After some serious deliberation the students and plumbers decided that, for safety's sake, the Prime Minister needed to be hidden. After a lot of arguing, no one was willing to accept responsibility for babysitting the nation's leader. In the end, they drew straws and June ended up responsible for finding a hidey hole for the doughy idiot.
Sighing deeper than she'd ever sighed before, she led Prime Minister Brett Blandson through the darkened corridors of Trilobite Park. "If we can make it to the security office, that barbarian woman can look after you," she said.
"I've got nothing against the Barbarian people," the PM said, "they've made a wonderful addition to this great country, but did she arrive legally? Or at least illegally, but by plane?"
The sun was high over Wellington Road as the crowds gathered outside Trilobite Park, waiting for the doors to open for the first time. June Kim arrived a little later than she'd intended. In her eagerness for the opening, she'd almost left home without her briefcase, watch or shoes, and her mother had made her sit down and breathe deeply for ten minutes before letting June drive.
Now she was here, though – it was all happening! It was all real! The live trilobite aquarium was about to open. Look! Look at the news crews, all there for the occasion. Granted, some were trying to chase away a wild-eyed man in a white suit waving a 'UFO Survivors for 9/11 truth' banner, but -- news crews anyway. ...continue reading "Trilobite Park — Chapter 7: The Big Day Begins"
When the police arrived, Zorbar stopped stabbing a huge man in a gimp-mask and a DIY Barn apron, and scrambled up a Moreton Bay fig tree that had somehow survived the battle. From there he escaped along the line of plane trees in Hurley Road.
Other than that, most of the survivors surrendered fairly easily. Axel seemed barely aware when the police strapped him into a Lechter-gurney and affixed a hockey mask. Fiona was weeping in relief when she was bundled into the van, her guilt finally assuaged. Laura accepted the handcuffs with the bad grace of someone who knew she could tear the chains apart with a thought. ...continue reading "Do It Yourself — Chapter 72: Pyramid Scheme"
Ms Shan turned and wiped blood from her eye just in time to see the DIY Barn explode into flames. The fighting slowed to a halt for a moment, as the footsoldiers of both sides stopped to watch the flames rise towards the heavens. In the sudden stillness, Ms Shan could hear the approaching sound of sirens. Moments later, small pieces of burning roofing material began gently snowing down on South Hertling.
That should have been victory. That should have been the end of the fight. Barn gone. War over. It seemed obvious to her, but it was Ms Shan's blessing and curse always to be seeing what others could not.
A Barnling – just a retail person, not a silver guard – threw a punch at a distracted Pavilionite. And Belinda -- who had somehow gotten hold of one of Fanaka's superweapons – turned the Barnling into a pink mist with a push of a button. Then the giant lizard punched Bruce, and a silver guard punched Adam in the face and Fiona tried to drown what looked like some sort of war ogre, and before Ms Shan could demand the Barn's surrender the battle was on again. ...continue reading "Do It Yourself – Chapter 69: Red Mist"
Seamus the gnome awoke under the full moon, finding himself alive and well. He felt himself up and down for cracks or chips. He felt nothing at first, but noticed that the arm with which he was feeling was sore and stiff, and realised that it had been glued back on.
"Feckin' terrific," he said. "Sure and it's a hardware store here. Ye'd think there would be better glue."
"Oh, that's bloody gratitude."
Seamus looked up to see Wellsey lounging against a shelving unit full of trellises, and munching on a sandwich.
Wellsey leant against one of the pillars that held up the lofty roof of the Handy Pavilion and sighed deeply. It really was just one of those days. Marlon, leaning on the other side of the pillar, sighed even more deeply. From his jeans pocket he took a hip flask, took a swallow, and handed the bottle to Wellsey. Wellsey shook his head. Marlon shrugged, and slipped the flask away.
"You and Joyce got Valentine's Day plans?" Marlon said.
Something came hurtling over the nearest shelving unit. Part of a toilet? Something porcelain anyway. Both men ducked as it hit a nearby shelf, smashing a pile of paint cans, sending blue acrylic dripping to the floor.
Seamus the Gnome no longer made his life a secret. He couldn't really. There were just too many people in the garden section when the full moon rose and brought him to life. He just couldn't be bothered to hide himself from them any more. Besides, one of the late-night gardeners already knew him. Was that his name? Wellsey? Something like that
The old feller wore a plastic safety hat which some keen artist had painted in camouflage colours. He stood in the gap between the impatiens and the camellias, right next to a huge thing of cast iron and bamboo that looked somewhere between an ugly garden ornament and a surprisingly attractive anti-aircraft gun.
Beside Wellsey was a young woman, also in a hardhat, scanning the skies with a pair of binoculars. A young man was clearly also supposed to be watching the skies, but his work here was hindered by frequent breaks to look at the young woman.
"Saints preserve us, and what's going on here?" Seamus said.
Fanaka was beginning feel an attraction to Nalda. This bothered him. He wasn't a stupid man, after all. He was a physicist with advanced training in transtempero-dimensional topography, which is about as far from being stupid as you can get. And not being stupid, he knew perfectly well that Nalda was an emotionless, murderous cyborg. He knew that she wanted every human being dead. It was only her perspective as a time traveler that prevented a murderous rampage. From her point of view all humans were dead, she was just waiting for the world to catch up with her memories.
Even if he hadn't known that about her, sleeping on the sofa in her spare room had shown him quite a lot of warning signs. The impossibly neat piles of Soldier of Fortune magazine. The fact that no DVD in her collection didn't have a gun prominently displayed on the cover. The way her kitchen contained two dozen razor sharp knives but no food. None of these suggested a person with a lovable nature.
The skirmishing was over and war had come at last to the Handy Pavilion. Employees that had once arrived by bus or on foot were now in mandatory car pools. Safety in numbers. Every effort had been made to conceal from the public all the preparations for battle. Still, an observant customer might have noticed how the theft-prevention people on the door now focused their attention on the outside rather than inside; how the skylights all suddenly sported heavy iron grilles; how the woodwork demonstrations now seemed to produce nothing but baseball bats.
Axel Platzoff sat alone in the cramped little break room, building a matchstick model of the Riechstag and wondering about the role he would play in the coming conflict. He'd been involved in wars before. He was a veteran of wars of secrets, wars of infinities, invasions, civil wars and a seeming endless array of world crises. They were always hard. Hard on survivors, harder on the dead. ...continue reading "Do It Yourself: Chapter 46 — Farewell"