The 2084 Precept (73 page)

The ocean, the real one, is one of our
planet's solutions for cooling down its male inhabitants in
whichever ways they need to be cooled down, and whether or not they
wish to be. And then you've got your neurons. Hey man, they say,
relax, cool down, why be stressed, why be frustrated to no purpose?
Right.

And that was the problem of course, stressed
and frustrated to no purpose. I decided that after the first
Morocco voyage was safely under way, I would take immediate steps
to end this bloody celibacy. Celibacy is not good for you, it is
unhealthy and it is bad for the complexion. Nor is it normal and
nor natural, unless you are one of those priests with half of a
brain which is searching in vain for the other half which handles
the areas of sex and desire and lust.

But don't get me wrong, I have nothing
against a man—or a woman, come to that—who chooses to spend his or
her life dressed in peculiar robes and living in a cell in some
forbidding stone building—probably with central heating nowadays of
course—and not even thinking about sex. The thought itself is
probably a sin. And it would also take time away from the
meditations and the prayers and so on to the god of his or her
preference. Or to the
gods
of his or her preference if he or
she is a Hindu. And that would be bad and we wouldn't want that.
And seriously, I am being honest. Each to his own. Live and let
live is my message.

It was early evening when Jeremy called. The
prime minister had called him personally earlier in the day. There
was massive confusion and disagreement among the summit meeting
attendees. About the only thing they were agreed on was that there
was no way they could take this alien thing seriously unless they
were able to actually meet a few aliens. A mentally sick human
being called Jeremy Parker did not count. However, the subject of
world peace and whether it was achievable had awakened their
interest in a way that had not existed previously. It was clear to
them that throwing doves into the air and calling for peace on
earth once a year was a completely useless activity and a total
waste of time.

They were therefore arguing about which
committees and sub-committees to set up to find out why the
committees and sub-committees already existing under, for example,
the auspices of the United Nations, had so far produced a zero
return on the investment involved. Such investment, said the prime
minister, consisting mainly of the obscenely exorbitant salaries
and fees paid each year to a few thousand bureaucrats and their
assistants, and of the even more obscene amounts of money paid to
the outsourced service providers and consultants hired to mitigate
their personal ignorance and lack of in-house competence in many,
if not all, fields.

The prime minister, continued Jeremy,
nevertheless wanted to meet with him again. The reason for that was
transparently obvious, said Jeremy, and for various reasons I told
him that Friday of next week would be fine. Just to keep him happy,
you understand Peter. He should have his staff communicate the time
and place to me. But I won’t be going. It’s just that I will be
needing his cooperation on a couple of matters in the meantime.

Jeremy continued. "Among other things,
Peter, the Governing Committee will be issuing an edict within the
next few hours. I do not intend to keep the edict secret. I shall
put it into writing in your language and you will be the first to
receive a copy. It should be in your mailbox, security-coded of
course, by tomorrow morning, and I will give you a call at some
point before midday. And then I intend to send a copy to the prime
minister, and a couple of days later to all of the others."

He was risking becoming a laughing stock of
unheard of proportions and maybe a lot worse, I thought to myself.
And in any case, this edict thing
had
to be the end of his
fantasy saga, the final piece which he needed to complete his
puzzle, after which there was nowhere further for him to go. But it
wouldn't wash. It would just be another hallucination from a
seriously sick and deluded person. And an end to his fantasy world
would not be a bad thing, I thought—for me, for him and for
everybody else.

"And by the way, Peter," he added, "thank
you for your recent invoices. You will be pleased to hear that I
have used my position with the prime minister to obtain his
guarantee that, providing you fully comply with legal taxation
requirements, he is providing the German and U.K. tax authorities
with a certified U.K. government document stating that your
services to Obrix Consultancy Partners were in connection with U.K.
national security matters whose precise nature cannot,
unfortunately, be disclosed. In the unlikely event of any problems,
the tax authorities should direct their queries exclusively to the
minister responsible for Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs, as the
bureaucracy into which the old U.K. Inland Revenue had merged some
years ago is now called. That minister, Peter, will have been
briefed."

And equally interesting, amazing in fact,
was what Jeremy was capable of achieving, right down to the
safeguarding of my personal tax affairs. Insane as he was, he knew
exactly how to make things happen…not including the asteroids of
course. He had merely
known
about them. I think.

And I take the credit for acting strictly in
accordance with my neurons’ instructions. I uttered not a single
word about takeovers and contented myself with a thank you Jeremy,
and see you soon.

And then it was off to that hotel near the
golf course on the north-western outskirts of Palma, where a weekly
backgammon tournament was held on Saturdays. There was prize money,
not allowed, illegal as it happens, but that didn't bother anybody.
I do not use this as an excuse, but backgammon, while being a game
requiring a significant amount of skill—a good player will usually
defeat a weak player—also involves an outsized portion of luck, to
the extent that this is what usually decides a game between two
experts. That is my story anyway, and I was knocked out before
reaching the final round. Which was totally unimportant and which
also allowed me to enjoy a couple of glasses of single malt while
watching the remaining games. And then I took a taxi back to
Illetas.

Saturday had become Sunday again and it was
going to be another of those hot ones. It was too hot already at 9
a.m. to comfortably sit on the balcony. But it suited me, I had no
intention of doing anything other than swim in the sea, lounge by
the pool, have some drinks on the terrace, swim in the pool, and
continue with that book,
Platform
. A tough life, as we have
mentioned before.

But first I checked my mailbox for Jeremy's
latest fantasy. And there it was.

Well, nothing new except for the timeframe.
And Jeremy had presumably had fun formulating the text. On the one
hand, I found it not only unnecessary but also a bit mean of him to
include the bacteria. On the other hand, by ensuring that I would
die a natural death (hopefully by decay rather than, for example,
being murdered, also a natural enough death on this planet) and
that, by extrapolation, my offspring—should I choose to join the
maniacal and rabbit-like stampede to replicate—would at least get a
reasonable term, he had proven to me yet again that he meant well.
He was basically a pleasant and agreeable person, irrespective of
his mental illness.

I had just finished a swim in the sea and
collected Jeremy's phone from the bar—where I always leave it for
safekeeping—and was enjoying my white wine and
bacalao
tapa,
when said phone rang.

"Good day to you, Peter. Working or lounging
around today?"

"Hello there, Jeremy. I was lounging around
for a while but then my phone rang and I had to stop."

"Ha, then I apologize," he laughed. "And
what did you think of the edict?"

The final stretch, I am going to continue
this in a civilized manner and not just because of the money I've
been paid.

"I thought it was an extremely just and
appropriate judgment taking into account the circumstances, Jeremy.
And as for the timeframe, which will, using my calendar, take us to
the year 2084, well… I found that to be a remarkably fair one. It
gives me the chance of a long life and at least a half-life to any
of my potential offspring, unlikely though their existence may turn
out to be. Please accept my heartfelt appreciation."

"Ah well, Peter, you never know. I put it in
on the off-chance. Same reason I left you with my visiting card
when we first met in London, you know. Off-chance."

"Yes, well, and once again, thank you very
much. It was very kind of you." And good to know that I am not to
be annihilated this evening. And equally good to know that nor
would any attractive and savory females, one of whom I would
therefore hopefully meet and become involved with before the week
had run its course.

"You are more than welcome, Peter," said
Jeremy. "And now I have some further information for you. As there
will be no meeting on Friday, I intend seeing your prime minister
informally either tomorrow or on Tuesday. I will be making use of
his perceived interest in my so-called computer-hacking
capabilities to obtain his agreement on two points concerning
yourself."

"Concerning myself? And what might those two
items be?" I asked.

"The first one is the one I mentioned to you
yesterday. We need the prime minister’s signature on a formal
government guarantee in writing that you will no longer be of
further interest to any national security departments, police
departments or defence departments in connection with any matters
or occurrences relating to, or arising from, your acquaintance with
my good self. You were employed by me as a consultant, additionally
utilized by me to engineer an initial contact with U.K.
officialdom, and have absolutely nothing to do with anything else
whatsoever."

"They seem to have lost interest in me
already, Jeremy, but such a confirmation at government level will
certainly be good for my peace of mind. Thank you very much again
for taking such time and trouble on my behalf."

"I consider it to be my obligation, Peter.
You and I had agreements, we both complied with them, and there was
nothing in any of them which implied you would be subject to
ongoing surveillance or any other form of harassment which might
have a continuing negative effect on your private life."

"Nevertheless, thank you again, Jeremy. And
what would the second matter be?"

"The second matter would be with regard to
my disappearance, to my return home. Poor Jeremy Parker will be
left behind and will regrettably be left with his own brain which,
as you know, is in very poor repair. In other words, he will have a
relapse. Without my presence, he will revert to being the dangerous
psychopath he always was. However, my departure will not occur
immediately as there are certain things that need to be settled,
tidied up as you might say. One of these items is the Obrix group
of companies."

So he was staying, was he? Suspicious,
indeed. Possibly the proof of the pudding in fact. Fantasy worlds
are all fine and dandy and they can function in the mind at an
extraordinary level of detail, but when it eventually comes to the
point of having to fly off to your own delusion, well now…that is
when it becomes a trifle difficult, oh yes. So let me push him on
that.

"Why would you want to stay, Jeremy? Why
would you want to tidy things up? As I understand it, from your
point of view you are basically just leaving an ant colony."

"Your ant colony, Peter, is certainly of no
importance to us at all. However, my continued presence for a while
might feasibly provide a psychological aura conducive to the
success of the deliberations currently occupying the valuable time
of your species' leaders. Or it might not. But as members of a
benevolent society, my professor and I have decided that the mere
possibility of such an effect makes a brief prolongation of my
presence a desirable affair. And to be honest, Peter, studying the
immediate sequel will add a final and refined touch to my research
data and consequently to my dissertation’s closing conclusions. And
so I thought I might just as well tidy things up at the same
time."

Man, oh man, does he have answers for
everything. You have to take your hat off to him. He is in
possession of a highly creative brain, amazingly impressive neurons
beyond any doubt, and to that we have to add the telepathic powers
and the astronomy.

"And the Obrix companies Peter," he
continued, "they mean nothing to me, as you can imagine. I have
decided to sell the group to you. If you want it, of course."

How many times in the past few weeks has
this guy been able to knock me off balance? These companies have
nothing to do with his fantasy world, they are
real
, and so
is their money, I've received some of it myself. But I can't of
course buy anything like this, not at any legal price anyway.