CHAPTER 11
A TECHNOLOGY MAFIA
An eighteen-wheeler truck weighs over eighty thousand pounds. This one was now deep underground.
"Grow up and pull yourself together Nelson," offered Tina as she stood beside him at the giant trailer's edge. With one hand on its flat-bed side she bent her knees and nipped athletically down into the tunnel floor, landing neatly on the tips of her court shoes.
She stared back up at Nelson and felt the need to proffer him her hand in assistance.
"Allow me ma'am," said the Air Force man, reaching his own hand towards Nelson. "He'll be fine in a moment."
Nursing a tight Achilles heel, Nelson shrugged him away and made a difficult job of climbing awkwardly down from the trailer via scuffed knees, his belly resting on its metal surface, and hobbling onto stiff feet.
"I see they removed their own ties," voiced the air man gruffly to one of their dark clothed captors, who had needlessly stepped forward with a utility knife to slice through their restraining ropes. The air man flicked him away with a curt gesture.
"Let's just learn from this. Cable ties next time. Now, will you two follow me please."
Recomposing himself, Nelson picked his head up and took in the surroundings. The long white tunnel stretched behind, curving gently such that any entrance was obscured. The same gleaming tunnel continued in front and curved to a similar degree, meaning no exit was visible. The neon lights above buzzed perceptibly to provide a clinical and uncomfortable pallor to the setting. Highly precise wall tiling and grouting delivered the only detail within this pristine arc.
"What is this?" asked Nelson, "some kind of..."
"All will become clear," interrupted the American. "I am Chief Master Sergeant W. J. McGuigan of the Progressionary Unit, US Air Force. I'm seconded here from SETI as a Senior NCO to assist in The Quit."
"Thanks, that's much clearer now," sneered Nelson.
"But you can call me Whip."
"Must we?"
Nelson's disdain held firm. He looked across to Tina. She was quieter and calmer and avoided his eye contact, while assessing her surroundings. He sensed the tables had turned and she was now dealing with this situation far better than him. She also appeared to be just putting up with him, and it was a feeling he did not enjoy. He longed for the mutual understanding of his best friend Duke Kramer.
Duke was also an only child and it was their common bond. His mother had abandoned the family home on Duke's second birthday, leaving him to be raised by his father Ernest Kramer as a single parent. Nelson speculated this experience may have assigned Duke his short temper born from underlying anger. This was mixed with a very wry sense of humour. Nelson's similar lack of sibling challenges had made him unsure in new company and brought him a gullible tendency.
All this had led to Nelson's naïve hopes of NASA organising private jet extraction for him, guided tours of the new Space Shuttle, and quite possibly his hushed name on everyone's lips. Even a complimentary NASA T-shirt and baseball cap had not escaped his imaginings. In the last twenty-four hours Nelson realized he had allowed himself delusional flights of fancy in which he called all the shots. These were flights detached from the reality of any outward threat and had been steeped in the embracing warmth of NASA's safe hands.
He did not feel safe now.
"Where the hell are we?" he chided.
"Yorkshire," replied W.J. McGuigan.
"But where in Yorkshire?" furthered Tina.
"Underneath it."
"Oh."
"Beneath the Dark Peak of the Pennines to be precise. Follow me."
"No!" blasted Tina emphatically.
Having taken two assumptive paces forward, McGuigan stopped instantly
"I'm not going anywhere," she continued. "You've kidnapped us, tied us up, dumped us in a truck and now expect us to just do what you say? Where do you get off just treating people that way and ordering them about? Are you lot gangsters or perverts?"
The air man studied them both quietly. In the silence they became aware of a soft whirring emerging from the white tiled corridor behind.
Nelson and Tina turned. Simultaneously their eyes widened in bewilderment.
Past the huge truck, hooded figures emerged in the form of three elderly men draped in sumptuous red robes, each gliding atop a peculiar two-wheeled device marked by a long stem projecting from its baseplate. Their eyes were barely visible beneath shadows cast by the head coverings. Each vermillion robe exhibited a different braid pattern in gold across the torso.
Floating improbably on just these two wheels, the vehicles' stem finished with a rounded handlebar, lightly gripped by each rider. The figures came to a stop.
Ten beats. No one spoke.
Finally, the three elderly arrivals simultaneously leaned forward slightly on their handlebars and mutely slid past Nelson, Tina and McGuigan. Even from the rear their two-wheeled devices displayed no further visible means of balance, appearing to defy any laws of gravity or physics.
"We're neither gangsters nor perverts ma'am," said the American. "If you'll politely follow me, we will explain."
"Now that... is a mode of transport I like the look of," perked up Nelson. "Do you get a lot of these?"
"Yessir," snapped McGuigan as a verbal salute. He was desperate to walk on yet remained rooted to this spot. "It's called a Segway."
"A... a Segg Weigh... or, a segue? You mean, like a transition?"
"Yessir, I guess. It's a great implementation of gyroscopics."
"Hmm..." said Nelson, not sure he was understanding, "...and what about the men in robes riding these Segg Weighs?"
"They lead The Directorate. Down here we call them the Knowalls."
"The Noels?" checked Nelson.
"Yessir. Close enough"
"Mr. and Mrs. Noel and their son Edmond?"
"No. It was a moniker they adopted centuries ago. Some of us prefer to think of them as a tech mafia." A smirk appeared on McGuigan's face.
"A tech mafia?" exclaimed Nelson.
"Yes, a technology mafia, but without all the pasta. Some of us use that phrase. It's not their favourite, but for me it's accurate. They prefer Knowall. I guess its softer. It refers to all knowledge of technology and this and that. But they will explain everything to you themselves."
"Aha, the Know-Alls," perceived Nelson, "...knowledge. Very self-serving. And what is this... Directorate that they lead?"
"Hey! Excuse me," exclaimed Tina, "could we just get back to our kidnapping!" She was fully exasperated with her male companions. She observed two of the impassive darkly clad gorillas silently file into line behind them.
"I promise you ma'am, you'll get everything explained to you. It is easier to see with your own eyes."
W.J. McGuigan indicated forward with his arm gently outstretched. Nelson began to walk. Tina simply stared hard at the American. He smiled disarmingly back at her and nodded again forwards.
A split-second decision.
In that instant Tina concluded compliance was her best option for now and silently followed Nelson. To the distance rolled their red-robed leaders. The tunnel's acoustics channeled a faint whirr from each two-wheeled Segway, their invisible motors and gyroscopes spinning smoothly.
After the mute pause that followed Nelson asked a question.
"Mr. Whip... is my friend Duke here?"
As they walked ahead W.J. McGuigan answered without turning to look at Nelson.
"No, Duke Kramer is not here."
"So, you know him then! Where is he?"
"I do not know where he is Mr. Staff. I know that the two of you were close and all I can confirm is that he is not in this base."
"Close! Well, if you know that, you'll know he's my best friend. And he has no one else as close as me. So, where is he?"
A silence descended again as they walked.
Nelson flashed back to a vivid memory of Duke informing Nelson that he was leaving for London to study Biology at university, and how hurt he had felt at Duke's casual announcement and their imminent separation. On a volatile whim, Nelson had told his own parents the same evening he was choosing a northern redbrick university to study Geology. A few days later he borrowed his mother's Mini Clubman to drive up for the interviews. Nelson was accepted, returned to university for Fresher's Week, and never returned the car for the next three years. It was a petulant act against his parents that he always regretted.
"I nearly lost him once before. I think I'm all Duke has, and I need to know where he is," pleaded Nelson again towards W.J. McGuigan.
"I don't have that information Mr. Staff."
"Then who does?"
The airman remained silent and continued their walk. No sign of an entrance or exit was revealed by the monotonous tiling that surrounded their walk.
Duke, what did you get us into mate? The Knowalls... is that a nickname or an intimidation? A tech mafia! Now there's intimidation. Knowledge, technology and this and that? This surely isn't NASA.
As she pulled up alongside him, Nelson glanced exasperated at Tina and tried a connecting shrug, but she stared only ahead. The heavy silence stifled his breathing, shortening its intake. Pursued now by another disturbing question this last few minutes, the timing of its delivery could never be perfect. It was a pressing query, yet true conspiracy dramas were seldom, if ever, afforded such dilemmas.
"Mr Whip. Is there a toilet nearby?" Nelson called finally, unable to stall any longer.
***
Nelson relieved himself in a white cubicle, the concealed door of which had effortlessly lifted as one red-robed leader quietly stared at it. As he did so, he reflected further on his lost friend.
Having struggled through to surprise himself with a 2:1 degree, Nelson picked up the pieces of the relationship to rejoin Duke in London as they both applied for their first jobs. To his own wonder, Nelson landed a junior Fleet Street role based solely on his side-line passion for home computers. Meanwhile, Duke's father helped his son secure what both boys agreed was the ideal job: graduate intake to the Natural History Museum.
Suddenly one year after graduation, Duke's father had died of a brain aneurism without prior symptom or warning. Duke was shattered with grief. The adoration and respect between father and son had remained mutual and permanent. Having broken all ties with his absented mother, Duke retained no method of contacting her. He attended his father's funeral essentially as an orphan, supported by his restored friend Nelson. The two young men had bonded further as twin foundlings, and Nelson maintained focused on this close contact as Duke began to recover from his father's passing, describing the feeling like the drawn-out opening of a tightly clenched fist.
In the last few years Duke had searched fruitlessly for reason, but never for his mother.
This search for truth and purpose had uncovered the latent conspiracy theorist within Duke, and he became obsessed by the surrounding Cold-War rhetoric. Duke had constantly fueled Nelson and anyone who would listen with his End-Of-World beliefs, mercifully always lightening his conclusions with the line: "So, you better get the next round in sharpish!" This was followed by his trademark cackle laugh.
***
The cistern flushed automatically as Nelson raised his zip and rejoined Tina, Whip McGuigan, and their Knowall leaders.
Their journey continued in an uncomfortable quiet until eventually an immense gold and copper door terminated the arching corridor.
A few paces from their arrival, the heavy portal slid open on impressively robust hinges, revealing a gigantic chamber within, perfectly hemispherical in structure, and a roof encrusted by a myriad of flickering lights.
At its distant end, small spotlights picked out a female of striking blond hair and lustrous white robe, finished with brilliant gloss boots. She also rode a Segway. Two of their vermillion-robed companions separated from the group to wordlessly join her. The third smiled enigmatically, remaining with Nelson, Tina and the uniformed American.
"Sit down please," invited Sergeant McGuigan.
He pointed to an isolated black bench centered on a dark floor stretching in all directions towards the distant shadows. Nelson and Tina obliged, seating themselves in starry-eyed awe of the marvel above.
At the far end of the chamber, the red and white cloaked Knowalls grouped beneath the spotlights, each of their gold braids gleaming brightly. They then mutely turned and leaned forward, rolling away to disappear through a hidden exit. The white-robed female took a final glance back at Nelson and Tina with an intense inquisition in her eyes. She leaned across to her companions as they all left the chamber.
"Who's the accomplice?" she whispered.
***
The miniature spotlights faded away and the secluded exit resealed itself to present a wall of black.
The single Knowall remaining in the chamber stepped from his Segway. It rocked gently yet stayed perfectly balanced. An eye for fashion and detail, Tina observed the thin gold braid, stretching across his red robe from shoulder to torso, was embellished with a cloud motif. He was shaven headed, with a thick white-stubble beard over richly black skin. His deep hazel eyes had a warmness to them.
"Mr. Nelson Staff," he said to them both, more as a statement than a question.
"Yes," replied Nelson, leaning forward.
"Ah, you. Okay, and we're trying to understand more as to who this might this be? We have no evidence of a wife or girlfriend."
"This is Tina. I met her yesterday."
"I can introduce myself, thank you. I'm Tina Reagan," added Tina, "no relation."
"To whom?" asked the Knowall.
"Forget it. Who are you?"
Behind them, Chief Master Sergeant W. J McGuigan ordered the two gorillas to follow him, returning to the huge metal door. It swung to close as silently as it had opened. Before disappearing, McGuigan turned to perform an efficient salute back towards the room. The door locked, accompanied by a distant hiss as the chamber was resealed.
This left Nelson, Tina, the Knowall and a hundred thousand twinkling lights. Without command, two objects rose from the barren floor to break this monotony of darkness - a small keyboard plinth and the thinnest, flattest TV screen Nelson had ever seen.
He gaped at the TV and then the chamber roof, as the Knowall shuffled to arrange his robe and smooth his braid of golden clouds. The ceiling was beautiful and unbelievable. Part of it, he thought, reminded Nelson of the constellation of Orion #4.
"Where are we?" Tina continued to press.
"Yorkshire," reconfirmed the Knowall.
"Yes, yes, I know all that. The Peak District, and beneath it..."
_____
#4 The small collection of lights on which Nelson focused did actually form a replica of Orion's constellation. Though he would not perceive this, the roof depicted an accurate representation of the night sky as viewed from the county of Yorkshire at this time of year, and rotated invisibly as the hours wore on.
"Is this part of NASA?" interrupted Nelson.
"No," the old man told him, "But you could say that NASA was part of us... couldn't you Nelson?"
"Sorry?"
"Did you know the Corsican?"
Nelson had the faintest memory of Corsica being mentioned in the past day or two but could not place it. He shrugged with disdain towards his interrogator and then suddenly remembered.
"Oh, hang on... Grimaldi the Corsican?"
"Hmm..." pondered the Knowall, his piercing hazel eyes drilling Nelson.
"Why are we here?" posed Nelson against the unnerving stare.
"I thought you knew that?"
"Do I?"
"I see. Do you like change, Nelson Staff?"
"What? Well, I prefer larger notes really... but the bigger coins are fine, especially with the new one-pound."
"No, I mean real change... transformation. Revolution. Do you like change for change's sake?"
"What?"
"Okay, okay boys!" yelled Tina, raising her hands. "All macho men's jibbety-jab. I see this is a great place for a disco, but can we focus and answer?" She then looked at both of them intently. "Why... are... we here?"
The Knowall's shaved head turned barely perceptibly to look at Tina, then back to Nelson. He was performing an assessment with his unflinching gaze. Nelson squirmed in his seat and broke eye contact again and again. A quiet tension rose in the room. Finally the Knowall relented and turned to smile at Tina.
"So, you my dear, is it really true you've just met Nelson?"
"I wouldn't even go that far. He knocked on my door yesterday, then chased me from the supermarket today."
"That's not fair, not fair," sighed Nelson.
"But if I may show you how easy it is to answer a question directly," continued Tina, "I personally love change. I always have. It makes things a bit more... exciting."
The Knowall contemplated this statement whilst looking once more between them both. He stroked the white stubble on his right cheek. The bright ebony skin shone through. He nodded a hair's breadth and appeared to have reached a decision.
"Do you still have the letter?" he asked Nelson.
"Ah," acknowledged Nelson, "the letter from NASA. From you. I thought that's why I was here."
"Do you have it?" repeated the Knowall.
"No, it's back on my bedside table."
As if confirming his decision, the Knowall rose and stood before them.
"Okay good, back in West Hampstead. So..." he concluded, "I agree with the assessment, we should erase you after all."
"Erase!" gasped Nelson. Tina snapped her head towards Nelson and then up at their unnamed captor.
"Why of course," replied the old man.
"Whose assessment! How do you mean... erase?"
"All will become clear," he said as he turned to leave the chamber.
"Hold on!" yelled Tina, rising from their bench.
The Knowall ignored her and headed for the same exit through which his colleagues had disappeared. Before the door closed, he relented, turning around, and smiling.
"My dear, are you wearing anything beneath that raincoat?"
"Shove off!" exclaimed an angry Tina.
The door hissed shut.
They were left with the ceiling stars, the screen and keyboard plinth. Tina sat back down on the bench.
"Erased..." she exhaled. "Jesus. Just what have you got me into?"
"I'm so, so sorry Tina, I'm really no longer sure."
Turning her back firmly on Nelson, Tina gazed up in mute silence. The artificial stars twinkled above.