Doctor Who_ Wonderland - Mark Chadbourn [8]
Polly was clearly very unnerved by this idea. 'So that means that someone knows who you are. And that you're here.'
Her words made me uneasy. Who was he? Why was he here?
The girl hugged her arms around her as she followed Ben's gaze out into the night. 'There is something out there. Can't you feel it? It's in the air... that feeling of threat...'
'Come now.' The Doctor fixed his smile on me, but those eyes still
made me unsettled. 'Let's not upset our young friend. I'm sorry, my dear, I didn't catch your name.'
'Summer,' I replied.
He took my hand with surprising gentleness. 'What a lovely name. I'm very pleased to meet you. Now, how is your search going?'
I told him that I wanted to visit the Oracle to find more information about the Blue Moonbeams LSD. It was probably irrelevant. Denny had never tried LSD, and I didn't think he ever would, but I had to investigate everything.
'Are you coming, Doctor?' Polly asked.
'Oh, I don't think you need me there. Besides, I want to have a closer look at those.' He pointed to some psychedelic posters on one wall. Before any of us could say anything further, he had flicked his cloak around him and walked away, as if we were already forgotten. 'Is he always so helpful?' I asked, with unaccustomed sarcasm. I was probably being pathetic, but I was a little hurt that he'd wanted to browse in a shop, rather than help me look for Denny.
'Oh, he's got his reasons, I'm sure,' Ben said uncomfortably.
'It's not that he doesn't care.' Polly put an arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.
'I'm sure he's very busy,' I replied.
The Oracle office was up some side stairs. It was a mess: paper everywhere, radical posters peeling off the walls, typewriters that looked fifty years old perched on rickety desks. The atmosphere was smoky but electric with the kind of optimism that hung all over the Haight.
Even at that time of the evening there was still activity. One journalist hammered out his story with two fingers, while three more were engaged in intense phone conversations. Two others kicked back listening to music on headphones.
They were clearly used to people wandering in off the sidewalk because no one batted an eyelid when we entered. A heavily bearded man with a massive gut broke off from the ear-splitting pounding of the Stones' '19th Nervous Breakdown' to point us in the direction of Jack Stimson.
The journalist was a tall, painfully thin man, barely filling his doublebreasted suit. His pale skin looked even greyer in contrast with the brilliance of his red and green flowered shirt. He affected elegance by smoking with a long cigarette holder.
He hung up the phone as we approached and gave an expansive gesture. 'Greetings, cat and chicklets. Step into my office.' He opened an imaginary door.
'You're Jack Stimson?' I ventured.
'The one and only. Currently awash in the preparations for the biggest story of the year. Make that the decade. Heck, maybe even the biggest story ever!' He looked around at the blank faces before prompting, 'The Human Be-In, cool kids.'
'What's that?' Ben said, confused and feeling increasingly out of his depth.
'Where've you been, man?' Stimson genuinely looked as if he believed Ben had wandered in from another planet. 'The Gathering of the Tribes. A hip pow-wow to usher in the Age of Aquarius. The seasons are turning, man. History's going our way. And it all starts here.'
'You know, mate, I've got no idea what you're talking about,' Ben said, ruffled.
'It's a festival, Ben.' I picked up one of the flyers from Stimson's desk to show him. 'All these bands are playing in Golden Gate Park later this month ... Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead, Quicksilver Messenger Service. Timothy Leary's going to be speaking, and Allen Ginsberg and some of the other Beats.'
'It's going to bring the mellow and the activists together,' Stimson said evangelically. 'It'll ignite a fire of love that'll spread out across America ... across the whole world. A Summer of Love. They'll have to listen to us after