Chapter 7
The New No.6
There
came a new arrival to the Village, he arrived by helicopter that afternoon, but
he didn’t know anything about it, being unconscious at the time. He woke up in
what he thought was the lounge of his home. Standing up he felt a little
light-headed as he drew back the curtains to reveal a view of the Italianate Village!
“I expect it reminds you of your first
day, long ago, in the Village Number Two” 21 said smiling at the man sat in the
black global chair.
No.2 said nothing.
On the wall screen the man dashed
across the room, opened the door to the cottage and went outside.
“What’s his number to be?” 21 asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
Outside the man looked about him,
this way and that, across to wards the Piazza, through an archway to the
cobbled square, and up at the bell tower.
No.2 opened the file on his desk
“Six, his number is Six.”
“Is that why he has been put in the
Roundhouse?”
“He had to be put somewhere” No.2 said
watching the wall screen.
“It just seemed strange that’s all.”
“What’s strange about it….just have a
signpost placed outside his cottage door before he returns to it” No.2 ordered.
“Yes Number Two, right away.”
No.21 left the domed chamber leaving No.2
watching the screen, studying this new arrival.
The prisoner crossed the lawn, climbed the
step onto the Piazza. He was a man about 5 feet 10 inches tall, slight of
build, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He had one distinguishing mark, a small
scar on his left cheek left from when someone took a knife to him during a
fight.
At the café it was…… “Do you want
breakfast?” the waitress asked busy opening the canopies of the tables on the
patio.
“Where is this?” the prisoner asked.
“The Village.”
“Yes, where is this?”
“I’ll see if the tea is on the brew,
do want tea?”
“Can I use your phone?” he asked.
“We don’t have one, but there’s a phone box
round the corner” the waitress told him.
Round the corner from the café he
found the telephone booth.
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There
was a sign, for information lift and press. It was a curious ‘L’ shaped
telephone, he picked it up and pressed a small square chrome button.
“Number please” the operator asked.
“I want to make a telephone call.”
“What is your number sir?”
The prisoner glanced at the phone “Number,
there is no number” he told the operator.
“No number then, no call!” the
operator told the caller before hanging up.
The phone went dead and he replaced
it on the shelf of the booth. Walking away he crossed over to an electronic
information board which he studied for a few moments until he heard the engine
of a vehicle. A white Mini-Moke came driving passed, he stepped out and flagged
the vehicle down which came to a stop with a squeal tyres.
“You’ll get run over doing that” the
driver told him.
He looked at the young blonde woman in
striped jersey and white sailors cap “Who are you? he asked.
“I’m a taxi driver” the girl told
him.
Climbing into the front seat he told
the driver to take him to the next town.
“Oh we’re only the local service” she
told him.
“Well there must be a railway station
somewhere nearby, take me there.”
The Mini-Moke moved forward.
“There’s no railway station sir.”
The taxi driver took her passenger on
a tour of the Village, along the road, this way and that, through arches, along
cobbled lanes. Passed the café, the Town Hall, and down the hill towards the
Old People’s Home, back up the hill, taking the left fork before the fire station,
round passed the Pink Pavilion and the statue of Hercules, along a cobbled
path, through an arch on the right and into the cobbled square where the taxi
came to a stop.
No.2 leaned out of his chair and switched
off the wall screen, he had seen enough. The pair of steel doors slid open and
the butler entered the office bringing his master his afternoon coffee.
No.2 watched as the butler placed
coffee pot, cup and saucer along with sugar bowl and milk jug on the desk.
“We have seen it all in our time here
haven’t we my diminutive friend, you more than me when it comes to it. We
survived when others perished.”
The butler looked at No.2 but said
nothing, yet he remembered someone who had once upon a time been the best of
them.
Returning
to his cottage the prisoner noticed that a signpost
had been placed by the cottage door, it read ‘6 Private.’ Inside the cottage he stood in a replica of the lounge in his former home. There was the wring bureau, coffee table, two brown leather armchairs, the painting of the battle of Trafalgar hanging over the fireplace.
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Ornaments, two table lamps, his small collection of porcelain figurines, books, the African wood carvings hanging on the walls, but the magazines in the Canterbury were not there. But where were the bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen? It was then that the back wall began to rise up into the roof space revealing a space beyond. He walked forward, to his left the kitchen, straight ahead, through an arch, the bedroom, and to the left the bathroom. There was an orange coloured Lava Lamp in a small alcove, in the wardrobe his suitcase, and a blue piped blazer hung on a coat hanger. In the kitchen the cupboard was filled with tinned Village food, baked beans, spaghetti, spam, corned beef, peas, oxtail soup, and in the refrigerator a bottle of milk, cheese, butter, and a role of luncheon meat. He turned his attention back to the lounge, he opened a drawer of the bureau and found a leatherbound map of what it called the Village. He unfolded the map, it was in colour. There was a black speaker set on a shelf, suddenly music issued forth, music designed to put the man at his ease, it didn’t, in fact as the music played on he found it annoying. He looked for an on-off switch, there wasn’t one.
In his office No.2 wound the old college
scarf about his neck and shoulders, picked up the umbrella shooting stick, the
two symbols of his office and left the Green Dome, and on his way out told the
butler he would be back soon.
Down the steps, across the street, across
the square and No.2 stood outside a once one time very familiar door to him, it opened
automatically. Inside the cottage No.6 was about to hurl the speaker against a
wall.
“I can have that turned off for you
if you like” No.2 said standing framed in the open doorway.
No.6 put the speaker back on the
shelf, the music stopped.
“I told you so” No.2 said stepping
over the threshold.
“And
you are…….?” The prisoner asked aggressively.
“I was interested to see what they
had done to the place that’s all. This used to be my cottage once upon a time”
No.2 told the prisoner.
“In better days?”
“In worse times, I was a prisoner
like you” No.2 told him.
“And now I take it you’re the jailer,
and this is my cell!”
“As cells go you must admit we’ve
made you as comfortable as we can” No.2 said remembering “a home from home in
fact.”
“Answer me a question” the prisoner
demanded.
“If I can, but I can make no
promises.”
“Who are you?”
“Number Two, and you are our Number
Six” 2 said with a smile.
“Number,
I’m no number, my name is…..”
No.2 held up a hand “I know your
name, but names are not used here.”
“Why
was I brought here?” No.6 demanded to know.
“We shall come to that all in good time.”
“You can’t hold me here!”
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“Oh I think I can” No.2 told him.
“I want to leave!” No.6 told him.
“The doors open, feel free” No.2 said
gesturing towards the door.
“And what do I walk into if I do?”
“The Village, can I give you the
grand tour?”
“Don’t bother yourself, I’m not staying”
the prisoner told him.
“You may have to find out the hard
way that there is no escape” No.2 told him “I shall leave you for now, to
settle into your new surroundings.”
A young woman in a black dress, white
frilly apron, and sporting a white sailor’s cap appeared behind No.2.
“Ah, here is your personal maid. Make
our new friend here a cup of tea, I think he needs it.”
The housemaid curtseyed. No.2 stepped
aside to allow her entrance into the cottage.
“I’ll let you settle in properly, we
can talk tomorrow, when you’re feeling more adjusted to your new surroundings,
and enjoy your tea” No.2 told him, leaving the cottage he made his way back to
the Green Dome.
“So you’re my personal maid."
“Yes sir” the housemaid curtseyed.
“Well you need not bother tomorrow, I can
make my own tea” he told her.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t
look the domestic type.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A couple of minutes.”
“No, I didn’t mean that, I meant in
this place.”
“The Village?”
“Yes” he said picking up the cup of
tea given to him by the maid, and taking a sip or two.
“For as long as I can remember.”
“And your parents?”
“They live in the Old People’s Home”
she told him.
He drank his tea, but before he could
replace the cup in its saucer he keeled over, and fell unconscious on the
floor.
No.6 felt a little light-headed this morning. He didn’t remember going to bed last night, so it seemed reasonable enough to assume someone put him in it. He got up, showered, shaved, then went into the bedroom to dress. The only clothes he could find were the black piped blazer and beige trousers hanging up in the wardrobe, and the dark blue turtleneck jersey in a drawer. Of his own clothes there wasno sign. He heard the door of his cottage open. In the kitchen he found the housemaid putting a breakfast tray down on a worktop.
“What you here again?” he said.
“Of course, to bring you your
breakfast” she said removing the tea towel “eggs, bacon, tea, toast, butter and
marmalade.”
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“Where are my old clothes?” he wanted
to know.
“They won’t let you wear those,
they’ll have taken them away” she told him.
“Why?”
“How should I know? No-one is permitted to
wear their own clothes.”
“What happened yesterday?” he wanted
to know.
“You passed out, probably the journey
was too much for you.”
“What did you put in the tea?”
“Milk, sugar, two lumps” she said.
“What
else?” he demanded.
“Nothing!” the maid said with
conviction.
“And now you expect me to eat that?” he said.
“It’s up to you” she replied setting
the breakfast things out on the worktop.
“You
eat it!”
“I had my breakfast some time ago” she
said picking up the tray.
He grabbed the maid from behind, an
arm round her waist, a hand to her throat.
“They’re listening aren’t they?”
Frightened the maid nodded her head.
“Probably watching as well.”
Again the maid nodded.
“Well watch this” he said tightening
his grip on the maid’s neck.
Suddenly the door to his cottage
burst open and three guardians entered the lounge, then into the kitchen.
“Let the girl go” ordered 256.
The prisoner shook his head.
“This won’t get you anywhere you
know, you don’t want to start with a black mark against you” 217 said.
“Kill the girl” said 263 brandishing
a white truncheon “and we’ll make sure it goes very hard on you.”
“Where did you get that?” 256 asked.
“I have a friend in security” 263
told him.
“Why haven’t we got one?” 256 said.
“Perhaps you don’t have a friend in
security.”
The housemaid glanced down at the
worktop, she saw the knife and slowly reached a hand out……she felt the handle
of the knife; she grasped it and stabbed the prisoner with it. The prisoner
instantly released his grip on the girl who stumbled forward as the guardians
moved in on No.6 and he felt the truncheon come down hard on his head.
No.6 woke up to find himself in a bed in hospital. His head was bandaged, as was his right arm where he had been stabbed. He sat up to see he was the only patient on the ward. Pulling the sheets to one side he swung his legs out of bed.
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“What do you think you’re doing?” a
man in a white coat asked.
“I’m getting up” No.6 told the
doctor.
“I’ll tell you when you can get up”
the doctor told him.
Two male orderlies appeared on the
ward, they approached the bed, held the patient down while a nurse produced a
syringe from a kidney dish, and injected the patient with a sedative.
The next thing the patient knew he was
in a small room, and strapped in a chair. On the wall in front of him was a
small screen, suddenly there was the image of a baby on the screen, a
photograph. Further images followed, a boy at school, in uniform as a naval
cadet, images of his career in the Navy as No.1, a first officer rising to
Lieutenant Commander, and more.
“We have your entire life, documented and
pictured in depth” a voice said.
The prisoner struggled against the
restraints.
“There’s no point in struggling” the
voice said “or we shall be here all the longer!”
“You can’t do this to me, and even if
you do I’ll tell you nothing, do you hear…..nothing.”
“Why did you resign?” the voice
asked.
“What?”
“Why did you resign?”
“Where’s the harm in chucking up a
job?”
“No harm at all, not for the ordinary
man in the street, but you’re not ordinary, extraordinary would be a far better
description.”
“Where’s Number Two get Number Two, I
want to talk to him!”
“What about?”
“To ask him why he gets other people
to do his dirty work, can’t he stomach it himself?!”
Images of his life flipped from one
to the other on the screen.
“Tell me why you resigned and this
will stop….why did you resign?”
“No!”
“Why did you resign?” the voice was
louder this time
“No.”
“Why did you resign?” louder.
“No.”
“Why did you resign?” louder still.
“No.”
“Why did you resign?” softer this
time.
“No.”
“Why did you resign?” softer still.
“No.”
“Why not tell me?” the voice asked.
“Because if I tell you that one
thing, you’ll want to know all the rest!”
“How old are you?”
“You know.”
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“What is the time of your birth?”
“You know that as well.”
“Then where is the peril if you tell
me?”
“Am I in peril?”
“There is always peril in the Village, but I
could be a friend.”
“How can a disembodied voice be a
friend?”
“Tell me
what….is…the….time….of….your…birth?”
“April seventh nineteen forty” the
prisoner said.
“There that wasn’t so bad was it?”
“I expect you knew that anyway, so
didn’t see the harm.”
“How very perceptive of you, and you
are right, we knew that anyway. So now why did you resign?”
“He’s proving rather stubborn” the doctor
reported “I could go much further of course.
No.2 thought and considered for a
moment “No, I don’t want his mind completely scrambled, otherwise we’ll never
know…..shall we?”
“No” the doctor had to admit.
“Let him rest after his ordeal……”
“And then repeat it” the doctor said
enthusiastically.
“……..No, have him taken back to his
cottage. We’ll give him a little more time to readjust” was No.2’s decision
putting down the telephone down.
“We have to find out why he resigned
prematurely” No.21 said.
“Prematurely, meaning he was supposed
to resign at some point?”
No.6 was feeling restless, he found it
difficult to settle, to clear his mind. Putting on his piped blazer he went out
into the Village, he needed time to think. On the Village green people were
playing croquet, others were out for a stroll. Suddenly the sound of a two-tone
horn warned him to get out of the middle of the road, he stepped smartly to one
side as a white Mini-Moke passed by. A man came down the road riding a tricycle,
and holding up an open colourful striped umbrella.
“Beautiful day” No.6 found himself saying.
“Might get some rain later” the man
replied as he cycled passed.
The prisoner walked through an arch,
down steps leading down towards the Piazza where citizens promenaded daily.
There was a chap wheeling a Penny Farthing bicycle around, he paused to see if
the man actually rode the bicycle, he didn’t. A signpost pointing to a pool of
water puzzled him, “Free Sea” it read, there was an elderly gentleman
sailing plastic boats in the
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the steps, and across the green. Then up two
or three steps and through another arch which led to a cobbled path, turning
right there was a path to his left which wound round towards his cottage. There
was a small turquoise gate, he opened it and took the path toward the bell
tower, finding the door unlocked he climbed to the top. He looked out across
the estuary, down upon his own cottage. A large building with a lawn in front
gave the impression of being a hotel. In a triangular shaped swimming pool, he
could see three girls in bikinis or swimsuits, two playing with a beach ball,
the other sat in a small dingy on the water, but no-one actually swimming. Along the quayside was
a…….a sailing vessel, a yacht or Ketch. Scrambling down the ladder as quickly
as he could he left the bell tower behind, and made his way to a large pair of
turquoise wrought iron gates, opposite the large imposing building, a signpost
denoted the words Council Building. He turned left and walked down the road
towards the building that looked like a hotel, although a signpost read “Old
People’s Home.” Crossing the lawn he stood at a white balustrade and looked
down at the smart looking Ketch moored to the quay, bunting and a black sail
fluttering in the breeze.
“She’s a trim craft, she’s good in
any weather” a voice said.
No.6 spun round to see an old man
dressed in a red and black striped jersey and white naval cap setting up
chessmen on a chequered board.
“Are you the Captain?” he asked.
“Admiral” the old man said.
No.6 couldn’t see his cap badge for
the numbered badge.
“And you sail her?”
“Sailed her many a time” the Admiral
told him.
No.6 stood at the balustrade studying
the Ketch more closely, it was then that his hopes were dashed, for the sailing
vessel was not merely moored to the quay, it was actually part of it! He turned
his attention back to the Admiral.
“Fancy a game?” the Admiral offered.
No.6 sat down at the table opposite
the Admiral.
“Your move” the Admiral told him.
No.2 sat in his office watching the wall
screen, watching No.6 and the Admiral playing chess and remembering, he allowed
himself a smile.
“He looked disappointed” No.21
observed.
“He thought he had found a way out,
it’s no wonder he looked
disappointed”
No.2 replied.
“The Admiral is an old buffunga!”
“He’s an eccentric, not an old fool.
Psychologically sailing the Stone Boat is his way of escape, if only for a
short time.”
After one game of chess with the
Admiral No.6 left the Old People’s
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Home
and walked up the hill back into the Village. A little way passed the Town Hall
there was a Mini-Moke parked in the street. There were several passers-by so he
approached the vehicle nonchalantly.
In the control room the supervisor
stood watching the scene on the wall screen “I take it the driver left the key
is in the ignition?”
“Yes supervisor” his assistant
reported with confidence.
“The driver has left the canopy up”
the supervisor commented.
“Yes, but it shouldn’t make any
difference I’d have thought” his assistant said.
“No, perhaps not.”
No.6 stood by the Mini-Moke, he saw
the key in the ignition, he smiled at a passer-by who looked at him with
suspicion. Then when it was clear he jumped into the vehicle, turned the
ignition key and fired up the engine. Engaging first gear, and releasing the
handbrake he drove the Mini-Moke down the hill while in the control room the
supervisor continued to watch the wall screen and picked up the yellow ‘L’
shaped telephone.
“He’s making a break for it Number Two.”
At the bottom he turned left round the
hairpin bend then brought the Moke to stop. The Allouete helicopter was
hovering over the lawn by the sea wall, with No.2 at the controls. No.6 saw
only one way to go, down the slipway and onto the beach. He gunned the engine
and the Moke sped down the slipway and along the beach away from the Village
while the helicopter gave chase. In the control room the supervisor, with the
telephone still in his hand gave the order Orange Alert. Somewhere in the
depths of the sea something stirred and a round sphere was released from the
containment area and the amorphous shape of the Guardian rose up through the
water until it broke through the surface, and skimmed over the waves towards
the beach.
In the helicopter No.2 picked up a microphone
“You don’t want to do this, it has been tried before” the voice of No.2 said
through the helicopters tannoy “turn back before it’s too late.”
There was an expression of
determination as No.6 pressed down hard on the accelerator and the Mini-Moke
sped on towards……. Towards…… ahead of him was the white amorphous shape of the
Guardian he drove straight towards it. At the last moment No.6 pulled hard on
the steering wheel and the Moke swerved at the last moment to avoid impact. The
Guardian roared in annoyance as the vehicle left the thing behind, but it did
begin to give chase as the helicopter kept pace with the Mini-Moke.
“You’ve upset it now” No.2 said
though the tannoy.
No.6 glanced up at the helicopter from
under the canopy.
“Alright you’ve given us a good run
for your money” No.2 said “now stop and turn back to the Village.”
The prisoner ignored the voice and
drove on
“Alright, have it your own way.”
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The helicopter veered away as No.2 gave up the chase, picking up the telephone again he gave the order “Activate the beam.”
The top of the flagpole flipped open
and a steel rod appeared, when fully extended it dropped at an angle and began
to rotate.
“Beam on sir” an operator reported.
The supervisor gave the order to
fire.
Having reached the Outer Zone the
engine of the Mini-Moke suddenly died and began to coast along the beach until
finally coming to a stop. No.6 turned the ignition key but nothing happened. Then
came the sound of a siren, he looked out of the rear window to see a second
Mini-Moke speeding towards him. He stepped out of the vehicle and was about to
take to his heels when he was confronted by the large white membrane mass of
the Guardian. It roared and in one bound was on the prisoner who tried to land
a couple of punches, but the Guardian knocked its prey to the ground, No.6
tried to get up but was overpowered as membrane covered his face suffocating
him, and he fell to the ground unconscious. The Mini-Moke arrived on the scene,
the Guardian stood by as two men in white coats got out and helped the patient
into the Red Cross trailer of the ambulance.
No.6 lay in bed and instantly recognised
his surroundings; he was back on a ward in the hospital! Pulling back the
sheets he swung his legs out of bed and tried to stand, his head spun, and he
sat down on the bed again. A man in a white coat appeared at the far end of the
ward.
“What are you doing?” the doctor
asked.
“I’m attempting to get up, but I feel
rather dizzy.”
“Yes, I’m afraid the after effects
can be rather unpleasant” the doctor explained.
“I want to leave” No.6 told him.
“Of course, but after a rest, and a
medical.”
“Medical?”
“Yes, you wouldn’t expect me to allow
you to leave without making sure you’re fit to be discharged” the doctor told
him.
“If I refuse?”
“My dear chap, it’s for your own
good, back into bed now.”
A nurse appeared and helped the
patient back into his bed.
“What’s the matter with him?” No.6
asked looking towards the only other patient on the ward.
The doctor glanced over to the
patient a couple of beds along the ward, a patient whose head was completely
wrapped in bandages “I think those bandages can come off later today.”
The nurse stepped away from No.6’s bedside “Very good doctor” and went through the double doors at the end of the ward.
Later that day the doctor returned to the ward, it was time for No.6’s medical examination, he was provided with a dressing gown and a pair of slippers. Then he was taken to the examination room where the doctor took a stethoscope and listened to his heartbeat.
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In his office No.2 watched the examination
being carried out via the wall screen, he held a telephone in his hand and was
making a report.
“Yes, he’s having his medical
now….well it pays to make sure you know.”
With the medical complete the doctor
pronounced his patient as being fit for any contingency.
“Anything specific in mind doc?”
“Go back to the ward, your clothes
have been made ready” the doctor said “get dressed and you’ll be given a free
ride home.”
Back on the ward No.6 found his
clothes laid out on the bed and he began to dress. A nurse appeared carrying a
kidney dish and approached the bed of the patient on the opposite side of the
ward, and began to slowly remove the bandages from round his head. Putting on
his piped blazer No.6 checked the drawer of the bedside table, he removed his
personal possessions, credit card, identity card, and health and welfare card
placing all three in a blazer pocket, and put on wristwatch on. He was about to
leave when he glanced over to see the face of his fellow patient……. The doctor
appeared and examined the patients face.
“Not a bad job, not a bad job at all” the
doctor said “don’t look too closely and you’d hardly notice the scarring!”
“Who is he?” No.6 asked.
“See for yourself” the doctor told
him.
The taxi took No.6 home, but he didn’t go
home, instead he paid a call at the Green Dome where the butler showed him into
the office. No.2 sat behind his desk as the man entered, the pair of steel
doors closing behind him.
“And what can I do for you?” No.2
asked.
“The man in the hospital……”
“Which man in the hospital?”
“The man with his head bandaged up,
well he was until this morning.”
“I wouldn’t worry about him if I were
you; you’ve quite enough to worry about as it is. Now tell me why you resigned,
and all this can end as of this moment.”
No.6 thought and considered.
The pair of steel doors opened and the
figure of No.21 entered the chamber and walked smartly down the ramp.
“Ah there you are Twenty-one, Number
Six here was just about to tell me why he resigned.
“Really sir, I’m all ears” 21 said
taking up a position by the desk.
“As are we all” No.2 said.
“Its really quite simple, I resigned
because………..” No.6 began “……….I’m exactly where they want me to be!” he said with a smile.
The red ‘L’ shaped telephone began to
bleep, No.2 picked it up.
“Number Two here………”
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