FANZ BEGINS

by Stuart Robinson

ENEMY WITHIN OF DOOM PART TWO

In which a dog is relieved, Sherlock is a knob and Tom and Kris bond.

2

“Can you prove you are not the second coming of Jesus?”

“I never thought I’d have to, to be honest”.

“Be dishonest”.

“OK, I often think about that and have concluded, no, I can’t prove I’m not Jesus”.

“Ha ! Another atheist crushed before the juggernaut of my cold logic!”

“Erm, look, can we start again. . .?”

“Of course – you are the messiah after all. I take it you are en route to the Fanz meeting and are feeling nervous about the prospect.”

Tom regarded the stranger. How did he know that, he wondered. “How did you know that?” he wondered again, this time aloud.

The stranger – Kris – was tall with laser like blue eyes and the countenance of a winner of the serial killers serial killer of the year pinup competition. A bit like the Roger Delgado Master but with an even greater juxtaposition of suave elegance and sensual promise of extreme violence battling for supremacy. His clothes were neat and tidy in a way in which anyone with an OCD would approve. Tom wondered if he killed with the same neatness and fastidious attention to detail. Killed? Come on Tom, pull yourself together. Kris was speaking.

“Well now, let us consider. . .” Kris began waving his hands around as if manipulating CGI computer icons, his eyes and head following the invisible graphics as he grabbed, considered and dismissed them with a dismissive wave of the hand. Dismissively.

“Sorry, sorry” Tom interrupted, “Why, um, why are you doing that? What is that?” he mimicked the ludicrous gestures. Which anyone with an ounce of self preservation would have pointed to as being the last thing they would have done, on the grounds that it would probably have proved to be the last thing they would have done before being brutally killed. But Tom had never been able to keep his own counsel. It’s why he had such a tough time at school. Telling a school bully that actually, the word is “asked” not “arks” and that no matter how he tried he was a white boy from middle class suburbia not a black kid from the tough side of the Bronx, never failed to get him into trouble. And on occasion, hospital. He was “arksing for it” apparently.

A man walking his dog paused briefly, wondering if Kris were having a fit of some kind and if he should stick around to watch the fun. His dog, mistaking the pause as a poo break, gratefully took advantage of his owners’ kind consideration. The man shuffled uneasily, realising that Tom and Kris were watching. He had no doggy poop bags. Should he walk on, ignoring the poo and pretending that it didn’t exist? Or was it too late for that? The man bent down and picked up the poo, with all the unconvincing nonchalance of a man who had just picked up a dog turd and was trying to ignore its warm, fresh baked, soft, sticky texture and appalling smell. Too late he realised that picking it up was A Bad Idea. Oh well, he was committed now. He looked around for an appropriate receptacle and, finding none, shoved the poo in his trouser pocket and walked off, wondering how he was going to explain to his wife that he had a dog poo in his pocket. Again.

The spell broken, Tom and Kris resumed their conversation.

“I have studied the techniques of logic and deduction as used by Sherlock Holmes – by which I mean the cool, modern one, not the old black and white one.”

“Yes, that’s not logic and deduction, that’s waving your hands around looking like a twat. I mean, in Minority Report it was cool ‘cos everyone could see the graphics. They were real, generated by their advanced technology. And it was set in the future ‘n’ shit. In Sherlock, I cant get over the idea that Holmes looks like a complete wanker. I mean, how is that supposed to look to the other characters? I keep expecting to hear Mrs Hudson and Watson giggling in the background and drawing a chalk penis on the back of his jacket.”

“Yes. Although even in Minority Report it lacks something of reality – if that was a real computer the icons would keep freezing on you and you’d get annoying pop ups asking you to sign up to a newsletter. Or that Mandy, 19, is just one of the singles in your area waiting for your call”

The two men stopped talking and regarded each other. They had bonded in a way that only geeks can. Their briode nebulisers were primed with each others symbiotic nuclei, the Rassilon imprimatur was imprinted, they had synchronised menstrual cycles. Maybe not that, thought Tom. But there should have been lots of geeks running around, waving their arms and shouting “The Bonding ! It is the Bonding” at passers by.

“So, uh, how did you know? About the Dr Who thing?”

Kris pointed at Tom’s chest.

Tom looked down at his T-shirt. It bore the legend ‘Keep Calm and OH MY GOD DOCTOR WHO IS ON!’.

“Ah” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Click here for ENEMY WITHIN PART ONE.

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