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t's there in the music。 We all know it's in the music； somewhere； right。 Anybody who's ever really listened knows it's there。 Somewhere。
The Suburban Book of the Dead
Rex zoomed in upon the bed chamber of his sister。 She was indulging in her second favourite pastime。 Her first Rex considered to be the persecution of himself。
'Focus that up； boy；' choked Elvis。 'Lord alive； look at that baby。'
'You see； I actually did you in history；' Rex explained。 'My aunty；' he paused a moment in sad reflection。 'My aunty was a fundamentalist for a while； one of Hubbard's。 When L。 Ron the third amalgamated with the Gospel Church of America； wherever that was； back in the nineties； they were very big on the musical message。'
'Oh yeah。' The time traveller seemed somewhat distracted。 'Can you bring up the sound？ I want to hear the moaning；'
'Yes；' Rex continued。 'As I remember it； there was the Reverend Al Green； Aretha Franklin； this guy called Cliff somebody； who never grew old。 And a Michael Jackson； although he would be after your period。 His big evangelical crusades were in the late nineties。 But you； I did you of course。 All the mystical stuff。'
'Mystical？' Elvis turned him a fleeting glance。
'The hard…to…understand stuff。 〃Wooden Heart〃； I did that。 I passed through with an A grade for my 〃Metaphysical exposition on the socio…political ramifications of the Latin prayer sequence in 'Wooden Heart' 〃。'
'Latin prayers； are you crazy？' Elvis dragged himself momentarily from the erotic hologram。 'That was German； I sang one verse in German。'
Rex made a puzzled face； 'German； is that another dead language？'
'Wasn't when I sang it。 Say fella； what is that the fat woman has strapped to her nose？ It looks like a false 。。。'
'It is；' sighed Rex。
'Glory be；' said Elvis。
Rambo Bloodaxe was lodged in a small cell of no particular charm； somewhere in the sub…basement of the Nemesis Bunker。 He was sore。
'Eric；' said Rambo。
'I think so；' came the honest reply。
'Eric； is this what we have e to？'
'It does have the appearance of being that very thing。'
'A sad and sorry circumstance； old chap friend of mine。'
'How are the nuts； Rambo？'
'Smarting； my dear fellow； still smarting。'
'You told a jolly fine tale though。'
Rambo sighed and delicately stroked his singed pudendum。 'All done to save us a further whacking。'
'My memory is sadly deficient； but you appeared to me to be telling a most shameful quantity of untruths； for the most part。'
'Merely giving them food for thought and us a chance of survival。'
'I felt your confession that we were in the pay of the Hubbard organization to be quite inspired。 And all that folderol about the Nemesis security network having been infiltrated； spiffing stuff。'
'I think it was the revelation that the Dalai planned to replace the station's union representation with blackleg labour that really swung it。 They switched off the power and downed tools around that time。'
'I do fear that there is a good chance of us shortly being rumbled； nonetheless。'
'The thought is in the very forefront of my mind； Eric。 We must put escape at the very top of our priority list。'
'Rambo？' said Eric。
'Eric？'
'Rambo； should we succeed in escape； do you feel it possible that some surgery might be made available to me in the head department？ Bits of my brain are still ing away between my ringers and I feel certain that my reason is likely to bee severely impaired as a result。'
'Perhaps if you ceased to stand upon your head it would help；' Rambo suggested。
'Oh；' said Eric。 'I thought it was you doing that。'
'Killer；' Elvis made pelvic thrusts。 'Now I have seen everything。 I wonder who she is。'
'She's my sister。'
'Your sister？ Shit man； anyone on this planet not in your family？ I mean； no offence meant。'
'None taken； I assure you； but between us both； don't you think that we should get down to the nitty gritty as it were？'
'Then you believe； right？'
Rex put up his hands； they still needed a wash。 'I'm not saying I believe everything； but that；' he indicated the doodad Elvis had snatched from him； 'that I do believe。 With a thing like that； you could pull off all manner of things。' Rex thought on； the possibilities were； to him； endless。
Elvis looked severely put out。 'You believe in this gizmo but you don't believe in me。'
For one terrible moment Rex thought he was going to smash the doodad to smithereens。
'No； wait；' cried Rex。 'Wait； I want to show you something。' He delved into his radiation suit and produced the photograph the Dalai had given him。 'See this； am I or am I not one of your followers？'
Elvis stared at it in amazement。 He stared at Rex in amazement。
'Goddamn；' he swore； and that look of enlightenment （yes； that one） shone upon his flawless face。 'I see it all now。 One of my followers； you were just checking me out to see if I was the genuine article。 But you knew it all the time； didn't you？'
'Of course I did。' Rex relieved Elvis of the precious doodad。 'There can only be one King；' said he。 'I had to be sure。'
'Then you're with me？'
'Put your trust in me；' said Rex Mundi。
'Assassinate me？' Dan made wild gesticulations to man and God alike。 'Assassinate little me？' Rex nodded gravely。 They were in the sanctum of the Inmost One； all swathes of silk and soaring erotically…painted columns。 Blue sky to every side。
'That's about the shape of it； Dan。'
'No； no； no。 Madness； madness。' Dan paced the floor with gusto。
'Oh； it's certainly that； Dan。' Rex lazed upon the Dalai's settee； drink in hand。
'Why me？ Why me？ Yog…Sothoth； why me？'
'The guy reckons that you are the Antichrist。' Rex gazed into his glass。
'The what？？？'
'Ant…eye…Christ。 He considers himself to be upon some kind of Divine Mission。'
'I knew it。 I just knew it。 I felt this ing。 How did you get out of there anyway？'
'It wasn't easy。 Between you and me； I told the fellow lies。'
'Good boy。 And where is he now？'
'Down in the caverns； I suppose。 But you'll never find him down there。'
'Rex；' said Dan。 'My dear boy。 My own dear boy。 I am surrounded by traitors； ne'er…do…wells； heretics and bloody unions。 The Antichrist！ I'm a Buddhist； for fuck's sake。'
'Such would seem to be the case。 I did broach the matter of the theological inconsistency； but he remained adamant。'
'What am I to do？'
'You are asking me； Inmost One？'
'Ah；' Dan shrugged his shoulders； without conviction。 'Of course not； dear boy。 No； no。'
'Of course not； Inmost One。 You were speaking rhetorically； I understand。 The Divinely Inspired One wouldn't seek advice from lesser mortals。 You were； I believe； merely enquiring my opinion of the current dilemma and suppositions based upon my personal experience of this heretic。'
'Exactly。 Got it in one；'
'I'm honoured that you should spare valuable moments to hear the words of your humble and devoted servant。' Rex was really warming to the situation。 He could never have previously hoped to get away with such blatant sarcasm。 But now； the previously alluded to goalposts had been moved。 The pitch queered。
'And you are sure it's this man； the same man？'
Rex pulled out the now autographed photograph and laid it upon the black marble desk。 'Him。'
'SUN；' said the Dalai Lama。
'Father？' said Rex。
'SUN。 And you think you can get to him； Rex？'
'I have his confidence； it shouldn't be impossible to 。。。' Rex's eyes wandered toward the cocktail cabinet。 It resembled the prow of an antique galleon。 Rex took it to be a stylized privy。
'Help yourself Rex。' Rex did so。
'Dangerous though。。。' Rex clinked a chunky…looking decanter into the largest glass he could find。 'A very tricky and dangerous business。'
'Which means； I expect； a very costly business。'
'I suppose it does。 But then cost hardly enters into it。 To preserve the life force of the Living God King； should it take the wealth of the entire pany； would e cheap。' Rex kept his eyes down。
'Indeed it would。' Dan's face was by no means cheery to behold。
'Thus； in all humility； I shall ask for but a trifle。 An early retirement； an apartment fitting to my needs and the services of an all…female staff to attend upon my wants。 Should I live through the perils ahead； of course。'
'You are a true soldier of God。' Dan rolled all three of his eyes toward the ceiling。 Rex felt that it might be wise to elaborate。
'I do understand that you might consider my request over…presumptuous。 But the circumstances are somewhat unique。 Your security people can't contain this man。 When he makes his move he will be unstoppable。'
Dan laughed。 'No man is unstoppable。 Other than myself； of course。'
'A man who can travel through time； as this man can？ He is unstoppable。'
'Through time？' Dan's jaw dropped。 Further confirmation of what he already feared。 'Rot； no man can travel through time。'
'This man can。 He has some kind of implant in his head。 It enables him to void time。 But you know all this。 You have seen him in the flesh and you have his vinyl on your machine there。' Rex indicated the holophon。
Dan's eyes did a triple flash。 'How could you know this？'
'Surely it is enough to know that I do。 If I can breach your security。。。 then this man…'
'Yes； yes。 So； say that I agree to your demands？'
'Demands？ A fair day's pay for a fair day's job is all I ask。'
'Please； please； Rex； I hear that from morning to night。 Suppose I was to agree to your most reasonable request。 Then you would deliver this monomaniac into my hands；' Dan paused。 'Or better still。。。' He turned his gaze full upon Rex。 Rex felt the hideous strength。 The malevolence。 Dan's lips never moved but his voice howled in Rex's ears。
'No；' Rex turned his face away； but couldn't escape the voice。 'No； not that。 I'm no assassin。'
Dan's lips moved。 'Hardly assassination； Rex。 More extermination。 As in vermin。 You shall have your penthouse in the sky and your early retirement。 I will throw in the services of the two saffron nymphettes and even a chef。 How does that sound？'
'All very nice。 But。。。'
'But me no buts Rex； only bring me his head。' Dan's voice was death itself。
Rex felt his drink rising in his throat。 'His head。。。'
'His very valuable head。' Dan smiled a terrible smile and laughed a long and equally terrible laugh。 Rex Mundi was violently sick。
22
。。。 and then the CIA busted us。 That would be in the summer of ninety…six。 I'd been on the project for more than a year and had fooled myself into thinking it was safe。 Probably would have been； but someone had to get greedy。 Always happens。 The country was election crazy。 But no…one had any doubts about Wormwood。 No…one could bust a hole in his campaign。 If there were any skeletons in his closet； he'd bought them all off and sent them to Miami。 The CIA were already in Wormwood's pocket。 Someone had tipped him off about the project。 He wanted it killed。
We'd been feeding the stuff into a cotext ten puter； then selling it off。 Perfect situation； mint copies。 We could process them without even taking them out of the cellophane wraps。 The records went out into circulation still brand new； but we'd got them into the processor in analogue。 With the revenue from selling the mint copies we could constantly update our equipment。 Some of those records were worth 10；000 apiece。 We are talking collectors' items。 So； as I say； someone got greedy。 And we got busted。
We should have covered our tracks better。 Kept on the move； like in the old days。 But with the gasolene rationed and stuff you couldn't move about much。 And the equipment was that delicate and we were all far too obsessed with the project。 Because； you see； stuff was beginning to show up。 Abstract most of it。 Patterns； visual； audio。 We were running it through a 409 CS deck overcut with a sequence analyser。 We could pick up frequency levels that would never have registered on ordinary equipment。 And it was there in every single one of those records。 And it was all ing together。
The Suburban Book of the Dead
The lads at the motorpool gave the pale…faced Rex a rowdy sendoff。 H