[SCENE: The flat in Manchester. WRITERSUBI at the keyboard with a manic look on his face, ARTSUBI and CODERSUBI on the sofa, MUSICSUBI at the stereo. The vocal collection from BGC2040 is blaring out of it.] ARTSUBI: You done yet? WRITERSUBI: Nnn... nearly... Can't we turn the stereo down a bit? MUSICSUBI: NO! ARTSUBI: Nope. It's November the fifth, remember? CODERSUBI: I remember remember. ARTSUBI: Exactly. Bonfire night. Which means it's currently like the bloody West Bank out there, so we have to paint the windows black and pump up the volume so we can ignore it. CODERSUBI: Y'know, I suppose Guy Fawkes night is actually tremendously insulting to Catholics. [Pause.] ARTSUBI: We're not Catholic. CODERSUBI: Yeah, I know. But when you think about it, it's basically the Church of England sticking two fingers up at the Papacy and saying "Ha ha, you screwed up." ARTSUBI: Just shut up. WRITERSUBI: Shakespeare and Ben Jonson wrote that rhyme. ARTSUBI: What rhyme? WRITERSUBI: "Remember remember the fifth of Novemeber, gunpowder treason and plot. I see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot." ARTSUBI: You can shut up as well. Keep writing. Are you done _yet_?! WRITERSUBI: Yes. [He is flattened in a mad rush for the PC.] ARTSUBI: ART! CODERSUBI: CODE! MUSICSUBI: MUSIC! WRITERSUBI: Bloody _hell_, have we ever got to get another computer... OW! ---------------------------------------------------------------------- NO OFFENCE INTENDED If you're mentioned here, it is only because I hold your works in deep awe and high regard. _Please_ don't get cheesed off. None of you die, I promise. C&C is always welcome, and flames are attention of a sort at least... ;) ---------------------------------------------------------------------- THE BIT THAT COMES BEFORE THE TITLES TO TELL YOU WHAT YOU'VE MISSED I was eight, living with the parents in a village that had been transported brick-by-brick from its original position in middle England to just outside Tokyo. My father worked for the Japanese government, fooling visiting foreigners about the true nature of the product of the vast silicon chip mines. One day a girl called Tuzi turned up and claimed to be my sister. Somehow, everyone believed her, even my parents, despite the markings on her face and the rabbit ears. But _I_ knew, oh yes. A bizarre chain of circumstances involving and orange and a loaf of bread had led to me challenging the only other English boy at the school, called Lyn something-or-other to a game of cricket. At stake was the avoidance of a fate worse than death as punishment for the mashing the contents of Mr Kenshiro's underpants with a rocket shot. Added to that was my growing realisation that _something_ was not quite as it should be, but every time I sat down to have a serious think about it, I... What was I saying? Oh yes, the cricket match... [Archived at http://www.gameart.com/4ca] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Republic of Desire Part six: THE END! Or MAYBE! IF YOU'RE LUCKY! Subi [05/11/00] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Two Sundays hence I was standing before my team in the changing rooms of the hastily erected cricket pavilion on the upper playing field. They were not my... ideal choices. But definitely the best of a bad lot, given that only four people in the school knew cricket to be something other than an insect that goes chirp in the night. I will spare you the agonies of the selection process. In the latter days of the 1990s the England Selectors Board would receive some rather heavy flak for their seemingly random choice of players. The greatest condemnation, which invited David Gower to comment that he was "disappointed", would come when they fielded a team consisting entirely of monkeys from Twycross Zoo, with that fine actor Derek, who we know better as "Dad" from the PG Tips adverts, captaining. Derek's only remark regarding the team's 1016472195-nil thrashing against Pakistan in the 1999 test series was to scratch himself and eat the microphone. The following riots, which resulted in the bloody deaths of the selection board at the hands of the mob, ushered in a new age of reason in English cricket, and _Sir_ Derek took his now legendary place as chairman of Lords. They still wouldn't allow women in though. Anyway, the point I'm _trying_ to get across is that this would be the _only_ time in my _entire_ life that I would hold some sympathy for that gaggle of senile old fools. My inclusion went without saying, as did Tuzi's. Biles volunteered out of solidarity, which meant that Ukyo, who had never responded to my Valentine's day cards, and Ryoga, who had wandered into the practise session by mistake, joined up also. Bewilderingly Rei Ayanami signed up, on the condition that Andrew Huang was under _no_ circumstances to be allowed in. When asked why she muttered something about "exacerbating her schizophrenia", so I left it. The green and henna-haired Ryoko decided to support the underdog again, IE me, and Rally Vincent responded positively to my offer of my Father's complete collection of John Wayne films on 8mm. Two rather quiet lads brought up the rear, Mokoto Mizuhara, who had an odd habit of talking to household appliances, and Hiroshi Karigari, who had an odd habit of enabling household appliances to talk back. Finally Usagi said she'd play, which was vital to my overall strategy. "Why?" asked Tuzi, quite clearly puzzled about my reliance on the bubble-headed ice-cream black hole of the second grade. "Are you planning to use some sort of ultrasonic warfare tactics?" "No, they've been expressly forbidden since 1932," said Biles, who had been caught by the cricket bug and now knew everything that there was to know about the history of the sport. "Just trust me on this one," I said. "I know what I'm doing." "Yes, but we _don't_," said Biles. "Forgive our scepticism, but on the evidence of the last five chapters you have shown nothing but a tendency to run around like a headless chicken in a haze of confusion." "Couldn't've put it better myself," added Tuzi. I was distressed by their lack of faith, and said so. "I am distressed by your lack of faith," I said. "Granted, my performance so far my not have been one of total comprehension, but cricket I know. Fret not, I have a SECRET PLAN." They didn't seem convinced. "We're not convinced," they said. "Tough. Hang on, chapters? What do you mean _chapters_?" "Pardon?" said Biles. I looked suspiciously at Tuzi, but she was whistling "Danny Boy". I thought back over the last few months, since SHE had turned up. It was all _very_ confusing. Sometimes I felt as if I'd had an inkling as to what was going on, accepted it as normal even. But other times... "Stay calm," said Tuzi. I forgot about it. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- On that Sunday, as we left the pavilion and walked towards the pitch, casting an eye over our opponents, I had other things to worry about. It had rained heavily that morning, and I had nursed the faint hope that the match might be called off. But the downpour abated around elevenses, and everything smelled of new-mown grass. Lyn had also done the best that could be done with his selection, and, being a batsman, he'd gone for strength rather than cunning. For the record I'd done neither; I'd gone with desperation. Ranma and Akane made up the main powerhouse of his team. Ranma was an obvious choice, and Akane was, let's not put too fine a point on it, rather... beefy. Never within her earshot though. Kuno was in too, a miracle of Lyn's powers of diplomacy. Quite what that creepy Ataru was doing there I had no idea. Alita and Gally were obviously out for revenge against Tuzi and I, and Priss was probably in it for the money. Kanada and Tetsuo were in it for the mindless violence. Obviously the "Kyonu dai yon" incident had been forgiven and forgotten. "We're in deep trouble here," remarked Biles. At least the pitch and field were in spanking form. A circular ocean of the finest turf stretched for the regulation distance, bounded by a thick white rope and striped in that particular manner that can be achieved with only the deftest piloting of a petrol-driven motor mower. The twenty-two yards of pitch was as flat as the curvature of the Earth would allow, and it had brought tears of joy to my eyes to see Noriko trimming it to perfection with a pair of nail scissors under the watchful supervision of Coach Ota. The boundary was lined with curious onlookers. All had come from far and wide to bear witness to this ancient ritual. Many had done their homework and brought umbrellas. A girl in tigerskin bikini waved at Ataru. She must be a bit parky in that, I thought. My Father, and another ADULT I took to be Jean-Phillip, Lyn's father, finished hammering the stumps into the hallowed turf (which had been specially blessed by a Unitarian priest that morning) and reverently balanced the four bails on top. They were dressed in what the layman would take to be laboratory overalls, but which any sane man would recognise as the uniform of an umpire, silly hat notwithstanding. All was prepared and as it should be. "Right!" said my Father as we approached. "You know the rules. Standard one-day match, one innings of fifty overs each, maximum of ten overs per bowler. And let's not have to leave the result to the Duckworth-Lewis, eh? Anything but that." He patted me on the head. "Have you got the pebbles, o scion of my bloodline?" I passed over the six stones I'd lifted from our driveway that morning and Lyn did the same to his Father. "Anyone got a coin?" asked Jean- Phillip. No-one had any change. Fortunately my father had his old lucky sixpence from his younger days, the one a distant ancestor had carried on the R101. Okay, so he hadn't _survived_, but the football pools coupon he'd posted just before embarking on his fateful journey came up a winner. Lyn and I faced each other across my father's outstretched hand, the coin poised on the tip of his thumb. I led my team in the traditional call of challenge. "YOU'RE GONNA GET YOUR FUUUUUUUUUUH... KIN'-'EAD-KICKED-IN!" Lyn smiled in satisfaction at this upholding of the old ways, and motioned his team to make the accepted reply. "COME-'N'-HAVE-A-GO IF YUH THINK Y'RAAARD ENUFF!" The formalities over, my father tossed the coin. "Call!" he said to Lyn. "Heads!" came the reply. And heads it was. "You can bat first," said Lyn, with mock generosity and an expansive gesture. I looked at the damp ground below and the now blazing sun overhead. "Oh... THANKS," I replied, with as much sarcasm as I could muster. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- It felt a good deal lonelier out there with just me and my fellow opener. Hazarding a guess as to Lyn's choice of bowlers, I'd gone with Ryoga as the second man. Plus, of course, there was a good chance that, if he'd returned to the pavilion with the rest of the team, he'd've ended up in the ocean when it came to finding his way back out onto the pitch again. Besides, my SECRET PLAN would only come into effect once we were bowling. My guess proved correct as Lyn tossed the ball to Gally. I held a final tactics conference with Ryoga before taking my place at the sharp end. "Let me just check that bat," I said, worried by the fact that he had his pads on upside down. Ryoga passed me his bat and instantly I fell to the grass, my hand pinned beneath the willow. "Get it off!" I screamed. Ryoga complied and apologised. I decided that _anyone_ who could wield a bat _that_ heavy without breaking a sweat didn't need any coaching on the finer points. "Play!" said my Father, bringing his arm down. It was down to me to face the first ball. Gally didn't bother with a run-up, she merely wound her arm up into a blur and let fly at an awesome velocity. I'm dead, was my final thought. The ball rocketed out of her hand, shot straight towards me, caught the edge of my bat, taking a substantial chunk out of it, and continued past Alita, who was crouched behind me with the gloves on at wicket. It carried on towards the far end of the field at close to the speed of light where it came to rest against the sight screens. Fortunately Mr Kenshiro had had the foresight to have them reinforced with Deuterium. They'd also been sprayed crudely with the letters "OL 7 SKARRZ I5 A N3RD". Everyone was slightly deafened by the impact, but whether I was numb with shock or not, the ball _had_ hit my bat. "RUN!" I yelled at Ryoga, who promptly spun on his heel and headed in the opposite direction. "COME BACK!" I shouted, catching him up and pushing him back onto the right course. Fortunately Lyn's somewhat odd choice of fielding positions meant that they were still running for the ball by the time we'd run one. Kaneda stood a chance of retrieving it, but he was still fiddling with his aerosol. Gally's second ball was thwacked for six by Ryoga, who didn't let the sonic boom put him off one bit. Although in my opinion the distance it travelled was worth _sixty_. Unfortunately the third one again nicked the bat and this time thumped into Alita's hands. The speed of the ball took her off her feet and almost to the spectators before her inertial dampers kicked in, but she didn't drop the ball, and Ryoga was out. "HOWZEEEEE!" cried the opposition. It was seven for one. Ukyo sadly faired no better. Despite using her six-foot spatula as a bat the ball simply smashed straight through the thin metal and rattled the bails. "HOWZEEEEE!" Things were not going well. I glanced towards the pavilion where Rei was just emerging for her turn. "Er... Father," I said, tugging at his sleeve as he stood next to me. "We did say we were relaxing the uniform regulations, didn't we?" "Mmm? Why yes. I accept that regulation cricket whites are somewhat tricky to come across at this longitude, so very far from the place of the game's birth. Why do you ask? " I looked up at Rei's choice of clothing for the match. About a hundred foot high and bright orange it was, with one baleful orb serving as its eye. Even Father raised an eyebrow when he caught sight of it. "That thing's going to ruin the turf," he said. Well, I thought, at least she won't have to run very far. Unit Zero towered above Gally, who scowled in its shadow. The bat looked ludicrously small, held as it was between forefinger and thumb. Gally's fourth and fifth balls were deftly tapped back towards her, but then disaster. CLANG! went the ball against the enormous orange foot. "Out!" went my Father. "LBW!" "HOWZEEEEE!" went Lyn's team. I ground my teeth. Size was not always an advantage. Not only the stumps but most of the far side of the field had been obscured by the Zero's bulk, so I really should've seen that one coming. Ranma handed in his jumper to take the second over, and the end swap meant I was facing his opener, with Hiroshi replacing Rei at the other. Quite how Hiroshi's bat was standing upright without his holding onto it I had no idea. Then I saw it start to jog up and down on little legs and decided not to look anymore. It didn't help when, after I'd belted Ranma's _extremely_ curvy ball onto the offside, I saw the bat following Hiroshi on those very legs. Three more, making ten for three. Hiroshi, or rather his bat, knocked the next ball, which I swear went _behind_ the wicket before looping around to the crease again, out towards Priss, who caught it on the second bounce and scattered his stumps just as he was finishing the second run. "Out!" went my Father. "What do you mean?!" I cried. "He was _well_ in!" "Yes," said my Father. "But his _bat_ wasn't." He pointed towards Hiroshi's sentient plank, which had stumbled and fallen in the middle of the pitch and, possessed of no arms, had been unable to right itself and follow its creator. Eleven for four. "Sorry," said Hiroshi, shoving his glasses back up his nose. "Tennis is more my game." "HOWZEEEEE!" went Lyn's team. "Arse," went I. And I damn well meant it too! I looked towards the pavilion to watch my next batsman, Rally, walk out. Tuzi gave me a wave from the veranda and I reciprocated rather half-heartedly. I had been rather disappointed when she had insisted on being last man in. I'd been rather counting on her support at the off. My favoured batsmen had all been dismissed, so I was pleasantly surprised by Rally's skill when I'd been counting on her dead-eye reckoning being more suited to bowling. Granted, her almighty hoick at the ball, which sent it sailing almost vertically towards the sky had me immediately thinking "caught and bowled". But, just as Lyn was reaching up to catch it, Rally finished her second run, pulled out her CZ75 and shot the ball away from under his nose. We carried on in this vein, me hitting and Rally shooting, until we reached forty-seven. Then Rally ran out of bullets and she was caught by Ataru off of Alita. Well, I say _caught_, Ataru wasn't actually watching the ball. He was watching the girl in the tigerskin bikini. But the ball hit him on the back of the head, knocking him cold, and it got stuck in the back of his collar. "HOWZEEEEE!" went Lyn's team, with rather less gusto this time. I smirked. Forty-seven would probably be enough against this lot. What with my SECRET PLAN and everything. Lyn approached. "I'm voicing a protest," said he. "Handguns are non- standard equipment." "You didn't mind the big robot." "Yes, but this _is_ Japan." "Fair enough. But you _might_ want to consider _this_ before you start mentioning any... rule bending you feel I may be guilty of." I dug out the piece of paper that Tuzi had given me two weeks previously and let him read the single word writ upon it. He turned white, "How... how did you find _that_ out?!" he choked, and returned to the field without waiting for a reply. Biles acquitted himself well, but his careful defensive style proved no match for Alita's cannonball bowling. He apologised, saying he hadn't reached the chapter on batting yet. "HOWZEEEEE!" went Lyn's team, getting back into the spirit of things. Makoto didn't stand a chance, Akane proving, unlike the entire female population of another world, immune to his big-eyed charms. Besides, his flirty technique was somewhat hamstrung by the twin sight of Nanami and some blue-haired girl glaring daggers at him whenever he tried it. And his attempt to become one with his bat was doomed to failure. His leg stump took to the air after just three balls. "HOWZEEEEE!" went Lyn's team, with greater confidence. Ryoko, my star fielder, had a good approach. She racked up the runs by teleporting from one end to the other in record time. I couldn't keep up. However, tragedy befell her when she misjudged a jump and ended up occupying the same position in space-time as the wicket, resulting in its molecular extinction. "HOWZEEEEE!" went Lyn's team, sensing blood. Usagi, of course, just burst into tears. "HOWZEEEEE!" went Lyn's team, the scent of victory in their nostrils. Ho ho, thought I, contemplating my SECRET PLAN. Howzeeeee indeed! ---------------------------------------------------------------------- And so it came down to the final pairing of myself and Tuzi. At seventy-three for nine I was feeling pretty good, and fairly sure that _whatever_ Tuzi was really up to it wouldn't scupper my chance of victory, whether I had a SECRET PLAN on not. Of course, I was certain that _nothing_ would faze her, which is why I would've preferred her to open the batting. But she'd insisted on batting last, so here we both were. The twin broadside of Gally and Alita disturbed her not one jot, Ranma's curve balls were effortlessly popped to one side, and even Lyn's more conventional methods didn't budge her one inch. But we didn't seem to be scoring any more runs. Not one. In fact, we were getting near the end of the fifty when she suddenly checked her watch and looked up. I knew _something_ was going to happen, because, apart from a vague memory of her mentioning something about an alien invasion fleet, Lyn's fielding strategy had been getting more and more bizarre. I mean, _all nine_ fielders at deep backward square? What the hell was he thinking?! Lyn pounded towards the wickets, wound up for a fast one, and sent a perfect Yorkie sailing down the ptich, under her bat and right onto the middle stump. We were all out. Then he looked up as well. "HOWZEEEeee..." went Lyn's team, doing the same. I did too. Now, I _had_ noticed it getting darker in the last ten minutes or so, but I'd put that down to the usual effect that any cricket match has on the weather. I was wrong; the sun was still shining brightly. It was just being obscured by a dirty great spaceship that was hovering above the centre of the pitch. Everybody disgraced themselves simultaneously. Well, I presume they did. I did. And cricket whites are just the sort of schmutter to show that sort of thing up. You'll have to excuse me; I was only eight after all. As we watched, more ships appeared above the original, which opened a hatch and released some sort of shuttle. It spiralled down and came to rest at extra cover. "Dah-dah-dah, dah, daaah," said Tuzi, dropping her bat and coming to stand beside me. "Right on time." "Is... _this_ what you were talking about? This is what you were expecting?" "Yup." She sniffed. "And I knew _that_ was going to happen too." I blushed and plucked at my trousers. "So... what... what are they here for?" I asked. She pointed to Jean-Phillip, who had handed his bundle of jerseys to my Father, who was looking a bit shellshocked, and stridden across the grass to where the shuttle lay. "They come in peace. He works for the UN, remember?" I goggled. "So... hang on. It was Professor Nova who organised all this? He set up a meeting between the UN and an alien race?" "Yeah, those three we saw in his house? An advance party. Maeda started it all off, with his rosy red behind signalling. The Zentraedi saw them and made contact with the first human who picked up their replies." As we spoke, figures emerged from the shuttle. They were pretty much identical to the ones I'd seen before, so I may as well reuse the description. It went "Though humanoid in general shape, they were nonetheless big and green. Big and green and knobbly and three in number." And this time around they were all wearing silly hats. As Jean-Phillip extended the hand of welcome Tuzi continued. "The final signal for them to land was the positioning of Lyn's fielders." "I _thought_ that was odd. But why meet at a school cricket match in Japan?" "Why not?" I pondered this, but found her logic impeccable. "Okay, but you said that the Zentraedi wanted to _invade_, and that Professor Nova was being evil because it was in his job description." "And I was right," she said, nodding back towards the shuttle. I looked back just in time to see the Zentraedi wearing the most ludicrous headgear make as if to shake Jean-Phillip's hand, withdraw it at the last moment, thumb his nose, pull a fearsome looking weapon from his belt and... Tuzi put a hand over my eyes. "You're too young to see that. Urrr yuck. So am I." Chaos returned to the throne after the brief administration of the people's government of wonder. And he brought his courtiers Panic and Abject Terror back into office with him. I knocked Tuzi's hand away, and promptly fetched up at the sight of the smoking pool of gunk in front of the Zentraedi. Tuzi grabbed my collar and hauled me away. "What the UN failed to take into account," she continued as we ran, "Is the fact that Professor Nova is a lying git. Stay there." "What?" I said. We'd reached the sight screens. "You'll be safe behind these. I've got something to do." And with that she ran back towards the aliens and vanished into the churning mob of agitated humanity. "What?!" I repeated, as the ships hanging above the pitch opened more hatches and disgorged literally _thousands_ of horrible green paratroopers, each somehow contriving to have a bigger gun than the previous one. They landed, and began. There is something horribly clinical about the word "systematic", and it exactly describes the method in which the Zentraedi went about their business. The assembled people stood not a chance. They'd come to enjoy a pleasant afternoon of sportsmanship, and now they were fleeing an extraterrestrial invasion. And it was all my fault. If I hadn't started on about cricket in the usual manner of an Englishman attempting to appear interesting to foreigners, none of this would have happened. Everyone would be sitting at home gently digesting their lunches in front of the telly. And safe. It was all. My. Fault. My schoolmates were doing their best. Ranma, Ryoga, Akane, Ukyo and Kuno were beating up anything that came within reach, and Ryoko was grabbing hold of the enemy one-by-one, teleporting high above the ground and letting them fall to their doom. Rally had found some more bullets, but was watching them strike harmlessly against the thick hide of the aliens. Alita and Gally had obviously slunk off, forewarned by their evil uncle. I patted my pockets and found my cigarettes, but I must've dropped my lighter somewhere. The unlit fag hung forlornly from my mouth, which sounds incredibly rude if you're older that I was. Then through the melee I saw Tuzi. Alone of all present she stood erect, staring confidently at the massed greenies before her. Sensing defiance they turned as one in her direction. Suddenly it didn't _matter_ if she was my sister or not. She was a friend, someone I cared for, and she was going to get herself killed. She faced them down, her ever-present grin obviously infuriating the Zentraedi further. She reached behind her and produced a bag. A Gladstone bag. She set it down on the ground before her and, as she undid the clasp, time slowed, as it always does on these occasions. And then. A light. A golden light, brighter far than the sun. And at the centre, a creature. _The_ creature. But ravaged and broken no longer. It was healed. It shone with an even more intense luminescence, a radiance that touched and cured. The fallen rose again, Jean-Phillip's body reforming in a backwards sort of melt, like that bloke at the start of Hellraiser. Lepers stood upright, cripples threw their crutches aside and the blind cast away their sunglasses. Then reached for them again to shield their eyes from the glare. The Zentraedi cowered in terror as the creature spoke. "Pika pika!" it said. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Tea was a somewhat muted affair after all that. Everyone seemed a bit dazed, but Tuzi was still grinning, so I presumed everything was all right. Both teams were seated on benches before a long table spread thickly with cellophane-covered plates of food. Cucumber sandwiches and Dundee cake. And fizzy pop. I fed my face. "So what _is_ that creature?" I asked between mouthfuls, motioning to the bag under Tuzi's chair. She nibbled rather more delicately at a triangle. "Something ancient and very powerful," she replied. "They originate in a land far from here, you heard the Professor's description of how he stole this one." I thought of that white-haired old maniac, whose house was now under siege from the local Tank Police. "Is it okay inside that bag?" "Oh yeah, it's fine. They seem to like enclosed spaces, spherical for preference. It's just tragic what's going to happen to them in about fifteen or twenty years time." "What will that be?" "People will trap them and force them to fight for their amusement. Like they used to do with bears and cocks." "That's sick." "I quite agree." "They live near where you come from, don't they?" She grinned wider. "Did I say that?" "Yes, you did, I remember now. In fact I can now remember _everything_ that's been a bit... vague since you turned up. So now you will kindly favour me with an explanation as to exactly what's going on, all this 'chapters' and 'story arc' stuff." "Later. You've got something else to do first." I stole the last sandwich from under Usagi's nose and looked across at Lyn, who was deep in conversation with his team, and smiled. "Oh yes..." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Now, being an experienced village cricket player, my usual fielding technique, especially if we batted first, is to secrete a four-pack of beer about my person and contrive to get sent out to long off where I could drink in peace, taking my turn bowling when the need arose. _Nobody_ at a village level of skill _ever_ hits balls out there. But this time I had to forgo the pleasures of the ring-pull can. I had to direct my team. I put Ryoga as wicketkeeper, on the grounds that he wouldn't have to move very far and would probably absorb any vicious ball that came his way. Ryoko was sent out to mid on, although she could obviously teleport to wherever the ball was. I told the rest of the team to spread themselves around the on side, with only Ukyo and Rei covering the off. If my SECRET PLAN worked as I planned, it wouldn't matter. I considered the possible methods that each member of the opposition would employ. Lyn was a good batsman, but he was only one man. Kuno would probably end up slicing the ball in half with his bat, Akane just wasn't graceful enough and Ranma would probably fall prey to the remote-controlled ball that Hiroshi had prepared in revenge for the spin bowling earlier. Ataru could be distracted by placing Rei on his blind side - he wouldn't be able to stop himself looking, Shinji would probably spend the entire time staring at his arm and Priss was never going to get anywhere using her guitar as a bat. I thought briefly about stringing Lyn along and letting him get within one run of the required seventy-four before I unleashed my SECRET PLAN, but my heart wasn't in it. I wasn't _that_ cruel. So instead I opted to put him out of his misery right away. "Usagi?" I called, "Could you come here please?" I threw the meatball-headed cutie the ball and whispered urgently into her ear. She blinked, nodded, and took her place to bowl the first over. I had the satisfaction of seeing Tuzi genuinely puzzled for the first time. "What _are_ you up to? You don't think she's going to be able to get him out do you?" "Oh no," I replied. "Not _her_." Usagi posed and whipped out her disguise pen. "MOON POWER!" she shouted. "Morph into... WG GRACE!" And that was that. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- As mentioned before, all sheds are dimensionally transcendental, so the one in our back garden was the perfect place to hold a celebratory slap-up wing-ding nosh-up shindig-type thing. "What?" said Biles. "The PARTY," I replied. "The one to celebrate us winning the match seventy-three to nothing by virtue of Usagi's hat-trick of hat-tricks plus one." "Oh that," he swigged from the bottle of lemonade I'd stolen from the fridge. "Nice of you to invite the other team too. Shows good sportsmanship." "Actually," I decided to be honest, "I just wanted to laugh in their faces." "Go on then." "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAH!" "Good laugh. Now do you want to try it at a volume they can actually hear?" "Not until I want my head kicked in, thank you." I picked up a plate of sausages on sticks from its resting place on the lawnmower. "I think I'll just gloat in private." Tuzi nudged Biles in the back in passing, and hissed "Loose ends," in his ear. Then she vanished into the crowd again. "Oh yeah," he said, "What was on that piece of paper that spooked Lyn?" "You saw that did you?" I fished out said scrap and displayed it to Biles under cover of my shirt. "His surname. Take it from me, that is NOT a name a boy representing himself as an Englishman wants made public." Biles whistled. "I see what you mean." He looked around the crowd of our peers. "Where is he anyway?" "I asked him, but he said he'd rather get the punishment over and done with." "Yuck. Don't suppose he'd have much of an appetite after that." "I quite agree," he stole a couple of sausages from my plate. "Now, this big announcement of yours. Do you want to get it over with before the fight starts?" "What fight?" He took a deep breath. "You've got Ranma, Akane, Ryoga, Ukyo, Kuno and the rest of the Nerima crowd, Ataru, Lum, Shinobu, Rei, Shinji, Rally, Ryoko, Mokoto, Nanami, Ifurita, Usagi and all her friends, Hiroshi, both Maries, Priss, Kaneda and Tetsuo, Andrew Huang and Jim Lazer together in an enclosed space. I'm astonished this shed is still standing even now." "Point taken, let's got then. Tuzi!" She reappeared behind me. "Yes?" I jumped. "Don't do that. How _do_ you do that anyway?" "You're about to find out. Make the announcement." I had prepared a small stage constructed from orange boxes near the back of the shed, and we made our way to it now and climbed aboard. There was a microphone there, as Priss was due to play us a few songs later, which I tapped lightly with a pencil and coughed. "EEEEEeeeeyoooOOOAAAaaauuuUUU," went the speakers. Priss scowled up at me and hastened to turn down the amplifier. "One two, one two," I continued. "Why is it that, once you stick a microphone under their nose, nobody is capable of counting any higher than two?" asked Biles. "That's one mystery that _won't_ get answered tonight," I said. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," I continued into the microphone. "Some of you will no doubt have noticed that there have been many... out of the ordinary occurrences of late." "Odder than normal, anyway," said Biles. "This is Japan, after all." "I am assured that there is an explanation for all of this, so therefore, without any further ado, I give you the girl with the info, my un-sister... TUUU-ZIII!" "Give me that," said that very girl, but good-naturedly, as if acknowledging my right to behave like a total pillock in front of a microphone. "Yes indeedy everyone, I have all the answers." And she said them. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- "I'm not really his sister," she said into the silence that had descended. I nodded in satisfaction. "I come from a land far from here. From another planet in fact." "Big deal," said Lum. "Shhh!" said Shinobu. "It's very like this one, as it orbits this same star. But directly opposite, so you've never been able to detect it. It's a nice place, inhabited by a race of hyper-intelligent six-foot pink bunny rabbits. Although I'm half-human, as you can probably guess. My mother was an astronaut from the secret side of the space program and she got lost and landed on our world by mistake. "She met my father there, and they had twins together, me and my brother. Then she had to return here. I've already found her, but I couldn't let her remember me, or father, or anything about our world, because we want to keep our existence a secret. No real reason, we just do. "That's why I came to this planet, to make sure she and my brother wouldn't give us away. I bumped into the Zentraedi on the way here, which is why I came to Tokyo rather than going looking for my brother. I don't know where he is anyway, he came back to Earth with my mother and the government took him away from her. Anyway, I came here to stop the Zentraedi while I thought about where to look next." "Hang on," I said. "That doesn't explain anything. Well, all right, it explains _some_ things. But what about all the story stuff? All the 'chapters' and 'episodes' and breaking the fourth wall? And is that a cop-out explanation or what? Parallel Earth indeed. Hah!" Biles finished the lemonade and belched hugely. "'Scuse me. I have to agree with him." "Yeah!" went everybody else. "Oh it's all true," said Tuzi, grinning once more. "But only in the sense that none of this is true." "Eh?" I said. "No-one in this room exists in reality." She pointed at me. "_He_ created all of this. He's writing all this in order to exist. Somewhere in the future he's making himself real by inventing his past." "_What_?!" I said, "What the hell are you talking about? And..." I looked around. "And what's happened to everyone?" I tapped a now totally motionless Biles on the nose. It made a CHINK sound, he was frozen. I couldn't even move his glasses. "I've stopped the narrative flow for a moment," she said. "Only you should here this. It's all true." "I made all this up?" "Not really. This is fanfiction." She sat down on the edge of the stage and watched me go around the crowd shaking everybody to make absolutely sure. "You're not actually that good a writer, so you could only write your past by borrowing bits out of your favourite shows. I'm the only original character in this story, so if anyone's to blame for the cop-out reason for my existence, then it's you." "But. But but but. Wait a minute. How could I write my past to exist if I didn't exist to write my past in the first place?" I frowned. "And does that actually make sense?" "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" "That was _so_ tacky." "Sorry." I sat down beside here and opened us each a can of beer. "So I'm writing myself into existence using characters from my favourite stories." "Apart from your teachers, they're real authors and artists." She accepted the can and slurped. "And Biles, Huang and Lazer are other fanfic authors. But they're considerably better at it than you are." "Oh _thanks_. So exactly what am I doing in the future?" "How would you know that when you're eight? There's been a few vague references, again all blatantly stolen, but nothing more than that. I suppose you haven't got around to writing that bit yet." I checked back over the last six episodes. "That still leaves a fair few holes, and if I don't spot them, someone else will and tell me about it. What about the pool of blood outside Professor Nova's house in part three?" "Probably just a fox killing some lunch or something," she performed further slurpings. "But it added to the dramatic atmosphere." "And the travelling interstitially through the cracks in the pavement?" "You thought it'd make a decent way for me to escape from the professor in part four, but your future self's grudge against Ranma got the better of you. Which is why it got all derivative." "Hey, come on, _every_ piece of fanfiction with Ranma in it has been done before." "True." I sighed. "And I suppose all the other loose ends have similarly trite explanations?" She nodded and I tossed the script aside. "I don't think I'll bother going through them all then. When did I create you?" "A few years ago. I've got my own story, my own manga, but you've never got around to drawing it." "Aren't I supposed to be getting around to that at last?" "Yeah, for MinamiCon in 2001. But I'll believe that when I see it." "Will they remember any of this?" I indicated our still companions. "Nope. This might be the end of this part of the story, but we've still got the many many sequels to come. And events from previous instalments are _never_ allowed to get in the way of a good sequel." "More of the same coming up then?" "Yup. Although hopefully without any of that moralising crap you tried to inject into it when you were watching the battle on the cricket field. All your fault indeed. You should know that stuck-up arrogance is every Englishman's birthright." "Oh bloody hell, I don't really believe that, do I?" "Hey, you write this, not me." "Great." I kicked my heels against the stage. "I suppose I'll forget all this too? And everyone'll think you're my sister again?" "Yeah, the story needs it. You'll only remember if your future self can get a half-decent joke out of it." "Then there's only one thing to do. Have you got a marker pen on you?" She fished one out and passed it over. I set my beer down and walked over to where Ranma was standing. I poised the pen over his forehead. "I've always wanted to do this..." Tuzi just grinned. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- And then she woke everyone up, and Priss picked up her guitar and got on stage and there was some good rockin'. Oh yes indeed. And as the new knowledge, so recently learned, faded once more from my memory, I didn't try and hold on to it. Because life isn't about the beginning or the end, it's about the bits in between. If you read a book or watch a film simply to find out the finale then you're missing the point. Why else would you read that book or watch that film more than once otherwise? It's not _what_ is being told, it's the _way_ that they tell it. It's the journey that matters. The destination is bound a disappointment. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- WHAT THE HELL DID *THAT* MEAN? Lyn *COUGH* is from the fanfic EVA:R by Maher Al-Samkari and Orbit Productions. Find this shining example of how fanfics _should_ be written (as opposed to this one) at http://www.eva-r.com. I thank Maher for letting me use Lyn after I couldn't find an anime character who stood a chance of knowing the rules of cricket, and hope he's not too hacked off at the long wait for the 58' illustrations. ;) I hope no-one's _that_ annoyed at the cop-outness of the ending, or the numerous loose ends, but I genuinely believe what my character says in the last paragraph above. Several of my favourite professional authors make a point of having endings which leave you saying "Is that it?!" or not having them at all. Hasn't hurt their sales yet, because they're read for their style, not their plots. I'm sure anyone who, like me, actually prefers episodes 25 and 26 of NGE to EoE knows what I mean. Anyway, some of the unresolved plot threads, like the references to the Third Impact and the Macross, and the concept of an inside-out Earth are filled out in the next bit. Or will be. Anyway, cheers for sticking with this one, and now I know that at least _some_ people enjoy it, I'll try and do a better job on volume two... For the record, here's all the anime and manga I managed to reference during the past six episodes: All-Purpose Cultural Catgirl Nuku-Nuku Akira Battle Angel Alita Bubblegum Crisis (original or 2040, take your pick) Devil Hunter Yoko Devilman Dominion Tank Police El Hazard Fist of the North Star Ghost in the Shell Gunbuster Gunsmith Cats Heartbroken Angels Macross Metal Angel Marie Neon Genesis Evangelion Phantom Quest Corp. Pokemon (and I didn't expect _that_) Ranma 1/2 Record of Lodoss War Sailor Moon Tenchi Muyo Urusei Yatsura Plus the works of Hideaki Anno, Toshio Maeda and Johji Manabe in general, and John Biles, Andrew Huang, Jim Lazer and Maher Al-Samkari. We'll see about getting in even more references to appear clever in the next bit... ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Subi [05/11/00] subi@gameart.com http://www.gameart.com/4ca [end]