。
　At　around　eleven　the　next　morning；　the　two　men　met　up　outside　the　Flying　Swan。　Pooley　emptied　what　pennies　remained　to　him　into　the　outspread　palm　of　his　fellow。　'He　won't　take　my　cash　any　more；　simply　runs　his　damn　little　wand　over　my　hand。　It　gives　me　little　pleasure。'
　'If　there　is　a　word　of　truth　to　anything　the　Professor　told　us；　then　at　least　we　have　a　vague　idea　what's　going　on。'
　'Vague　would　be　your　man；　John；　this　is　well　out　of　my　league。'
　'That　is　a　nice　suit　you　have　on　there；'　Omally　observed　as　Jim　strode　on　before　him　into　the　Swan。　'If　a　little　tight　across　the　shoulders　perhaps。'
　The　pale　young　man　in　the　headphones　stood　as　ever　behind　the　jump。　Nothing　had　been　heard　of　Neville　since　he　had　been　whisked　away　in　the　ambulance。　The　Sisters　o