Broken Ascension

Convocation of the Clergy

The Pope’s room. He’d never come to this sanctum. In fact, he was rarely ever here in this part of the building. There were all the layers of Cardinals and Archbishops which shielded him mostly. The Pope had scant time for field operatives. He had better things to do. When he had been summoned here he knew that things were going to be really exciting. Or the s**t had hit the fan, excuse his language. He’d met the Pope many times when he was a Cardinal. Even then he was crusty old codger. This would be the first to directly deal with him as the supreme pontiff. Yes a supreme pontiff he thought of a crusty old codger. He knocked and heard a faint ‘come in’. He opened the door and entered. For one thing, despite taking the name, The Pope was not encouraged to be decked out as one. The room was sparse, the only furniture being a desk and two chairs, one on each side of the desk. What happened if he had to see more than one person at a time? Bishop thought irreverently. Perhaps never, the Godsmen was a large org, but individuals knew little about other individuals. Even at Priest level, there was very little fraternity. Teamwork was rare, and even so hardly ever there was chance of working with the same team twice. Perhaps, that was the secret of its success, its management philosophy of division and ruling, and secrets. There wasn’t even a monitor on the desk, or viewing pads. In fact, it was totally empty. What did the Pope do all day? Talk to personnel one by one? Meditate on the paths the organization would take? Most likely, he wasn’t even in this room. This was just a meeting room after all, wasn’t it? The Pope had a room elsewhere, more befitting of his status; that had to be.

“I don’t sit here all day if that’s what you were thinking.” The Pope said drily. Bishop opened his mouth to make a denial but realized it was pointless. Had it been so obvious?

“I have other places to be. Places to be, places to go, things to do. The usual, the usual.” He smiled a tight smile. Smiles were wonderful things. When they appeared on the faces on normal beings. On fanatics, a smile was like the glare of a halon lamp a feet from your face. On Godsmen, the Pope in particular it had the character of a katana sword swinging to decapitate you. Bishop suppressed a desire to shiver. As experienced as he was, it had been only rarely that he had this face to face. After all, he was only a Bishop. There were all those Archbishops and Cardinals to normally protect from that awful smile. The Pope indicated for him to sit. He sat down, trying to surreptitiously study the Pope. Something had changed on his raising to Pope. He couldn’t quite tell what, but it was there. Perhaps a harder line on the face, a more cruel mouth. The burdens of the leader. The Pope actually otherwise had a nondescript look. There was no strong distinguishing feature in his face. It was if someone took the most average bureaucrats, took their faces and amalgamated them into the face of the Pope. Bishop always felt that he himself was nondescript. But he couldn’t deny that the Pope took it several levels farther. Was he born like that, or alterations had been made?

Suddenly, a strong forceful image flashed to the fore of his mind. He was looking at the Pope, the real type, one of the ancient ones in his grand surroundings dressed in kingly robes. Seated at the high chair. In his hand were rings with jewels larger than eyes. He himself was dressed in ancient accouterments, a cassock and cape, bending to kiss the signet ring. The air was thick with incense and the soft singing of the clergy. It was so vivid that he almost lost his balance.

“My grace,” he found himself saying.

“No need for that formality. The Pope’s (current day) voice snapped him back. The image slid away as fast as it had come. This time he allowed the shiver. If the Pope noticed, he didn’t betray any indication.

“Although we base our structure on the Church, its trappings we do not follow. Besides, there is nothing inherently religious about us.” He paused running a critical eye over Bishop.

“You seem a little off today. Was it because of the situation yesterday? When you so singlehandedly threw Thatcher square into a cauldron of drama?” There was no reproach in the tone.

“Perhaps. I suppose it had been a trying day. I kind of almost met my match and got wounded for the efforts.”

“No permanent damage I hope. Our assets grow ever increasingly thin.”

“Thank you for your concern.” He couldn’t help having a mocking tone in his reply. The Pope seemed to ignore it.

“Well we know you are a fighter for sure. Are you also a storyteller too? I like to hear this tale of yours because there was a bit of an uproar in the media. I suppose the situation was more sedate but the media made it look very explosive.”

“Well you know fanatics. They always do blow things up.” Bishop answered, shrugging.

“Is that a joke?”

“ I’m not sure I’m capable of humor.”

“Bad humor you might have but you’ll have it. If you don’t, you’re not human.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” The Pope gave him a strong look. He thought of what he meant by his own statement, but then pushed it aside. After all, reflection was never his strength.

“Sorry sir, not only have I bad humor, I make bad conversation too.” The Pope waved his hand indifferently.

“Let’s get to the point. What do you know?”

“Of the present situation?” He paused, collecting his thoughts.

“These were new. To me. They were on about something – Divine Right. Talked about how he has risen. He has risen. I surmise a cult tied around some personality who has achieved some high position recently. But if that’s the case, what’s with the suspected terrorism?”

“What you think? You always say you’re not one for reflection. But I like to know what you have concluded.” He was surprised the Pope knew that. He’d probably said it once too often.

“Think? That’s not my strong point. I do what I do. Trained and honed. Like a tool”

“Yes, perhaps we shouldn’t have done it this way. You’re a fine tool, great in response. But we can’t continue like that. All we do is respond and hope there is enough deterrence. But we need to move beyond that – all that we’ve achieved and still our social diseases continue to proliferate……xenophobia, racism, religious intolerance, fanaticism. You know in the previous century they used this term ‘woke’. We’re far from that no matter how we deny it.”

“That’s why religion hasn’t gone away.”

“Hmm. We need a new strategy. For ourselves as well. But nice a talk this is, tell me what do you think? Don’t hide behind the veneer of a strong silent killer.”

“Yes sir. Those guys indicated there was more to come. Some terror campaign in London probably. Perhaps this risen person needs to rise higher. And to do that, the terror campaign would support that?”

“Well concluded. We believe you are right. We came to the same conclusions. But tell me about meeting your match. Few Level 13 operatives can be bested, much less you.”

“There were three of then, of course you know this. The first jumped out the window after firing a few shots even before I started tangling with him. He would have known he couldn’t survive the fall. Or maybe he thought he was superman.”

“He didn’t fancy his chances with you?”

“Who can tell? They were mad, quite mad the lot of them. Who knew what went through his head when he decided to jump? The second had a Pallatine enhanced arm.”

“An army veteran most likely. But would have acquired that injury in an exercise or accident. We haven't gone to war in a while. Unless he's really ancient. You now, that’s how cheap the government was then. Replacing lost limbs with something like Pallatine. Toxic stuff. We actually had to be involved to stop that scheme. Some well connected people were getting a lot of coinage”

“Isn’t that always the case? Well, if he was soldier, he’d lost his skills. Was an easy takedown. Now the third. Highly trained, fast reflexes. As fast as me and not to toot my own horn but I am pretty fast.”

“Mercenary?”

“Seems like it. But equally mad. Frothing at the mouth barking insane words. Cut me with a knife”

“Wounded you?”

“Yes”

“Even through your reinforced clothing?”

“He was strong and it was a carbonadium knife maybe. But he was strong. I suspect even stronger than me.”

“If they have a people like that, we may have underestimated them in some way. Which only makes my course clearer.”

“ He did say certain things in his mad ranting that perturbed me. I can’t recall the exact, but there were words he used that made me think he somehow knew about us. Or used to be part of us.”

“Unlikely. Our records are complete. We would have known.”

“ So you already know who they are? These insane trigger happy people? Who are they then?”

“Jacobites.”

“Jacobites? A religious order?” The Pope shook his head.

“Do you know of the Glorious Revolution? 16 something something? I can’t recall the exact year.”

“William of Orange? When he came over?”

“Yes. The Jacobites were loyalists of the deposed Stuarts. King James the First, first of the Stuarts had promulgated a concept – Divine Right. This was that the King was subject to no earthly authority only to God. His right to rule was given by God and he answered to no one. That’s the summary of it, research it if you think you need to know more.”

“King James of the Bible?”

“Yes, the very same. First of the Stuarts after Elizabeth the First. Well, you do know what happened after that with Charles the First, and the Civil War with Parliament.”

“So a fight with parliamentary power, being the rule of the people against the rule of the King as mandated by God. That’s the crux of the Jacobites?”

“Something like that. Parliament won in the long run when they put William of Orange on the throne. The Kingship was never the same after that. Parliamentary authority was almost absolute. And the Jacobites were those loyal to the Stuart heir that had been deposed. Bonnie Prince Charlie – the King Over the Water. Various attempts were made to put him back on the throne. But all efforts failed. The fraternity remained, but merely content with myths and legends, nothing more than a social club. But recently, they seem to have revitalized into something bigger and more extreme.”

“Perhaps because of the Monarchial Crisis.”

“That gave them an opening I believe. With that, the flames of Divine Right could be fanned. We do not know if they were always this large and had these objectives. Or it’s a recent thing. But they have come to this and they are dangerous. On what we know, they’re bigger than any other cult or faction out there at the moment.”

“Perhaps they amalgamated with other orgs? Similar objectives, it was always the ends that justified the means for terrorists and fanatics.”

“True. That is a good point. Will bear that in mind when we look deeper.”

“How would anyone believe in such a thing this day and age? Divine Right.”

“People still believe Papal authority in the Catholic Church. Is he not supposed to be divinely appointed? Because we haven’t changed. The world is as it is. Better tech, countries change in their relative power and influence but fundamentally humans don’t.”

“If they are truly Jacobites or consist of some of them; are they claiming that they have the rightful King, with the Stuart bloodline? How could they persist so long anyway with an intact line? It seems remarkable.”

“ Well, they claim it’s intact. We knew of an old Jacobite group, priding itself on keeping the blood line intact. But there was nothing more from them came the middle of the 21st century. These Jacobites, these current one, could have been an offshoot or an entirely new group. For all we know, it might be true. That the bloodline is secure. But it is most likely propaganda though. They’ve got someone and they invent a legend to legitimize his position. After all, even Divine Right is just propaganda, by the King to legitimize his rule. It’s a curious concept for modern times definitely. Indeed it was nothing more than a curiosity for a long time . Then in the 21st century the concept started gaining traction again, right about the time, British and American democracy was at its least popular. People started fantasizing about kingly rule again. There were also some political theorists who were pushing the notion that the best form of rule was beneficent dictatorship. Free from the tyranny of the masses. I suppose, some used that to re-launch the Jacobite movement. Took their chance and started becoming relevant again. But we don’t quite know enough about their history. We’ve only came to know about them quite recently.”

“Yes, I was told to look for Scottish terrorists.”

“There’s linkage for you. There was a strong Highland element to the Jacobites. The Stuarts were from Scotland, yes. But what you got came out of data separately. I didn’t authorize that mission. Some Cardinal jumped the gun. Even so, we knew very little on our parts until very recently."

“Have you formulated a strategy?”

“We have. Fortunately yesterday’s events did nothing to influence things. We don’t even know for sure that they are Jacobites. But from your account, it can be surmised.”

“And they were screaming about ascension. Pardon the pedantry, but shouldn’t it be accession?”

“Ascension has some of the flavor of?”

“Divine nature? Ah Touché.”

“He has risen. Yes, religious in nature wouldn’t you say?”

“They did say that. Then it all is true. He is risen.” Bishop paused, going through his facts and conclusions.

“The King. Charles the Ninth. He is their Jacobite King?” The Pope smiled and nodded.

“You underestimate yourself, Bishop. You go around and tell everyone that you ‘don’t go for deep thoughts and are only the action type. Yet you made the logical leap faster than some of my most senior cardinals.”

“Perhaps if they had been shot at, the pieces would have fallen quicker.” Bishop said seriously.

“Perhaps. Next time we brainstorm, I’ll make them dance with bullets fired at their feet.” Bishop didn’t quite know how to receive that remark.

“Well, we strongly suspect that Charles Ninth is a Jacobite. Or a Jacobite stooge. There were certain peculiarities regarding his taking of the throne that lead us to investigate. And we ended up with the Jacobites.”

“So this has been going on. So I could have gotten more than Scottish terrorists for information.”

“We had kept this whole Jacobite thing very quiet. The info you received had been separately mined. I didn’t know of it until yesterday. That when I decided to bring you in on this.”

“This conspiracy.”

“Conspiracy? Hardly.”

“You’re thinking of action involving the monarch. That sir, is conspiracy.”

“That may be. The situation is this. There is a bill that is about to be passed in parliament. From what we know, the MPs have agreed to vote for it. It’s a bill that allows for emergency powers for the King under certain conditions. It is drafted obscurely but the implication is clear. The King will have far reaching powers under certain conditions.”

“This has been done before, hasn’t it? How many dictators have taken this route? That’s how they plan to restore the Divine Right? Scare the populace, let the King save the nation?”

“Tried and tested. Yes, their strategy has been used often to put dictators in power. But we’ve never quite tried it with a reigning Monarch.”

“Are they that influential that they could get their man elected? Is the conspiracy that far reaching, that extensive? To be able to control Parliament as well?”

“Perhaps not. Perhaps they were lucky. I doubt they had a single candidate. One of them got in, and finally after waiting for so long, they have something to move on. But yes, I can’t help but think there’s something more than just the Jacobites. To have their man gain the throne, and to have this bill in place – it is quite an achievement. But I don’t think their control on Parliament is absolute. Convince, cajole, bribe, threaten, there are many ways to get the votes. And the MPs might not see far along the consequences. You know, politicians never do; always live for the moment. To that end, we’re working very hard to learn how we came to this situation and not have a clue that anything was happening.”

“Not even from the Oracle? No clue from there?”

“Especially not from the Oracle. I’m almost tempted to believe information was deliberately withheld.”

“ By the Oracle? To what end?”

“The scary part of all this is, I don’t know. There is a breakdown in our information. Even our data team is giving us rubbish. Scottish terrorists pah!” he thumped the desk in a rare show of emotion.

“Well, that may be all that and more sir. But it doesn’t concern me does it? All this info.”

“No, I’m sorry, I suppose not. An oldman’s ranting; forgive me. We do grow old, even in these places.”

“Tempus fugit.”

“Yes. And since it does, I better get on with why you’re here.”

“Not for tea sir, I gather despite all the lovely chit chat.” Bishop did feel like tea. Revelations were coming hard and fast and he was struggling to keep up. Conversations with superiors were usually much simpler. Here are the objectives. Get it done. That was all. No need to go into background, or history or supposition. The Pope was right to say he was ranting.

“I’d offer you tea but there’s no one around to make it.”

“You’re an Englishman, you could make some.”

“I’m the Pope, for god sakes. I don’t make tea. Drink it I do, make it no. What’s the point of being the Pope when you have to make your own tea?”

“I was just joking sir.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know humor.”

“And you said that will make me inhuman. So I guess, I am or at least want to be human.” The pope looked at him intently. He started to say something but stopped. Instead he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“I was just joking as well. I don’t have an entourage. I don’t have a specific person to cater to my needs.”

“I apologize sir if I may have caused offence.”

“Enough of this. Let’s make it all simple. You my dear Bishop have until the fifth of November to stop this bill from going through.”

“Why the fifth of November?”

“Because they want to blow up Parliament, if not physically at least figuratively. It’s a childish notion, this attempt at making it all monumental and tying with history. But there you have it.”

“I don’t remember why the fifth of November is so important. Apart from fireworks and burning straw men.”

“No? Don’t remember your childhood rhymes?

Remember, remember!

The fifth of November,

The Gunpowder treason and plot;

I know of no reason

Why the Gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot!

"

“Guy Fawkes?”

"Well yes. You did play with fireworks as a kid?”

“I guess I’ve been poorly educated unlike you sir.”

“I’ll be honest. I looked it up.” And that ghastly smile again

.

“And what is the recommended course of action to stop this blowing up, figuratively or not of our democratic institution?”

“For a man who claims no humor, you do run away with it.”

“I’ve been just told some of the most bizarre things I’ve yet to come across. A conspiracy that seems almost ludicrous. What can the rational man do but laugh?”

“Laugh more then. Laugh away. The recommended course of action is the removal of the head.” Bishop’s spine stiffened.

“God, that’s almost in the realm of the absurd. Forgive me sir but f**k!” The Pope remained impassive.

“Removal. Sir, if I remember my politics correctly, the bill is voted by Parliament. The King alone isn’t enough. Do I need to succeed where Guy Fawkes failed?”

“The removal of the head will disrupt the process greatly. And the Jacobites will not allow anyone but their puppet to gain these powers. They will have to contrive to put another of their men or women on the throne. While, we may go to work on Parliament and change their minds. We came into this late, and we know too little. This strategy will buy us a lot of time.”

“Buy time by regicide. That sir, is what we will be committing.”

“You will be committing.” There was a terrifying look that accompanied those words.

“Sir , by your orders. That is conspiracy. Conspiracy to kill the King. This is no way to revenge for Henry the Eight. We’re not really the Catholic Church. Regicide.”

“He’s not really a King is he, claim or not of Stuart blood line. More like a glorified President.”

“The Monarchial Succession Bill was passed. By that, he is our rightful monarch despite the circumstances of his installation. He is our rightful monarch by constitution.”

“We’ve done in Kings before haven’t we? The first of his name. How’s that for connection to history.”

“This is summary execution. Without trial. And lets not forget there was Civil War. And a load of trouble after that. Heck, it eventually caused the Jacobites to form from what you say and now here it is. Have the consequences been thought upon?”

“Of course they have! We’ve debated and argued. But this is our conclusion. And have you not done this before? You’ve excised diplomats, ministers, even a foreign head of state. What difference does it make?”

“He is the King. My King.”

“Why do you think we structured ourselves around the Catholic Church? Because we answer to no other institution.”

“But to God. How does that make it any different from them and us? They and their Divine Right. We and our Divine Purpose.”

“We answer to no other institution. But we answer to the people. We are to protect the people and if it be from their King so be it.”

“Doesn’t change it from the fact it is high treason.”

“Not when we serve the will of the people. That is our mandate.”

“How do we know, we are on the right path. How do we….”

“There are mechanisms, structures in place within this organization that guarantees that. Just because it is not known to you, does not mean it doesn’t exist. Options have been weighed, by more thoughtful people than yourself. Do not question. I say this as the recommended course of action, but you’re a Bishop of the Godsmen. You have a vow”

“Of obedience I’m aware. I’m overwhelmed, sir to be honest. I forget my place. If truly this is the course.”

“It is. It weighs heavy on us all, but due consideration has been made. All the angles and all the points have been measured. This is our conclusion not mine.” The Pope breathed hard and sank back into his chair.

“I’m actually gratified with your reaction Bishop.” He sighed.

“I was at the point of insubordination, how can that be gratifying?”

“If you’ve heard my orders and just walked off immediately to do the deed, what difference are you from a machine? This hesitation, this revulsion means something. That means you’re more than a robot or android, an unthinking slave. That is not what we want in our people, vow of obedience or not. If you had made no objections, we would have to rethink our training. We would have gone too far. Do you know, even in the ancient Church, while the Pope held authority, the clergy were free to contemplate matters against the authority? They didn’t openly disobey but their protestations and concerns did make it to be considered. You’re just a man Bishop. Your concerns, your worries, it shows your humanity. And believe me, that makes you a more effective operative than a programmed android could ever be.”

“You’re rather vocal today sir. I didn’t think you were the type.”

“Like you? We both had a lot to say today. As I said, such decisions were not easy to make. There is a fine difference between a foreign head of state and your own King, no matter the manner of accession. You think you’re troubled? There’s always the comfort for you of hiding behind the mantra of ‘following orders’. What recourse do I have? How do I sleep at night? And then maybe I’m getting too old as well. As you said, Tempus Fugit.”

“Well, thank you for your candor sir. It makes it easier. Honestly.” Easier but still extremely difficult.

“Just do it. Bishop. Just do it.” He looked Bishop directly in the eye. A pleading expression almost. Of all the things that shook Bishop today, that shook him the most.

“Ours not to reason why.” Bishop whispered.

“But to do and die? God, that awful poem. Led us into so many disasters, that kind of spirit. Many of us British went too early because of that belief. Do it Bishop, but don’t die.”

“I will to the best of my ability try not to sir. I value my existence.”

“Good. We still have need of you. More than ever it seems. In any case, proceed to the scan room after this.”

“I’ve never asked but what does the scan do?”

“You’ve never asked, why ask now?”

“Well, it has been a strange day and I don’t know, I’ve been more thoughtful lately. A sign of age perhaps. I feel as if I need repair.”

“Of the soul or of the body?”

“Well, body obviously. My soul is as right as rain.” Not quite, now that he had this to do.

“Is it then? Well, anyway, the scan would show something.”

“It’s a health scan then?”

“It’s a scan?”

“That’s all you can tell me?”

“I actually don’t know. I can’t suffer all the little details. I’m just the current Pope. All that is to be done has already been written. I follow. As before. I didn’t invent the universe.”

“Ever wondered who did?”

“

God, who else?”

“Touché.”

“Enough touché and you be dead.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t you fence?”

“Selling stolen items?”

“Fencing. The art of sword fighting.”

“Ah something quaint and old. I show signs of age but I’m not an antique.”

“I fence. So I’m an antique.”

“Well. In any case, it would be an art form of beautiful moves. Parry and thrust and fancy footwork. But sir I’m a pragmatic man. I have a gun.”

“Touché. Get the hell out here Bishop.”

Bishop left that sparse, sparse room. And the sparse, sparse man.

Into a sparse hallway that would take him into another sparse room. Couldn’t they have added some color? A little red might go a long way. His journey to the scan room didn’t take any conscious thought. His footfalls had been measured precisely. If he studied the carpet closely, he might not be surprised to find a groove there, etched by his feet over many trips. For so long now, since time immemorial? Such grand drama in his thoughts, gods he was getting old. He wasn’t thinking because he didn’t want to think. He was not a man for reflection and his current mission was forcing his mind to do just that. But no, the Pope was right. Better men had thought about it. He was to do what they decided. Put it all away, empty the mind. By the time he reached the scan room he was almost successful in emptying his mind. Almost. He knocked on the nondescript door and a technician opened it. He didn’t recognize the woman. Did they look all the same? These technicians? That was mean, they were people after all. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed. Or she had changed her hair or something. Was he attracted to the opposite s*x? To his own s*x? Had he ever been attracted to anyone? He must have. In his youth. He must have. He walked in, giving a short nod of acknowledgement.

“We’ve been expecting you.”

“I know I’ve been expected.” There was a slight turn at the mouth but that was all. Human maybe. And if that was flirting, the human race was doomed. The room, he recognized. A chair in the middle of the room. One that reclined fully into a sleeping position. A large bank of lights overhead which lowered to within an inch of his reposed body. Head clamps that tingled his skull. That was all. Just a chair in the middle of a room with some minor equipment around it. The rest of the equipment was behind a glass wall towards the right, not quite visible. Those didn’t concern him, so he didn’t need to see them. There might be more technicians behind there for all he knew but there were just the two of them with him now. As always. Just the two. He didn’t recognize the other one as well, a man. Or at least a person closer on the spectrum to masculinity. But he knew the drill. He took off his coat and draped it over a coat rack. Didn’t need to remove the rest of his clothes. And get naked. The scan apparently saw through clothes. Which was convenient. He got in the chair, relaxed into it. There never was pain, just that tingle. They didn’t even need to strap him down. At first glance it looked like torture with the ghastly looking clamps but it wasn’t at all. The head technician, the woman; he assumed she was the head because she looked more certain, stepped on a pedal on the chair and it started reclining with a low hum. Ah, just like the dentist. When was he last at the dentist? Were there still dentists? Did British people still have bad teeth? Once fully reclined, the bank of light was lowered. It wasn’t bright enough to irritate, in fact its luminescence was comforting. The clamps were fitted and the tingling started.

“Sorry to mess with your hair.”

“Mess away, it’s a terrible haircut anyway.” This time, she did properly smile. Hope for the human race after all. The suave and debonair Bishop, savior of the human race.

“Here we go. Initiating. Time for dreams. Bishop.”

“Yes that’s me. A Bishop but I don’t actually have a Vow of Chastity you know.” What was he saying? The whole session with the Pope had sent him spiraling into a maelstrom of confusion.

“That’s nice to know. Sleep now.” She patted him on the shoulder. The tingling picked up and he thought of saying something else but instead drifted off to sleep. He never knew how long it took, never thought to measure the time. When he woke, it was absolute waking. There were never any ill effects as well, as much as he could tell. Which was all fine and dandy. He got up immediately and put on his coat. He turned to the woman.

“Thanks. I wanted to ask something but I can’t remember now. Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Maybe next time.” She looked at him as if studying him.

“Any side effects?”

“There’s this sparkly bits in my vision but otherwise I’m okay. Back to life.” He shrugged, turned and exited without looking back.

“He never remembers us? The man asked.

“No. Side effect I suppose. Which is good. Less questions. Probably won’t remember anything in the next couple of hours.”

“Have we got it all then?”

“We never get it all. There’s always something that slips.”

“Even before the editing”.

“Even before. With editing we know what’s gone. These things that slip, we never know. Anyway it’s not really editing. More like compulsion. But yeah, things slip.”

“His head is full of holes, eh?”

“More than you know. Don’t they teach you all this?”

“I only operate the machine. Damn if I know how it all works. Didn’t design it. In fact, how many people know about this process anyway? I was implicitly threatened before I got on to keep my trap shut.”

“Then why want to know so much? Know less, talk less. How many people know? Not enough I suppose. I’m beginning to hate this part of the job.”

“Familiarity breeds contempt eh – that’s what they used to say. Or something else?”

“What something else?”

“Sympathy for the guy. Some feelings of connection? I don’t know. Like, like him?”

“Just because I’m a woman and what do you know of my orientation anyway. Or my type.”

“I know I’m not your type, ha. Look I’m not saying you’ve gone coochie coo for the big guy. I’m just saying you know, women supposed to be more emotional, more empathy that sort of thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah on account of having reproductive organs and all. You know.”

“You’re a bloody Neanderthal. You know what that means?”

“Hey. That’s …….well, maybe my evolution is lower scale you know. Testosterone and all that but it doesn’t give to call me names like that. You’re suppose to be more sensitive.”

“God, just grow some t**s or something. Just do your job. She stepped on the pedal and the chair hummed back to its upright position.