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Monday, 12 September 2022

A New No.2 - Chapter 3

 

Chapter 3 

An Attempted Escape 

    “You must realise Number Two that you cannot leave, your term in office has only just begun” No.21 explained.
    “And how long is a term of office?”
No.2 asked prowling the floor of his office.
   “I don’t rightly know” 21 replied “how long is a piece of string?”
   No.2 stopped pacing and glared at his assistant just at that moment the red, curved, over-sized telephone began to bleep, both men glanced at it.
    “Well it’s not for me” No.21 said.
    Snatching up the ridiculous telephone No.2 announced himself.
    “Number 2 here……….I didn’t want this, I never asked for it…and if I don’t?.........” he replaced the telephone on the desk.
    “Something wrong Number Two?”
    “Number 1 has a delicate sense of humour.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “There is to be a new arrival in the Village.”
    “Do we have any details?”
    “A file is to be passed on to us. He is to be put in the …….in the round house which will be given the number six.”
    “Six sir?”
    “Six….six…..six!” No.2 shouted.
    “A new Number Six, I wonder what he’ll be like, can’t be any worse than any of his predecessors” No.21 remarked.
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Well you don’t imagine you were the first Number Six do you?”
    “And did they all live in the round house at one time or another?”
    “I really couldn’t say sir, but for the moment there is Number Ninety-three.”
    “What about Ninety-three?”
    “Well if I may say sir, you have enough former experience to realize that there are few ways by which to attempt an escape, well Number Ninety-three doesn’t! He sees it as the right of every prisoner to try and escape.”
    “I would agree with him.”
    “You would? This isn’t Colditz where gentlemen prisoner’s of war behave like over grown school boys thinking it’s all a game!”
    “Isn’t it a game?”
    “You have to pick a side, and play a straight bat.”
    “Even on a sticky wicket?”
    No.2 may have sympathy towards Number 93, a man who is 
desperate to be free of the Village, but who realized he has to play the same game but in a different way. 

14


    In his time No.93 had tried numerous ways of escape, but each time had resulted in failure. Once he had stolen a speedboat, but as he headed towards the mouth of the estuary and the open sea beyond, suddenly the engine had cut out and left his boat dead in the water. The white amorphous Guardian appeared and acted as both power unit and rudder for the boat, steering it back to shore. Next he spent six weeks carving himself a dugout canoe out of a fallen tree trunk, and paddled his way up river until he was eventually caught by Post 9. He had joined the local scuba club, and one day on a dive he managed to elude his diving buddy, and underwater he swam his way towards the far shore of the estuary. But then the Guardian appeared out of the gloom of the water, but this time it was 93 who had had the advantage, his face mask and aqua lung preventing him from being suffocated or drowned. When the Guardian could gain no advantage it withdrew, leaving 93 to swim on his way that is until……….the first depth charge exploded in the water! From a speedboat on the surface the crew dropped a number of depth charges at various depths into the water. Each depth charge subjected the diver to a number of hydraulic shocks, which would either kill or force the diver to the surface. Therapy treatment had no effect on No.93, he simply became more and more desperate in his escape attempts. He hid in a dustbin in order to have himself thrown out of the Village with all the other rubbish! When that failed he simply ran away along the beach until he was eventually run to ground by the Guardian. He once hid himself in the woods for three days evading the guardians as they searched for him, then as the search faded he made a run for it towards the mountains, but was shot in the leg by Post 12 in the Outer Zone. After that he along with three confederates began working on a tunnel, however any plan is only as good as the men you can rely on, and No.32 turned out to be a quisling and informed on No.93 resulting in further therapy treatment which was to have resulted in his rehabilitation and being properly integrated. The doctor could not have been more wrong!

    “And since then?” No.2 asked closing the file.
    “Nothing, and that’s the trouble, Ninety-three isn’t the kind of man to give up, so he must be up to something” No.21 said.
    No.2 thought for a moment “Let’s have him in for questioning.”
    “What will that achieve?”
    “I want to learn what’s behind his motivations.”
    “I can tell you what they are; he’s motivated by the thoughts of escape.”
    “Then we must de-motivate him” No.2 said “take away the reason for his need to escape.”
   No.21 led three burly set guardians to ’93 Private,’ and from there No.93 was manhandled to the Green Dome and taken into the office.

15


    No.2 looked at No.93, a tall man in his late 40’s with a full grey beard, from the comfort of his chair. Leaning forward he pressed a

button on the control panel of his desk turning on the wall screen. No.21 leaned over the desk and pressed the right button. A disc in the floor slid away and a black leather chair rose up through the hole and No.93 was sat in it, after which the guardians smartly left the office.
    “I have been reading your file Ninety-three.”
    “Perhaps you would like me to add an inscription!”
    “You see that’s not the proper attitude at all” No.2 told him.
    “Proper attitude, I like that! What about you?”
    “We are not discussing me.”
    “You were once like me…a prisoner!”
    “As you can see I have gone up in the Village.”
    “And now we are to live by the rule of six!”
    “You have resisted” No.2 said.
    “YOU resisted!” 93 said.
    “And look where it’s got me, and what makes you better than any of your predecessors.”
    “I don’t know, I’m still settling into the job.”
    “What’s he doing, showing you the ropes?”
    “Your attitude does you no credit 93.”
    “How’s Number One?”
    No.21 pressed a button and 93 jerked in pain as a current of electricity passed through the chair.
    “Switch it off!” No.2 shouted.
    No.21 switched off the electrical current and 93 relaxed.
    “Sir if I might say.”
    “No you may not.”
    “This man needs a short sharp shock” No.21 suggested.
    “I think he’s already had one. Number Twenty-one there are other ways, we must give Ninety-three purpose within the community.”
    “In what way sir?”
    “Have him taken to the labour exchange and have him given a job!”
    “Head of security I suppose!”
    “That’s one idea, but I thought something menial. Ninety-Three…..Ninety-three look at me.”
    No.93 lifted his head.”
    “Are you mechanically minded?” No.2 asked.
    “I once built my own kit car.”
    “There you are you see 21, he’s a mechanic, tell the labour exchange manager to put him in vehicle maintenance.”
    “Yes Number Two.”
    “Let him get his hands dirty, keep him occupied, the trouble is he’s had far too much time on his hands. Take that away and there’ll be less opportunity of escape.”

16


   The next morning No.93 found himself sat in a leather chair in the green walled office of the Labour Exchange. There was an inner wall made up by a number of light and dark grey painted arches, it gave the impression of being a 1920’s German expressionist film set. A sliver grey haired man sat gazing at No.93 from behind a grey curved desk.

    “So, you want to be a motor mechanic” No.20 said.
    “They sent me here to be given a job” 93 replied.
    “Well you’ve certainly the qualifications for being a motor mechanic.”
    “What?”
    The manager opened a ledger selecting the appropriate page “In 1964 you built a kit car.”
    “You know about that?”
    “Oh yes, we have everything about you, and I think that qualifies you to be a motor mechanic.”
    “Does that mean I’ve got the job?”
    “Would you care for a cup of tea?” the manger asked getting up out of his chair. He was dressed in grey tails, grey waistcoat and trousers, white shirt and grey tie. There was a grey topper resting on his desk.
    “Tea?”
    “Elevenses” the manger said picking up the silver plated teapot and pouring out two cups of tea. He added milk and two lumps of sugar to 93’s tea.
   93 took the offered cup and saucer, and stirred his tea while the manager drank his not once taking his eyes off the man sat in the chair. After a few minutes both cups and saucers were replaced back on the tea tray.
    “Thank you for the tea” 93 said about to rise up out of his chair “I think I’ll be going now if it all the same to you.”
    “I’m afraid it’s not all the same to me” the manager said quickly pressing a button on the control panel of his desk.
    No.93 was shocked by an electrical current passing through the chair. It stiffened his body and forcing him back in the chair, unable as he was to release his grip on the arms of the chair. The manager pressed a second button and the lights dimmed, the touch of another button activated the large wall screen, upon which was pictured the silhouette of 93’s head. There were two angled lines which converged at the silhouette’s forehead, and on the upper line was a circle, on the lower a square.
    “This” announced the manager “is the truth test, anything you think here is thought in strictest confidence. Why do you wish to work as a motor mechanic?”
    93 gripped the armrests of the chair, he closed his eyes tight shut, he tried not to think, but his thoughts betrayed him. The circle moved forward towards the forehead of the black silhouette.
   “That of course is a lie, but will not be held against you. You thought that if you became a motor mechanic you would be working 
in the motor pool, or perhaps maintaining one of the two speed boats, then to try and escape by road or sea.”

17

    No.93 opened his eyes and staring straight ahead focused his mind on nothing, nothing at all, but on the wall screen the square moved forward on its line.
    “Now we come to the truth of the matter. But you were mistaken in this thinking weren’t you?”
    The circle on the screen moved forward again.
    “Please let us have the truth” the manager said.
    The square moved forward on its lines towards the forehead of the subject, then both circle and square moved backwards, then forwards again in synchronization until they met at a point and merged into the mind of the subject.

   93 collapsed in his chair!
   
    The next day No.93 was busy in the motor pool changing a tyre of the Mini-Mokes, he was being watched not by the supervisor, but by No.2 on the wall screen in his office.
    “I think he’ll settle down” No.2 said.
    “You think so?” his assistant said giving his superior a sideways glance.
    “He seems happy in his work.”
    “That could be a façade.”
    “You mean he’s attempting to put us to sleep.”
    “What do you want me to do, bring him in for questioning?”
    “I don’t want you to do anything” No.2 said sternly “let the man be, he’ll settle down all of his own accord.”
    Tea’s up No.63 announced. No.93 wiped his hands on a cloth and went to join his two fellow mechanics for a tea break.
    “When you’ve finished changing that tyre Ninety-three one of the jet boats has developed an engine fault, go over and sort it out would you” the foreman said.
    “Righto.”

    Two days later……

    It was a beautiful morning and No.2 had decided to stretch his legs, he wound the old school scarf around his neck and shoulders, picked up the umbrella shooting stick, and left the Green Dome making his way to the maintenance shed.

    He stood in the open doorway watching those at work, he was observed by the foreman, a middle aged man in cap and overalls.
    “Number Two, what can we do for you?”
    “Nothing really, I’m just stretching my legs, getting my bearings. This is the maintenance shed.”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Good” he said stepping into the building “why is that taxi here?”

18


    “A problem with the engine, suspected blocked fuel line” the foreman said.
    “Well sort it out, can’t have a taxi off the road you know.”
    “Yes sir, my best man is on the job now.”
    No.2 walked over to the taxi where No.93 was working under the bonnet, he bent over “What’s the problem?”
    93 looked at the man who had put his head under the bonnet, he was surprised to see it was No.2 “It won’t start, suspected blocked fuel line.”
    “Might be the carburettor” No.2 suggested standing upright he leaned his shooting stick by the Mini-Moke, removed his scarf and blazer and rolled up his sleeves “May I?” he asked picking up a spanner.
    “Be my guest.”
    “Don’t look so worried, I’m a bit of a dab hand when it comes to mechanics myself, I once built my own Lotus Seven, I knew every nut, bolt and cog” No.2 said getting to work.

    The two men got their heads together under the bonnet putting a spanner to the carburettor.

    “If you are thinking of attempting escape by Mini-Moke let me assure you that all roads lead back to the Village!” No.2 told him.
    “What?”
    “And I can tell you it’s not much better by sea.”
    “Why, why are you talking like this….you’re trying to trap me!”
    “I could help you.”
    “Why should you help me?”
    A few moments later the two men emerged from under the bonnet, No.2 had the carburettor in hand, he blew into a tiny jet.
    “That should do it” he said and the two men put their heads back under the bonnet to replace the part.
    “We haven’t got long, I don’t want to attract the attention of the foreman” No.2 said.
    “Wh…what?”
    “You are not happy here ninety-three?”
    “In the motor pool….I’m happy enough.”
    “In the Village I mean.”
    “Why do you care?”
    These few words brought back a memory “Why do you care? I know your voice. I’ve been here before, why do you care?”
    “I, I don’t, just get on with your work and you will do well” No.2 said donning his blazer and scarf once more.

    The butler was employed with putting out the afternoon tea things. The pair of steel doors slid open and No.21 walked smartly down the ramp and approached the desk.

    “I’m just about to have afternoon tea Twenty-one, would you care for a cup?”
    The butler was already pouring out two cup of tea, adding milk and 
sugar to one and a slice of lemon to the other., then wheeled his trolley across the floor, up the ramp and out through the opening steel doors.

19


    No.21 picked up his cup and saucer and stirred his tea “You went to the motor pool….to see Number Ninety-three?”
    “We have something in common.”
    “Really.”
    “Mechanics” No.2 said sipping his tea.

    “Is he going to try and escape do you think?”
    “In my opinion yes, his spirit’s broken.”

    “Then we’ll be ready for him, which do you think by land or by sea?”

    “Neither, he’ll find another way.”
    “Is there another way?”
    “There’s always another way.”
    “But you of all people will not be too hard on him!”
    “Drink your tea Twenty-one.”

   The day was sunny and warm, ordinarily citizens would be down on the beach either sunbathing, playing beach ball, paddling in the gullies of water left by the outdoing tide, or building sandcastles. However today the tide was in as it had been for the past three days which as it happens gave the village added security. Someone might attempt an escape along the beach, but they could hardly walk on water, although one citizen was enjoying himself water skiing. No.49 was at the helm of the jet boat as it powered through the waves of the estuary with the water skier towed behind performing all manner of skilful tricks. That is until the engine of the jet boat spluttered, coughed, and died leaving the jet boat dead in the water, and the water skier floundering.
   In the control room an Observer had been watching her monitor as a surveillance camera made a sweep over the estuary, and had observed the boat floating in the water.
   “Supervisor, one of the jet boats has broken down and is now adrift in the estuary.”
   “Let’s have it on the screen” the Supervisor said.
   At the press of a button the large wall screen came to life.
    “Get in closer on the boat” the Supervisor ordered.
    A camera zoomed in on the boat just in time to see the crewman helping the man out of the water, along with his ski, into the boat. Then the crewman uncovered the engine and began to tinker with it.
    “Better send out the other boat with a mechanic onboard” the Supervisor told his assistant.
    “Right sir” No.60 said picking up the yellow ‘L’ shaped telephone     “Put me through to maintenance…..maintenance control room here. One of the jet boats has developed an engine fault, send a motor 
mechanic to retrieve boat and two people.”

20


    No.93 and another mechanic set out to the aid of the broken down boat in the second jet boat. The boatman and water skier were helped into the rescue boat, while 93 went aboard to try and start the engine.
   “I’ll throw you a rope and I’ll tow you in” No.125 offered.
   “It’s alright” 93 said lifting the engine cowling “I bet it’s the plugs, this won’t take a minute or two, you head back to shore.”

    The second jet boat skimmed across the waves back towards the village and the slipway.

    In the control room the supervisor and his assistant stood watching the scene play out on the wall screen.

    “I wonder why he refused the tow.” No.60 asked.
    “I don’t know” the supervisor replied picking up the yellow ‘L’ shaped telephone “Number 2.”
    No.2 was sat behind his desk studying a number of confidential files when the yellow ‘L’ shaped telephone began to bleep. He put down the file on village protocols and picked up the telephone.
    “Number Two here.”
    “Supervisor here sir, there is a stranded jet boat in the estuary.”
    “What do you want me to do about it? Send the second boat and have it towed back to shore.”
    “We did that, but Number Ninety-three refused the tow. He’s working on the engine of the boat as we speak.”
    “Who did you say?”
    “Number Ninety-three.”
    No.2 leaned forward and looked at the buttons on the control panel his finger poised, but which one to press “Switch me in” he said.
   The wall screen came to life and there was No.93 aboard the jet boat busy working on the engine.
    “It seems alright” No.2 said.
    Then he watched as 93 dropped the cowling over the engine, and taking the helm started the engine and steered a course for the mouth of the estuary and towards the open sea beyond. Just at that moment the pair of steel doors opened and No.21 walked smartly down the ramp.
    “Anything wrong sir?”
    “Ninety-three is aboard a jet boat and heading for the open sea!”
    Orange alert seems the obvious choice of command” 21 suggested.
    “That will not work” No.2 said “believe me I’ve had personal experience, for the Guardian to be effective Ninety-three needs to be in the water. The helicopter could give chase.”
    “The helicopter left the Village twenty minutes ago sir.”
    On the telephone the supervisor asked for instructions.
    “There is always EDS” 21 suggested.
    “EDS what’s that?”
    “Electronic Defence System, known by the simpler title of the Beam.”

   “Supervisor, deploy the Beam” No.2 instructed.

21


    “Very well sir, maximum strength?” the supervisor asked.
    No.2 put his hand over the speaker of the telephone “Beam set at hellfire?”
    “No, we don’t want the boat to explode, maximum strength should be adequate” 21 responded.
    All the time the jet boat was getting further away from the village.
    “Supervisor, Beam maximum strength.”
    The supervisor passed the word to an operator, and at the touch of a button the top of the flagpole lifted clear and a steel rod rose up and at a 45 degree angle transmitted a signal across the estuary. No.93 was approaching the mouth of the estuary by this time, he glanced over his shoulder, there was no sign of a pursuit boat nor of the helicopter, and no appearance of the Guardian. But then the engine began to splutter then it died. In desperation he turned the ignition key, nothing! Leaving the helm he lifted the engine cowling and set to work on the engine.
   No.2 sat watching the wall screen and 93 aboard the drifting boat “We can’t leave him there, perhaps we should send M. S. Polotska to go to Ninety-three’s aid.”
    No.21 smiled, “He’s beginning to get it” he thought to himself.
    No.2 picked up the ‘L’ shaped telephone “Control room…….control room, tell the crew of M. S. Polotska to go to the aid of Number Ninety-three.”
    The radio crackled into life, Ernst picked up the mouthpiece and gave the recognition signal. A voice over the speaker gave Ernst and Gunter their instructions “A mariner in a small jet boat is in distress, go to his aid immediately.”

    “Okay, will do” Ernst said.

    Gunter at the wheel turned hard to port, steering the motor ship towards the mouth of the estuary. A search pattern was carried out in search of the small boat, then two points off the starboard beam….a man standing in a drifting boat waving his arms in the air. M. S. Polotska pulled alongside, Ernst threw a line to the stranded mariner who made the rope fast, and then was helped aboard the motor cruiser.
    “Thank you” 93 said entering the wheelhouse “You don’t know how good it is to see you.”
    “You must be relieved” a voice said.
    93 spun round to see the familiar face of No.2 sat in his black global chair on the television screen.
    “We could see you were in distress, cast adrift and in need of rescue!” No.2 said.
    93 looked about him; he saw a heavy glass ashtray and moved a hand towards it.
    “I shouldn’t if I were you, deliberate destruction of official property could result in a fine, possibly imprisonment” No.2 warned.

22

    Before he could throw the ashtray 93 was held in a sudden strong grip and restrained as M. S. Polotska was steered on a course along the estuary towards the village.
   

23

 

Thursday, 8 September 2022

A New No.2 - Chapter 2

                                                                  Chapter 2 

A New No.2

    No.6 is taken back along the same passage way which had led to the Embryo Room only the week before. Standing on the dais the supervisor and No.6 were raised up through the ceiling and up through the floor into the purpled wall chamber of the Green Dome. The butler also raised up through the floor, stepping off the disc he made his way across the floor, up the ramp, and out though the opening pair of steel doors watched by No.6. From a blazer pocket the supervisor produced a white badge and pinned it on a lapel of the now permanent No.2’s piped blazer, then picked up the red ‘L’ shaped telephone handing it to No.2.
    “It will be for you.”
    The pair of steel doors opened and the diminutive butler returned wheeling the breakfast trolley down the ramp. He approaches the desk, watched by No.2 and the supervisor, and presses two buttons on the control panel of the desk. A disc in the floor slides away and a small table rises up through the hole in the floor, upon which he sets out the tea things for the new interim No.2’s elevenses. And a black global chair rises up behind the grey curved desk. In the chair an umbrella shooting stick, and draped over it the old college scarf.
   “I shall leave you to your inner sanctum sir” the bald-headed spectacled supervisor said “if you want to know anything just press a button.”
   “No time for tea?”
   “Tea, no thank you.”
   The steel doors slid open, the supervisor paused at the top of the ramp and looked back “I’ll be seeing you.”
    The butler looked up at his new master, who looked down upon him the expression on 2’s face was that of a lost child wondering what 
to do next. The butler bowed and wheeled his trolley across the floor, up the ramp and through the opening doors. No.2 looked at the telephone held in his hand, he pressed the chrome square button on the telephone “Number 2 here………..your ways and means are somewhat on the brutal side, did it have to be like that?.........but why? Because it had to be one or the other…………..he was a good man but if you got me you thought I would be better, is that it?.........And YOU think that makes it right?....................He didn’t deserve to die like that...........was it the drink?..............Any more questions……….yes I have one, when do I leave?......................

    The new interim No.2 sat in the black global chair pressing a variety of buttons on the control panel of the desk. A number of views of the village were brought up on the large wall screen, the interior of the control room appeared on the screen and the council chamber, then the swimming pool, the Old People’s Home.

6


    The pair of blast proof steel doors slid open and the tall fair-haired figure of No.21 of administration walked smartly down the ramp, the steel doors closing behind him, and approached the grey desk.

    No.2 looked up at the man now standing at his desk “What do you want?”
    “To help sir, I’m assigned as your assistant. Shall I be mother?” he asked, and began to pour out two cups of tea.
    “No-one mentioned you!”
    No.21 added milk and sugar to both cups, and gave an awkward smile “Nevertheless here I am sir” he said offering his superior cup and saucer.
    “Well you can go away again!” No.2 told him taking his cup and saucer.
    “I shouldn’t take that attitude if I were you.”
    “But you’re not me!”
    “I realise that sir, but there may come a time when you’ll need all the friends you can get. And speaking of friends, I take it you are attending the funeral this afternoon.”
    “Funeral?” No.2 asked stirring his tea.
    “Of your predecessor” No.21 said drinking his tea.
    “I don’t know, should I?”
    “You became friends.”
    “Hardly that” No.2 said drinking his tea.
    “Comrades in the common struggle.”
    “Certainly not!”
    “Two men locked together in the same struggle. He died while you succeeded.”
    “He brought it on himself.”
    “He hardly had a choice in the matter.”
    “What time is the funeral?”
    “One o’clock” 21 replied.
    “And the helicopter?”
    “Helicopter sir?”
    “Yes the helicopter, when does that arrive?”
    “Two o’clock sir as usual” his assistant replied.
    “I have to go out” No.2 informed his assistant, placing his cup and saucer on the desk.
    “There is an administrative meeting in three quarters of an hour sir, which you should attend being Chairman.”
    “Plenty of time, I’m just going to the Round House to collect a few personal things.”                                                                                                   
    “That won’t be necessary sir.”
    “What do you mean, are you questioning my authority Number 21?”
    “No sir, not at all” 21 replied “It’s just that your personal possessions have been removed, and the Round House emptied, and

is already being restructured inside in readiness for its new occupant.”
    “I see.”

   “You do see. I will have your personal possessions brought to you, and your administrative uniform delivered in readiness for the meeting sir, in any case you’ll need it for the funeral this afternoon. And if I may suggest sir.”

7

    “Yes” No.2 said calmly.
    “A change of uniform sir, your present attire is hardly becoming to a man in your situation.”

    There came a far away looking in No.2’s eyes as though he was trying to remember “I recall one of my predecessors wearing this uniform, on my second day here.
    “Yes, and see how long he lasted!” No.21 quipped.
    “What do you suggest?”
    “A grey polo neck jersey, light grey flannel trousers, and a clean cut  single breasted plain blazer. If that’s all sir.”
    “Yes.”
    “Be seeing you” No.21 smartly saluted, then turned smartly on his heels and walked across the floor, up the ramp and out through the opening steel doors. The interim No.2 poured himself a second cup of tea; it would seem his new position was a fait accompli leaving him with no option but to accept it…………for the time being.

    About an hour later No.21, now dressed in black Top Hat, and overcoat returned with a change of clothes for No.2, consisting of Top Hat, black suit, overcoat, tie, white shirt and black shoes. Together they made their way down to the underground tunnels and along to the Town Hall. The new No.2 was shown along a corridor which he recognized, and into a room which would become his living quarters.
    “Don’t I get a cottage?” No.2 asked.
    “A cottage, don’t be daft, this is where you live now.”
    The room had been redecorated and refurnished several times since he was last in it. Now it was decorated out as his own study, and draped over one armchair was the uniform of No.2.
    “We do our best to make each incumbent Number 2 at home. Now if you will get changed Number 2 we have a meeting to attend in a few minutes.

    Making their way along an underground passageway they arrived at a pair of doors marked ADMINISTRATION. Two Snowdrop military policemen in white helmets, gloves, boots and grey overalls stood either side. No.21 flashed his identity at one of the guards and passed through the opening doors. No.2 made to follow but suddenly a guard raised his white truncheon and pressed it against No.2’s chest effectively stopping from entering the chamber.

    “He wants to see your identity card” No.21 said.
    “But I’m Number Two” he said tapping the white badge on his lapel.
    “Anyone can wear a badge, he probably remembers you from that time during the Speed Learn experiment, he was one of the guards you attacked!”

   No.2 rummaged in the pockets of his overcoat, he found an identity card, showed it to the security guard, and satisfied, the truncheon was removed from his chest allowing egress into the chamber.

8


    The pair of doors closed and No.2 found himself in a large orange walled domed chamber. There was a large round baize topped doughnut shaped table made up of nine curved segments at which seven administrators sat, there were also two vacant chairs. No.2’s attention was taken by the almost Masonic looking highchair with its blue all seeing eye, and yet with its sharp pointed lines and “dazzle” effect paintwork gave it the impression of German expressionist films of the 1920's. There was a set of steps either side leading up to the chair, No.2 walked towards them watched closely by the seven members of administration, but before he could put a foot on the first step No.21 took No.2 by the arm and led him to a chair at the table and sat him and himself down.
   “Gentlemen, I’m sure you will join me in welcoming our new Chief Administrator to this committee.”
   This brought about a round of applause from the committee members. No.21 said unzipping his black leather document case and removing two sheets of paper and rising out of his chair “I’m sure this will not take long, so with your permission Number Two……”
    No.2 simply waved a hand.
    “There is a question which must be ratified.”
    “Questions are a burden to others” No.2 said.
    All eyes turned upon the Chief Administrator.
    “……….answers a prison for oneself” he added.”
    “Well quite” said No.21.
    “I have a question” No.2 said.
    Some of the seven top hat administers lowered and shook their heads.
    “What is your question?” 21 asked.
    “Being the new boy, could someone explain how this works?” No.2 asked.
    “Being Chief Administrator means you are responsible for the decisions we make” 21 began “generally on a day to day footing the administration runs itself as well as the Village. However from time to time situations arise which require such meetings as these, in this particular instance the ratification of the question as to whether or not a set of stocks or pillory should be placed in the square.”
    “Stocks, you want to put stocks in the village square?”
    “And a pillory” 21 added.
    “Why?” No.2 said.

    “But what better way to bring a recalcitrant citizen or citizens to heel, when other methods have failed, but by a spell in the stocks to be ridiculed, pilloried, and pelted with rotten fruit and veg by their fellow citizens. The humiliation for the victim would be intolerable!”

    “That’s ridiculous” No.2 said.

    No.234 stood up “Perhaps with the Chairman’s previous experience of life here in the village as a former prisoner, he would endow this committee with his invaluable incite.”

   No.234 saw he had made a mistake and sat down.
    “Don’t worry old boy” No.245 whispered “We all have to make mistakes, sometimes we have to, like putting an inmate in charge of 
the asylum!”

9

    No.21 stood up “Confidentially I’m sure if we show confidence in our new Chief administrator it will give him confidence to have confidence in us.”

    The meeting continued for another hour, much was said and discussed, and decisions made. If No.2 thought he would make changes to the village from within the system it was made plain to him that such a move would take time.
    No.2 glanced at his wristwatch “Is there any more business?”
    “No Number Two, we thought to ease you into your new position. However if you will accompany me, I shall give you the grand tour.”
    “Tour?”
    “Yes, I’ll show you around the rest of the Town Hall, and take you along to the control room to introduce you to its workings.”
    No.2 glanced at his watch again.
    No.21 noticed this action “There’s plenty of time before the funeral Number Two” No.21 said leading the way out of the committee chamber.

    A pair of steel doors slid open, and No.21 lead the way through and onto a gantry.
    “This then in the nerve centre of the village.”
    No.2 stood at the railing as the bald-headed supervisor-No.26 stood looking up at the two men dressed in black overcoats and top hats looking down at him.
    “It’s alright supervisor, just giving the new Number two the grand tour, showing him how it all works” his assistant explained.
    The supervisor nodded.
    No.2 looked down at the number of personnel sat at their monitors
    “They are the Observers.”
    “I was once told they see and hear everything” No.2 said.
    “Do they really, I shouldn’t have thought so.”
    “And the steel see-saw device?”
    “Two more Observers sit on either end, and the motion of the see-saw helps prolongs the attention time of the Observers at their monitors.”
    No.2 stood looking about the domed chamber; suddenly the large

wall screen was activated. A surveillance camera panned across the wide expanse of sand, then zoomed in on a young man far out on the beach and striding out towards the island in the middle of the estuary. Zooming out and panning again the camera picked up the amorphous white sphere of the Guardian which appeared rolling and bounding across the sand towards its intended victim. No.89 began to run, he threw his haversack away and concentrated on the island about 100 yards ahead of him, he wouldn’t make it, as the white sphere announced its presence with a loud noise crossed between something like a bicycle pump, someone breathing through an aqualung, and Gregorian chant. And then it was upon him, hitting his shoulder and sending him stumbling to ground. He got to his feet again, but his feet stuck in the soft sand and as he stumbled again the Guardian was on him in an instant. He clawed at the membrane coving his face, his lungs burned for lack of oxygen as he fought to breathe. Then his fingers relaxed, and he fell back on the sand unconscious. Seconds later a white Mini-Moke towing a canopied Red Cross trailer arrived on the scene, The Guardian backed away as a medic and nurse jumped out of the ambulance and approached the body lying on the sand.

10

   No.2 watched on the wall screen while the nurse administered a hypodermic needle into the patient’s wrist, the body then laid on a stretcher and carried to the ambulance. 
    “I trust that was not for my benefit” No.2 said looking down at the supervisor.
    “No sir, we have been keeping an eye on Number Eighty-nine, it was only a matter of time before he attempted something like that” the supervisor replied from the floor.
    “What do you want done with him?” No.21 asked.
    No.2 turned to his assistant “Done with him?”
    “Yes.”
    “He’s had a nasty shock, have him taken to the hospital.”
    “Yes sir, will you observe his interrogation?”
    No.2 glanced again at his watch.
    “Oh of course you have a funeral to attend” No.21 said “everything has been properly organized; we are used to organizing things.”
    “I bet you are!” No.2 said bitterly.

    The funeral cortège consisting of a white Mini-Moke with a black and white striped canopy acted as a hearse, towing behind it a black canopied trailer with the coffin containing the body of the late No.2. A brass band, two undertakers, a group of citizens with black umbrellas, and No.2 wearing his black overcoat and top hat, assembled in the cobbled square. The cortege moved slowly through the village to the music of the Radetzky March. Here and there citizens stood in silence and bowed their heads in respect for a respected former leader. The hearse led the way through the streets, passed the café, round by the taxi rank and then up into the woods towards the cemetery. Two grave diggers had been busy digging a plain ordinary grave, a long deep hole in the ground befitting anyone, yet distinctly un-grandiose for a former Chief Administrator of the village. The hearse arrived by the graveside, the two undertakes, aided by the two grave diggers, lifted the coffin out of the hearse and lowered it into the grave. No.2 stood observing the ritual, not that there was any form of ritual, no words spoken over the grave, no respect shown to someone who had given his life for the cause. The hearse was driven away, the brass band returned to the village, and the few citizens who had attended the funeral had not lingered for long. Although it did seem those few citizens were there simply for show. No.2 stood alone at the graveside as the two grave diggers began to back fill the hole in the ground, because basically that is what it was and nothing more. The body might lay there decomposing and rotting, but the essence of the man he had known, who had almost become a friend in the course of their former deliberations back in that Embryo Room, was somewhere else No.2 thought raising his face to the sky, somewhere on a different plain…..an aeroplane high in the sky leaving its vapour trailing behind, finally, a sign of his former World and after all this time.

 11

   No.2 returned to his room in the Town Hall and changed into his attire of grey polo neck jersey, grey flannel trousers, and single breasted plain dark blazer. He wound the old college scarf about his neck, picked up the umbrella shooting stick and made his way out of the Town Hall. Standing on the steps he checked his watch, it was a little before two o’clock.
    “He might look the part, but he’s not fitting into the role of Number Two” the supervisor commented as he watched his superior on the wall screen.
    “It must be difficult for him, strange to find himself in charge of the prison after having been its prize inmate” No.21 replied.
    “I’ve never known any Number Two to simply go for a stroll like that, what’s he up to?”
    “The helicopter is due isn’t it?”
    “Yes.”
    “I have the helicopter on radar now sir” reported the radar operator.
    “You don’t think….” suggested the supervisor.
    “Well he has the authority, but do we let him get away with it, and clear of the village?” No.21 asked.
    They stood looking at each other, wondering, and then back at the screen as No.2 walked nonchalantly down the hill towards the Old People’s Home.
    The silver grey Alouette helicopter approached the village from over the hills, flew across the estuary and made its approach to land on the lawn by the sea wall watched closely by No.2. The engine stopped, the rotor blades still turned but slowing. No.2 crossed the lawn towards the helicopter, the pilot opened the cabin door. Then a white Mini-Moke towing a Red Cross trailer arrived on the scene. Two medics 
climbed out, took a stretched from the trailer and hurried towards the helicopter.

   “Excuse us Number Two” one medic said as they brushed passed.
   The stretcher was laid on the grass and the two medics helped the pilot take the slim figure of a woman out of the Perspex cabin and lie it onto the stretcher which was then carried across the lawn to the ambulance.
    “It was good of you to come Number Two, but really there wasn’t any need, she’s not that important” No.21 said watching the young woman being placed in the trailer.
   No.2 turned to watch the helicopter pilot close the cabin door and make a few safety checks.
   “I needed the walk, to help clear my mind after the funeral” No.2 told his assistant.
   “Can I offer you a lift back sir?”
   “Yes……yes you can” No.2 said with confidence.

12

 

    A small crowd had gathered in the village square, they were laughing, jeering, and throwing things.

    “Well that went well!”
    “You think so, we insulted the man!”
    “I know, but do we deserve such treatment as this?”
    A soft tomato struck one man full in the face quickly followed by two eggs, and a wet lettuce.
    “Oi stop that, don’t you know who we are?” said the man in a black coat sat in the stock, his top hat knocked off by the throwing of a cabbage.
    The crowd laughed, jeered, and ridiculed the two Top Hat officials, pelting them with rotten fruit all the more because they knew who the two men were.
    “Its alright for you, at least you’re sat down!” No.245 said as someone stepped forward and smashed a rotten egg and smeared it all over his face and head.
   And so it was the whole day for the two officials, one sat in the stocks and stood pilloried, peppered with Brussel sprouts, rotten fruit and worse by the citizens of the community.

 13


Monday, 5 September 2022

The Prisoner - A New No.2 Chapter 1

 

The right of David Stimpson to be identified

as the author of this work has been asserted by

him in accordance with copyright, Design and

patent act 1988.

All rights are reserved. No part of this publication

may be produced in any form or by means – graphic,

electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, without

the prior permission, in writing, of the publisher.

 

The Prisoner – A New No.2’ is published under the banner of “Fan Fiction” which means the promotion of ‘the Prisoner’ from which no money will be earned.


Chapter 1


Once Upon A Time

 

    Through the open steels doors the butler pushes a breakfast trolley, then sets the breakfast things out on the table. The black spherical chair rises up through the floor with the white amorphous Guardian in it. The portly figure of No.2, standing on a round disc, rises up through the floor. The Butler makes to leave.

    “Wait, remove it!” No.2 orders.
    The butler begins to place the breakfast things back on the trolley.
    On the telephone No.2 tells No.1 “And you can remove that thing too, I’m not an inmate.”
    “The coffee leave it!” No.2 bellows at the butler “how many times do I have to ask?”

    The chair and the Guardian descend through the floor.
    No.6 is a likely lad, but why does he care. Picking up the yellow ‘L’ shaped telephone No.2 asks the operator to put him through to No.6.
    “Why do you care?”
    “I know your voice.”
    “I’ve been here before, why do you care?”
    “You’ll never know!”

    Having gone through No.6’s file, and a review of No.6’s activities in the Village since his arrival No.2 picks up the red ‘L’ shaped telephone “Degree absolute, I require approval, I am a good man, I was a good man. But if you want him he will be better, and there’s no other way, I repeat no other way.”

    Check profundity
    “1….2….3…4….5…6 first waveband clear” the supervisor announced.
    “Repeat and increase” No,.2 orders.
    “1…2…3…4….5….6 still clear.”
    “Third waveband slow and hold on 5.”
    “1…..2…..3…..4…..5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5.”
    “Safe enough.”
    “It’s a risk, I’d hate to see you go” the supervisor tells him.
    “Its all yours, for one week, get moving, Degree Absolute, operate!”
    No.2 passes out through the opening steel doors

    No.2 and No.6 enter the Embryo Room, in which life can be lived from the cradle to the grave. The diminutive butler is there in a baby’s play pen playing with a rattle. It seems No.2 has brought it on himself, who knows. He flicks a switch closing the door. He sets the time of the countdown clock, pulls on a cord and closes the curtains over the clock.

1


   “Come ahead son, let’s see what you’re made of, find out what’s in that noddle of yours.
   “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players, they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts.”
   “A, find missing link, when I have found it I shall refine it and tune it, and you will play our game.

   “B put it together, and if I fail then BANG!"

    School, and in the headmasters study the headmaster is playing the harmonium.
   “You were talking in class.”
   “No sir.”
   “You refuse to admit it.”
    “I wasn’t sir” the pupil pleads.
    “Do you know who it was?” the headmaster asks.
    “Yes sir.”
    “Who was it?”
    The pupil remains silent.
    “This is the ninth day since the incident, you have been in my study every morning at this time and you still refuse to co-operate. Today is your last chance, wasn’t you?”
    “No sir.” “You know who it was?”
    Again the pupil remains silent
    “That is cowardice” barks the headmaster.
    “That’s honour sir.”
    “We don’t talk about such things” the headmaster tells him.
    “You should teach it sir.”
    “You’re a fool” the headmaster tells his pupil.
    “Yes sir, not a rat.”
    “Rat?” questions the headmaster.
    “Rat.”
    “I’m a rat?” barks the headmaster.
    “No, I’m a fool, not a rat!”
       The boy must conform, it is the duty of the headmaster to see that he does conform, he must not grow up to be a lone wolf, and offers six of the best as punishment. The pupil suggests 12, 12 so that he can remember.

    A fencing lesson.
    “That’s my boy” the coach says enthusiastically “That’s my boy, touché! Light and easy young man, no muscle just finesse. Good nice and easy. Good but you ran mustn’t run young man. Don’t hit and run. Don’t treat it as a game young man. You’re the champ kill, kill, kill” the coach lunges with epee. But the pupil whips the coach’s epee out of his hand and stands with the point of his epee at the coach.
    “Now…KILL!” the coach orders his face dripping with sweat.
    No.2 backs to the door the covered tip of No.6’s epee at his throat.
    “Afraid to prove you’re a man, your resignation was cowardice  
wasn’t it.”

2

    No.6 lunges with his epee missing its target and hitting the door, he lunges a second time, but now the rubber safety cap has come away from the tip of the epee.
    “Kill!” Go on you’re the champ boy, you can do it all boy” No.2 goads him “”you’re the one man band, You won’t step over the threshold because you’re scared. Go on, kill!”
    The Prisoner screams, lunges forward plunging the tip of the epee into his opponents shoulder.
    No.2 puts a hand to his wound “You missed boy, you still can’t do it.”
    The Prisoner’s sorry, but then he’s sorry for everybody, is that why he resigned?

    Recruited by British Military Intelligence No.6 is given a job of a confidential nature, international state business.
    “Tell me” the High Court Judge demands.
    “Can’t” the defendant tells him.
    “Tell me.”

    “Such business is above the law.”
    “Above the law!” barks the Judge.
    “Tell me.”
    “Never!”
    “You’re guilty” the Judge pronounces.
    “Yes.”
    “Of speeding on the public highway. Unrestricted murder on the public highway. Thinks he knows it all, too fast! Why do you risk the murder of innocent human beings by exceeding the speed limit?”
    “I’m good at figures” mocks the defendant.
    “Don’t you like it?”
    “I’ll work any hours of the day.”
    “Fined twenty units” the judge pronounces.
    “I appeal” pleads the defendant.
    “What?”
    “I appeal.”
    “Not allowed.”
    “I can’t pay.”
    “Twenty units, nothing!”
    “Units are not for me” pleads the defendant.
    “You are a member of the village” shouts the Judge.
    “NO!”
    “You are a unit, of society” the Judge tells him.
    “No, no, no!” shouts the defendant.
    “Contempt, contempt of court!” orders the Judge.
    “I accept, I accept the ruling.”
    The Prisoner is sentenced to 6 days in jail, he was rebelling you see, rebelling against the figures. But the Prisoner intends to appeal, appeal…he’s getting the same treatment as everyone else, but then 
that’s why he’s going to appeal!

3


    Through the bars of the cage No.2 asks No.6 why he resigned.
    “For peace.”
    “You resigned for peace?”
    “For peace of mind” the Prisoner tells him.
    “What?”
    “For peace of mind!”
    “Why?”
    “Because too many people know too much, I know too much about you!”

    Behold the clock, five minutes to go!
    No.2 desperately attempts to reset the clock, set to open on a new phase of their relationship that is if they are still there! Are they likely to move? Well its possible….somewhere sunny? The cage has built in bars, all self contained, kitchen, bathroom, air conditioning. Food supplies for six months, it even has a waste disposal unit, its detachable you see.
   No.2 pours himself a glass of wine or whisky.
   No.6 slams the cage door closed, locks it and gives the butler the key!
    Three minutes!
   No.2 is scared, he can’t take it. He doesn’t want No.6 to open the cage and go in, but he won’t come out either.
    Two minutes!
    The Butler unlocks the cage door, No.6 slides the door open, No.2 is free.

    No, he’s No.2.

    No, he’s number nothing!
    One minute thirty-five seconds as the countdown continues.
    “You resigned!”
    “I rejected!”
    “You accepted before you resigned.”
    “I rejected.”
    “Who?”
    “YOU!”

    All the King’s horses and all the King’s men will not put this No.2 together again!
    It’s not too late, for No.6, no for No.2!
    Six seconds
    “Six!” echoes No.6
    “Die Six” yells the Prisoner.
    5
    “Die”
    4
    “Die.”
   3
   Die!”

   2 No.2 takes a last drink of his whisky.
   “Diiiiieeee.”
    1

4


    “Die.”
    “Zero” croaks No.2.
    No.2’s heart stops beating and he collapses on the floor. No.6 feels for a pulse, but the man is dead. He leaves the cage, closes the door and locks it. The steel door opens and the bald-headed bespectacled figure of the supervisor-No.26 stands framed in the doorway.
    “Congratulations.”
    The door of the cage is closed and locked.
    “We shall need the body for evidence” The supervisor informs No.6.
    No.6 smashes his glass on the floor in a pique of anger.
    “What do you desire?” asks the supervisor.
    “Number 1.”
    “I’ll take you.”
    On the control panel of the clock the supervisor clicks a switch and the steel side of the cage lowers into place with a resounding clang, effectively sealing the deceased No.2 in his tomb. While No.6, the butler, and the supervisor leave the Embryo Room, the steel door closes behind them as they go to the tune of “Bah bah black sheep” with the rocking horse rocking, and the swing swinging…….

5


Wednesday, 31 August 2022

COMING SOON!!

     With the early success of ‘The Prisoner Variations,’ and the later one with ‘The Prisoner – Dusted Down,’ ‘A New Arrival, and ‘An Exercise In Logistics’ the author now brings you ‘The Prisoner – A New No.2’.

   All good stories begin with the words “Once Upon A time.” No.2 lies dead on the floor of the cage in the embryo room. No.6 has vanquished his opponent having survived the ultimate test. And yet there is no joy in his victory as it has cost the death of a man. No.2 was a good man, but now in No.6 they have someone who will be better.


   ‘A New No.2’ works on the principle that ‘Once Upon A Time’ could have been the cliff-hanger to a 13 part first series of the Prisoner, in this I have been able to avoid the trial of ‘Fall Out’ and take the Prisoner in an altogether different direction!

   So with all good fairy tales beginning with ‘Once Upon A Time’ the first chapter is a short resume of that episode. No.2 lies dead on the floor in the cage. The Supervisor having entered the embryo room asks No.6 what it is he wants?
   “No.1.”
   “I’ll take you.”
  However No.6 is not escorted to a cavern somewhere beneath the Village, but to the Green Dome. No.2 was a good man, but in having survived the ultimate test THEY have got a man who will be better! Now promoted to the position of a new No.2, the former No.6 must adapt to change, accept, and learn to take to his new responsibility of the Village and its citizens. If there’s anything he wants to know all he has to do is press a button! There is no question of escape, no possibility of bringing down the system from within. How will our former friend No.6 take to his new role as Chief Administrator of the village?

       The novel to be published on my blog two chapters will be published each week on Monday’s and Thursday’s commencing soon.

   ‘The Prisoner – A New No.2’ is published under the banner of “Fan Fiction” from which no money will be earned.

Be seeing you