Part 4 (1/2)

I delicately helped her out of her gingham coat and sat her down at the table. Steak Diane would be like eating railway sleepers to her, so I started to make an omelette.

'Now, Gran,' I said, cracking some eggs into a bowl, 'I want you to tell me what you're doing here.'

'I need to be here to remind you of things you might forget, young Thursday.'

'Such as what?'

'Such as Landen. They eradicated my husband too, and the one thing I needed was someone to help me through it, so that's what I'm here to do for you.'

'I'm not going to forget him, Gran!'

'Yes,' she agreed in a slightly peculiar way, 'I'm here to make sure of it.'

'That's the why why,' I persisted, 'but what about the how how?'

'I too used to do the occasional job for Jurisfiction in the old days,' she explained, 'a long time ago, mind, but it was just one of many jobs that I did in my life and not the strangest, either.'

'What was was?' I asked, knowing in my heart that I really shouldn't be asking.

'Well, I was G.o.d Emperor of the Universe once,' she answered in the same manner in which she might have admitted to going to the pictures, 'and being a man for twenty-four hours was pretty weird.'

'Yes,' I replied, 'I expect it was.'

ibb laid the table and we sat down to eat ten minutes later. As Gran sucked on her omelette I tried to make conversation with ibb and obb. The trouble was, neither of them had the requisite powers of social communication to a.s.similate anything from speech other than the bald facts it contained. I tried a joke I had heard from Bowden, my partner at SpecOps, about an octopus and a set of bagpipes. But when I delivered the punchline they both stared at me.

'Why would the bagpipes be dressed in pyjamas?' asked ibb.

'They weren't,' I replied, 'it was the tartan. That's just what the octopus thought thought they were.' they were.'

'I see,' said obb, not seeing at all. 'Would you mind going over it again?'

'That's it,' I said resolutely, 'you're going to have a personality if it kills me.'

'Kill you?' enquired ibb in all seriousness. 'Why would it kill you?'

I thought carefully. There had to be somewhere somewhere to begin. I clicked my fingers. to begin. I clicked my fingers.

'Sarcasm,' I said. 'We'll start with that.'

They both looked at me blankly.

'Well,' I began, 'sarcasm is closely related to irony and implies a twofold view a literal meaning yet a wholly different different intention from what is said. For instance, if you were lying to me about who ate all the anchovies I left in the cupboard, and you intention from what is said. For instance, if you were lying to me about who ate all the anchovies I left in the cupboard, and you had had eaten them, you might say: ”It wasn't me” and I would say: eaten them, you might say: ”It wasn't me” and I would say: ” Sure Sure it wasn't,” meaning I'm sure it it wasn't,” meaning I'm sure it was was but in an ironic or sarcastic manner.' but in an ironic or sarcastic manner.'

'What's an anchovy?' asked ibb.

'A small and very salty fish.'

'I see,' replied ibb. 'Does sarcasm work with other things or is it only fish?'

'No, the stolen anchovies was only by way of an example. Now you try.'

'An anchovy?'

'No, you try some sarcasm.'

They continued to look at me blankly. I sighed.

'Like trying to nail jelly to the wall,' I muttered under my breath.

'Plock,' said Pickwick in her sleep as she gently keeled over. 'Plocketty-plock.'

'Sarcasm is better explained through humour,' put in Gran, who had been watching my efforts with interest. 'You know that Pickwick isn't too clever?'

Pickwick stirred in her sleep where she had fallen, resting on her head with her claws in the air.

'Yes, we know that,' replied ibb and obb, who were nothing if not observant.

'Well, if I were to say that it is easier to get yeast to perform tricks than Pickwick, I'm using mild sarcasm to make a joke.'

'Yeast?' queried ibb. 'But yeast has no intelligence.'

' Exactly Exactly,' replied Gran. 'So I am making a sarcastic observation that Pickwick has less brain power than yeast. You try.'

The Generic thought long and hard.

'So,' said ibb slowly, 'how about ... Pickwick is so clever she sits on the TV and stares at the sofa?'

'It's a start,' said Gran.

'And,' added ibb, gaining confidence by the second, 'if Pickwick went on Mastermind Mastermind, she'd do best to choose ”Dodo eggs” as her specialist subject.'

obb was getting the hang of it, too.

'If a thought crossed her mind it would be the shortest journey on record-'

'Pickwick would cause a sensation at Oxford but only from within a specimen jar-'

'All right, that's enough sarcasm,' I said quickly. 'I know Pickwick won't win ”Brain of BookWorld” but she's a loyal companion.'

I looked across at Pickwick, who slid off the sofa and landed with a thump on the floor. She woke up and started plocking loudly at the sofa, coffee table, rug in fact, anything close by before calming down, climbing on top of her egg and falling asleep again.

'You did well, guys,' I said. 'Another time we'll tackle subtext.'

ibb and obb went to their room soon afterwards, discussing how sarcasm was related to irony, and whether irony itself could be generated in laboratory conditions. Gran and I chatted about home. Mother was very well, it seemed, and Joffy and Wilbur and Orville were as mad as ever. Gran, conscious of my dealings with Yorrick Kaine in the past, reported that Kaine had returned soon after the episode with the Glatisant at Volescamper Towers, lost his seat in the house and been back at the helm of his newspaper and publis.h.i.+ng company soon after. I knew he was fictional and a danger to my world but couldn't see what to do about it from here. We talked into the night about the BookWorld, Landen, eradications and having children. Gran had had three herself so she told me all the stuff they don't tell you when you sign on the dotted line.

'Think of swollen ankles as trophies,' she said, somewhat unhelpfully.