Previous Post Sir Mumphrey Wilton and the Official Enquiry     Was sitting there, minding my own business, trying to get 14 down on the Times crossword: “Player getting six, duck, then fifty batting is test opener.” Hmph. Should like to see that dashed Parody Blighter up against the Times crossword.     Doorbell rang. Keep minimal staff at the Hall these days, so shuffled over to answer it myself. Spotty youth with bad haircut canvassing for me to vote for political candidate from the National Front. Proffered pamphlet laced with poor grammar explaining why Jewish holocaust of World War Two was Zionist myth.     Explained to him that I was damned well there when they liberated Buchenwald and it didn’t seem like a myth to me. Added that didn’t fight Adolf Hitler and his ungodly pack of sub-human reptiles to go and vote for Nazi-in-sheep’s clothing and young man was welcome to leave the premises before I set the dogs on him and good riddance.     Youth was not inclined to disagree seeing as how I had just hefted him by the seat of his trousers and propelled him down front staircase. Explained to him that that never happened either. Him being a worthless waste of spare flesh deserving only of being shot like a vomitous rabid fox was only Zionist propoganda.     Then realised that rapidly retreating screaming youth was staring over my shoulder at something rather scarier than an old soldier who can’t solve 14 down. Turned round and found three chappies in suits hovering three feet above the ground staring at me as if I was interesting new form of butterfly about to be put into an ether jar.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Evening, chaps,” I bade them. “Please, feel free to have some, er, ground, what?”     The lead chappie held out a business card: Noseous Org, Inspector. Explained he had come to do an inspection.     Told him drains had never been the same since the great flood of ’46 and would be glad to find out where blockage was.     Mr Org explained that he and his colleagues were actually tasked with inspecting cosmic office holders, and there was some kind of review going on regarding the behaviour of certain such officers during the recent Parody War unpleasantness. Would I be so kind as to accompany him to the hearing?     Pointed out that a little more notice would be nice, given that it was kipper night and cook gets very touchy if I’m late to table. Noticed oik no. 2 was noting down what I was saying re. kippers, so paused to give brief explanation of best procedure for smoking and preparing said dish. Least that way these inspectors would be doing something useful.     Mr Org had other ideas. He twiddled his briefcase and suddenly we’re all in some kind of interplanar antechamber. Place was huge and echoey and painted in institutional green. Reminded me of my schooldays, except that none of these warts would have lasted five minutes at Rugby.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“This is just a preliminary hearing, Sir Mumphrey,” Org explains, “to determine whether there is a prima facia case for a more rigorous investigation into alleged conflicts of interest between your actions in the recent conflict with the Parody Master and your role as the Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity.” In other words these damned book-keepers didn’t like the fact I’d led the coalition of Earth nations that squashed that Parody Blighter like the sleazy weasel he was.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Alleged conflicts, eh?” I noted. “Who’s doing the alleging then, hmm?”     Mr Org didn’t seem very keen to tell me. “Madame Symmetry of Synchronicity it is then,” I surmised. “Newish Shaper of Worlds, big cosmic mucketty-muck, Keeper of the Chronometer before I took the pocketwatch off her back in the 1800s.”     Mr Org broke the point of his pencil so I guessed I was pretty much on the mark. He explained that it was not customary to reveal the investigation’s sources at this initial stage.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I require legal council then,” I argued. “I’m usually represented by Miss Lisa Waltz. You might have heard of her. Believe she’s currently got the cosmic office of Destroyer of Tales. Destroyer of blithering pompous arrogant jumped-up bureaucrats too, in my experience.”     The investigators looked a bit disconcerted by this. One of them checked his flies were done up. They explained that it wasn’t customary to have representation present at this informal stage of the proceedings.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What’s the problem then?” I demanded, losing patience. “What am I supposed to have done that’s a conflict of interest?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What have you done?” Noseous Org’s eyebrows flew up in dismay. “Sir Mumphrey, as Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity you are forbidden to interfere with the grander course of history. You may not use the artefacts’ power to affect the timeline. And yet you set yourself up against the Parody Master and led a war across the known galaxies.”     Pointed out that if Mr Org and his toadies had been doing their job back when the Parody Blighter was getting frisky I wouldn’t have needed to lead a war to pot the blaggard. Asked him where he and his briefcase had been back when the PM was rampaging across the conceptual plane wiping out cosmic office holders and breaking them down for parts. Suggested that if he hadn’t been so busy hiding behind his mother’s skirts and wetting himself he might have noticed that desperate times call for desperate measures, feckless maundering nincompoop that he was.     Mr Org said that he resented my tone. I said I resented his face.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sir Mumphrey, you do not understand the seriousness of your position,” the investigator warned. “We have the authority to strip you of your office and even to terminate your existence if we conclude that you have acted in contravention of the codes of the cosmic office holders.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“But this is just a preliminary investigation, old boy,” I pointed out. “Said so yourself. Spotty chap behind you wrote it in his little book. So no chance of that happening before I have proper representation and my day in court. Besides, your whole case is a big load of tosh.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Tosh?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hmph. Absolutely. For starters, when I became leader of Earth’s combined defence force I wasn’t Keeper of the Chronometer. It had gone to a brave young chap called George Gedney who eventually gave his life in the course of carryin’ out his duties. Brave lad, worth about fifteen hundred of you investigator bugs. Wouldn’t have you people on my regiment if you came free with a pound of tea.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You regained the pocketwatch later, though,” Org accused.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“And used it in accordance with my remit to stop a blighter who was tryin’ to attack time,” I countered. “Or, if you want the absolute truth, used it like every other resource at my command to take down that Parody Master, because there are some things that are more important than keepin’ to the rules and doing what is right is one of them.”     Mr Org backed away and wiped the spittle off his face with his handkerchief. “What you believed to be right, Sir Mumphrey,” he parsed.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What was right,” I insisted.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well,” sneered Mr Org, “that’s for us to decide. There are a good many cosmic beings that will attest that events were not quite the way you seem determined to present them.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You mean the ones claimin’ it never happened?” I sneered back. “The ones that went away and hid and pretended they were being neutral for professional reasons while brave heroes fought and died to save the future of this Parodyverse? The ones who’d like to revise things now so they can feel more comfortable, so they can promote their worldview at the cost of the man and women who risked everything in the name of freedom? Hmm? Is that it, sirrah?”     A muscle twitched in Org’s cheek. “It is the judgement of this tribunal that there is a case to be answered by the current Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity,” he ruled, glaring at me with his soulless eyes. “It is the judgement of this tribunal that the current Keeper be suspended from office until such time as a full investigation can be made and a formal hearing arranged.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh is it?” I asked him.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You will surrender the tools of your office and you will return to your mundane reality until such time as you are summoned to stand trial.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Have you anything to say for the record?” the book-keeping chappie asked me nervously.     Thought for a moment. “Violinist,” I said.     He looked a little surprised. “I… I beg your pardon?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Player getting six, duck, then fifty batting is test opener,” I said, waving the Times at him. “Fourteen down. Six is VI in Roman numerals. A duck scores zero, or O. Fifty is L. If you’re batting then you’re IN. That gives VIOLIN. The IS comes verbatim from the clue, and the opener of the word Test is T – Violinist.”     Mr Org held out a pale thin hand for my pocketwatch. “Your tools of office, please,” he said.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Know what the difference is between you and a violinist, Mr Org?” I asked him. “A violinist fiddles with his instrument, like me and the Chronometer. You just fiddle with yourself.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I must insist, Sir Mumphrey.”     Held out the Chronometer of Infinity on it’s fob chain. “Take it from me,” I told the blighter. “If you can.”     Mr Org reached out then pulled his hand back suddenly as if he’d been stung. The flesh on his palm had rotted with age. Don’t think the pocketwatch liked him. Don’t think it wanted to go back to Symmetry.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I am authorised,” Mr Org complained, trying again. “You have to obey.” He nursed his dead hand again.     Pointed out that while I was only a minor cosmic office holder compared to the Shaper of Worlds and the Destroyer of Tales, I was one of the very few office-holders who had stayed in office during the Parody War. Others had died or surrendered, new ones had been created, but I’d been there and done that long before the new recruitment drive. Seems that gives me seniority, at least over mealy-mouthed jumped-up whey-faced witless prancing preferment-seeking yes-men minions tryin’ to throw their weight about with their elders and betters. Said as much. Loudly.     Minute-taker lad wrote it all down and seemed to quite enjoy doing it.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You have to submit to authority!” protested Noseous Org. “It is written!”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Send me the memo,” I suggested.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I have the authority!” he insisted.     I held out the Chronometer one last time. “If the powers that be want you to confiscate this off me and have authorised you to do it, then go ahead,” I told him. “But try and take this again and fail and this time I will shrivel you to dust.”     Thing about cowards: there’s a moment when they can’t meet your eye any more.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Now get me home to my kipper,” I insisted. “And next time you want to talk to me, write for an appointment. And put on a clean collar. And learn to shave.”     And so to supper. Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2008 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2008 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.

Adventures in Parodyverse - Stand Up


    (a short time before the inquiry)

    The Lair Mansion’s library was quiet late at night, occupied by a single curious soul.

    Lara Night had been visiting the Lair Legion for the last couple of days.  Since they were kind enough to put her up for nights during her visit, she earned the license to assume her usual semi-nocturnal schedule.

    Back home, it seemed the criminal and violent enterprises her services had been required to squelch mostly took place between the late afternoon and the early hours after midnight.  Rather than deal with the lack of sleep she simply adjusted her schedule to one more suitable.

    At the Lair Mansion, that left her a few hours at night alone.  With the exception of Flapjack, who seemed to never sleep - but he never spoke with her during that time, he just lurked and leered.  And possibly CSFB! and April, who she hardly saw at night, but she could hear occasionally.  And sometimes Liu Xi, but she mostly kept to herself at night.

    Many of those nights, usually when nothing good was on television, she took it upon herself to learn about the history of the Parodyverse.  Sir Mumphrey Wilton was kind enough to assemble quite a collection of history books in the Library...so she went there late at night to leaf through them, sitting in the overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace.  She was in casual clothing, just an old bright yellow shirt, sneakers, and jeans - after all, she wasn’t expecting anything exciting to happen.

    She never expected to see three men in suits floating a few inches above the ground near the doorway of the Library.  Fortunately her career as a superhero, as well as her time visiting the Parodyverse, allowed her to skip past any fear a normal person might have felt.  Instead she raised an eyebrow and placed the book on the coffee table with its open pages facing down to save her place.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“I believe you’re tresspassing,”  Lara informed them calmly as she rose from the overstuffed chair.  Of course, the small blonde seemed a lot less intimidating on her feet, standing before three rather tall men, who were floating in the air, making them taller and more frightening than usual.

    One of them handed her a business card.  She read it aloud.  “‘Noseous Org?’”  she read.  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” 

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“We are investigating the current Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity.”  Mr. Org quickly summarized, sounding official.

    Lara stood defiantly, staring the three of them down with the confidence of someone who had seen far, far scarier things.  “Well...that’s not me, so...why are you talking to me?”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“We’re looking for witnesses...those who might testify to his...misuse of office during the Parody Master war.”  Mr. Org said.

    She frowned when she realized what was happening.  It was some sort of committee, and like the similar congressional ones on television.  Or possibly more similar to the Inquisition, in that they were looking for scapegoats to crucify.  “Find someone else.”  she said plainly.  She tossed the business card into the wastebasket near the work desk in the Library.  “And I think it’s time I showed you out.”

    Mr. Org looked at his two companions.  Then his face darkened.  “I don’t understand this...misplaced loyalty.  You’re an outsider, Miss Night.  What difference does the fate of this old fool matter to you?  After all, didn’t he treat you with suspicion when you first arrived?  Berate you for your behavior?”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s just Mumph.”  Lara replied with a shrug.  “Once I ‘earned my wings’, so to speak though...now the man would walk through a fiery desert just to offer me his only glass of water.  That’s the kind of guy he is.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“If you refuse to testify we have the authority to put you on The List.”  Mr. Org threatened.  “Persona non grata.  Every time you come to the Parodyverse you’ll be hunted by the Cosmic Office Holders as a danger and a threat.  So will anyone who associates with you.”

    Lara set her jaw and crossed her arms angrily.  “Look, we can threaten each other all night and I’ll still win because you’re freaks.  So instead, tell me why you want me so badly?”

    There was silence from the three of them.  Lara’s frown faded as she realized what was going on.  They needed someone with cosmic significance because they weren’t sure they could physically take the watch from Mumph, and they needed to recruit help - even if it had to be through blackmail.  “You know you can’t take the watch from him, don’t you?”  she taunted.  “You want me to do it!”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s not true!”  Mr. Org insisted angrily.  “We simply...need someone with the ability to understand trans-dimensional matters to testify.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Ohhhhh.”  Lara nodded slowly, making it obvious she didn’t believe him.  “So I guess someone like, oh, Al B Harper, doesn’t count.”  She paused then as a chilling thought came to mind.  Who would they harass next if she resisted?  “Hey, who’s number two on your witness list?  If you fail to get me, that is?”

    Mr. Org smirked almost evilly.  “Samantha Featherstone.”  he replied.  He obviously was well prepared to push Lara’s buttons.

    Lara frowned again, and looked even more angry than last time.  “Fine,”  she said.  “I’ll testify...but expect a really, really hostile witness.”  Lara jabbed him hard in the chest twice to emphasize the ‘really’ part.  “In exchange...you leave Sam alone.  I’m not usually a violent person, but...you know what I’m capable of, and I’m dead serious about this.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Excellent,”  Mr. Org said, ignoring Lara’s threat.  He then opened his briefcase.

    The scenery changed rather suddenly, from the Lair Mansion Library to a familiar yet different room.  A room furnished entirely in mahogany, including the walls and the furniture.  Thick carpeting covered the floor.  It looked like an attorney’s office, or a judge, or an officer of a large company.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Is this your office?”  Lara asked as she looked around.

    Mr. Org ignored the question and sat in a thick, shiny leather chair behind the one highly polished desk in the room.  The chair creaked noisly as he sat in it.  He looked over his banker’s lamp as he spoke, giving his eyes and face an unearthly green hue, “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you’re going to answer them truthfully.”

    So it was a lawyer’s office, Lara thought to herself.  “Okay,”  she replied as she sat across the desk from him in a low-backed rounded leather chair.  She had given depositions before.  “Are your two silent friends here for a reason?”

    That question was ignored too, and the two silent suited men didn’t even react.  Though the question was sort of answered when yet another silent person entered the room, sat down in the other rounded low-backed chair, and began taking notes without speaking a word.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’re all business around here aren’t you?”  the blonde asked.  She knew she wouldn’t get a response, but it was fun to ask them questions they didn’t expect.

    Mr. Org went on with that business.  “You are aware that Sir Mumphrey is forbidden to take any action which can significantly change the timeline in the Parodyverse?”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes.”  Lara nodded.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“And you’re aware that Sir Mumphrey fighting the Parody Master, using the Chronometer, qualifies as changing the timeline?”

    Lara shook her head.  “No.”

    Mr. Org looked at his two companions.  “Excuse me?  Do you honestly believe removing the Parody Master from power has no bearing on the timeline of the Parodyverse?”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“No.”  Lara replied confidently.  “I believe Sir Mumphrey didn’t do it.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’re going to have to explain, Miss.”  he said.

    She smiled patiently.  “Ever hear the saying many hands make light work?”  She shook her head.  “Yeah, the Parody Master couldn’t have been beaten without Mumph’s help.  But he wouldn’t have lasted a full minute without all the others who helped.  I probably did as much to help unseat the Parody Master as Mumph did.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“So you admit Sir Mumphrey used the Chronometer against the Parody Master?”  Mr. Org asked as he wrote something down as well.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“We all used everything we had,”  Lara replied diplomatically.  She had to deal with lawyers at home, too.  “But if you want to talk misuse of Cosmic Artifacts, what about the Parody Master?  He melted a bunch of them in a forge to use them to take over the universe.”

    Mr. Org fell as silent as his two companions.  He began to shuffle papers around his desk as if he had suddenly been thrown off his questioning.  “And another matter.”  Org added quickly as he found the paper he was looking for.  “Your interference in the affairs of the realm of the Cosmic Officers.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“When did this become about me?”  she asked, crossing her arms angrily.

    Mr. Org wasn’t fazed by her demeanor.  “You yourself admitted working to change the fate of this universe, when it’s quite obviously not your domain.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Just me being here changes the fate of the universe.”  Lara pointed out.  “Every time I drink a cup of water here I take something away from the universe when I leave.  Every cup of water I drink at home and bring here with me changes something here.  There’s nothing I can do, really, besides try to keep it balanced--”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Or stay home where you belong,”  Mr. Org suggested coldly.  “Which is something we have been considering enforcing.”

    Lara stood and placed her palms firmly on the desk.  She was tired of playing nice with these paper pushers.  “You have neither the power nor the authority,”  she informed him calmly.

    He smirked as he replied, “Perhaps we can’t prevent you from coming here, or send you back.  But we can sanction you every time you arrive.  And those who illegally associate with you.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“I see what this is.”  Lara sat back down, crossing her arms again.  “You want me to go along with whatever you have planned for Mumph, and since you lack the power to harm me, you’ll threaten everyone I care about till I cooperate.”

    Mr. Org didn’t reply to that.  He didn’t have to.

    Lara bit her lip and thought for a moment.  “Okay, I’m going to be a sport about this.”  She was trying to appear calm, though anger was still seething below the surface.  “Because I know Mumph can defend himself.  I want to see him make complete fools of all of you, and when he does, I’ll be laughing.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Miss Night, this doesn’t help your case or Sir Mumphrey’s”  Mr. Org warned her.

    She ignored him and stood again, this time forcing herself to be more calm.  “But you stick to Mumph, and your case with him, understand?  Because if you harass me, or Sam, or anyone besides Mumph...I’m going to bring trouble of my own.  Tell me you understand.”

    Mr. Org inched back a little as Lara leaned over the desk this time.  He finally nodded once.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“I knew you would.”  Lara pressed the palm of her left hand against the smooth desk.  The polished surface split in two, and the pungent smell of burned wood, like a tree that had just been hit by lightning, filled the room.  Then she vanished in a flash of light.

    An instant later, she was safely back in the Lair Mansion Library.  She picked up the book she had put down earlier, and dropped herself into the overstuffed chair to resume reading.  Then she had an occurring thought.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey, Flapjack!”  she called out, not loudly, but with enough volume so she knew he would hear.  He was always lurking somewhere nearby.

    The heavy curtains by the windows moved ever so slightly, and Flapjack slipped between them.  “Yes?”  he asked, sounding hopeful and disgusting at the same time.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“You know those three guys who were just here?  Let’s keep that between us, okay?  When they show up and harass Mumph, I want him at his angriest.”  Lara smirked as she added, “And don’t forget to videotape it.”

    Flapjack looked excited as he skipped out of the Lair Mansion Library happily, grabbing his video camera as he went.


TO BE CONTINUED?


-- Story written and copyrighted (C) 2008 by Jason Froikin, and may not be 
--    reprinted without permission.  
-- Yuki Shiro designed by Jason Froikin, based on designs by Masamune Shirow
--  Liu Xi Xian and the Psychic Samurai are original design by Jason Froikin
--  Lara Night is an original creation by Jason Froikin