Friday, November 16, 2012

The City's True Name 7; Up To Mischief



            Up To Mischief


            Sogwa fled Gop’s electric wrath. She hurried back along the ventilator duct the way she came, turning left, up, ana, left, up, ana, again and again. She hurtled dizzily along a four-dimensional spiral, tracing back her way.
            Soon she returned to the Belfry in the Eye. Chaim reached down to help her out of the air vent and into the Belfry.
            She asked him, “Now what?”
            “Now you wait and see,” said Chaim, and he went back to his telescopes.
            Sogwa asked, “What are you doing?”
            “I’m watching. I’m a watchman.” He adjusted a monitor.
            “What are you watching for?”
            “The Messiah.”
            “The what?”

            Mischief interrupted. “Eek, eek!” Mischief squeaked. “I’ve got something to show you!” He flapped out of the Belfry and made a quirky four-dimensional twist.
            Chaim clicked some controls and said, “Tracking him on Monitor 6.”
            Sogwa looked at Monitor 6, and saw herself, back in Nowheresville Mall again; and Mischief flapped in from hyperspace, again. Once again they hugged, Sogwa’s parents wailed from far away, they chatted a bit, he told her to meet him at the Top Gate, and once again he flapped off into hyperspace.
            A few moments later he flapped back into the Belfry. “You see? You see?” Mischief squeaked. “From here we can go back in time!” Mischief flapped up to join his batty friends. They were excited about something. They eeked and they squeaked and they passed notes to each other. Lots of them were flying into hyperspace, and back again. They were up to something.

            Sogwa turned back to Chaim and said, “Pardon the interruption.”
            Chaim said, “That’s OK, I’m busy too. But please, keep talking.”
            Sogwa said, “You said, ‘the Messiah’. Who or what is that?”
            Chaim said, “The Messiah is the Savior King. He’s the Perfect Hero, the White Knight, the Redeemer come to Save the World.”
            “You mean... he’s the Good Guy?”
            Chaim said, “That too is a true name.”
            “And you’re on the lookout for him?”
            “Yes,” Chaim said, and switched to another telescope.

            “Eek eek!” Mischief interrupted again. “Look at this, look at this!” He flapped out of the belfry and made a quirky four-dimensional twist.
            Chaim clicked some controls and said, “Tracking him on Monitor 42.”

            Sogwa looked at Monitor 42. She saw a room in a corporate office building. A Boss was meeting two of his Assistants. They were telling him about the Hell-Bomb Account, and two ways to fill the order.
            The First Assistant said, “Plan A will cost us nine million, eight hundred and seventy-six thousand, five hundred and forty-three dollars and twenty-one cents. It will easily pass inspection and it will certainly work.”
            The Second Assistant said, “Plan B will cost us nine million, eight hundred and seventy-six thousand, five hundred and forty-three dollars and twenty cents. It will cost one less cent than plan A; it will pass inspection just as easily; and it will almost certainly work.”
            The Boss said, “I must consult my conscience.” He stood up, turned to the window, parted the curtain, and stared out at the city.
            Leathery wings flapped, and a little critter flew in from hyperspace. Mischief grabbed the curtain rod and hung upside down. Nobody could see him, but the Boss could hear him.
            Mischief whispered, “Your responsibility is to the stockholders.”
            The Boss turned around and said, “Initiate plan B!”

            Mischief flapped back to the Belfry and rejoined his friends.
            Sogwa turned back to Chaim and asked him, “Why are you looking for the Messiah?
            “That’s my job,” said Chaim. “It’s what I’m paid for.”
            “Who’s paying you?”
            “The people of Hellen,” Chaim said. “Once upon a time, many years ago, they expected the imminent coming of the Messiah, so they decided to hire a watchman.”
            Sogwa said, “And you applied for the job.”
            Chaim said, “They told me to keep a look-out, here in the Eye of the Pyramid. They said, ‘When you see the Messiah coming, in all his glory, then sound the alarm!’ I took the job, and I’ve been looking for the Messiah ever since.”

            “Eek eek!” Mischief interrupted again. “Look at this, look at this!” He flapped out of the Belfry and made a quirky four-dimensional twist.
            Chaim clicked some controls and said, “Tracking him on Monitor 23.”
            Sogwa looked at Monitor 23. She saw a bedroom, late at night. A Nerd in pajamas was working at his homestation, checking blueprints for the Plan B Hellbomb.
            Resting on the desk right next to the monitor was a game disk; the Leather Goddesses of Phobos, in Two Exciting Playing Modes; Mild and Wild. The Nerd was planning to play that disk, as soon as he finished this job, and it was nearly done.
            The Nerd said, “Uh-oh, what’s that? A bug?” He stared into the monitor, typed awhile, scratched his head. “Was it there or not? Hmm...”
            The Nerd tried a few more tests, then shook his head.
            Leathery wings flapped, and a little critter flew in from hyperspace. Mischief grabbed the light fixture and hung upside down. He told the Nerd, “It looks nominal.”
            The Nerd said, “Yes, it does.”
            Mischief said, “You could spend the rest of the night hunting down that bug, if it exists.”
            The Nerd said, “If.”
            “Or,” said Mischief, “you could exit the program, order in some pizza, and boot up the leather goddesses.”
            “But what if the bug is there, and they find out?”
            “Then they will find out at the end of the world.”
            The Nerd said, “Good point,” and he exited the program.

            Mischief flapped back to the Belfry and rejoined his friends.
            Sogwa turned back to Chaim and asked him, “Have you seen the Messiah yet?”
            “No, not yet. And believe me, if I had, you’d know. Everybody would know. These bells are very loud.”

            “Eek eek!” Mischief interrupted again. “Look at this, look at this!” He flapped out of the Belfry and made a quirky four-dimensional twist.
            Chaim clicked some controls and said, “Tracking him on Monitor 69.”
            Sogwa looked at Monitor 69. She saw a factory, late on Friday afternoon. The Factory Foreman looked down at the factory floor. “Oh, no,” he said; for there in plain sight was a loose bolt. Was it there a minute ago? He wasn’t sure.
            The Foreman looked at the Plan B, Nerd-checked hell-bomb. It was complete, and about to be taken off the assembly line. It was the last one of the workday, and the Foreman had been looking forward to going home and cracking open a nice cold can of beer.
            Leathery wings flapped, and a little critter flew in from hyperspace. Mischief grabbed a girder and hung upside down. He told the Foreman, “You know, you could stop the line...”
            The Foreman said, “Yeah, I could.”
            “You could keep everybody overtime on Friday afternoon, and make them crack open this hell-bomb to check every single one of its bolts.”
            “Or,” said the Foreman, “I could call it a day.”
            “But that’s a loose bolt.”
            “But this is Friday afternoon.”
            “If they ever need that hell-bomb, then you’ll be in big trouble if it doesn’t work!”
            “If they ever need that hell-bomb, then everybody will be in big trouble, whether or not it works. Good evening,” said the Foreman, and he left.
           
            Mischief flapped back into the Belfry. “You see, you see?” he squeaked.
            “I do see,” said Chaim. “Because of plan B, the bug and the bolt, that particular hell-bomb looks like a hell-bomb, and tests like a hell-bomb, but it will never explode like a hell-bomb.”
            “One down, plenty more to go,” said Mischief. He flapped up to join his batty friends.

            Sogwa scanned various other monitors. “There’s lots of corruption going on,” she said.
            “Oh yes,” said Chaim. “Little bits, here and there; it adds up.” He pointed to a monitor. “This bomb has DDT instead of TNT. And that one has platinum instead of plutonium.”
            Sogwa said, “And there’s lots of rebellion going on, too.”
            Monitor 17 showed the rally at the Akasic Library Plaza. Miss Liberty was rallying the crowd. The police squad that Gop had sent there had changed sides, and was leading the chants.
            Monitor 76 showed the block outside the Pyramid. A crowd had gathered, carrying protest signs, and it was getting bigger and louder.
            Monitor 86 showed the Chief Justice of the Hellen Supreme Court. He was frowning at one of Gop’s lawyers. He intoned, “MOTION DENIED,” and pounded his gavel.
            Monitor 96 showed the Senate Floor in Hellen’s City Hall. They had just passed a censure resolution, and were drawing up articles of impeachment.
            And Monitor 666 showed the floor of the Hellen Stock Exchange. Every stock held by Gop and his inner circle was selling for pennies on the dollar.
            Chaim said, “Oh yes. All Hellen is breaking loose.”
            Sogwa said, “So will you sound the alarm?”
            “Not until the Messiah arrives.”
            “You want a savior-king?” Sogwa yowled. “What about Mischief and his batty friends, right over your head? They’re busy saving everybody!”
            “But they aren’t kings.”
            “You want a king? What about Gop?”
            “But he isn’t a savior.”
            “You mean nobody’s both savior and king?”
            “Nobody yet.”
            “So no Messiah.”
            “None so far.”
            “And you’ve been looking for one.”
            “All these years,” Chaim agreed. He adjusted the focus on a telescope.
            Sogwa said, “How much are they paying you to do this?”
            Chaim said, “One shekel a day.” He checked a monitor and moved on.
            “That’s not much, is it?”
            “No, it isn’t.” He looked through another telescope.
            “So why do you stay on the job?”
            “The wage is low,” Chaim explained, “but the work is steady.”


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