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es； ten； nine； eight。。。'
'To the trapdoor；' cried Rex。
29
。。。 the underground； yes； it was very much that。 Amongst the network of metro…links； service tunnels； ventilation shafts； disused military installations； cellars； basements and vaults； the inner councils met。 Plotted and planned。 Started off； I guess； with NHE survivors trapped down there。 They managed to tap into the synthafood pipes leading from the plants far below and the power lines。 So once you have food and power you are up and running。 The word of the Book gave hope。 From the few remaining town planners' blueprints we burrowed up to what bunkers we could。 Came across a lot of dead folk back then。 But we had our successes。 Just kept passing the word along。
The Suburban Book of the Dead
'So you see； Rex。' Fergus Shaman edged along in the near darkness； beyond the punishing range of Rex's fist。 'Your uncle was something of a revolutionary himself。'
'But what exactly did he want？'
'Same as all revolutionaries want。 The genuine ones anyway。 Create Utopia； destroy tyranny； win freedom； that kind of thing。'
'So you are telling me that there is an entire revolutionary army down here awaiting mobilization？' Rex found a sudden spring creeping into his step。
'Well； actually no。' Fergus lightened his own footsteps。 'Regretfully no。'
'Go on then； tell me the worst。'
'Someone got to them。 We don't know who； perhaps it was a what。 But something wiped them all out。'
'I don't like the sound of no what。' Elvis cuffed Dan in the ear to place an accent upon his words。 'I'll settle for a who。 Some stooly sold them out to the Feds。' Cuff； cuff。
'Possibly so；' Fergus shrugged。 'We could never get a foothold down here； so we may never know for certain。'
'So they could all still be here。' Rex's optimism surprised even himself。
'They're not；' said Fergus。
You're damned right they're not； thought Dan； 'You'll get yours pal；' he told Elvis。
Back in Aunty Norma's bunker； the Sneaky Reekie appeared to have bee a graduate of the Deathblade Eric School of Discorporate Numerics。 'Seven 。。。 six 。。。 eight； no； seven。。。 eight。。。 nine； no； nine seven； oh buggeration；' swore the frustrated killing machine。 'Zero and。。。'
A violent shock rocked the passage and sent the odd quartet reeling。 Something big and bad had just gone boom somewhere above them。 But on this occasion as upon the last； it wasn't the Sneaky Reekie。
Rex struggled to his feet。 'Things are being very dangerous indeed；' he plained。 'The unrecycled excrement seems to have made contact with the rotating segment of the atmospheric circulator； to coin a phrase。'
'Something like。' Elvis agreed。 'Anyone know where we are； for Chrissakes？'
'You're in deep shit；' said Dan。 His outspokenness was rewarded in summary fashion。 'Ouch；' he added。
'I still find it hard to believe that my uncle was a revolutionary。' Rex made as to dust himself down； but the futility of the action was not slow in the dawning。 He could no longer see the point。 Nor could he see very much else as he felt his way along in the gloom。 And what he could see； he knew to be illuminated by the generations of active fallout which had soaked down into the passages。 It wasn't all that encouraging no matter how you viewed it。 'He was certainly an idealist； Uncle； for whatever that got him。'
'He taught you the trick with the eyes； though。'
'Trick with the eyes？' Dan voiced a sudden interest。
'Taught Rex how to sleep with his eyes open。 Fool the EYESPI； clock up credits without having to suffer the rubbish on…screen。'
'Did he now？' Dan sensed rather than saw the swing Elvis took at his ear； and nimbly sidestepped it。 'Smart trick。'
Rex turned suddenly upon Dan。 'That why you killed him？'
Dan stared him eye to eye。 'You'd best keep your options open； Rex。 You never know when you might need them。' Rex heard that； but no…one else did。 Not even the telepathic sprout。
Mungo Madoc inhabited his boardroom chair。 The boardroom board watched him and shared feelings of unease。 Like the Magi of old； they were awaiting a sign。 A star in the heavens； perhaps？ Or perhaps not。 A simple nod of the head or twitch of the forefinger might well have alleviated the tension somewhat。 But Mungo did nothing。 He sat and he stared and he stared。 Mungo was muning with the backers。 The switchboard girls had pulled the plugs and made their strategic withdrawal to the staff canteen； secure in the knowledge that unruly mobs were unlikely to besiege the building； seeking heads。 Nothing was going to drag the population away from their television sets。 For the first time ever these were now actually showing The Earthers in its full； unedited glory。 Dan； Rex and Elvis might be lacking； but the violent spectacle of two of Earth's largest religious organizations blasting seven bells of unrecycled excrement out of each other was far too good to miss。 And with Dan gone； and Gloria still an unknown quantity； allegiances were already starting to shift。
Mungo lurched suddenly forward； loosening the weaker bladders。
'Right；' said he。 'I have been in lengthy munication with the backers and you will be pleased to hear that they are willing to sanction Morgawr's Armageddon scenario。 With one or two minor changes which need not concern any of you here。 Now let us be one hundred per cent clear on the situation as it now stands。 The series as we know it； is shortly to be brought to an end。' He put up his hands against the outcry。 'A great deal of thought has gone into this； I can assure you。 But this series； like any other； had only a limited budget and the backers are not prepared to extend it any longer。 No backing； no budget； no series。 Morgawr； stop that man。。。'
'Too late。' Morgawr gazed down from the open window； the falling body diminished and was gone。
Mungo shook his head and snuffled at a lapel flower； savouring the heavily narcotized scent。 'Now； before any more of you make such an ill…considered move； I suggest that you just hear me out。' The board members settled themselves down； loosening ties and gulping water。 'We have all tried to keep this series going as long as possible。
And the Nose alone knows how many radical proposals and outrageous interventions there have been。 But the big boys upstairs will have no more of it。 They are adamant。 The series must go out on a high note。 Well； at least on a spectacular one。 And cheap。 Which will leave the way clear for something entirely new。'
'。Earth Two； The Sequel？' Morgawr suggested。
'Sadly； no。 We must play by the rules this time； I'm afraid。 There will be no more tampering with scripts； no more improvisations。 This is something altogether different and on a much larger scale。 I can't tell you about it now； but if I say the words 〃substantial salary increases〃； then I hope they will be sufficient to put your minds at rest。'
The board rose as a single Phnaarg； cast metaphorical hats toward the sky and engulfed Mungo in a sea of hearty handclaps。
An entire aeon of human history was drawing to a close。 A planet was about to be wiped from the heavens。 All memories； thoughts and dreams； all hopes。 Mankind was to be blotted out as if it had never needed to exist。 But these lads were getting a pay rise！
30
Doubt everything and find your own light。 Buddha
'I really can't see the point in dragging him along。 Why don't we simply kill him and have done？'
Elvis appeared to be stuck for a reply to this； but not so Fergus Shaman。 'You cannot kill the Dalai Lama； Rex。 It simply isn't done。'
'But the man is a mass murderer。 Only about two at a time； mind； but it adds up。 He deserves execution； at the very least。'
'That may well be。 But not by you。 You've never actually killed anyone； have you？'
Rex made a thinking face。 'No；' said he。 'I'm sure that I haven't。'
'Nor have you。' Fergus peered toward the man in the white sequined number。
'Two or three。' Elvis did shoulder swaggers。 'In self defence； of course。'
'No； you haven't。' Fergus grinned。 'You're the good guys。 You escape death by the skin of your teeth and fight for justice。 Even； if like Rex； you don't even know why you do it most of the time。 But you don't actually ever kill anyone。'
'Om；' said Dan。 'This being the case I will now take my leave。'
Elvis kicked him in the ankle。 'Never trust an alien；' he told the hopping holyman。
With Dan now muttering in muted tones that collectively； or one at a time； his persecutors would 'get theirs'； the four continued along no particular passage； bound it seemed； for no particular destination。 Or so it seemed。
'Holy shit；' cried Elvis Presley。 'Would you look at that？'
Now there have been rooms and there have been rooms。 And this one was a bedroom as it happened。 Of its furnishings and decor； it could be fairly stated that they were of the eclectic persuasion。 A kidney…shaped dressing table with a crazed Formica top hobnobbed with a gilded torchere which had once shed light upon Count Cagliostro。 A faux…bamboo wall…case displayed the spines of rare and priceless books。 The works of Crispin； Scott's Phallic Worship； the Brentford Octology； St Michael's Book of Microwave Cooking； Rushdie's The Satanic Verses。 Kaffe Fassett cushions bulged upon a settee designed by Salvador Dali。 And at the room's heart rose a Gothic four…poster covered with a candlewick bedspread。 Upon this； and creating the room's immediate centre of interest； lay a voluptuous blonde woman wearing nought but a weling smile。
'Goddamn；' swore Elvis。 'I mean； well； pardon our intrusion； mam。'
The blonde rose upon her elbows and thrust out her bosom； in the manner once favoured by the Page Three Stunnas of old。 She tossed back her hair and yawned silently。
'We're lost；' said Rex； rather foolishly。
'Yeah；' Elvis agreed。 'That's right。'
Fergus Shaman nodded his head。 'What amazing nipples；' he observed。
Dan said nothing。 But then this kind of sight was hardly new to him。
'Sorry to invade your privacy。' Rex was trying not to look； but failing for the most part。 'If you could just offer some directions； we will be straight on our way。'
'I'm in no particular hurry；' Elvis produced a monogrammed b and teased it through his quiff； 'if you guys want to go on ahead。'
'I think we should all stick together。'
Fergus shook pungent aromatics of an aphrodisiac nature on to his palm and began to pat them about his chin。 Dan said nothing for the second time。 The blonde on the bed rolled on to her side and fluttered her eyelids at Elvis。
'Sorry guys；' said the King； preparing for action。 'But it was really no contest； was it？ Here； Rex； you take scumbag out for a walk。 Say for a couple of hours。'
'I don't think so；' Rex pushed past the Dalai。 Or at least he would have。 As it was Rex pushed through the Dalai。 The image faded into the air； a broad Cheshire Cat grin hovering for a moment before doing a likewise vanishing trick。
'Trickery dickery；' cried Fergus； very much impressed。 There was a kind of loud pop and the entire room； blonde bombshell and all folded in upon itself and was gone。 The three men now stood knee deep in raw sewerage。 They began to sink。 Dalai Dan was nowhere to be seen。
'Aw； shit！'
31
。。。 we knew where it was for sure and it was remarkable how simple it actually was to discover what it was pretending to be。 Back in the nineties； the term for what we did was 'super hacking'。 puter gate…crashing on an international scale。 Subversives hacked their ways into the mainframes of all the major institutions： the military； banking houses； religious； even the Big Three。 Back doors were created whereby the hacker could override pass…codes； slip in and out at will； draw off programs； make subtle adjustments； alter records。 And introduce viruses which self…replicated and spread； crashing the systems。 At that time the biggest of these hacking circuses was called chaos。 I swear to God it's true。 Now the Buddhavision mainframe； MOTHER； so called； had security blocks on it from the first。 Punch in the wrong passcode and it fed back。 〃You were fried meat at your terminal。 Real mean。 They took hacking very seriously。 But there was a backdoor all the same。 Who go