The Prisoner - A New Arrival Chapter 10

 

The Identity of No.1 

    “Do you always take coffee here at the Old People’s Home in the afternoon?” a voice asked.
    No.4 who had been staring out across the estuary looked up to see the grey-haired figure of No.2 standing at his table.
    “Yes.”
    “May I?” No.2 asked gesturing towards the empty chair.
    “If you must.”
    “Thank you. May I ask you a question?”
    “You ask my permission?”
    “Why is it you have ceased attempting to escape?”
    “Coffee?”
    “No thank you, will you answer my question?”
    “Why should I?”
    “No reason, but to satisfy my curiosity.”
    No.4 sipped his coffee and turned his attention to the Stone Boat “People here do the wackiest things!”
    People were climbing the rigging of the Stone Boat, and messing aboard the boat in general. A woman in a while sailor cap was running along the deck pulling on a rope attached to the main mast, while two young women were on the forecastle and main cabin throwing a large beach ball to each other. Others were playing beach ball on the quayside, or sunbathing, while one chap whizzed another chap about in a wheelchair. And the ex-Admiral was there with a member of his crew, crossing the quay to the Stone Boat where he organized his flag officer who was still pulling on that rope!
    “St. Vitas Dance.”
    “Is that what you call it?”
    “Have you two gentleman tried the boat?” a voice suddenly asked.
    “I beg your pardon.” No.4 said looking at the old gentleman in a sailor’s cap.
    It was the ex-Admiral No.66.
    No.4 looked at No.66, then down on the quay, two such ex-Admirals?
    “I asked have you two gentlemen tried the boat? She’s great in any weather, the next trip around the bay is in ten minutes” the ex-Admiral said, and he walked off to the next table whistling a sea shanty.
    “Does that crazy old fool really think he’s going to set sail on that boat?”
    No.2 smiled “We humour him.”
    “You mean people are prepared to go aboard that stone boat and pretend they are on a sea voyage?”

94

 

    “Yes, some even get sea sick!”
    There was a wooden board leaned up against the Stone Boa

Pleasure Trips Around The Bay

Sailing Time 3.pm

Aboard The

Stone Boat

    “You’re pulling my leg”

    “You didn’t answer my question.”
    “Because I know there are only so many ways out of here, and talking to people, I’ve found out most all of them have been tried. The village security is tighter than Fort Knox. It would be easier to break in than to break out!”
    “You’re a realist.”
    “Unlike that poor mug yesterday.”
    “You mean Number 87.”
    “Is that who he was?”

    “He really had no chance at all. Even if he had reached the far side of the estuary they would have caught up with him sooner or later.”
    “They?”
    “Post Ten. That house you can just make out on the far side of the estuary.”
    No.4 looked in the direction in which No.2 was pointing.
    “That’s our house, Post Ten. But perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you that.”
    “What happened to Number 87, there wasn’t a funeral.”
    “Well you need a body in order to hold a funeral, we picked up the rubber lilo right enough.”
    “You mean the body was lost in the water and eventually carried out to sea on the tide?”

    “Not exactly, believe me, it’s not a pretty sight being physically absorbed by the Guardian” No.2 explained.
    “What is that thing?”
    “Believe me, you do not want to know. Nor would you wish to encounter it.”
    “Is that a warning?”
    “Yes, a well meant one.”
    “Alright, you’re Number 2.”
    “Yes I am, Chairman of the village, as well as Chief administrator which makes me, the boss.”
    “You are second to 1, I would have thought at least you would know who Number 1 is.”
    “Your point being?”

95

    “Who is Number 1?”
    “That’s original! Do you know, no-one has bothered to ask that question before, which makes you something of a “rare bird.”
    “Are you going to answer the question, or spend the rest of the afternoon evading it?”
    “Does it really matter who Number 1 is?”
    “You’re going to evade the question!”
    “I told you, as far as you and all the good people of this community are concerned I’m the boss.”
    “Yes, but even you but you must be answerable to someone.”
    No.2 rose out of his seat “Do not pursue this line, believe me no good will come of it.”
    “Why should I believe anything you say?”
    “Its good advice, I advise you to take it.”
    As No.2 walked away and across the lawn, No.4 sat and considered, turning something over in his mind arriving at the conclusion that if he could meet No.1, perhaps he could be persuaded to release him from the village. And what was it No.2 had wanted?

    No.4 decided to take a casual stroll through the village. He walked slowly up the hill from the Old People’s Home. Taking the fork to the right, a cobbled path, he walked passed the pink pavilion, and the statue of Hercules. Then taking the short path to his left, 73 Private to his left and the fish pond ahead of him, and beyond a square of lawn upon which two men and two women were playing a game of croquet.  The piazza on his right, head of him a set of steps with turquoise hand rails on either side. He climbed the steps, ahead of him the Labour Exchange and the yellow and white Triumphal arch, to his right the café. Standing in the road he considered which way to go, he observed a workman’s truck. A closer observation showed that it was a John Deere garden tractor but with the addition of a framework and candy-striped canopy. Attached to the tow bar was a trailer, a sign on which read “Works Department.”
   Two holes had been dug, into which two square posts had been cemented in place. Now two workmen were busy fixing a large sign in place, more than a sign, it was a hand painted map of the village.
   “Get your side up a couple of inches” No.81 said with hammer and nails in hand.
    “It’s alright for you” 82 grumbled “this thing’s damned heavy.”
    “Oh get over yourself, once we’ve screwed this board to the posts it will be our lunch break” 81 told him banging in the second nail.
    No.4 drew closer watching the two workmen.
    “What’s you’re game?” 82 asked looking at the man who stood watching their work.
    “What did you say?” 81 asked busy with a screwdriver.
    “I asked him what his game is?”

96

    “Asked who?”
    “Him” 82 said nodding his head in 4’s direction.
    “Yes, what do you want?”
    “Did you paint that?” No.4 asked.
    “What’s it got to do with you?” 81 asked.
    “Nothing.”
    “Well don’t stand there asking damn fool questions” 81 told him “can’t you see we’re busy?”
    “So you didn’t paint that map?”
    “Look mister, me and my mate here don’t paint things, although we have been known occasionally to paint the odd wall, but at the moment we’re busy putting up this map of the village” 81 explained.
    “We leave the painting of such things as this to others of an artistic bent” added 82.
    “What’s your interest, is there something wrong with it?” 82 asked.
    “No, but why would anyone need a map of this place?” No.4 asked.
    “Just a minute 82, don’t bandy words with the likes of him” 81 said brandishing his screwdriver, then looking at No.4 asked “who are you anyway, you’re not from the works department.”
    “I know” 81 suddenly exclaimed “I bet he’s Number 2’s assistant come poking his nose in!”
    “From administration then are you?”
    “I’m just an observer” No.4 told him.
    “Oh one of them, a watchman! Well you’ve seen enough of what we’re doing, clear off and let us get on with it!”
    No.4 looked at the map, and noticed the numbers depicting buildings situated around the village, then suddenly remembering something he quickly walked away and back to his cottage.
    “See 82, they’re like a pricked balloon when you stand up to these watchmen” looking at his watch 81 realised that it was time for their lunch time.
    Having returned to his cottage in order to collect his own map of the village which he remembered was in the top left-hand drawer of his desk. Leaving his cottage, village map in hand, he headed back to where the workmen were erecting the large map of the village. The two workmen in dove grey overalls were now sat on a low wall drinking tea from a flask and sandwiches out of a cream and green lunchbox.
   “The old stagecoach could do with a lick of paint” 81 observed.
   No.82 looked at the blue and red stagecoach “It’s got a touch of rot as well, should go in for restoration work. I’ll suggest it to the foreman when we get back.”
    No.4 casually walked over to the large map of the village, taking a few moments to study it, before unfolding his own leather bound map.

    “He’s come back!” 81 said.”
    “So I see, what’s he doing?”
    “Looks like he’s comparing maps.”

97

    “What for?”
    “How do I know, go and ask him” 82 suggested.

     The maps were identical in everyway No.4 observed, except his folded map lacked the numbers indicated on the board. On the right of the map was a numbered index, he ran a finger down it.
9} Taxi rank
8} Bandstand
36} Hospital
14 Shop
28} Fun Palace
3} Old ship
5} Old people
4} Exchange
1} Town Hall
10} Council

    His finger came to a stop at 1 Town Hall and he thought for a moment. Is 1 the number of the building, or the residence of No.1, or both? Taking a pencil from the breast pocket of his blazer he wrote the number 1 on his map, folded it, and set out for the Town hall.
   The large terracotta faced building was but a hundred or so yards away. He loitered for a while at the pair of turquoise gates opposite, loitering and watching as people came and went. Two men in black overcoats and Top Hats carrying black leather document cases chatted as they went up the few steps and into the Town hall. No.4 crossed the street, went up the steps and at the archway was instantly stopped dead in his tracks by an electrical force field and fell backwards down the steps. It was not enough to do harm, but enough to keep certain people out! A window cleaner was wringing out his chamois leather at the time, and saw a man standing shocked in the road.

    “You alright mate?” the window cleaner asked “this is the Town Hall you know its choosy about who it lets in.”
    No.4 knew about the Town Hall, but not of the electrical force field! He nodded at the window cleaner, and went on his way. A little way on there was a set of steps at the side of a yellow building, he climbed the steps which led round to the back of the building, and onto the edge of the woods. There was a track leading to both right and left, he took the left track. This led him to the back of the Town Hall. He looked for surveillance cameras, he did not see any. There were three ground floor windows and a French door, the door was locked and well secured, as were two of the three windows, one was not quite latched properly. He found a stout twig, and working it into the gap between frame and window he was able to work the latch and free the window. It took but a moment for him to climb in and close said window behind him.
   He found himself in a small room. Studying the shelves he found they contained white paper and envelopes, boxes of pens, pencils,

98

paper clips, bulldog clips, bottles of ink blue, black, blue-black, and red. Cardboard folders, clipboards, and metal paper openers, he was in a stationary cupboard. Making straight to the door he turned the handle and found it locked. Taking one of the metal letter openers from the shelf he turned his attention to the lock of the door. It took him a few minutes to pick the lock, but eventually the handle turned and the door opened.
    Pushing the door open slightly, No.4 peered out into a corridor. Seeing no-one the one way, he pushed the door open so he could put his head out and looked the opposite way along the corridor. Luck was on his side, there was no-one about. He stepped out of the stationary cupboard and closed the door behind him.
   He stood in a corridor lined with doors on either side, and either side of the corridor busts of two statesmen set on plinths. No.4 listened at the first two doors hearing voices in the rooms beyond the doors. He moved on, and looked into a mirror, and at a clock. The next two doors were locked, as was a pair from French doors, with a green blind pulled down on the inner side of the doors.
   In the control room a member of the watch sat at her monitor watching No.4 making his way along the corridor trying each door in turn, and made her report to the officer of the Watch-No.28.
    “Right, put up camera 34” ordered the Supervisor picking up the receiver of the grey telephone.
    “Number 2 here, what is it?”
    “Officer of the Watch here sir, Number 4 has gained access to the Town Hall.”
    “Really” said No.2 pressing a button on the control panel.
    “I’m watching him on the screen now” No.28 said.
    “Yes, so am I” said Number 2 “how did he get in?”
    “We’re not sure sir. He’s making a search” observed the officer of the Watch “but for what?”
    “Not what….who! Alert security.”
    In the corridor there was one door left to try, the handle turned and the door opened and No.4 found himself standing in an electrical switch room. There appeared nowhere else to go, back down the corridor then along other way. But then under his feet he noticed a trapdoor. He leaned over and pulled on the small ring and lifted the trapdoor. It was not pitch black below, he could see dimmed lights, and a set of steps. He descended into the semi-darkness, closing the trapdoor behind him. It was a small vault in which he found himself, one of narrow confines, so he walked on and came to a narrow spiral staircase leading up. At the top a narrow door slid open, he stepped through behind a large black bust of a Georgian gentleman set on a plinth in an alcove. The door closed behind him and he stepped back at the end of the same corridor, where now two men dressed in grey overalls, white helmets, gauntlets, and boots and brandishing white truncheons stood at the far end of the corridor. No.4 backed away

99

slowly but it was too late. The two security guards turned, and seeing their man through dark sunglasses, immediately gave chase. There was nowhere for him to run, or hide, he tried the sliding door in the alcove but it refused to open. And now turning he was faced by the two security guards holding up their truncheons. No.4 was trapped, and the only way out was through these too security guards, and the window at the back of the stationary room!
    As the two security guards rushed towards him he did likewise, and managed to catch them off balance and brushing them aside he made a dash for a door and to his surprise the pair of glass panelled French doors with the green blinds opened automatically, allowing him to pass through into a small anti-room. There was a second pair of glass panelled French doors also with green blinds, they opened automatically and he passed through the open doorway and stood in a dimly lit room. There was a whirring sound but could not make out the source of the sound in the dimness of the room. Then the French doors closed and the lights came on. The walls of the room were free of any adornments, along one wall were three grey filing cabinets. It was then he saw the source of the sound, and it looked up and saw him. An automaton was sat at a large oak desk, it was busy at a typewriter, next to it was a pile of typing paper, and a pile of completed typed notes. It was square rather than rounded, its steel frame holding together its clockwork mechanism which was the cause of the whirring sound. The automaton stood up and moved from behind the desk. It was more then 7 feet tall and moved with jerking movements towards him. He stepped back as the automaton drew closer to him, its arms stretched out, and then he felt the paper knife in his pocket. He drew it out and plunged it into the clockwork mechanism, two clogs stopped, the clockwork mechanism stopped, and the automaton just stood there. Suddenly the French doors opened and the two security guards stood there blocking his exit. One brandished his white truncheon and hit him on the head, he collapsed in a heap on the floor. The automaton stood motionless, as No.2 stood behind the security guards. Suddenly the paper knife slipped from between the two cogs causing the automaton to whirr back into life, and it returned to its desk and began typing.

    In his office of the Green Dome No.2 paced the floor.
    “Whatever did you think you were doing?”
    No.4 sat in a chair rubbing his sore head.
    “What did you think you would achieve by having taken such action?”
    “Is this going to be another interrogation session?”
    “You have placed me in the most difficult of places!”
    “I don’t see why.”
    “Don’t you, don’t you, well let me tell you………..” No.2 stopped, and composed himself.

100

   “Don’t tell me that that thing is Number 1!”
    “Is that what you imagine the automaton to be? You were perhaps expecting some evil mastermind with a white cat sat on his lap who is responsible for the village and your captivity here. Someone you can serve retribution on, sorry to disappoint you.”
    “Number 1 is a machine!”
    “We are all machines, more of the organic type I admit, but nevertheless human beings are but machines, didn’t you know?”
    “What was it doing?”
    “Typing up part 2 orders I shouldn’t wonder.”
    “You receive your orders from that?”
    “Well someone has to type up the part 2 orders.”
    “What happens now?”
    “To you, nothing I shouldn’t wonder.”
    “But I know the identity of Number 1” No.4 said trying to make it sound like a threat.
    No.2 stood and thought for a moment “Yeeessssss, but where does that get you?”
    It was No.4’s turn to pause and consider.
    “All you can do, the moment you leave this office, is to shoot your mouth off to the general populace about how you have encountered Number 1. Perhaps describing in detail the automaton.”
    “You would stop me!”
    “Would we? What makes you think the good people of this community care about who or what Number 1 is? Let me tell you they don’t! As long as their needs are cratered for, are kept entertained, and made to feel happy, they don’t care. I said before, as far as they are concerned I’m the boss.”
    “For however long that is” No.4 said with a smirk on his face.
    “Quite. I’ll just have to wait and see what it says in part 2 orders.”

    No.2 sat in the relative comfort of his globe chair. He was watching the wall screen, watching No.4 strolling through the village on a bright sunny day. He watched him stop a couple of citizens and began talking to them, and saw then laughing as they went on their way. A chap was peddling his way along the road on a tricycle, No.4 flagged him down, No.2 turned up the sound so he could hear what was being said.
    “Mind out, I almost ran you down” said the man on the tricycle.
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Depends on the question, I say you’re not an undercover are you?”
    “An undercover?”
    “You know, one of those watchmen.”
    “No” No.4 assured him.
    “Go on then, ask your question before it starts raining.”
    “Starts raining, there’s not a cloud in the sky.”
    “Obviously you didn’t hear the weather forecast, intermittent

101

showers are predicted later in the day. That’s why I’ve got my umbrella with me.”
    “Obviously to stop you getting wet.”
    “What, no, it’s not raining, its protection against the sun” the man explained “be seeing you” the man saluted and peddled off on his tricycle.
    No.2 turned down the volume.
    It was then that No.4 realized he had forgotten to ask his question.
    The pair of steel doors slid open and the tall frame of No.14 of administration entered the chamber, he had several sheets of typed papers in his hand. Approaching the desk he glanced up at the wall screen.
    “What’s Number 4 up to now, making a nuisance of himself again I expect.”
    “Not really, he’s engaging fellow citizens in conversation” No.2 explained.
    “They’re laughing” 14 observed.
    “Yes.”
    “No.4 is making people laugh. He doesn’t make me laugh, does he make you laugh?”
    “No.4 appears to be a natural entertainer, he’s a scream! What have you there?” No.2 asked noticing the typed papers in 14’s hand.
    “Oh yes, part 2 orders have just come through” he said placing the papers on the desk “will there be anything else Number 2?”
    “No, no I don’t think so. Oh you might ask my manservant to bring me some tea on your way out.”
    “Certainly Number 2” he said turning and taking his leave through the now opening steel doors.
    No.2 turned and leaning forward picked up the papers on his desk, he read the heading on the top sheet, it read “Report on No.2” he read on, and began laughing, it would appear that No.4 is not the only one with a sense of humour!
 

102

Chapter 9

 

No.4 A Man of The People! 

    Elections….in the village, how likely is that?

    In his office in the Green Dome, the tall dark-haired figure of No.2 sat in his black global chair. Pictured on the wall screen was No.4 in his cottage. Suddenly the red telephone began to bleep, and when he didn’t answer it straight away the bleeping seemed to become impatient! Leaning forward he picked up the receiver.
    “Number 2 here………….yes sir I did realize that my term in office is coming to an end……….well thank you sir, it’s kind of you to say so………have I thought about what sir?............No, I have to admit I had not considered that possibility, I thought I would simply be leaving at the end of my term in office……that was never a consideration………….so I am to be co-opted onto the Town Council, well thank you sir. Do you have any idea who is to be my successor?...............Well if I may suggest a new candidate, No.2 said looking at the man pictured on the wall screen, Number 4 would make an excellent candidate………..what do I mean? Well it would hardly be seemly if a new Number 2 was simply appointed. We could make a spectacle of it…………yes an election……….be seeing you!”
    No.2 replaced the receiver, and sat back in his chair studying the man pictured on the wall screen, he might well be his only hope.

    No.4 emerged from the kitchen with a cup of tea in his hand as the telephone began to bleep, he stood for a moment or two wondering whether he should answer it or just let it bleep. Putting the cup down on the coffee table he picked up his piped blazer and put it on. Then went to the telephone and picked up the receiver.
    “Is your number 4?” asked the operator.
    “You must know it is, since you called me!”
    “I have a call for you from Number 2.”
    No.4 put down the receiver.
    The black telephone began to bleep again; he picked up the receiver and put it down again. Then No.4 spun round as the door bell rang, his cottage doesn’t have a doorbell! The door opened automatically, and the figure of No.2 stood framed in the doorway. He had the old college scarf about his shoulders, and carried a shooting stick. As well as his regular badge, he wore a white rosette with the number 2 on the centre disc.
    “Good morning, since you’re not answering the telephone this morning, I thought I would call round. Mind if I come in?”
    “I’d rather you………”
    “Good. I take it I’m too late for breakfast.”
    “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

78

 

    “Really, then I’m just in time.”
    A housemaid dressed in a black dress, white frilly apron, and white sailor’s cap followed No.2 into the cottage, and carried a breakfast tray through into the kitchen.
    “What’s all this in aid of?”
    “It’s merely a neighbourly gesture.”
    The housemaid set the breakfast things out onto a worktop.
    “Thank you my dear” No.2 said.
    The house maid curtsied and left the cottage.
    No.2 made himself at home. Taking a cup he added milk and sugar, and poured tea from the teapot, he looked at No.4 “Aren’t you going to eat your breakfast before it gets cold?”
    No.4 looked at his visitor sitting down on a stool, and then sat down opposite him. He removed the metal dish cover, and looked down at the piece of quiche with a poached egg on it.
    “French.”
    “International” No.2 replied and enquired if it was nicely done.
    No.4 picked up a fork and with the edge cut a piece of quiche and put it in his mouth “It’s not bad.”
    There was a sudden but quite fanfare from a black loudspeaker, this was followed by the voice of village radio.

    “Good morning, and congratulations on yet another day. The weather will be fine and dry, a little overcast, but it will remain dry enjoy your day.
    “That’s a piece of luck” No.2 said buttering a piece of toast.
    “Luck?” No.4 asked offering No.2 the jam.
    “Not marmalade?”
    “Jam on toast, that’s continental.”
    “Not International?”
    “Same thing surely.”
    No.2 smiled “At least we’ll have good weather for it.”
    No.4 took another mouthful of egg and quiche “Good weather for what?”
    “Oh you haven’t heard?”
    “Heard what?”
    “We begin our election campaign today.”
    “You jest of course.”
    “By no means, we hold an election every twelve months, every citizen has a choice.”
    “What the people elected you?”
    “Yeeessss. And there’s the rub.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It’s been a one-sided affair for too long, and that’s bad for morale. The people here don’t seem to appreciate the worth in free elections. They think it’s a game.”
    “Doesn’t everyone vote for a dictator?”

79

    “I suspect their resistance is low. Frankly we need a candidate the people can believe in.”
    “I wish you luck in finding one.”
    “Don’t be like that.”
    “What you mean me?”
    “My dear fellow you are just the sort of candidate the people need.”
    “You want me, to stand in an election against you?”
    “Why not?”
    “You’re a funny man.”
    “Do you see me laughing?”
    “That’s all well and good, but what happens if I win?”
    “You’ll be the boss.”
    “I thought that was Number 1!”
    “If you win, then Number 1 will make himself known to you”
    “And if I lose?”
    “What have you to lose?”
    “If I stand for election against you and win, I’ll be the new Number 2?”
    “Yes.”
    “You expect me to believe that?”
    “You are a citizen here as much as anyone; it’s your democratic right to stand for electoral office.”
    Number 2 munched on his buttered toast studying the man opposite. No.4 finished his breakfast whilst turning the idea over in his mind.
    “Well?”
    “You have a subtle sense of humour.”
    “Of course, humour is the essence of a democratic society.”
    Suddenly another fanfare blared out of the loudspeaker. Outside the Brass band began to play, and the citizens stood waiting on top of the stone bandstand. No.2 crossed through into the lounge, and opening the French window stood on the small balcony waving to the now cheering crowd below.

    “Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, Number 2” the people chanted over and over.
    “It looks like you have a unanimous majority” No.4 said standing next to No.2.

    “Yes, and that’s what is worrying me. Shall we assess the madding crowd?”
    It wasn’t a very glamorous start to the election. They had to go out through the back door to 4 Private where there was no cheering crowd. Then walking across the gravel along the back of the row of terraced cottages, turning right through an arch, along the outside of the Green Dome and out onto the balcony overlooking the street and the cobbled square. Two men in black overcoats and Top Hats with black leather document cases stood in the two arches of the building. Both wore white No.2 rosettes. The people gathered in the street and

80

cobbled square below looked up and cheered as No.2 and No.4 stood at the balustrade of the balcony, No.2 gave them a cheery wave and the people chanted.
    “Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, Number 2.”
    Then No.2 held up a hand which silenced the crowd. The butler was on hand to hand No.2 a megaphone through which he addressed the electorate.
    “Good people of our community.”
    “Hoorah” the people shouted.
    “It has to be said that there has been a lack of opposition in the matter of free elections. This is not good for you the people, and our community as a whole. It suggests a lack of will in the people, an acceptance of things as they are, and a reluctance to progress.”
    “Hoorah!”
    “We have here a candidate whose outlook on this community is one of militancy, and individualism.”
    “Hoorah, hoorah.”
    “Let us hope he will realize his duty to this community, by taking up the challenge. It is my pleasure to present to you a recent recruit, Number 4.”
    “Hoorah!”
    No.2 handed No.4 the megaphone, and he stood there looking down on the gathered crowd, who looked up to him expectantly.
    “What do I say?”
    “Say what you like” No.2 told him pinning a black rosette to the lapel of his blazer, on the white centre disc the black number 4.
    No.4 raised the megaphone to his mouth and the people stood waiting with baited breath to hear the candidates opening speech.
    “I don’t know what you and Number 2 and his administration expect of me, but I’m not being railroaded into standing against him in this local election” he announced lowering the megaphone.
    The crowd stood silent, and accusing.
    No.2 leaned over towards his opponent “That’s not the sort of thing these good people want to hear. Give then something they can cheer, tell them what you stand for.”
    No.4 again raised the megaphone to his mouth “My friends, I hope I can call you my friends seeing as we here are all in the same boat!”
    The crowd cheered.
    The moments seemed to drag into minutes before No.4 spoke again “What do I stand for? I stand for freedom, knowledge, and escape!”
    The crowd cheered.
    “That’s it, that’s what to give them” No.2 said quietly and encouragingly.
    “Freedom, the freedom of speech, knowledge the knowledge to know, and escape to escape the confines of democracy in order to bring about change and to progress in the name of the people.”
    This brought about mad cheering from the crowd.

81

    “Steady” said No.2 quietly “we don’t want a revolution on our hands!”
    “I stand in the interests of the people, I shall work for the people, because I am of the people. My friends, I stand firm on this electoral husting and promise you change, security of the citizens, and self-sufficiency for this, what could be our fine community. Friends the road to success lies ahead, and the only thing that stands between us and success is defeat!” No.4 announced to the crowd, although he had no idea where the words had come from.
    “Hoorah,” cheered the crowd.
    No.2 took back the megaphone “Good people, you have heard the words of our new friend, he wishes to bring about change, security, and self-sufficiency. But does he know what freedom and knowledge can do to a community such as ours? He may tell you that he is your fiend, but he is a recent new recruit, new to our ways. He lacks the administrative experience to manipulate such a community as ours. His desire maybe genuine, but his ability is questionable. Self-sufficiency comes at a price, and security, have I not maintained the security of our community in keeping you all safe? If elected our friend here would be a new broom and in time would sweep away the old values of this community. Is that what you want, revolution. Vote for me, and you’ll receive solace.
    The crowed cheered, and cheered, and cheered, and the Brass Band began to play in celebration.
    “Come with me” No.2 said.
    They left the balcony and descended the steps to the road where a Mini-Moke stood in the road amid the cheering crowd. At the back of the Moke was a large placard with No.2’s face upon it, along with the words “Vote for No.2.” No.2 made his way through the madding crowd, it seemed everyone wanted to shake his hand, and eventually he stepped into the Mini-Moke.
   “Be seeing you” No.2 said through the megaphone, and the Mini-Moke was driven off with some people chasing after, while others of the electorate stood cheering. Suddenly a second Mini-Moke pulled up in the road behind No.4 who stood in the middle of the road. He turned round and looked at the vehicle.
   “Get in” said the driver, a young blonde woman in a white sailor’s cap.
   No.4 stood there for a moment or two, looking at the larger than life image of himself on a placard fixed to the back of the Moke. “Vote for 4” said the text on the placard. He made his way through the crowd towards the vehicle.
    “When did that happen? he shouted at the driver, pointing at the placard.
    “Get in the driver told him.”
    He climbed into the front passenger seat, and the citizens stood cheering as the taxi was driven away.

82

   “Where are we going?” he asked the driver.
   “I’ll take you home” she said.
   “But my cottage is just over there!” he told her.
   “Yes, but if we take the scenic route it will get your face shown around the village, we want people to get used to seeing it, that way they’ll vote for you” the driver said pinning a white No.4 rosette to her candy striped jersey.
   The taxi meandered through the street and paths of the village, stopping every so often so that No.4 could engage with members of the electorate, who once they had driven away pinned black No.4 rosettes to their chests.

 

    The next day No.2 sat in his office watching the wall screen and views of No.4 talking to people, busy canvassing for votes in the Piazza, at the café, visiting the senior citizens at the Old People’s Home, and generally throwing himself into the campaign now he saw the support and the possibility that he would actually win the election!

   The pair of steel doors opened and the butler pushed a tea trolley through the open doors, down the ramp and across the floor to the desk. Then set a tea tray on the desk, pouring out a cup of tea for his master, and presenting a plate of biscuits.

    “It’s not going too bad at all” No.2 said picking up a filled cup and saucer.
    The butler looked at his master saying nothing.
    “Not a landslide just yet, but I feel the people will be surely to re-elect me.”
   Again the butler kept his silence.
   No.2 sipped his tea still watching the screen, as No.4 attempted to ingratiate himself with the people.

    No.4 returned to his cottage to see a Mini-Moke parked outside, and the blonde haired driver sat behind the wheel. He went into his cottage just as the telephone began to bleep, he picked up the receiver.
    “God morning” said No.2, I take it your driver has arrived.”
    “Yes she’s sat out side in the Moke.”
    “You didn’t ask her in?”
    “No, why should I?”
    “She’s perfectly charming my dear chap.”
    “What’s next?” 4 asked in determined way.
    “Your transport will be available to you during the election period.”
    “That’s nice.”
    “She will drive you to the Town Hall.”
    “What for?”
    “To observe the disillusionment of the town council in half an hour.”
    “I see” and he put the receiver down.

83

    Outside the members of the press, being 113, and his photographic colleague No.113b.
    “The press, what do you want?”
    His driver was standing in readiness by the Mini-Moke “A picture and an interview would be my guess” she told him.
    “Wh…what do I say?”
    “You’ll think of something.”
    No.113b took a photograph of the candidate.
    No.113 stepped forward with notebook and pencil at the ready.
    “Can we have a statement Number 4?”
    “Well I don’t know.”
    “Well what is your home policy?”
    “Look this way” said 113b, click went his camera.
    “Well I intend to bring changes, if there is to be progress there must be change and improvements in our exports.”
    “No comment” the reporter wrote “What about your foreign policy?”
    “We will import less, and rely more on self-sufficiency!”
    “No comment” said the reporter writing the same in his notebook.
    “Tell me Number 4, how do you feel about your opponent?”
    “Smile” said 113b, and click went his camera.
    “I’m sure he will be an excellent opponent, I look forward to giving him a run for his money!”
    “No comment” wrote the reporter “And just one more question, what do you think of life and death?”
    “Well if you can hear the scream and still feel the pain you’re alive, if not then you’re dead!”
    “No comment! Thank you Number 4.”
    “One final picture, look this way” click “thank you Number 4 be seeing you.”
    And with that the reporter and photographer went on their way.

    “Well that went well” his driver said “Now we had best be on our way.”
    “There’s plenty of time” he told her.
    “It’s always later than one thinks” she told him.
    He looked at his face on a large placard attached to the back of

the Mini-Moke, he read the words “Vote for No.4” it made him hesitate, the driver started the engine.
    “Get in” she told him.
    “Why, when we could easily walk to the Town Hall.”
    “Walk, why walk when we can ride?” was the reply.
    “It’s a beautiful morning, we should enjoy it.”
    “You have important business at the Town Hall in less than twenty minutes” the driver reminded him.
    He wasn’t sure, he wasn’t sure at all. He suddenly had the feeling it wasn’t the community No.2 was manipulating, but himself! Slowly he backed away. The driver put the Mini-Moke into first gear and slowly drove after him.

84

    She told him he was being ridiculous she told him “Number 2 will be very disappointed.”
    His manner was defiant “Then he’ll have to be disappointed” he told her.
    “It’s not everyone who is given such an opportunity, and here you are about to throw it away. Don’t you want to help the community, the people, not everyone here is sympathetic you know” she said driving the Moke slowly alongside him.

    He suddenly dodged through an arch and down a set of steps. In frustration the taxi driver had to drive the vehicle round the edge of the woods making her way round and down onto the road. Then back

into the village through two arches, passed the square and there ahead of her the figure of No.4 walking down the road. She sounded the Moke’s two-tone horn. This made No.4 stop and turn around. The driver brought the Mini-Moke to a stop, pedestrians and cyclists looked at the pair as they passed by.
    “I know that” he said “the trick here is trying to find the people you can reply on, can I reply on you?”
    “Yes” she told him, “if only to drive him to the Town Hall!”
    “These people, do they truly care who is Number 2?” he stopped a passer-by “sir, who is Number 2?”
    “W….what do you mean?” the man asked.
    “It’s a simple question; does it matter to you who Number 2 is?”
    “You shouldn’t do that you know.”
    “Do want?”
    “Ask, you never know who might be watching and listening!”
    “You’re afraid?”
    “Yes” the man said and hurried way.
    “It would seem Number 2 rules through fear” he stopped another passer-by, a woman in the early 60’s, blue trilby hat and colourful striped cape “excuse me madam.”
    “Yes young man?” No.36 said.
    He saw the black rosette pinned to her colourful striped cape “I see you’re voting for me.”
    “You and only you” she told him.
    “Why?”
    “Why?”
    “Why are you voting for me?”
    “What an impertinent young man you are!” she told him and went on her way, dropping the white rosette to the ground.
    “What did I do?” he asked the driver.
    “Get in, or we’ll be late” she told him.

    The taxi pulled up at the steps to the Town Hall. No.4 climbed out and stood in the road as the Mini-Moke sped off down the hill. Opposite the Town Hall a man wearing a pink blazer with black piping stood by a curious device. There was a sign at the top ‘Tally Ho’ a handle operated a pair of white rollers, on which were the words in red ‘Opinion Poll.’

85

    “Read all about it, get your election addition here” the man said.
    It was at that point that No.4 noticed the badge pinned to the lapel of his blazer 113c, we was also the spitting image of No.113b, his identical twin! He approached the Tally Ho seller, who upon seeing No.4 turned the handle of the dispenser and tore off a copy of the broadsheet for his customer.
    “That thing reminds me of my old mums washing mangle!” he said taking the offered paper.

The Tally Ho

No.4 Man of the People!

by our own reporter

    Your local candidate says he stands for the people because he is of the people, and will govern for the people on behalf of the people. He talks of progress, of knowledge, of freedom, and escape. But what readers of The Tally Ho want to know is can they trust him?
    When interviewed earlier today your local candidate refused to answer any of the questions put to him, “No comment” he said. Why? Doesn’t he know the answers? He expects your vote, but what can the electorate expect from him? He speaks of progress, but is progress such a good thing for a community such as ours? A new broom always sweeps clean. If elected a new No.2 would sweep away the old regime in the name of progress, bringing instability, perhaps even revolution to our community!
   Your adopted local candidate offers knowledge, but what do we know of him? We know what he wants to be, but what was he? What does he like, what does he dislike? What are his policies? Why does he care? Does he care, and how do we know he is not just standing for election in order to get what he can for himself? We know one thing, he believes he can provide every amenity for the comfort of the citizens. That you can enjoy yourselves whether you want to or not, as well as taking part in all manner of activities. There will be prosperity from village exports. Our local candidate also believes that a vote for No.2 is a vote for the old regime if you wish things to remain as they are. Because if things do change they will remain the same. That a vote for No.2 is a vote for the past way of things, and that a vote for No.4 is a vote for progress, the future lies ahead!

    “Calling Number 4, calling Number 4, the town council is now in session” No.2’s voice suddenly announced over the public address system.
   No.4 rolled up the copy of The Tally Ho and turned towards the

86

impressive red bricked building of the Town Hall, and approached the steps. No.2 could be heard banging a gavel, and calling the assembly to order.
    “Calling Number 4, calling Number 4” the voice said with the repeated banging of a gavel.
    Slowly he climbed the steps and entered the Town Hall through the arch. There were more steps to his right, climbing these he found himself in a foyer. The foyer was devoid of people, its walls plainly decorated. In the centre a round table with a number of drawers set into it. There were two or three chairs, a large painting over a fireplace. Two almost matching busts set opposite each other in alcoves, and a carved wooden head set high up on a wall. To the left a staircase, to the right a pair of doors, Number 2’s voice instructed No.4 to take the pair of French doors; he did so, and upon opening the doors found himself standing at the top of a steep staircase. He stood there for a few moments, looking down into the orange coloured domed chamber.
    “Good, you’re here at last” No.2 said.
    He was sat in a chair at a curious ‘V’ shaped desk, which was set on a raised dais. Behind him an even higher raised dais with steps of geometric squares and triangles making up the steps on either side. Set on the dais was a chair which could only be described as something from a 1920’s German expressionist film. Its colour was of two shades of grey, although that could have been caused by the light creating shadow. The arms of the chair were narrow and helped make up the legs, while wings of the chair were triangular rising up to a point, as did the back rest. There was an eye set high in the backrest which shone at intervals. Set in the centre of the chamber was a circle of eleven council members, each standing at his or her lectern. And in the centre was a raised disc with an expressionist style rectangle table with a ‘V’ shaped leaf, and a thin steel frame making up the legs also shaped into a ‘V’ at both sides.
   “Come ahead” No.2 said invitingly.
   No.4 slowly descended the staircase the rolled up Tally Ho broadsheet in his hands “What’s this, a meeting of the local Masonic lodge?”
    “You are formally welcomed to this assembly as the potential opposition candidate.”
    “You’re not sitting in the big chair” No.4 observed “perhaps that’s because its reserved for Number 1 the Grand Master, or are you the worshipful master, and Number 1 observes the proceedings via the all seeing eye!”

    “You must play the game, please stand on the centre disc” was No.2’s instruction.

    No.4 descended the final few steps “What game are we playing, only

I’m not sure of the rules?”
    “The rules according to that of the democratic process, these are

87

designed for the protection of the citizens. You are a reasonable man, and I’m sure you would not deny the right of proper procedure. I invite you again to stand on the centre disc.”
    No.4 was still making up his mind, then he saw the two “Vote for No.2” and “Vote for No.4” placards, and crossed the floor, eventually taking his place on the disc, putting down the rolled up copy of the broadsheet on the table in front of him.
   “The final resolution of this out-going council is a vote of thanks to Number 4, it is carried unanimously, there is no further business at this time” No.2 announced banging his gavel.
   No.4 stood looking at the members of the local Town Council. They stood at their rostrums like dummies, stiff and stark, unblinking, possibly unfeeling.

    “I have a few questions” No.4 said.
    “I thought you might” No.2 replied.
    “Where did you get these dummies?”
    “I really don’t know, they were here when I took up office” No.2 replied.
    No.4 looked the the eleven members of the council, each staring straight ahead. It was then he noticed that the 2d rostrum stood vacant “Why are each of these rostrums a subdivided 2, are they former No.2’s?”

    “As in my predecessors you mean?”
    “Yes, and where is 2d?”
    “That rostrum stands vacant” No.2 told him.
    “Why?”
    “It happens from time to time.”
    “Is that vacant rostrum meant for me?”
    No.2 turned and looked at the vacant rostrum and in quiet tone said “No, not for you.”
   No.4 turned his attention to the councillors with their blank expressionless faces “What have you all to say for yourselves? Can you speak at all? Have you any feelings? Do you think for yourselves, or are you told what to think, can you think? Who put you all in this Zombie-like state?”
    “Have you finished?”
    “They are nothing more than brainwashed imbeciles!” No.4 shouted.
    “Now let’s not get personal my dear fellow.”
    “I trust you’re not seriously thinking of putting me amongst their number!”
    “Any more questions?”
    “Yes, but I don’t see the point in asking them” No.4 told him.
    “Good, you may go.”
    “Go?”
    “Yes, you’re free to go.”
    “Free to go?”

88

 “Yes.”
    “There’s nothing more?”
    “Do you want there to be more?”
    “It’s what I expected.”
    “Then I’m sorry to disappoint you!”
    No.4 didn’t know what to expect as he left the Town Hall, perhaps a cheering crowd, people waving banners enthusiastically and placards proclaiming “Vote for No.4.” As he stood on the steps of the Town Hall the street wasn’t completely empty. He was faced by a small cheering crowd which made him smile, and he reacted to the people, waving, and shaking hands. A Mini-Moke was parked in the street, his driver sat waiting. No.4 made his way through the crowd of people and a man in a pink blazer pushed himself forward, he had a microphone.

    “What do you think of your chances now?” 113b asked.
    “I have every confidence.”
    No.113 held a television camera and pointed it at the candidate.
    “What’s’ this?” No.4 asked “candid camera!”
    “Number 2 says you a worthy opponent” 113b said.
    “That’s very kind of him to say so; I’ll try to give him a run for his money.”
    The taxi pulled away leaving the cheering crowd behind.

    “The community can rest assured that if elected I shall work every hour of the day in the interest of the people. And that anything I can do to maintain a secure community will be my first objective be seeing you” he saluted.
    “That was the lunchtime news on this election day.” a cheery female voice announced “The latest opinion poll suggests that Number 2 is slightly ahead. Stand by for our next election bulletin.”
    A housemaid entered ‘4 private’ carrying a tray.
    “What have you there?” No.4 asked.
    “A light lunch.”
    “I didn’t order that!”
    “No?” the housemaid asked setting out the plate of dainty cucumber sandwiches, cake, and pot of tea.
    “How long have you been here?”
    “Me?”
    “Yes.”
    “In the village? Quite a while as it happens.”
    “So you will have seen these local elections before.”
    “Oh yes, if that’s all sir.”
    “Are you voting for me?”
    “Why do you ask?”
    “It’s a perfectly reasonable question under the circumstances.”
    “What circumstances?”
    “You’re not wearing a rosette.”
 

89

  “That’s because I haven’t made my mind up yet, be seeing you.”
    “Be seeing you” he saluted and helped himself to the sandwiches and cake. Pouring himself a cup of tea he drank the hot liquid then the room began to spin, the cup slipped from his hand spilling the remainder of the tea and the cup and saucer lay broken on the floor. And No.4 collapsed into unconsciousness. A man entered the cottage, in the kitchen he rolled up No.4’s left sleeve, from his pocket he took a hypodermic syringe and injected fluid into 4’s arm. Then he struggled with the body as he dragged it into the lounge and laid No.4 on the sofa, then rolling down the sleeve the figure left the cottage.
    Outside the figure took a small square box from his pocket and pressed a button. In the office of the Green Dome No.2 had been waiting for a communication. Suddenly the turquoise telephone began to bleep, he picked up the receiver.
   “Its done?.......You’re sure?.......good.

   That night No.4 had a troubled sleep the election spinning around in his head. The cheering crowd, the hustings, speeches, shaking hands, the people chanting his number over, over, over again repeatedly. No.2 banging his gavel as though he were pulverising No.4, driving him into the ground.

   The next day No.4 found himself addressing the citizens from the Mini-Moke.

   “There are those of this community” No.4 began “who believe we cannot deliver every amenity for the comfort of the citizens. You can all enjoy yourselves, you’ll be able to take part in all manner of activities. There will be prosperity, our exports…….”
    “Just a minute” a voice shouted from the back of the crowd “What exports?”
    “A gentleman wants to know what our exports are.”
    “Go on then” said another man “tell us.”
    No.4 stumbled, his mind racing to find an answer.
    “Well?” a voice shouted from the crowd.
    No.4 just stood there, he tried to think, he tried to speak, but simply stared at the faces in the crowd.
    “Go on then, tell us three things this village ever exported” shouted another.
    No.4 stood dumbstruck, as he had absolutely no idea.
    “One thing, tell us one thing this village has ever exported” an old woman demanded.

    The crowd fell silent and gradually drifted away.
    At that moment No.2 was about to address the electorate from the top of the stone Bandstand. He was accompanied by his manservant, and two Top hat officials from administration.
    “Good people of this community”
    “Hoorah” the crowd shouted.

90

    “My opponent is a fresh face, and has an enthusiasm which cannot be denied. Our friend Number 4 has a superb record, he has adapted himself well to our procedure, yet he has no experience whatsoever, and lacks the ability to manipulate such a community as ours.”
    A white Mini-Moke appeared on the scene followed by a small number of No.4’s supporters carrying placards with his face pasted on them. The Moke came to a stop on the other side of the lawn which lay between them and the Bandstand.
    No.4 stood up “Place your trust in Number 2 and it will be a vote for the old regime, if you want things to remain as they are. Because if things do not change they will remain as they are, is that what you want? A vote for 2 is a vote for the past way of things. We know what we have to, we have to progress, the future lies ahead.”
    “Our friend No.4 has a knack of saying the blindingly obvious. He talks but says nothing, he expects your vote, but a vote for 4 is a vote for nothing at all.”
    “Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, we want Number 2, Number 2, 2, 2, 2.” the crowd cheered and waved.

    That night in the Cat and Mouse nightclub No.4 sat seemingly drowning his sorrows, when No.2 came in and sat at his table.
    No.4 looked up from his half empty glass “What do you want?”
    “A drink” and raised his hand to attract a waitress.
    “Yes sir, what can I get you?” the young attractive waitress asked.
    “Whisky” he said.
    “I asked you want do you want?”
    “And I told you. I came in here for a drink.”
    “Then do me a favour and go and sit at another table.”
    “Don’t be like that.”
    The waitress returned carrying a glass on a tray; she set the glass on the table.
    “Drowning your sorrows are you?”
    “You’re having a laugh aren’t you? I’ve been sat drinking at this table for three hours now, and I’m as sober as the moment I first sat down!”
    “That’s because they do not serve alcohol here.”
    “Now you tell me! Is there anywhere I can get a real drink?”
    No.2 shook his head.
    No.4 waved at the waitress “I’d like a drink.”
    “Same again sir?”
    “A real drink, an alcoholic drink!”
    “No alcohol here sir, gin, whisky, vodka looks the same tastes the same….”
    “But it won’t get me as drunk as a Lord! What are you looking at?”
    “Nothing” No.2 replied “I’m just worried.”
    “Worried, worried about what?”
    “Not what, who, I’m worried about what’s going to happen to you if

91

you win this election.”
    “No you’re not. You’re just worried about yourself!”
    “Not so. I’m afraid that one day very soon, you will end up standing at that empty lectern.”
    “What amongst those brainwashed imbeciles?”
    “Yes.”
    “Tell me, is that what happens to people like you when their term in office is over?”
    “It all depends on how one quantifies success. If I win the election tomorrow then I go home.”
    “And if not?”
    “As you said yourself, if things do not change they will remain the same” No.2 drained his glass and stood up holding out a hand.
    “What’s that?”
    “May the better man win?”
    “Worried aren’t you?”
    “Yes” he said still offering his hand.
    No.4 offered his own hand and they shook hands.

    The Town Hall acted as a Polling Station, for two hours citizens had come and gone as they cast their vote. “2 for 2, 2 for 2, 2 for 2, 2 for 2.” It was simply done, two Ballet boxes into which people dropped their white or black rosette. The two candidates stood waiting for the final count, not that one would be required. The good citizens of the community voted almost unanimously for No.2, his Ballet box was full to over flowing with white rosettes.
    “I think congratulations are in order, mind you I’ve yet to cast my vote” No.4 said removing his own rosette.
    “I thought it was agreed we would not vote for ourselves?”
    Outside the Town Hall the people had gathered shouting for No.2, we want Number 2, Number 2, Number 2, we want Number 2, Number 2.”
   No.2 and No.4 left the foyer and stood on the steps of the Town Hall, the crowed cheered. No.2 held up his right hand and the crowd fell silent. A Mini-Moke stood waiting in the street to take No.2 to the Green Dome. He climbed aboard sitting in one of the back seats.
    “Get in, I’ll give you a lift” No.2 said.
    No.4 descended the few steps and climbed into the Mini-Moke.
    The taxi moved forward slowly through the silent crowd, and as the taxi sped along the road the crowd behind began to quietly disperse.
    “I’m sorry” No.2 said.
    “Sorry, sorry about what?” 4 asked.
    “Sorry that it had to be you.”
    “It was a set up from the beginning.”

    “I had to win.”
    “To save your own neck you mean.”
    “Perhaps I do. You wouldn’t have wanted me standing there

92

amongst those brainwashed imbeciles as you so eloquently put it, would you?”
    “Wouldn’t I?”
    The taxi came to a stop at the steps to the Green Dome.
    “If you fancy a life in politics there’s still a place on the town council” No.2 offered getting out of the taxi.
    No.4 stood in the road “It’s just a game isn’t it? Nothing has changed. The old regime forever, together with the old Number 2 forever, is that it?”
    “Sounds like a campaign slogan, I must remember it for next time” No.2 told him as he began to climb the steps.
    The taxi drove off leaving No.4 standing in the street, pedestrians walked passed, cyclists peddled by and to all intents and purposes it was to them, as though there had been no election. And so life in the village simply went on as usual. And yet there was still that vacant place on the local Town Council, which the recently re-elected No.2 had managed to avoid…….for the time being at least!

   93