One of Our Thursdays Is Missing - Jasper Fforde [74]
“What did you expect?” Marley’s Ghost had said when I protested. “Albert Schweitzer?”
“Ghosts?” said Square when I explained what I could see. “Perhaps. There is much unexplained in the world. It behooves one to be wary at all times. Just when you think you’ve got the hang of it, along comes string theory, collateralized debt obligations or Björk’s new album, and bam! You’re as confused as you were when you first started.”
We arrived at the Clary-LaMarr Travelport soon after. As in fiction, this was the main transportation hub in Swindon, where the Skyrail and mainline bullet services met. From here you could travel off to the west and Bristol and the steamer ports or east to London and the Gravitube. This was the business district, and the impressively high glassy towers disgorged a constant stream of people, all working together to make Swindon the powerhouse it was, deservedly known as “the Jewel of the M4.” My Swindon was pretty similar, even if it lagged behind by eight years, the time that had elapsed since my series was written.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing towards a steel latticework tower that was being built on a hill to the south of the city. It was only half built but looked large enough to dwarf the skyscrapers when complete.
“It’s part of the Anti-Smite Strategic Defense Shield that will one day protect a sinful citizenry from God’s wrath—a series of force fields supported by steel pylons. Not even the most powerful smiting by the angriest or most vengeful God will make it through—or so it is claimed.”
“That sounds pretty daft.”
“That’s the whole point,” he said. “It’s meant to be daft. The Commonsense Party’s unswervingly sensible management of the country has left the nation with a woefully high stupidity surplus that needs to be safely discharged. It’s hoped that the extraordinarily pointless and ridiculously expensive defense shield will be enough to deplete the stupidity quickly enough to allow time to more sensibly deal with a bigger problem that’s coming up.”
“What could be a bigger problem than God’s wrath upon his creations and a cleansing fire falling from the heavens?”
“I’m not sure. Something to do with polar bears.”
I sighed. “It’s been a while since I had any concept of current affairs,” I said. “All of this was barely thought of when I was penned.”
“I keep abreast of things,” said Square. “It’s the closest thing to STORY they have out here. Makes me feel less homesick. You’ve been here an hour and you can walk pretty well, so you’re doing okay. The next thing you need to learn is interaction and how humans all manage to live together without descending into chaos. The best place for appreciating this is crowds.”
“Crowds?”
“Right. Humans are more or less identical except for a few peculiar habits generally delineated by geographic circumstances and historical precedent. But essentially they’re all the same and reading from the same rule book. To get along you have to appreciate the rules but also know that other people know the rules—and that they know that you know the rules. Get it?”
“No.”
“You will. Observe the crowds for a moment.”
I watched as the thousand or so individuals milled around the Skyrail port, all of them heading in one of six directions and moving on their own yet as one. Astonishingly, without bumping into one another and falling over. It was a most remarkable sight. The wispy Marley-like ones had it even easier, since they could go through the pedestrians just as easily as around them.
“I’m still seeing the transparent humans.”
“How insubstantial are they?”
“Pretty smoky. And they all look so sad.”
This was true. They all wandered about looking very dejected, as if the world were pressing heavily on their shoulders. I had tried to catch the eye of one or two, but they’d steadfastly ignore me and, it seemed, everyone else.