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hose previously marketed； is that the analogue frequency remains fixed； with the result that no two listeners experience the same image patterns。
Regular readers will recall the brilliant article by Sir John Rimmer； Telepathy： Food for Thought Unfit for Human Consumption？； which explained that telepathy is impossible between most humans due to the unique （fingerprint） brain frequencies of each separate individual； telepathy being only conclusively proved between identical twins who share the same alpha and beta brain…patterns。
Thus a system broadcasting upon a single fixed frequency can only offer you the opportunity to play Russian roulette with your brain。
So not one for the Christmas stocking； kiddies。 High Tech Review 27。7。93
Dalai Dan wormed the small plastic beads from his ears。 Sickly yellow gobs of unappealing wax now clung to them。 He touched a sensor and wrenched the jack from its socket。 Two minutes and twenty…two seconds； or it could have been several lifetimes。 It was all the same in there。 He reached out for the highball glass and missed。 His brain was still vibrating and he had no sense of perspective。 The room before him was a flat canvas。 To the left of the picture a door vanished sideways and the cut…out of a woman swelled to enpass the greater part of the room。 Yet she appeared to get no closer。 Most curious。
Gloria gazed into the face of the God King。 'That is disgusting；' said she； I've seen you do some pretty revolting things； but both pupils in one eye； that's a new low； even for you。'
Dan blinked violently and rubbed at his eyes。 'Mirror！ Mirror！' Gloria delved into her sharkskin handbag and brought out the vanity。 The flat room vanished to be replaced by Dan's flat face。 His right eye was blank and white。 His left。。。 'Goddamn；' howled the high lama； 'what have I done？'
'By the smell of you； you've done your underwear。'
'No control of bodily functions in there。'
'Ah。' Gloria understood。 'You've been in the holophon。 You will kill yourself in there。 Don't e crying to me when you do。'
'Oh； ha bloody ha ha。 My eyes； woman。'
Gloria sighed。 'You jacked out of the system before it closed。 If you must persist with this madness； you really should read the instructional manual。 You'll be all right in a minute or two。'
'Hand me my glass。' Gloria pressed it into the shaking hand and closed the fingers。
'What were you playing anyway？'
'Classical music。 Black disc。'
Gloria raised a manicured eyebrow。 'A vinyl recording； you've got one of those？'
'Circa 1950 something。'
'Elizabethan。 How did you e by that？ Those things are almost。。。'
'Icons？ This one was。。。'
Gloria's flat face left the picture。 Dan tried to turn his head but the effort made him giddy。 Gloria bent over the holophon。 Beneath the squat dome upon the system's deck lay the ancient seventy…eight； encased within a two…centimetre protectrite shell。 'Do you know what it says on the label？' Gloria asked。
'It is by SUN。' Dan clutched his skull。 'The script is old English。 I thought antiques were your speciality。'
Gloria lifted the dome and ran a finger reverently across the protectrite。 'And you've played it。 Heard it play。 Does it play？'
'Impressed； aren't you？ It plays； I've heard it。' Dan laughed painfully。 'I've experienced it。 You wouldn't believe what's in there。'
Gloria sniffed。 'Probably a fake。 I've seen more than one。'
'Check it out。'
Gloria did so。 Imprinted upon the protectrite was the seal of the Antiquities Federation。 'Goddamn；' said Gloria Mundi。
Dan ground at his eyes。 Normality was returning。 'So what do you want here； anyway？ e to get yourself laid？'
Gloria stuck her tongue out and made a face。 'Something has e up。 Something important。 Where did you get this？'
'None of your business。 What something has e up？'
Gloria closed the dome and turned upon the Dalai。 'She has been here again。'
'She？ What she is this？'
'The she who makes you wake up screaming。 The she you call Christeen。'
'Rubbish。' But they both knew it wasn't。
'We've got her on tape this time。'
'Interview is it？ Don't wind me up。'
'Not exactly。 Listen。。。' Gloria seated herself upon a Persian pouffe。 'I know we've had our differences in the past。。。'
'And in the present。 My precognitive senses advise me that the future looks no rosier。'
'You get right up my nose。' Gloria's knowledge of twentieth…century vernacular was impeccable。
'Please；' Dan grinned； 'I prefer the missionary position。'
'Clearly the matter is of no interest to you。 I shall be going。'
'Sit down。' It was a mand； not a request。 Gloria sat down。
'How many seconds of activity on the tape？'
'Thirteen。'
'The exact number of seconds that your brother was brain dead。'
'The same thirteen seconds。 What do you mean？ You knew about those gobshites torturing my brother。 You let it happen and did nothing until they killed him。'
Dan raised his eyes。 The pupils were correctly rehoused but appeared to be lit from within。 'I see everything； Gloria。 I am the Dalai Lama。'
'But you let them put my brother through that when you could have stopped it？'
'It was a controlled experiment。 Anyway； your brother is alive and kicking。' Dan touched the centre of his forehead and closed his eyes。 'No； correction； alive and shitting。 He is currently venting his bowels into your bidet。'
Gloria opened her mouth to release invective。 Dan held up his palm。
'Save it until you are alone。 I will hear it then。 All in all I don't think your brother has had an unsuccessful first day。 I think he deserves a little bonus。 Have him e up to see me tomorrow at ten sharp。 And Gloria…'
'Yes。'
'You can bugger off now。'
11
The term Universal Law is meaningless。 In universal terms no absolutes can possibly exist。 Each truth mankind discovers is inevitably modified by another which ultimately disproves it。 And bearing this in mind we turn to the vexed question in point。 'Do the Gods exist？' In universal terms the question is unanswerable because the word 'exist' has no absolute definition。
So to rephrase the question； 'In terms understandable to the human mind； do the Gods exist？' This is somewhat easier。 The answer is yes。 The Gods of men exist。 Whether the Gods that the great apes of Africa worship； when they dance beneath the full moon； exist； I don't know。 Whether the Fish God of the Sargasso to which the eels make their yearly pilgrimage exists； I don't know。 Whether the nameless winged spirit； to which all birds sing their hymns each dawn； exists； I can't say。 But the Gods of men； they are certainly real。 I know this because I have met one。 The Suburban Book of the Dead
Rex snored soundlessly in his battered armchair。 Before him the terminal flickered； the EYESPI scanning his sightless pupils and feeding points back to MOTHER。 Rex's expulsion from Gloria's apartments had been abrupt； undignified and sadly lacking in fond farewells。 His bodily functions had figured large in the tirade of abuse which had issued from his sister's mouth。 In fact her manner was so threatening that Rex considered it prudent to avoid the subject of her bed； on to which he had recently thrown up。 The only thing that saved the evening for Rex was the kindness and camaraderie shown to him by the two security men who found him wandering； half…naked and drunk in equal part； about the maze of corridors。 They had fitted him out with a new radiation suit； loaded its pockets with beer and ciggies； made profuse their apologies for the little misunderstanding and finally flown him home to Odeon Towers。
Rex dreamt about the woman of his dreams。 The lady he had seen in his dying vision。 They were alone running through fields of tall waving brown stuff。 And they didn't have any clothes on。 Rex was dead peeved to be awoken by the violent rapping at his chamber door。
Mungo Madoc rarely slept。 Being the product of some pretty snazzy genetic engineering； he merely topped up his system every day with a cocktail of vitamins； proteins and things of that nature。 A tiny implant in the base of his skull calculated exactly which doses were required to maintain equilibrium and fed the data to a graft set into his left wrist。 Here the information appeared as a graphic readout。 Mungo merely followed the dictates of his wrist and swallowed whatever he was told。 And thus he ran on and on； much after the fashion of the well…oiled machine。
On this particular night Mungo's wrist was pleading for a mega dose of tranquillisers。 The wrist's owner was in a veritable fug。
'Erased？ Erased？' screamed Mungo。 'That is impossible。 Inconceivable。 Do you hear？' The less modified board members； who felt the need for their full eight hours' shut…eye； shuffled about in their jim…jams nodding and mumbling。
'It is sabotage；' cried Gryphus Garstang。
'It is iconoclasm；' agreed Lavinius Wisten。
'It is the end of civilisation as we know it；' Diogenes 'Dermot' Darbo pinched at his hooter。 'Oh yes； indeedy。'
'Shut up。' Mungo raised a shaking fist。 'Shaman。 Where is Fergus Shaman？'
Fergus cowered to the rear of the pyjama party。 'Here； sir。' He raised his hand。 Mungo grabbed it and hauled him forward。
'Shaman； an entire year has been erased。 I want it back； do you understand？'
During his many years on the board Fergus had managed to side…step many an impossible demand。 This time it didn't look all that simple。 'I。。。 how？' was about all he could muster at such short notice。
'I don't care how。 Just do it。'
'If I might just interject。' The voice belonged to Jason Morgawr。 Jason was tall； young； well…favoured in the face department； a genius in bio…genetics and founder of the Earthers Inc。 Amateur Dramatics Society。 The executive board hated him to a man。
'I regret；' said he； 'that it can't be done。 The virus has destroyed all the cells relating to the Earth year of 1958。 But surely this is the least of our problems。' Those who witnessed the look upon Mungo's face had it firmly ingrained into their memories from that day forth。
'Least of our problems？' roared Mungo Madoc。
'This sabotage was only discovered an hour ago； but it is clearly apparent that the virus is already spreading。 If it's not stopped it will continue to move forward。 It will eventually catch up with the present day。'
'What are you telling me？' Mungo sank into his chair。
'I am telling you that if it catches up with the present day we will go off the air。 The Earthers series will close down。' Mungo's mouth opened and closed and went on doing so。
Garstang turned upon Jason。 'Do you have a solution？'
'We can try to isolate the infected area； shut down all the cell systems surrounding it。'
'Then do it。 Do it。'
'We are trying。 But nothing like this has ever been attempted before。 The storage cells aren't separate units They all pose microcosms of the whole。 If we start tampering too much with them we have no idea what might happen。'
'And the saboteur？ Murderer？'
'All evidence points towards one Jovil Jspht。'
Fergus flinched。
'He was seen in the archives earlier today。 Showed a fake security pass and has since vanished without trace。'
'I know that name；' Mungo said。 'He's the maggot man； all those memos。'
'We'll track him down。' Gryphus made martial fists。 'I'll get my men on to it at once。'
'It could take years。' Mungo began to giggle most queerly。 'If he's gone off…world we may never find him。 Maggots。。。 maggots。。。'
Gryphus Garstang wasted very little time in assuming control。 He organized a search of Jovil's rooms； offered Jason unrestricted funding to search out a solution and summoned the house physician。 The now gibbering Mungo was led away。
'Gentlemen；' Gryphus addressed his troops。 'This is a crisis situation。'
12
。。。the God had been drinking heavily all day。 In my line of business； which is one of extortion； you get to see a lot of bars and you get to recognize the regular faces。 If you want to see your old age； you do So； I first notice the God in Fangio's on East 32nd I was collecting 'dues' A half hour later on West 13th I walk into Johnme's Bar and Grill and he is there also Then he is in Laughing