ASSOCIATION / CH. 5:BLACKWOOD
SUNDAY, 31ST DECEMBER, 1PM
Karen and George were going up the ski-lift when, noticing a train arrive, Karen decided she'd check where John and Sarah were on their journey. As it happened, the mag-lev train which was just pulling into the station was theirs. [Hi, John, Sarah! Welcome to your ski resort.] she called [I hope you've brought yourself some skis.]
[I was planning to hire some, if we decide to not just sledge.] Sarah said, [Is that going to be a problem?]
[I've no idea. You probably need to book some from William before-hand, though, his stock seems to be getting low. Word's getting out about your ski-lift, it seems.]
[My ski lift? Oh no, that was Bob's idea and William's lift. I think forty nine percent is still William's, anyway.]
[Well, whoever's it is, it's working for its living, hauling George and me up the hill, among others. This is much better than waiting around for the tractor, I can tell you.]
[They've got it working already?]
[Yes. I was surprised myself. The cable came on... when was it? Thursday? No, Friday, but crack of dawn. By evening time it was working already. Yesterday they had a little opening ceremony, and dished out five complimentary tickets to everyone at the cabins and anyone who turned up from the village. Of course, five trips is only about an hour or so's skiing, so I was hearing a quite a few kids saying things like 'Daddy, daddy, please can we get a ski pass? Please? They are on special offer today.']
[So, it's all working well?]
[It seems to be.]
[And what about your revision?]
[Ah, well, that's going OK. Ish.]
[Only ish?]
[We decided that mornings are for enjoying ourselves in the great outdoors, and afternoon is revision time. But you know... Afternoon doesn't really start until you've had lunch does it?]
[They're your exams, Karen, that's all I'll say. Anyway, we're out of the train, and I'm wondering what we do now.]
[Oh, we got a reminder message a few days before we got here, telling us to call ahead with your arrival time. Didn't you?]
[I thought that if I did that then there was a real risk of a red carpet or something silly like that.]
[Oh, right. So, don't bother looking for anyone to meet you.]
[No, I wasn't expecting anyone to. Do you think we ought to call a taxi, or just ring and say 'oops, sorry for the short notice, but we've got here.']
[Well, either that or we'll introduce you to William, and you could ski to your cabin. No that's no good, you won't have your key, will you?]
[No.]
[Well, if you're in no rush, we'll come and meet you anyway.]
[That'd be nice.]
[Just head down towards the hillside with the skiers on it, you can't miss.]
[Oh, I see signs, even. Someone has been busy. See you soon then.]
[Bye!]
Sarah broke off to follow sign posts, and Karen asked [George, I assume you were on the line?]
[Yes. Good thought. I want to thank her for the ski-hire and lessons. It's fun.]
[Not quite what we'd planned, though is it?]
[No. We could still go for walks though.] George suggested.
[We can walk any time of the year, this is a bit more special, don't you think?]
[Of course it is. So, shall we be boring and so a nice controlled descent, or shall we try going a bit faster?]
[A little faster. Let's zig-zag down, with slow corners. I don't want another broken leg. One in a lifetime is plenty.]
['This week we have a special offer on wrists, ankles, arms and collar-bones, it's all down to the pick of the draw, but one of yours could be broken in exchange for only a moment's inattention.'] George quoted something they'd heard William say to the beginner's class on Thursday.
[Exactly.]
“Hi, George, Karen! How's it going?” Karen saw it was Susan.
“Fine! Beautiful views aren't they?”
“Yes. One might even say romantic.” Susan said, with a grin.
“I thought that was a taboo subject?” Karen said.
“Ah well, my friend William protested too much.”
“I don't get it.”
“Thanks, George, for that pointer by the way, it was incredibly helpful, it feels like I'm on my way home. As for William, I bullied it out of him in the end. Once he's convinced I'm over my ex, and that my faith is healthy, then I could well have myself a suitor. So, out with the old, unhealthy, guilt-ridden relationship, and already I'm starting to be a happier person.”
“I'm really glad to hear that, Susan.” Karen said. “I'm afraid we can't stay and chat — we're just going down to meet my cousin. She and her husband have just arrived by mag-lev.”
“Not... No, it can't be! I'd have heard if the royal wedding had come early.”
“No, not that cousin. The one who convinced Bob Coal that having a ski-resort here wasn't a silly idea.” Karen said.
“Oh, then I owe her quite a lot of thanks. If I hadn't know William would be up here, then I'd have felt really stuck. Mind if I come along too?”
“Not at all. We won't be going nearly as fast as you can, though.”
“I'll just catch a word or two with William, if that's OK?”
“Fine!” George said, glad that Susan wasn't going to be accompanying them down the hill.
----------------------------------------
William was busy checking his diminished stock of skis. Even what was left were all booked to be collected today, but there were some due to come back as well. He'd drawn the line at teaching on Sundays, but he'd long known that if he was going to be in the holiday trade then taking the whole of Sundays off was going to be very difficult. Certainly for weekend trippers, there would be plenty of people wanting to return the skis they'd hired on Sundays. So, he'd struck a compromise with his conscience. For people needing to leave early, he was going to be open for an hour in the morning, before church, and then he'd open another hour around lunchtime, and once more in the evening. He wasn't going to accept new bookings at any of those times, and of course he wasn't handling the money, anyway. But when people had booked out skis then he'd let them collect them. Early that morning, he'd already had one man angry at that arrangement, asking why he wasn't going to accept his money. William tried to be polite: “I'm sorry, sir. Firstly, I can't accept anyone's money myself, that's part of my contract with the land management company — they handle the financial side of things. The people you might have just seen leaving with skis have booked beforehand and had arranged to pick them up today.”
“So I've just bought a week's ski-pass and have no skis, is that what you're saying?”
“I'm sorry you have no skis sir, but the skis I have here are all booked already. I expect you can return the ski-pass.”
“I came up here to ski. Why don't you have more skis?”
“Sorry sir. I've only been open a week, I've invested as much as I can afford already. I cannot help you. There are other sports shops in town. I don't expect they'll be open on Sunday, though.”
“Look, just give me some skis, I'll pay double.”
“I've told you, sir, I can't accept money myself, all bookings need to be made through Blackwood Cabins or through Carbon-carbon land management.”
“You won't make an exception?”
“No sir. I won't make an exception, I won't accept any money myself, and I won't accept a new booking on a Sunday. I'm closing up now, sir, I need to leave to go to church.”
At that, the man had stormed off, swearing about stupid Christians ruining everything.
So it was that after church William had been a little concerned that the man might have decided to try and break in to his little hire-cabin to take some skis, but the door had still been locked and the skis were still all there. He'd almost finished waxing the skis, and checking that the bindings were all correct when he heard the whoosh of someone coming to a flamboyant stop outside, spraying ice crystals at the cabin's walls. He looked up with a grin, guessing who it was.
“Hello Susan. You're determined to bury this cabin, aren't you?”
“Just resurfacing your waiting area for you. It was starting to get trampled down.”
“The snow isn't that thick, Susan. If you rearrange too much you'll be down to the grass.”
“That'd be a shame. Let's pray for more snow then. Anyway, I'm about to meet someone who's responsible for me finding you.”
“Oh yes? Who's that?”
“Karen's wealthy cousin's just arrived, apparently.”
“Oh, well, say hello and thanks for me then.”
“You're still on duty then?”
“Another ten or fifteen minutes. I'm supposed to have five sets of skis coming back in today.”
“Well, there's a lot of people having fun, maybe they've decided to push it to the limit.”
“Yes. I need to alter the hire contract saying what happens if they make me stay late.”
“Could the guys at the ski-lift collect them for you?” There were always two people there, to check passes or tickets and help people get on without discovering that you couldn't sit on a drag-lift.
William had thought of it. “I guess so, eventually, but I'd need a rack over there, and I'd need to teach them how to check the skis aren't damaged and whether they're fit to use immediately or not, plus a terminal to check the skis in.”
“What happens if skis are damaged? Customer pays?”
“If they opted not to take out insurance, yes. So those customers should want a receipt saying they returned the skis in good condition.”
“Oh well. You'll just have to wait around until they turn up, then.”
“I'll give them a call at five to, I guess. Find out if they are planning to bring back the skis immediately or not until this evening.”
“Is it one party?”
“No, two different groups.”
“You've got a busy life here, haven't you?”
“I can't complain. I mean, I wasn't expecting to hire all my skis within a week of opening. It's starting to look like this business venture might be a success.”
“I should hope so. Your business plan looks sound to me. It's a shame about the unsocial hours though.”
“The company's good at the moment.” he smiled at her.
“Hey, I thought we were avoiding romantic entanglement.”
“Surely I can say it's good to be chatting with a friend without it being romantic, can't I?”
“Yeah yeah yeah.” she said knowingly. “Anyway, Karen and George are almost here, so I'm going to go tell her thank you.”
“What for?”
“Hope. Making it possible for me to know where you'd be.”
“Before you go, Bob would like to know if you're accepting the invitation. The guys on the lift will be working late so we can get back up to the cabins.”
“Why would he invite me? That's what confuses me. He's not got me pegged as your girlfriend has he?”
“No. I told him you'd come up here to have someone to talk to after splitting up. That was OK, wasn't it?”
“Yes, that was fine.”
“And you won't mind being around happily married couples? I mean, that was why you came up here, wasn't it?”
“Strangely enough... no. I think I'm healing. I'm happy to tag along.”
----------------------------------------
As soon as Susan left, William called Bob Coal.
“Hi, Bob, you were right. My spy network tells me they've just arrived.” William said.
“Your spy network?”
“Susan was just talking to Karen.”
“Ah. So, will your Susan be coming this evening?” Bob asked.
“Hey! I heard what you did there!” William protested. “We are not a couple. But yes, she'd be happy to.”
“Excellent. And you're not a couple, you just spend a lot of time together.”
“We've been friends for years.”
“I know. Just teasing.”
----------------------------------------
“Hi Sarah!” Karen called.
“I thought you said it was dead easy to find our way here!” Sarah said, when they met.
“It wasn't?”
“We accidentally got ourselves channelled into the queue for the concert,” John explained.
“Oh. I'd forgotten that was happening. Sorry. Anyway, Sarah, this is Susan, she wanted to meet you.”
“Hello, Susan.”
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Urm, what for?” Sarah asked.
“Quite possibly saving my life. Sorry, that's too melodramatic. You managed to pin my friend William Speed down in one spot where I was fairly sure I could find him. And I needed to find him, preferably without me calling him first.”
“This is William with the ski-lift?” Sarah asked.
“Yes. I needed to find a friend who wasn't busy with their own romances so I could have a good mope about my failed one. All my girl-friends were in couples, and William was the only single man I was at that level of trust with.”
“Oh, I see. And normally he moves around a lot?”
“Well, you know, it would have been really bad to turn up on his doorstep unannounced, ready to pour out my heart and then find either he was gone and I'd have no idea if he'd be back in five minutes or five days. Or worse, get into my sob-story and find he was in the middle of some meeting. Here, it was perfect. I could see when he was free, and enjoy the skiing and the scenery while I waited. And there's things to do and lots of chances to chat. Much much better than moping around in self-pity at home.”
“I'm glad.”
“So, I owe you a debt of thanks. And I don't know how to repay it, which makes it difficult.”
“I don't really think you owe me anything.” Sarah said.
“Oh yes I do. You've made it possible for me to meet William, and given him hope too. It's great to see him succeeding for once. So, I don't know why I would be able to help, I'm sure you have your own people, but if I can ever be of service, please call me. I'm afraid I don't have a card with me, but William knows my number.”
“Urm, OK.” Sarah said.
“Sorry I haven't even said what I do, have I?” Susan said, shaking her head at herself. “I'm a graphics designer, mostly working in corporate identity. Like I said, I'm sure GemSmith have their own people and that it's all worked out in-house, or if not in-house then an established consultant.”
“I certainly expect so.” Sarah said “I must admit, that's a business area I haven't looked into at all.”
“My only other skills are archery, skiing, and being an exceptionally poor judge of character when it comes to almost fiancés.” Susan said, dismissively. “I don't expect I can be of much service with those.”
“Out of interest, how did you know of my link to GemSmith?”
“I actually owe you a double dose of thanks.” Susan said “I'd looked into Carbon-Carbon when William talked about joint ventures and things — I know him, you see, and try to keep a watchful eye on him to make sure he doesn't do too many stupid things. Anyway, I saw Carbon-Carbon was part of GemSmith and breathed a deep sigh of relief — GemSmith has an excellent reputation for nor ripping people off. And then, when I was in all honestly thinking that a leap from my balcony was quite an attractive option, I caught sight of your interview on the television on Wednesday night, watched it and decided that it made a lot of sense to come up here.”
“Oh, OK.” Sarah said.
“I've got a silly idea.” John said. “If you've watched the interview, then you know about Sarah's unusual employee.”
“The... what was it, truth-speaker?”
“Now that would make more grammatical sense, wouldn't it, Karen?” Sarah said.
“Hey, don't look at me! 'Truthsayer' has been the established English translation of that word for generations," Karen protested. "Someone probably decided it was had a nice archaic ring to it, like soothsayer.”
John continued with his thought. “So, assuming that there is ever some kind of institute of professional truthsayers, with or without Royal charter, then I'd guess they're going to need some help developing a corporate identity.”
“Well, it's certainly my field.” Susan said, hesitantly.
“I know, it's a bit of a weird suggestion, and I'd understand if you didn't want to be associated with a potentially controversial organisation which is still only a couple of stages beyond a dream.” Sarah said.
“Urm, sorry, I wasn't hesitating because of that. Urm, it's just...” she swallowed “Do you know how many organisations received a royal charter in the last hundred years?”
“Not many. ”
“As far as I know, only one — the Royal Institute of Forcefield Engineers,” Susan realised that had come out in a bit of a gabble and tried to control her breathing. “If this truthsayer organisation does get a Royal charter, then designing their corporate identity.... it... urm... it would probably be one of those things that everyone would know about you and would go in someone's obituary, as their defining work, at least in professional publications. You know, like 'Sir Frederick Bloggs, designer of the logo for the Royal association of professional Snark hunters....' I can't think of many people in my field who wouldn't give their mother's eye-teeth to do that job.”
“Why their mother's eye-teeth?” John asked, curious.
“Sorry, in-group expression. Giving their own would hurt their corporate image.” Susan replied. “You can't have that.”
“So, you'd like to do it?” Sarah asked.
“You can't just ask something like that, Sarah.” Susan protested. “It's got to be put out to competitive tender, and things like that.”
“I don't expect your competition will be very interested in competing for it, once they find out that the sixteen year old founder member is still at school, and that her last year's pocket money probably wouldn't pay them enough to make it worth them picking up a pencil, let alone taking the time to sharpen one.” John said.
“Ah, but we're talking kudos, fame, not mere financial reward.”
“So, would you be interested?” Sarah said.
“Of course I would!”
“Even if it was for no financial reward at all, but just as a thank-you?”
“I have a counter proposal.” Susan said.
“Yes?”
“As a personal thank you, I help you put together the announcement for
the competition, and help you judge the results.”
“But then you'd exclude yourself from the competition.” Sarah pointed out.
“Why don't we round up some semi-knowledgeable people and get them to judge the results, then you get a fair crack at it like everyone else? We know someone in public relations, for instance.”
“Just what sort of thank-you is it, if it ends up making my career?” Susan pointed out reasonably.
“Ah, but you've already been helpful. It never would have occurred to me that people might be interested to do work on this just for the bragging rights.”
“And the free publicity, and their names going down in history. It sure beats redesigning someone else's logo for some company, 'preserving the essential identity but adding a more contemporary flavour.'”
“I can imagine that doesn't give you much scope to express your artistic talents.” George said.
“Especially when what they really mean is just tweak the colour scheme a little bit.” Susan said.
“So, Susan, if you really want to help work on the briefing document, if that's the right term, and the announcement, then I think that would be a really big favour. But the glory for pulling you back from the edge goes to God, not to me.”
“I know, but you played your part. But hold on!” Susan said, “Why is it helping you to help an organisation you're not part of?”
“Because while my young truthsayer agrees, it's mostly my idea.” Sarah said. “And because if there's no such organisation then I can see the term being abused to be any thought-hearer offering their services for money.”
“And that would be a problem?”
“The term is neutral at the moment. If the people who claim it work from grimy offices and only ever work in settling domestic disputes over who slept with who and sometimes accept bribes to cover lies, it becomes the name for a particular type of muckraker. If there are professional standards and bribing one is as bad as bribing an expert witness or police officer, then I don't mind my name being going down in history as the first person to hire one.”
“So you're pressing for it to be a fully professional title.”
“Exactly. Not just a cool sounding job for an unethical teenager. And, I think we are going to be mostly talking about teenagers to start with. People for whom an announcement made in the summer is ancient history and no big deal now.”
“That's probably true. You've obviously thought about this quite a lot. But I do wonder what the I.H.M. think about you effectively making them the police to enter the profession.”
“Well, one possibility is that the I.H.M. actually hold the register of members and act as contact point. I'm don't know if that's the best approach long-term, but in the short and medium term it seems to work. The director is happy with that as a model, and the government are thinking about it.”
“Wow. You get things done, don't you?”
“I'm not quite sure how it happened, but apparently his Majesty watched me being interviewed on Wednesday. I got a call on Thursday and spent quite a lot of Friday up at the palace, making my case to the Royal family and lots of ministers.”
“Wow.”
“So, I'm really ready to have a nice relaxing holiday.”
“I bet. And you're going to do some skiing?”
“I had no idea the ski-lift would be working so quickly. But... maybe. We're only here for a few days, and neither of us have done it before, though, so we might stick to going down by sledge.” Sarah said.
John asked, “Does William have skis to hire?”
“You'll have to ask him. He's got a few booked out for collection today, I know. That's his place of business, the hut over there with the lurid colour scheme.” Fluorescent green, pink and orange tiger-style strips made it quite easy to spot. “Interesting combination of colours.” John said.
“Not my work, I hasten to add. It's a rented unit and William got it at short notice. Apparently it had last been used at a funfair.”
“Well, I guess there's no problem finding it on a foggy day.” Sarah said.
“Or at night. The green and orange glow in the dark.” Susan shuddered in disgust.
“Shall we go and see him?” Karen suggested.
“I'll phone the magic number first.” John said, thinking it made better use of time, if someone needed to come out to meet them.
----------------------------------------
“William, why didn't you tell me you had John and Sarah's key?” Susan asked.
“Because it was a contingency plan in case they decided to sneak in without calling ahead.”
“Yes, but you knew I was going to talk to them.”
“I knew you wanted to go to talk to them, that's not the same thing at all, Susan. I didn't want you to worry if you missed them. Anyway...”
William addressed John and Sarah who were drawing their own conclusions about the feelings between these two “Welcome to Blackwood area, Sir, Maam.”
“So formal!” Sarah interrupted in protest “Call us John and Sarah, please.”
“John and Sarah, Bob Coal asked me to hold onto the spare key to your cabin, just in case you arrived without calling. He also made sure that I'd keep some skis for you. Here they are.”
“That's nice of him. Neither of us know the first thing about skiing though.”
“Well, I'd really rather not to teach anyone today, since it's my day off...” William started.
“We'll happily show them what we learned, William.” George said. “I think we can at least show them enough so they've got some hope of getting from one place to another.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Thank you, George.”
“You're not revising today?” Sarah asked.
“On Sunday?” Karen exclaimed, shocked. “No! I want to find out what you've been up to, anyway. What's all this about you giving interviews? You don't do that, Sarah!”
“I made an exception. I'll explain later. Thank you for the skis, William.”
“You're welcome! Here are your keys, and a letter from Bob too.”
“Before we go, I know it almost sounds like a business query, but I don't mean it as one. Is it all going all right?” Sarah indicated the ski lift and the hire shop.
“Yes, thank you, Sarah. I think it's going wonderfully.” For some reason William found his eyes rested on Susan, who noticed, and smiled a little smile. He saw her noticing, and tried to explain what his eyes had been doing. “I've even got myself a temporary assistant. I'm afraid I can't afford to hire her full time though.” he said, thinking how much he'd miss her company at the end of her time.
“Noodle soup isn't that expensive, surely?” Susan said, clearly teasing.
“I was more thinking of hiring you away from your real job.”
“Ah, no. You can't afford that, sorry. But this is fun.”
“You're not working for just friendship and noodle soup, surely, Susan?” Sarah queried, “I'd have thought you could at least get a pizza out of him.”
“I'm discovering that William is a good cook, actually. But lunchtimes seem pretty busy, and there's barely time for noodle soup.”
“Oh. I get it.” Sarah said.
“So, I'm helping mind the store here in the mornings, while William is teaching the more experienced group alone, and then I've been helping teaching the afternoon group, which is bigger.”
“And finding time for the odd chat in between.” Karen said.
“A bit. Mostly into the evenings.”
“Well, don't let us steal any more of your chat-time.” Sarah said.
“Would you care to take a trip up the hillside, Susan?” William asked, thinking that he hadn't actually been skiing properly for a long time.
“I think that'd be nice. I'd like to see the view from the peak, if you're finished here? I hear it's worth the climb.”
“I've heard the same.” William agreed. He locked up, and they quickly poled their way across to the ski lift.
“So, they're not supposed to be in love?” Sarah asked Karen.
“No, he's just helping her put her life back together.” Karen said.
“Was it just me, or did anyone else see the pain in his face when he thought about her leaving?” George said.
“Not just you.” Sarah agreed.
“None of our business, of course.” John said.
“No. Not at all. I hope they start getting honest with each other, that's all.” Sarah said.
“I think they have been.” Karen said. “When she first came up here, Susan was telling all and sundry that she'd damned herself by turning away from God, her almost fiancé of four or five years had said he wasn't going to marry her for another six years, and she'd been very seriously thinking of jumping off her balcony. She and William have been talking theology and were at church together today, so that's a lot of progress. But I think she's still pretty fragile.”
“And William likes her a lot but doesn't want to take advantage.” George added.
“Oh. I get it.” Sarah said, “So, we pray for her healing before we pray for a happy marriage for them.”
“Exactly.”
“And are we right to ask her to work on this truthsayer thing, or should we drop it?”
“Don't drop it.” George said. “Like she said, it could be the crowning moment of her career.”
“Sarah, we've got an invitation for tonight.” John said, reading the letter.
“Bob?”
“Yes. He understands if we feel we'd just rather get an early night, but if we want company we're most welcome.”
“We're going.” George said. “Bob said that he was inviting you, but we were welcome even if you didn't feel like coming.”
“Will there be many there?” Sarah asked.
“It didn't sound like it. Maybe eight or ten couples.”
“Let's decide later.” Sarah said. “I'd like to see these famous cabins and to do that I gather we need to put these things on our feet.”
“You do.” Karen said. [like this {image}, {image}, {image}]. “And what's all this about you giving interviews and visiting the palace?”
By the time Sarah and John's boots were on and properly adjusted, Sarah had explained the interview and the truthsayers' organisation. They worked their way to the ski lift and Karen and George showed them how to use it.
Their conversation continued as they were dragged up the hill.
[And you just got a call out of the blue from the palace?] Karen asked.
[Yes. Not even from Eliza. It was actually from the minister for civil liberties, calling on the King's behalf.] Sarah replied.
[Wow.]
[Apparently, he's been working on legislation to ensure that everyone's civil rights are protected — combining the ethics code with privacy laws that make it an offence for anyone, even an employer, to demand to know if someone has the power, or for anyone to publish that someone has it without their written permission, unless they're found guilty of an offence against the ethics code. Since one of the big stumbling blocks is how to police the whole thing, and how the courts might make use of the power, then they were... more than a little interested in hearing my thoughts on the idea of having a professional body of truthsayers, and how such a group might hide their identity.]
[What did you say to that one? Surely people will want an I.D. check?]
[Yes, but what if the I.D. came back and said they were 'Professional truthsayer, registration number nine hundred and sixty three?' Anonymity and proof of identity in one go.]
[Oooh. Yes of course, you could do that, if there's the legal frame-work for it. And it keeps personal details out of it entirely as long as that's the only time they used that second I.D.]
[I'm wondering about that. It might be good to have it as usable for travel too, if they're visiting a client. What's the point of identifying yourself to the client with a secondary I.D. if the taxi firm knows your name?]
[But that's going to make you stand out like a sore thumb.] George pointed out. [Of course, if you're wearing some kind of veil then that'll make you stick out even more, won't it?]
[Exactly.] Sarah agreed [So, what makes more sense? To approach reception of a major organisation wearing a veil, or sneak in and then change?]
[Approach with a veil makes the most sense to me.] Karen said. [Change where people know all about you and you're safe, or somewhere private and anonymous. And a just a veil doesn't help much if you're wearing unique clothes otherwise, unless you're planning to change your whole outfit.]
[Pris said exactly the same thing.]
[Pris?] Karen was surprised.
[Yes. She got called in to share her thoughts from the point of view of a Security person on the committee.]
[Couldn't Bella have done that?] Karen asked, confused.
[She could have, but Pris is more senior, and has had far more experience in hiding who she is. Plus the experience of seeing a truthsayer in action.]
[She has? She never told me that!] George was wondering if Karen's reaction was outrage or just total surprise that Pris had kept something from her.
[Well, your mother knew.]
[Mummy was there too?]
[No, but it sounded like they'd asked her.]
[That's not surprising. So, what was the conclusion?]
[Not fully decided, but I got the impression that the entire legal profession have been knocking on the door of the minister for justice badgering him to vote in favour of there being professional body of truthsayers to catch people out when they tell lies in court and the King was suggesting that it makes far more sense for people with the power to investigate their peers. So, I think it's pretty likely that we're going to get some kind of professional body. I also think we're going to get at least two types of members — professional truthsayers who openly work with outsiders, but also others who have the power but are a bit too scared to roam the outside world in a veil that proclaims they have it.]
[And their role would be mainly to check up on accusations of abuse?]
[Partly that, or they might be happy to listen to witnesses in court cases, for instance, via some iron passing through a wall.]
[Oh, OK. And that gives a wider pool for the courts.]
[Exactly. And being behind-the-scenes, it's a role that might be more attractive to one of us with the gift. Which would be good for policing admission and the like.]
[So, the Institute isn't going to stay involved?] Karen asked.
[For the moment they are, indeed, Kate even has a proposal to consider that the whole body be a division of the institute, thus automatically protecting people from the press. But I think she's going to turn it down.]
[Why?] George asked.
[Because unless the other nations of the U.N. agree, which seems unlikely to me, then it's going to be argued that it's an abuse of the resolution.] John pointed out [Plus, it's overkill. We're already going to have a no-publication, no witch-hunt law, after all. Having the absolute reporting ban from the Institute would mean that there'd be no real possibility of, say, May deciding to give a press interview about being a truthsayer.]
[Good point.]
[So, it makes sense to separate the truthsayer's guild or whatever we call it from the Institute.] Sarah concluded.
[I don't think `guild' has quite the right connotations.] George said [Medieval trading cartels with seven year apprenticeships...]
[I know. But the alternative is I have to deal with two different institutes, which would be too confusing.]
Karen started dredging up names of other organisations, past and present: [Royal college of truthsayers? Naah. The Chartered institute of truthsayers? like you say it's another institute. The general council of truthsayers? National board of truthsayers? Royal truthsayer's union? No, that sounds like its only open to royalty. Royal assembly of truthsayers?]
[Too pompous, and the initials spell rat. Not good.] George said. [Chartered association of truthsayers?]
[Makes the initials to be C.A.T.] Sarah said.
[Purr-fect.] Karen said, with a laugh.
[As long as curiosity doesn't kill it.] John said.
[But will there be a royal charter?]
[I think it's pretty much guaranteed if the institute doesn't take it up.] Sarah said. [And the designation truthsayer is going to be protected under criminal law to only apply to certified members, whichever way it is done.]
[So, it's going to be government funded?] Karen asked.
[No. That was discussed too, but the decision was made that it would be best not to. With the name protected under law, then there's not much actual policing to do, so that side of legal fees doesn't apply. It'll be up to the CAT, I do like that name, to think of different funding models, but the real costs at the moment are going to be things like getting people checked out, keeping the register, issuing I.D.s and probably some kind of secretarial support. It could almost be done from someone's spare bedroom.]
[Except for the break-in risk.]
[Yes. So, option one is a room at the Institute, option two is a room at the palace, option three a room at the high court, and option four is setting up a separate office somewhere with equivalent security.]
[At the palace?] George was surprised.
[It would certainly lend kudos, and it's been done before, apparently. If it is under royal charter, then there'd be a member of the Royal family on the board anyway. And it'd be convenient for Eliza; she told me that she'd be happy to be next door during the grilling of new members.]
[What does May think of all this?]
[I've not talked to her about it in this much detail. We both had other things to worry about yesterday.]
[Tony and Teresa's wedding, of course.]
[That too, and then I got a plea from her to drop by for half an hour afterwards, which turned into most of the evening. I've been learning about being matriarch, and my first significant task in that role was approving Martha's engagement.]
[I thought there was some doubt about that?]
[Not in the mind of the youngsters, apparently. Mama Ng named me and John as being people to go to like they'd got to her, I'm of the female persuasion, so therefore I'm matriarch. The parents are apparently breathing a collective sigh of relief, happy they're not going to need to take on the job.]
[So, what's your role?]
[Part of it is getting involved in teenage romance, apparently, at least according to the teenagers I've been talking to.]
[Well, it is an important area of their life.]
[Yes. So I get to tell teenage girls they're making a mistake, warn off unsuitable boys, and settle disputes among the cousins over who got to the girl or boy first.]
[You're joking!]
[Not entirely, no.]
[Oh you lucky thing. I bet you're thrilled.]
[It's OK so far.]
[You're a glutton for punishment you are. I'd have run a mile.]
[I've got something like thirty thousand people looking to me like I'm their mummy, at least with this lot they don't expect me to feed them too, and they expect me to box their ears if they muck up.]
[Mama got them well trained then?]
[Oh, yes. By the way. We could learn a thing or two from what Mama taught May.]
[Really?]
[She can hold someone's hand, listen to their thoughts and they hear not much at all.]
[Interesting]
[She said it took a lot of practice, but... she can do it.]
[A very useful skill in a truthsayer.]
[That's what I thought. I guess Mama did too.]
----------------------------------------
2.45PM, SUNDAY 31ST DECEMBER.
Quentin took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He really hoped he'd got the right house. A girl who by her looks could easily have been May's sister opened the door.
“Hi, urm, does May Ngbila live here?” he asked. His knees weren't quite knocking together.
“Yeah. Come in. You're Q.Q?”
Quentin nodded, surprised that she knew. “Yes.”
“Oh, May!” the girl sang out at full volume, with a taunting lilt in her voice “Your boyfriend is really here this time!”
“Stop it, Alice!” a woman's voice called “And stop opening the door, you're wasting the heat.” Quentin saw a head look round the door, he guessed it was May's mother and that she was in the kitchen “Oh! Hello!”
“Hello, I'm sorry for coming unannounced...” Quentin managed.
“Was Alice right, you're Quentin who we should call Q.Q.?”
“Yes.” Quentin said, blushing a little. It seemed May had been as good as her word.
“Well, come on in! I'm Hannah.” she said, then called “May, you've got a visitor!”
Quentin heard hurried steps coming down the stairs. “I thought you said you wanted to write?” May said. She was wearing a long dark red skirt, a white pullover, and unlike yesterday, her hair was loose. His heart skipped a beat.
“I tried, but in the end I thought it might be cheaper to visit than waste all that paper.”
“What, waste it in writing?”
“Waste it in getting it wrong and not being satisfied with sending you anything that wasn't perfect.”
“Oooh, he is in love, isn't he?” Alice said, undiplomatically.
“This little stirrer is Alice. She's ten, has a pet hamster who is slowly starving to death because she thinks food gets into its cage by osmosis or magic or something. Just so you know, her favourite game goes roughly like this: boy doll meets girl doll, boy doll tried to kiss girl doll, girl doll punches boy doll in the teeth, boy doll sues for assault, girl doll marries lawyer teddy and goes off on honeymoon. Boy doll loses the case and has to buy girl doll and lawyer teddy a nice house.”
“That's... different.” Quentin said.
“That was last week.” Alice said. “Now I've got another one.”
“Oh?” Quentin said, immediately wishing he'd said something less encouraging.
“Boy doll meets girl doll, boy girl kisses girl doll, boy girl meets girl doll's cousin, girl doll two-times boy doll. Boy doll goes out with girl doll's cousin, grandma doll tells them all to stop being so silly. Boy doll marries girl doll.”
“Where does she get these story-lines from?”
“Well, I don't know about the first one, but the second sounds suspiciously like the last four or five years of my big sister's life. Only she missed out the two years of on and off arguing and making up before the marriage. Not that they've got that far yet.”
“No, but they're planning to. Soon! Sarah said she'd help them elope if Daddy said they should have a two year engagement.”
“Who's been listening at doors then?” Hannah asked.
“I never did! Martha told me! She's going to be a ministry.”
“Missionary.” May corrected.
“Same difference.” Alice said, carelessly.
“No, Alice, there's a big difference.” Hannah said. “A ministry is either part of the government, like the defence ministry or it's a way people have of serving God in the church. You can't be a ministry. That's like saying you're going to be Sunday school. You can have a ministry, or you can pursue a ministry but those are bit different.” Hannah knew as soon as it was out that she'd regret saying that.
“Is Sunday school a ministry?” Alice asked.
“Yes, Alice. But sometimes I think its a trial.”
“And pursue means run after, I know that. But how do you run after Sunday school?”
“With a large baseball bat, or maybe an axe?” Quentin suggested.
“Don't tempt me.” Hannah said, smiling.
“I don't get it.” Alice complained.
“That's OK, Alice, you weren't meant to.” Quentin said.
“I've got a new plot. Boy doll meets girl doll, boy doll comes visiting to kiss girl doll but tries to make fun of little sister doll, little sister doll hits boy doll in the unmentionables with an axe.”
Quentin winced.
“Alice, be polite.” Hannah commanded. “To pursue a ministry means to do what you can to get one. At the moment Martha is seeking or pursuing the ministry of serving God as a missionary. She thinks God has called her to that and she's going towards it. Can you think of someone in the Bible who ran away from the ministry that God had called him to?”
“Jonah.” Alice was bored. She wanted to make an axe for her doll. Maybe tinfoil and paper would work.
“But Alice, you've got it wrong.” Quentin said. “I came to talk to May.”
“Why don't you want to kiss her? Don't you think she's pretty? Or are you scared of her?”
“Alice!” May warned, “Do you want me to show mum where you hide your diary?”
“Hey, that's private!”
“What's private?” Ruben asked, wondering what was happening downstairs.
“Ruben, meet Q.Q, as advertised last night when you were reading, Q.Q., Ruben's my brother.”
“Hi!” Ruben said, wracking his mind to try to remember what May had been talking about last night. “Oh! You're the guy with the crazy death-wish!”
“Am I?” Quentin asked, confused.
“You want to get to know the clan.” May translated.
“I didn't know that was a death wish.” Quentin was bemused.
“Didn't you hear Alice's threat?” May expressed surprise.
“Well, yes...”
“I'm one of the nice ones.” Alice said with a beautific smile, which she then turned into a snarl.
“Stop it, children!” Hannah chided “Quentin's nervous enough as it is.”
“We were just playing, Mummy.”
“I know what you were playing, Alice. You were playing terrorise the nervous visitor.”
“Well, he's the one who came under false pretenses.”
“Why false pretenses?” Hannah asked.
“He said he's not interested in kissing May, but he's serious enough about her to actually come to the front door unexpected.”
“Alice, life is sometimes more complicated than you think.” May said.
“What does that mean?”
“That even if he's interested in kissing me, he doesn't want to risk me slapping him in the face or telling him to get out of the house and never come back. So, he wants to talk. It's safer.”
“Oh! OK. Can I watch?”
“What?”
“You slapping him in the face.”
“Q.Q isn't going to kiss me, so I'm not going to slap him, Alice.”
“You're boring!”
“Why don't you go and play with your dolls, Alice.” May asked, pointedly.
“Why don't you kiss Q.Q?”
“Because I don't think I love him, Alice. And even if I did think that, I'm quite sure I wouldn't.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“Because I'm not like some people who think anyone in trousers is a good boyfriend, because I don't know him well enough, because I know him a little bit, and because I want to keep my job with Sarah.”
“Oooh, that's a new tune!” Ruben said. “When did you stop chasing boys, Kiddo?”
“Very soon after I got an earful from Karen and she set Sarah on me. Start of the month.”
“Three cheers for Sarah.” he said.
“I didn't know you cared, Ruben. You've been buried in a book since you came home.”
“Well, there wasn't much point in trying to argue theology with you last time I was back, was there? You on?”
“Did you have anything in particular to talk about, Q.Q.?” May asked.
“Urm, a few things, but they can wait. Why?”
“Ruben likes a challenge... Feeling up to two against one, Ruben?”
“Deal, if I can pick the subject.”
“Nothing too esoteric.” May warned.
“Defending Ecclesiastes as canonical?” Ruben suggested.
“Who, you, or us?”
“You.”
May looked at Quentin. He looked totally lost. Never mind, she decided, it wasn't too hard.
“OK.”
“Great. I'll just get my notes.”
“Hey! You didn't say you had notes!”
“You didn't ask.”
“Give us ten minutes to prepare then, and then your notes stay upstairs.”
“Oh all right.”
“Ground rules: No weapons, no water, no nails, no breakages, no contact in fact.” Hannah warned from the kitchen.
“But, mum! You're spoiling the fun!” Ruben protested.
“Civilised debate, not warfare. You've got a guest.”
“Come on Quentin, let's get preparing!” May headed to the living room.
“Can you fill me in?”
“Yes, in ten minutes you've got to help me defend the cannonicity of the book of Ecclesiastes. Ruben will try to prove it shouldn't be there.”
“I like Ecclesiastes.”
“So, get ready to defend it.”
“That's meaningless, a chasing after the wind.” Quentin asserted.
“But fun.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You wanted to talk, after all.”
“But talk too is meaningless.”
“No, talk is full of meaning, and hopes and dreams.”
“I know. But... how can we make dates to talk if we're not dating? That was my fundamental question I wanted to talk to you about. It's not like we're going to meet up every week or anything like that, unless we do plan to meet.”
“Oh, I see. Tricky.”
“And with your sister calling me your boyfriend...”
“She'll get over it.”
“But will I? I am attracted, after all.”
“Yes. I've seen that. That's why we're not dating for a long time. Plenty of time to talk later. Let's defend the preacher.”
----------------------------------------
SUNDAY, 31ST DECEMBER, 4.30PM
“Oh all right! I'm not going to convince you, am I?” Ruben admitted defeat.
“Of course not. I mean. It's there. Done deal.” May said.
“And it's one of my favourite books.” Quentin acknowledged.
“But God hardly gets a look in! The book just says everything is meaningless.”
“Under the sun. Not under God! That's the whole point. You shouldn't look to science or pleasure or anything else to teach you about the meaning of life. Look to God, seek meaning through him while you are young, and before you get jaded. And don't try to write the absolutely definitive book on anything, because there's always more to write. Accept your limitations.”
“I couldn't have said it better myself.” Ruben said. “I like it too, actually. Good arguments there, by the way, I might steal some of them.”
“Oh. You were playing devil's advocate?” Quentin asked. Realising, now, why May had smiled at some inappropriate points in the discussion.
“Iron sharpening iron.” May said.
“Thirsty work though. Who'd like Tea? Coffee? Water?”
“Tea please. Coffee's vile.”
“Ooh, look, May! You have two things in common.”
“Three actually, no, four.”
“Oh? What are they?” Ruben asked.
“We both have a little sister, we're both Christians, we both hate coffee, and...” She looked at Quentin, not sure if she should tell of his power.
“So I make it five.” he said. “We both play water-polo, and we both have quick reactions, too.”
“Is that 'quick reactions' as in, you could get the same job as May?”
“Maybe. Probably not right now. I've still got a lot to learn.”
“University choice?”
“I'd applied to come here. So I now need to choose between discounted tuition sometime, or find another university.”
“I don't envy you. What subject?”
“Anthropology.”
“I can't help you there, then. Oh well. Thanks for the debate. I've got to finish reading my friend's book before tonight.”
“What's so special about finishing it before tonight, is it going to burst into flames or something?” May asked.
“No, but he might. He's not read it yet and he's going on holiday tomorrow. I promised I'd finish it by teatime.”
“Do you need to be anywhere any time, Q.Q?”
“As long as I'm home by one, Dad doesn't care. But the last mag-lev leaves at eleven, anyway.”
“And the rest of your family?” May asked.
“Rhianna's at a sleep-over. Mum would like me home by midnight, which I will be.”
May hid her thoughts. “I've got an idea then. Hold on.” and she went to the kitchen to talk with her mother.
----------------------------------------
BLACKWOOD AREA, SUNDAY 31ST DECEMBER, 5PM
“Welcome, Sarah, John.” Bob greeted them, “I hope you don't mind me asking you over so early? Most of the others won't get here until seven or eight.”
“Not at all. Your message was a little vague. Do I gather it's to do with Daimian?”
“Yes.”
“How's it going with him?”
“Quite frankly, not too well. He's still getting the nightmares, and he slipped out of the house despite being grounded the last time they had a tent at the tournament. He was found sneaking around the back of their tent, so we presume that he didn't actually make contact.” Christine explained. “The good news is his mum's on stand-by to drag him over if you're sure it's OK.”
“It's fine. What does he know about it?”
“Not much, just that we've got some friends who have friend who used to have headaches.”
“And does your friend know about the evil-spirit connection?”
“No. Not really. I tried to broach the issue slowly, in a round-about way, talking about Jesus curing people with evil spirits. But she said 'Oh, that's all just make-believe and misdiagnosed psychological illnesses isn't it?'”
“OK, well, I do have my certificates and things available, so hopefully she'll let me talk to Daimian alone.” John said “How old is he?”
“Fifteen.”
“Good. He probably won't want mummy along anyway then. By all means, tell her I'm here, and happy to talk to her son.”
“I will.” Christine said. “She only lives a few doors away, so it won't be long before they get here.”
“But can offer you some tea or coffee?”
“Tea, please.” Sarah and John replied in unison.
“Is the stove and everything working well, I forgot to ask.”
“It's working wonderfully.” Sarah said “Thanks.”
Christine was right it didn't take long before Daimian's mother herded him into the house. After the introductions had been made Daimian agreed to tell John all about his nightmares, as long as is mother wasn't too far away, but couldn't hear.
“Does that make sense to you?” she asked John.
“Perfect sense. He doesn't want you hearing the embarrassing questions he expects I'm going to ask him, but you're still his mum, and therefore good protection against strangers.”
“When will that change?”
John shrugged “I've no idea. Everyone's different, and it varies enormously. Somewhere between next week and next century.”
“Depends how embarrassing you are, Mum.” Daimian said.
“The doors aren't that sound-proof, but you could have the kitchen and we could be in the lounge with some music on, would that work?” Bob suggested.
“Sounds good to me.”
“Daimian do you have any preference what we have in the background distracting you?” Christine asked.
“Urr. Something involving a full orchestra, no quiet bits and no words, I guess.”
“O.K. I'll try and think of something. I'm going to have to guess about the no quiet bits though, it's not a criteria I normally think of.”
“It's OK, I'll just clam up if it gets too quiet.”
Moving to the kitchen John introduced himself and Sarah in a bit more detail.
He made sure that he added “We live in Restoration.”
“Man, that's tough. You going to rebuild, or move away?”
“Rebuild. My work's there.”
It took a few minutes before they heard music, and John asked the first real question. “So these dreams... are there repetitive elements in them?”
“Yeah. I wake up just before I end up dead.”
“And I presume that's not from old age, surrounded by your loving children and grand-children.”
“You trying to be funny?”
“Not really. So are we talking accidents, or monsters?”
“I guess it's mostly girls.”
“I think I need to hear more. Girls aren't normally deadly, you know?”
“OK, urm, it normally starts out as a dream about something relatively normal, you know, weird but normal dream stuff, floating on a sandwich box, driving a boat down the high street, typical surreal rubbish.”
“O.K. And then?”
“Then I meet some girl, and we get chatting, and then either she develops fangs, or a big guy comes out of somewhere with a gun, or she strangles me while we're kissing, or spikes come out of her body and impale me, or her pet hamster develops fangs and bites off my knees.”
“And it's always different girls?”
“No, but, but it's never been anyone I recognised. Except once.”
“Do tell.”
“A few weeks ago... there was this reenactor's fair here, you know? Dress up in armour and see how many ribs you can avoid getting cracked, or try and put the arrow into the target rather than the serving wench.”
“OK, I've got the picture. You're not interested?”
“My mum is. I had to go along, but they're a weird bunch. Some of the girls are pretty.”
“And it was one of them?”
“Yeah. She dresses up as a witch, tells fortunes.”
“What, hairy warts and black hat?”
“Black hat, bat-design stockings, miniskirt, no warts.”
“I see, so she's advertising well, is she? What happened?”
“Nothing that was the odd bit. I talked to her, and she told me about my dreams, she did some kind of spell and said there wouldn't be any more bad dreams.”
“A spell?”
“Yeah. The real deal, incantations and weird face movements, magic symbols.”
“Sorry, was that in the dream, or in real life?”
“Oh, that was the dream.”
“And were there more dreams?”
“Yeah. The next night I dreamt of her again, and she was sad that I hadn't come to her because the spell needed me there, and then a giant monster ate both of us. Well, I guess it ate her, it said it was going to. I fought it but all I had was a teaspoon. It didn't work very well.”
“So how long have you had these nightmares?”
“Urm, about three months.”
“And when did you first notice her?”
“Notice her, from the first time she came... She's pretty noticeable, you know?”
“When was that?”
“Well, her friend, she's even more noticeable, actually, she's been coming for a year or more, but the one in my dreams came in September.”
“Four months? Do you think there's a link in your mind?”
“Probably. My subconscious has decided I need to listen to her, I guess.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“I'd gone to get my fortune told. They're good, really good. I mean, I'm sure it's all dark-haired-beauty rubbish, but they'd noticed me noticing them, I expect. So, it was pretty personalised. Morticia — she's the one who isn't in my dreams — she said 'Looking is free but you can't have me. Look elsewhere and you will find her there.' And then she described who I was looking for, which met my idea of an ideal girl pretty well. I'm not sure how she got it, watching how I reacted, I guess, but it was, you know, encouraging, flattering. Elvira then added even more details, and said this cryptic thing, which was was ... weird — I mean, she put on a strange voice and said 'Sleep will not be rest until you change what you want. Your journey is foretold in the front and begins in the back. Rewards need sacrifice and protection comes at a price.' I almost believed it was real, you know? Very good acting.”
“And you didn't tell anyone, I presume?”
“No.”
“And then you started getting the dreams?”
“Yes, a few days later.”
“But you think the dreams are just your subconscious acting up?”
“I hope so. The alternative is, like, real spooky.”
“So, since it's just your subconscious, you didn't act on it at all?”
“Well actually... after the dream about Elvira spelling away the dreams, I tried to go back to their tent. There was another fair you see. I wondered if there was some answer, you know, I figured out that maybe there was some sort of message on the back of their tent that I'd glimpsed when I went there last time, and the thing about her saying a spell was that I needed to read it again. There was a little manufacturer's label there, but I didn't really think that could have been it. Then Mum found me and dragged me home.”
“I see. Have these dreams affected anything other than your sleep patterns?”
“Urm. Yeah. It's pretty hard to ask out a girl if you've dreamed about her turning into a monster and trying to bite your head off.”
“So they're girls you know?”
“No. Except, this is really the odd bit, when I've dreamed of them then I see meet them a bit later. And they are girls I'd like to go out with. I guess it's my subconscious warning me to stay away from them.”
“And so these dreams are warning you off other girls and telling you to go talk to Elvira?”
“I guess so.”
“And her cryptic thing doesn't sound like a curse to you?”
“A curse?”
“Sleep will not be rest...”
“I don't believe in the supernatural.”
“You believe enough to assume the impact is happening.” John pointed out.
“Urm. Yeah, I guess I do, don't I?”
“Have you heard the full version of how the prophecies came about?”
“Urm, probably not.”
“They were given to a woman I know, Bob and Christine have met her too, by the way. Anyway, just over a decade ago, when she was a crazy teenager, she was convinced that she had this... latent ability to see the future. She tried self-hypnosis, meditation, everything else she could to unlock it. Eventually she enacted a spell where she called on all the spiritual forces active in the world to unlock her abilities and let her see the future.”
“And it worked?”
“Sort of. She foresaw the attack on the Clear Sky shopping mall the night beforehand, and some other things, and for the following year she had I think it was at least six dreams or nightmares a night. Some of them were the prophesies of the impact, most were corruptions of them, trying to destroy her memory of them, or general nightmares to make her wish she'd never heard the word prophesy. After a year or so she screamed out to God to make them stop, and they did. Someone with the mind-reading gift saw that some were true prophesies and others were lies, and eventually someone realised that the ones from God were the first three on nights she didn't have school the next day, which really helped. Her mum had kept a detailed diary, you see.”
“I haven't been keeping a diary.”
“It doesn't matter.” John said. “What I'm telling you is that there is such a thing as the supernatural, and scary dreams are certainly a possibility if you go messing about with it. I have information that Elvira does mess about with it.”
“So Elvira's spell might have worked?”
“It might have. But what would have been the cost? She told you there'd be one, after all. You can guess that me knowing this, I also know someone with the mind-reading gift.”
“It did occur to me.”
“When I heard you were having lots of nightmares, they checked where they were coming from. They also checked Morticia and Elvira, that's how I learned about Elvira. Morticia is just using whatever abilities she has to work out what people are thinking. Elvira is doing that, but she's got the occult involvement too. Your dreams have been inspired by what I'd call demonic forces. If you want to go and pay the woman who told you'd have them to invoke those demonic forces to take them away, then I suppose you can. I don't know what she wants from you, or if you having the dreams was her idea or just something she was told about. But in any case, going to her is certainly not what I'd do or recommend.”
“This is crazy.” Daimian said, not wanting to believe, “You're saying that Elvira really is a witch, that she's cursed me?”
“No. I'm saying that she's playing with magic, which means trying to bribe the supernatural to do what you want them to, and that your dreams are caused by demons, which are certainly supernatural.”
“And you're a Christian and you pray. What's the difference between magic and praying? Isn't it just the same?”
“It shouldn't be. Sometimes people treat prayer like magic. But God doesn't like it when we do. Prayer is about talking to God about our problems, asking for his help, his advice. The big difference is magic says 'I'm in charge, do this!', but prayer says 'God, I'd like help, but you're in charge.'”
Something occurred to Daimian. “If you knew what was causing my dreams, why did you ask all the questions first?”
“Because I knew the cause, but not why or how. Or what your involvement was. For all I knew you were seeing her every night.”
“I wish!”
“Really? Now you know that the spooky is real, you're still interested?”
“Urm...”
“That's part of the dreams of course. Putting you off anyone else. The demons are telling you all other girls are scary, but she's safe. Quite the opposite to reality. Bear in mind that what both of them are probably doing is already invading privacy, and is going to be illegal soon.”
“What, there's going to be laws about fortune telling?”
“About deliberately listening to people's thoughts without telling people what you're doing.”
“You mean... she just listened to my thoughts and told me what I was already thinking!”
“Almost certainly,” John said, continuing to tread a fine line.
“I thought at least there was some body language interpretation, or something.”
“It's possible. But if she can hear thoughts, then why bother? I'm not saying she can of course — I'm not claiming any special knowledge there — but if what she said matched what you thought so well...”
“It's a bit dishonest, isn't it?”
“It all depends what they say, what you're paying for. To me, it sounds like you wanted the pretty women to hold your hand and say titillating things, and you got what you wanted. Plus some bad dreams.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“So, do you want to obey the demon-inspired dreams, and get her to induct you to her circle of slaves, worshippers or whatever it is she wants from you, or would you like to trust God to deal with them, in which case I'll pray for you?”
Daimian thought it through. In his dreams she'd wanted him to 'pay' with his love, which fulfilled his teenage fantasies, but in the light of day that didn't quite work, did it? The chances of her wanting him for his body, or his earning power were vanishingly small. She wanted control. Or the demons did, he thought with a shudder.
“Please pray.” he said.
John did.
Daimian didn't feel anything except curiosity while John was praying against the demonic dreams. He wondered why John started 'you know' and then told God what John knew God knew — which started by saying everything and then homed into their conversation and the spiritual state of the self-proclaimed witches. Then John started telling God about what God was like, which was even odder, but then Daimian realised that John was teaching him too. John was presenting the problem and reflecting on God's character. Then John just simply prayed “Father God, please release Daimian from these evil spirits and from any hold they might have over him and protect him in the weeks and months to come.” Daimian expected the prayer to end there, but it didn't. John also prayed for Morticia and Elvira and too, that they would come to see the error of their ways, and finally he prayed that Daimian would choose to know who God was, and eventually trust him fully. Daimian felt an overwhelming sense that this was the most important decision he had to make, that asking John to pray for him was almost inconsequential in comparison. Did he want to commit himself to learning who God was? It felt like there was a great gift on offer, and that the offer wouldn't last long, and that this was his last chance to accept it. He hesitated, unsure what to make of such feelings, and he felt the sense of the offer started to fade away already. The thought of losing that gift brought with it such a sense of loss that he decided, there and then, that he needed to learn more. He wanted to know know more about God, tonight. With that decision, he knew what to say. “Amen.”
“You meant that?”
“I need to know more about God. Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. I don't know why, but it's urgent. And for mum.”
“Well, let's go and talk to her, then.”
“Thank you, John. I'm pretty sure that I won't have those dreams again.”
“I'm glad.”
Daimian went and found his mother in the lounge. “Mum, I need to tell you something about the dreams. I ... I'd suspected, John confirmed it.”