Dream London (30 page)

Captain James Wedderburn shall have the right to wear the following colours and coats of arms: Purple, silver, purple and silver, Light gold, confectioner’s gold and old gold; the mark of the dog, the mark of the goat and the lizards reversed.

In addition to his regular remuneration (stated elsewhere), Captain James Wedderburn shall receive a yearly tribute of three parmesan cheeses, four black forest gateaux, a yard of ale, two furlongs of whisky and a light year of olive oil.

“They’re taking the piss now,” I said.

“Shhhh,” said Miss Merchant. “Keep on reading. I did these for you. They’re well worth it.”

Captain James Wedderburn shall furthermore be exempt from the laws of grammar. In particular, he shall be allowed to split infinitives, to say ‘less’ rather than ‘fewer’ and to begin sentences with ‘but’ and ‘and’. Any persons found correcting his manner of speech shall be imprisoned in a penguin suit in Dream London Zoo.

Finally, Captain James Wedderburn shall be transported in a coach and four at his request.

“Is this some sort of joke?” I said.

“These things are very important in the other worlds,” said Miss Merchant.

I looked at the contract again.

“So what are my duties?” I asked.

“These are very straightforward,” replied Miss Merchant.

They appeared on the parchment as she spoke.

Captain James Wedderburn shall, in return for these considerations, do whatsoever Angel Tower deems reasonable.

“So, not what
is
reasonable?” I pointed out.

“I wouldn’t get too upset about that,” said Miss Merchant. “It’s a standard clause on human contracts.”

I looked down at the parchment once more.

“Is that it?” I said. “Do I just sign this?”

“Not quite,” said Miss Merchant. “There’s the final part. Who are you?”

I stared at her. Shadows flickered outside. Birds flying by the window.

“Who am I?” I said. “I’m Captain James Wedderburn!”

“Well, yes, but that’s just a label. A handle. It’s not even true. You’re not really a Captain, are you? You never made more than Sergeant in the army.”

“I acted as Captain. I’ve done nothing but since I came to Dream London.”

“Precisely,” said Miss Merchant. “And isn’t that the nice thing about Dream London? You can be who you want to be! Look at me. Plain Jane until Dream London arrived, and look at me now!”

I was looking at her, at all her glorious curves. She was leaning closer to me, her perfumed bosom almost in my face.

“So who do you want to be, Captain Wedderburn? Because that’s the wonderful thing about Angel Tower. It tells the common folk who they are. It labels people and categorises them, makes them wear turbans and dress up like Mollies so that they are less like real people and more like cartoon characters.”

She leant closer. “But the special ones, the ones like you and me, we get to choose. We become who we want to be. It’s up to us. You have the pen, and you have the piece of paper. Simply write down who you want to be.”

“Write down who I want to be?”

“Exactly. Do you want to be brave, or a better fighter, or a great womanizer? Just write it down.”

“But I’m already all of those things.”

“But you’re not happy, are you? You have the Cartel on your back, the Daddio in your mouth and monkey semen in your arse. Things could be better, couldn’t they?”

“They certainly could.”

“Then write down the new Captain Wedderburn. The one you want to be...”

I gripped the pen again, but as I did so, more words appeared on the contract.

The cost of a new personality is an old one. Not your own, but that of your friend. The cost of your contract will be the soul of your best and truest friend.

I only had one true friend. He had chosen me to be so. Mister Monagan.

My one true friend. The one I was going to betray. Just like it said in my fortune.

INDIGO

THE 854TH FLOOR

M
ISS
M
ERCHANT HAD
a body built for sex. Her golden hair was pinned up above her head, but strands of it fell to her shoulders, threads of gold that curved in anticipation of those deeper milk white curves below. She wore a plain silk blouse, a tight dark skirt and charcoal stockings and managed to look completely naked beneath her clothes. She had sold her soul for her body. No doubt she was hoping I would do the same.

“I think it’s time for you to write your personality, Captain Wedderburn.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

“Think about it. Either Angel Tower or the Daddio is going to own you. Look what we have to offer you. What will the Daddio give you? Nothing but the chance to wail. Sign it.”

“I’ll tear it up.”

“This is the Contract Floor. Nothing changes here.”

Of course not. This was the power of Dream London.

I thought about Mister Monagan. I thought about Bill, about all the whores back in Belltower End. I never thought myself a bad person before. But Angel Tower obviously did. It thought I would have no compunctions in signing away another man’s soul. And up until yesterday, I think it might have been correct.

“Sign it,” said Miss Merchant. “You’ll have done worse in the past.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. But she was right. I had done worse. But was that an excuse not to bother any more?

“I’d think about your situation,” said Miss Merchant. “You’re standing nearly at the top of Angel Tower. There are hundreds of people below you. Do you want to fight them all? Even if by some miracle you did manage to escape this place, you’d be on the streets with a Wailer in your tongue and the Daddio looking for you. You have to betray someone. Do you really want that person to be yourself?”

I stared at her. As I did, the morning sun peeped over the edge of the windows and sheets of lemon light reflected from the glass faces of the cabinets of the Contract Floor. I sat there, waist deep in a kaleidoscope pool. Around me, the dark wood of the cabinets flashed in ruby textures.

And I remembered something.

“Do you have a mirror?” I asked.

“A mirror?”

“To powder your nose. A compact. Something like that.”

She produced one from the pocket of her jacket.

“What do you want a mirror for?”

I took the mirror and poked out my tongue. Two slits looked at me.

“Let me take one last look at the dawn,” I said. “Let’s see what we can see.”

We walked across to the windows and looked out.

For the first time, I was able to look across Dream London.

I saw part of the emerald spiral of the Thames, and I noted the way it coiled itself around the tower. I saw the patterns in the city below, fields of red brick and white china, bands of grey concrete. I saw the shadows streaming towards me from the smaller towers further east.

I tilted the mirror into the sun and flashed a message to the sky.

“What did you say?” asked Miss Merchant. She seemed more curious than upset at what I’d done.

“Just saying where I was.”

“No you weren’t. You said Contracts. I know a little Morse. What did you say?”

“You’ll see soon enough...”

Miss Merchant stared at me for a moment, and then shrugged.

“Whatever. Are you going to sign now?” she asked.

“In a moment. Let me take a look around. I might never be up here again.”

I walked around the windows, following the loops of the Thames. I saw the wide channel of the River Roding, heading off north to other lands. I saw the plains of windmills to the north-west.

I carried on round the tower, coming to the west, facing out to the centre of Dream London.

There I saw the wide parkland at the centre of the city. It was so green, and so regular compared to the twisted chaos of the streets. The lines of trees, the geometric precision of the footpaths were obvious even at this distance.

“What’s it for?” I asked.

“That will be the direct route to the other worlds,” said Miss Merchant. “Starting tonight. The workhouses of Dream London are filled with the disenfranchised. They’ll be marched through the parks and put to more profitable work elsewhere.”

“Oh.”

A cross appeared in the distance, where it hung just above the horizon. A handful of crosses, now, bobbing in the blue. I walked around the windows, completing the circuit back to the east. There were crosses all around us, and they were growing bigger.

“Can you see them too?” asked Miss Merchant, frowning.

“I think they’re missiles,” I said. “Cruise missiles. The Americans must have got my signal. I imagine there are bombs falling towards us, too.”

“It won’t work,” said Miss Merchant.

Sure enough, as we watched the crosses began to diffuse and then fade into yellow petals. Clouds of pale blossom puffed across the sky.

“I told you it wouldn’t work,” said Miss Merchant.

More blossom, white, this time, fluttering down around the tower. It fell like snow. Below us the streets of Dream London were covered in a blanket of yellow and white.

“Those were the bombs,” I said. “They were supposed to destroy everything here.”

“And so it ends,” said Miss Merchant. “Will you come to the table now?”

“I will,” I said.

I sat down and looked at the contract.

“Will you sign?” she said.

“I don’t want to,” I said. “I’ve had enough of Captain James Wedderburn.”

“Then your luck has run out.”

“I’ll take all my luck in one last shot,” I said, and I began to write.

I hereby resolve to give up my individuality and to work to the best of my ability to better the lot of the people of Dream London. I sacrifice myself for the greater good.

“Why do that?” asked Miss Merchant.

“Because ants fight as teams. Angel Tower is removing that ability from humans. I want to regain it.”

“It’ll do you no good,” said Miss Merchant.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I feel much better for putting that on paper. Let me finish writing now...”

I hereby resign my commission as Captain James Wedderburn. I am now James Wedderburn, the repentant man.

Miss Merchant looked at me.

“That seems a poor choice of personality to me,” she said. “Just think what you could have instead.”

“I don’t care.”

She bit her lip. Then she placed one hand on my cheek, rubbed the stubble there.

“I don’t like to see such a good looking man make a mess of his life. There are so many better things you could be doing.”

“Like what? I’m not going to go on using people.”

“Hmmm.”

She pulled her hand away.

“Before you sign that,” she said, “let me show you something...”

She turned and walked to the lift.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“You’re on the 853
^rd
floor. Do you know how many floors there are in Angel Tower?”

I did. I had seen the numbers in the lift

“1204,” I said.

“1206 now. The tower grows a floor every day. Don’t you wonder what’s on the floors above us?”

I didn’t answer. Of course I’d wondered.

“It’s them,” said Miss Merchant. “The ants. The ones who bought their way into this world. Wouldn’t you like to come and see them?”

She had pressed the button. Already the lift doors were sliding open.

“Do I have a choice?” I said.

“The choice is yours, James. But would you come all this way without seeing the rulers of Dream London?”

She laughed.

“Oh, and I wouldn’t bother about reaching for whatever you’ve got hidden in that jacket. Weapons will be of absolutely no use to you against them.”

Outside of the windows yellow and white blossom blew in the wind.

W
E CLIMBED INTO
the lift and rode up one level to the 854
^th
floor.

“Here we are,” said Miss Merchant as the doors slid open. I looked out in wonder.

There was a city in the top of Angel Tower. A city within the city. A city of convoluted mounds made from paper and mud and jewels. A termite mound grown to impossible size, swarming with millions upon millions of insects. The jewelled motion of them dazzled the mind as they scuttled back and forth.

“Can I go out there?” I said.

“A little way,” said Miss Merchant. “They won’t really care about you unless you wander too close to an egg bank or a nursery, in which case they’ll cut you to pieces.”

I stepped from the lift onto the mud and paper floor. It gave a little beneath my feet, and I bent down to touch it.

“Where does the mud come from?”

“I don’t know. Not from this city, I should think.”

I didn’t think so, either. The mud was a pale orange colour that reminded me of Mr Monagan. As for the paper of the mound, it felt like expensive writing paper, the best quality linen finish, thick and substantial. It was woven in thick ropes that spiralled in op-art patterns out from where I stood.

As I stood there an ant came scuttling towards me. Then another, then five more.

“Don’t move,” said Miss Merchant.