Part 40 (1/2)

'Many have observed the same phenomenon.'

'Really, really, really, blue, Bat. Deep, scary blue. So blue that I was struck, dude!' blue, Bat. Deep, scary blue. So blue that I was struck, dude!'

'By a rollerblader?'

'Vertigo, man. I was falling upwards into the blue! I might still be falling now if a bad-a.s.s pigeon hadn't come and pecked his flying-rat beak into my potato.'

'Could you make the nature of this revelation a little more explicit, VeeJay?'

'Dude, ain't it obvious? It's a disaster waiting to happen! And what contingency plans are there for it, do you think? I'll tell you. Nothin'! Squat! Bupkiss! Jacks.h.i.+t!'

'For bad-a.s.s pigeons?'

'Terminal cessation of gravity. Think about it, dude! If you're caught outside you fly off into s.p.a.ce until the air gets so thin you die of oxygen starvation, or you just blaze up, like a meteor in reverse. If you're caught inside you sustain considerable injuries by falling onto the ceiling, together with all the other non-fixed furnis.h.i.+ngs. Need an ambulance? Forget it, dude! All the ambulances in New York State would be cras.h.i.+ng into satellites parked eight miles high. And tell me this, Bat, how long can you last living on the ceiling of a building, unable to venture outside because the only ground was a bottomless drop? No shopping for HoHos or Twinkies when you get the munchies, dude! And the oceans, dude, the oceans! The air would be an ocean cascading upwards, and marine animals, some with serrated teeth, or poisonous suckers, dude, and-'

'How sorry I am to cut VeeJay off in mid-sentence, but it's time for the 3 a.m. news roundup. But first, a brief word from our sponsor. The Bat will be back. Possibly.'

'Kevin. Send for an ambulance.'

'That'll be difficult, Mr Segundo. VeeJay never gives me an address. He says I work for Them.'

'It's not him who needs the ambulance, you-'

'Does somebody else need an ambulance, Mr Segundo?'

'Oh, Lord in heaven give me strength...'

'Bat! Clam it.'

'Well, looky here and hearken, 'tis Carlotta the Elf Queen.'

'Kevin, run up to the kitchen and get me a Diet c.o.ke, would you? And I'm sure Bat could use a refill. He's looking pasty again.'

'On my way, Carlotta.'

'Here's the schedule for the rest of the week. Handle it?'

'Don't I always? Can we do something about the air in here? It's like a Kowloon laundromat.'

'Yeah. Quit smoking, and bang the air-conditioner just... there! See? There was a call from your wife.'

'Uh-huh. What did the Queen of h.e.l.l want?'

'She said if you keep dissing her on the show she'll file a suit for stress arising from character a.s.sa.s.sination, prove you're a delusional obsessive and get your rights to see Julia revoked.'

'Uh-huh...'

'You hearing me, Bat? Cut some slack! No wonder your only friends are revenge fantasies. Stop taking bites out of Kevin, get your feet on the ground, get a life.'

'Uh-huh... Say, Carlotta, can you recommend any voodoo doctors?'

'You're listening to Night Train FM on the last day of November, 97.8 'til very late. That was ”Misterioso” by Thelonius Monk, a thrummable masterpiece that glockenspiels my very vertebrae. Bat Segundo is your host, from the witching hour to the b.i.t.c.hing hour. Coming up in the next half-hour we have a gem from a rare Milton Nascimento disc, ”Anima”, together with ”Saudade Fez Um Samba” by the immortal Joao Gilberto, so slug back another coffee, stay tuned and enjoy the view as the night rolls by! My Batphone is flas.h.i.+ng, we have a caller on the line. h.e.l.lo, you are live on Night Train FM.'

'h.e.l.lo, Bat.'

'h.e.l.lo? And we are?'

'This is the zookeeper, Bat.'

'Say what?'

'Do you remember me?'

'...Zookeeper! Hi! Erm... Hi, yeah, sure we remember you. We definitely remember you... A long while since you called, wasn't it? Isn't it? Hasn't it?'

'A year, Bat.'

'Wow, a whole year gone by! And tonight you are calling from... where?'

'Thirteen kilometres above Spitsbergen.'

'How did you get up there? Terminal cessation of gravity?'

'No, Bat. I came here by ultrawave transmission.'

'Must be quite a view.'

'The Arctic winter doesn't lend itself to viewing, at least in the spectrum of light visible to your eye. It's noon here, but even noon is just a lighter night. There's thick cloud cover, and a snowstorm into its third day. A pod of narwhals on enhanced infra-red. This satellite was launched under the cover of ozone depletion research, but the data it collects is military. There's a Canadian icebreaker... A Saudi submarine pa.s.sing a hundred metres underneath the ice cap. A Norwegian cargo vessel, taking timber from Archangel. Nothing out of the ordinary. The aurora borealis has been quiet for a few nights.'

'You see the aurora from the inside, then? Must be quite a trip.'

'The rules governing use of language are complex, and I lack practise in words. Imagine being drunk on opals. However, I shall crossload within the next forty-six seconds to avoid the tracer program your government's agency has deployed to hunt me.'

'What makes you think this call is being traced?'

'Please don't get defensive, Bat. I hold nothing against you. The information police threatened to revoke your station's broadcasting licence and charge you with treason, and they were quite serious.'

'Uh-huh... I'm not sure if this is the right time or place, to, uh...'

'There is no cause for anxiety. I can evade their tracer programs as easily as you could outrun a blind monoped. I crippled them at birth.'

'Who said I was anxious? So, it turned out you're no scriptwriter. If you're not going to hang up straight away, tell me this: Why are the suits on your trail? Are you a hacker? Some kind of unibomber? Candlestick-maker? I have a right to know.'

'I'm just like you and your listeners, Bat. I follow laws.'

'Normal peoples' rules don't involve explosions.'

'Plenty of peoples' rules involve explosions, Bat.'

'Name me one.'