Arco walked despondently through the wasteland till he reached the city gates. There, an enormous mural of Terence McKenna’s face greeted him. At the city gates they made him bring out his ID card, even though they knew very well who he was.
After another twenty minutes he arrived at his house; a dilapidated terrace in the middle of an ugly row of houses that had survived the war.
“Did you get anything?” Lena asked, hopefully.
“Just a rabbit.” said Arco modestly.
Their son, Leo, brought out the Geiger counter and they set it by the rabbit.
“Almost out of charge, Dad.” he said.
“It’ll do.” said Arco.
After ten minutes they carefully examined the profile.
“Borderline, but it’ll do.” he said.
“Can we eat it?” asked Lena.
“We’ll give it a go.” said Arco, sighing. “I got some dandelion leaves too, and some Jack-in-the-Pulpit roots.”
“Fantastic!” said Leo, enthusiastically.
“Your favourite.” said Arco, smiling.
After lunch, Arco retreated into the basement. The basement was filled with computers and electrical parts. He connected the battery he’d charged using a solar panel, and the equipment blinked on.
It was dark by the time he emerged, and his wife had a worried look on her face.
“The police stopped by again.” she said. “I told them you were out. They want you go to the police station.”
Arco shook his head.
“I’m not going.” he said.
“They’re getting more and more persistent.” said Lena.
“Will you have to go to prison, Dad?” said Leo.
“Absolutely not.” said Arco.
In the evening of the following day, Arco joined the regulars at the local bar. It was only possible to avoid the bar for so long before arousing potentially fatal suspicion. Other mothers locally saw plenty of Lena. Arco, in contrast, was rarely seen anywhere aside from the bar.
In the bar, Arco was accosted by Cygnus. Cygnus liked to wear an ancient pre-war black leather jacket and sported a sandy moustache that he groomed daily with the greatest of care.
“We don’t see you in here very often.” he said.
“I was here last Tuesday.” said Arco.
“Perhaps you don’t like the company of other people.”
“Perhaps I’m busy.”
“With what? There are some, shall we say, distressing rumours.”
“What kind of rumours would those be?” said Arco, reddening in spite of himself.
“They say you’re doing science, comrade.”
“They talk rubbish.”
Cygnus regarded him steadily, with the gaze of a man who has nothing to fear, at least not from a man like Arco.
“Good.” he said, eventually. “Science got us into this mess. Hundreds of millions of innocent people killed. I wouldn’t like to have to report to the Central Committee that one of our comrades is messing with science.”
“I hate science, so you won’t have to.” said Arco.
“Good.” said Cygnus again.
He watched Arco steadily while Arco self-consciously put the Real Ale to his lips. The smell of it almost made him gag, but at least the alcohol made the bar more bearable. Then, abruptly and without saying anything, Cygnus went to harass someone else at the other side of the bar.
“They caught someone doing science over in Alstonbury last week, I heard.” said the bartender cheerily.
“Oh?” said Arco.
The bartender was a cheerful man with a shock of red hair, who had managed somehow to remain overweight even after the war. There were rumours, known to everyone, that he feasted on corpses, but that was at least seen as a lesser crime than science. A cannibal could remain in good standing with the Party, if he was careful.
“Yeah.” said the bartender. “The idiot was trying to make an old car work.”
“Disgusting. I hope they punished him appropriately.”
“They did. Cut his hands off. He won’t be doing any more of that.”
The bartender laughed heartily.
Arco shuddered inwardly, thinking not only of himself, but also of his friend Corvus, and forced a thin smile.
At that moment a hand clapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to find the village shaman, a man known as Fumba who had once gone by the name of Derek, standing behind him.
“Feeling better, Arco?”
“Eh?” said Arco.
“You weren’t at the pow-wow last weekend. I thought you were ill?”
“Oh.” said Arco. “Yes. Been having some stomach problems.”
“So you’ll be with us tomorrow?”
“Of course.” said Arco, cursing inwardly.
He was on his second ale by the time Corvus appeared. Arco and Corvus retreated to a table in the corner.
“Are you still doing it?” said Corvus, quietly.
Arco nodded.
“You’re taking a hell of a risk.”
“I know.” muttered Arco into his ale.
“They’ll chop your hands off if they catch you.”
Arco looked him in the eye and smiled. He decided it was best not to tell Corvus about the man who’d had his hands removed for messing with a car.
“Going to the pow-wow tomorrow?”
“Naturally.” said Corvus. “You know I love those things. I only wish they were every day.”
Arco sniggered.
“Me too.” he said. “I wish we could spend all day every day discussing mushrooms and facial tattoos, but duty calls.”
Corvus giggled quietly.
“I need to talk to you later.” said Arco.
“No problem.” said Corvus.
Later on the two men left the bar and walked through the ruined streets.
“You’re not going down there, are you?” said Corvus, as Arco turned down the remains of Church Lane.
“Why not?” said Arco.
“Are you kidding me? It’s nearly two Roentgens an hour down there.”
“Won’t do you any harm for a few minutes. Not as much harm as the Central Committee will do us if they catch us.”
Corvus hesitated, but then joined him.
“Listen,” said Arco quietly, “I need more enamelled wire. Can you get it?”
“It’ll cost you.” said Corvus.
“What do you want?”
“A carburettor. From a VW. I don’t care what kind as long as it’s post-2000.”
“I know exactly where to find one.” said Arco.
“I can get you fifty metres of 30 Standard Wire Gauge.”
“Good quality?”
“The best.”
“It’s a deal.”
“They’ll probably kill us if they catch us. If we’re lucky.”
“Screw them.” said Arco.
The following day Arco got lucky early on, and caught a couple of trout before lunchtime that were only mildly radioactive. He spent the rest of the day working on the machine in the basement.
In the evening Arco, Lena and Leo attended the pow-wow. The shaman was already in full swing when he arrived.
“Science destroyed the materialist capitalist hegemony that preceded our great civilisation.” he shouted. “But Terence McKenna showed us the way!”
The shaman’s assistant was going around handing out hallucinogenic mushrooms. Arco, Lena and Leo quietly spat most of them out, with practised covert technique.
Fumba had thick layers of paint over his heavily-tattooed and pierced face, which sat incongruously with his genteel features and former occupation as an accountant.
“We have re-learned the ways of our ancient hunter-gatherer ancestors, who lived in harmony with nature!” Fumba shouted. “Thanks to the sacred mushroom medicine, we have learned to suppress our egos! The Archaic Revival reigns supreme!”
After Fumba had finished his rambling sermon, he played a Terence McKenna tape on an ancient stereo.
“Culture is not your friend!” said Terence’s nasal but oddly-captivating voice. “Culture is for other people’s convenience and the convenience of various institutions.”
After two hours, by which time some of the villagers had already disrobed and were dancing ecstatically to Fumba’s drumming, Arco and his family quietly crept out. Corvus caught up with them when they were already halfway home.
“You know,” said Corvus, “I’ve been listening to some of McKenna’s old speeches. Stuff that isn’t canon. I don’t think he would ever have supported what’s going on here.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” said Arco.
“Seriously,” said Corvus, “especially when you take into account the cultural context. I don’t think McKenna could ever have foreseen what people would do with his ideas. He was against authoritarianism, and what’s this, if not authoritarianism? Those people talk like they’ve got no ego, when they’re actually all ego. They’re nothing but ego.”
“Pointless discussing it.” said Lena quietly. “Someone might overhear us. How many mushrooms have you had?”
“I’ve had a good dose.” said Corvus. “They don’t affect me much anymore, but I pretended I was totally out of it and I wandered off. Once I was out of sight I ran straight after you. You’re the only ones who really understand. Everyone else is totally under the spell of the Central Committee.”
“Power-hungry dictators.” muttered Arco. “They don’t understand anything. No-one needs these damn mushrooms. All they do is make people more suggestible.”
“Amen.” said Corvus. “Amen to that, brother. But we’ll show them. When I get my VW working …”
“Just watch your tongue doesn’t run away with you.” said Lena. “I worry about you, Corvus.”
“I’m careful.” said Corvus, looking around nervously. “I really am. Soon I’m getting out of here and finding somewhere less batty.”
“We’re getting out too.” said Arco. “I’ve almost completed my father’s work. The machine’s almost ready.”
Corvus shook his head.
“I wish I could believe it.” he said. “I still think my car’s a better bet.”
They parted ways in front of the Terence McKenna statue, which was so crudely carved out of an old tree that, as Lena had often remarked, it could as well have represented almost anyone with a beard and curly hair.
Later that week, while Arco was out foraging, Lena and Leo received visitors: Cyngus and Alpha, with orders from the Central Committee. When she answered the knock on the door, they pushed past her into the house.
“Where is Arco?” said Cygnus.
“Out looking for food.” said Lena.
“We have orders to search your house.”
“But why?”
“Are you questioning the wisdom of the Central Committee?” said Alpha.
“Of course not.” said Lena.
She and Leo watched helplessly as the two men turned over everything.
“What are you looking for?” asked Lena. “Perhaps I can help you.”
“We’ve received credible intelligence that your husband is engaging in science.” said Cygnus.
“That’s ridiculous.” said Lena. “Whoever said that is trying to mislead the Central Committe, against the principles of McKennaism.”
Cygnus stared at her menacingly.
“Be careful what you say.” he said.
“I will never stop calling out the enemies of McKennaism and the Central Committee!” said Lena.
Cygnus glared suspiciously at her but, after a pause, said, “Very good, comrade.”
Cygnus went back to rooting through her possessions.
At a certain point, Cygnus and Alpha began examining the books on the bookshelf, behind which was located the hidden entrance to the cellar. Lena’s heart was in her mouth as they tore down handfuls of books and paged through them.
Fortunately she and Arco had selected the books with great care. The most scientific book on the entire shelf was only Terence McKenna’s Food of the Gods, once considered pseudoscience by many, but that was before the war.
Cyngus put the books back with a look of regret.
“Very good, Lena.” he said. “There is no trace of science in here. But … we are watching you.”
“We have nothing to do with science!” Lena protested.
“Perhaps not. Please tell Arco to come to the Office of Security on Tuesday, in the morning. We would very much like to talk to him.”
“I’ll tell him.” said Lena.
With that, the two men left, leaving the house in chaos.
“Are they going to arrest Dad?” said Leo.
“No.” said Lena. “He won’t go to their stupid security office.”
Meanwhile, Arco was having a bad day. A hot particle had got stuck to his shoe; enough to destroy his foot if he hadn’t found it in time with the Geiger counter.
He was walking through the forest when he encountered something even worse. The forest seemed unusually quiet; even the usual birdsong was absent. He thought he saw something moving among the trees up ahead, and he levelled his rifle at it. Arco had never been a fan of hunting, but now he and his family needed to eat, there was never enough food, so if it was alive he was bound to consider shooting it.
As the thing lumbered towards him, hairs began to stand up on the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right. He guessed it was about the size of a child, and it seemed as though it was repeatedly standing upright on its back legs and then falling down again.
He resisted the urge to turn and run, instead holding the rifle steady.
The thing stumbled off sideways, and Arco followed it as best he could through the trees. He wondered if it could be a bear. He’d heard rumours of bears returning to England somehow, after the war, perhaps escaping from zoos.
Soon he emerged into a clearing, where he stopped and listened. He could hear nothing. He strained his ears, listening for the faintest indication of its movements.
Then, quite suddenly, it burst into the clearing on the other side.
Arco stared in bewilderment and horror. The thing, whatever it was, looked half-human. It was pink, but covered in red and greenish scabs. Its eyes seemed not to possess eyelids. It was standing nearly upright, and its front paws resembled hands, but with only three stubby fingers on each.
When it saw him, it screamed; an unearthly, sickening screech.
Arco turned and ran.
The memory of the thing bothered him for the rest of the day. In the evening he finally shot a rabbit, and as he carried it home, he wondered what the thing could have been. In the end he decided it had to be some mutated product of the radioactive wasteland surrounding the forest. What its starting point had been, who could say?
He hoped, at least, that it had not once been human, or born of a human.
At the gates, he saw something that scared him even more than the creature. Cygnus was standing there, probably waiting for him, trying to conceal himself in the shadow of the sentry box.
He sighed and walked along the fence till he came to a hole, which he wriggled through.
When he got home, Lena and Leo were still upset about the two men ransacking the house. Arco swore at the sight of the mess, which they still hadn’t finished cleaning up. But they soon cheered up when they saw the rabbit.
“It’s a good one, isn’t it?” said Arco. “Hardly any radiation. Must have come down from the hills.”
He soon noticed that Lena seemed like she had something else on her mind.
“It’s Cyngus.” she said. “He wants you to go to the Office on Tuesday.”
Arco laughed.
“Obviously I’m not going.” he said. “If he wants he can come and get me. I’ll give him something to remember me by.”
He nodded towards the rifle that stood in the corner.
“He seemed serious this time.” said Lena.
“He always seems serious.” said Arco, shifting the bookcase aside. “As long as he doesn’t find this, let him badger us if it makes him happy.”
Only a few days later, they received very distressing news. Lena found out first. She told Arco in their tiny living room and kitchen.
“Corvus has been arrested.” she said, looking pale and tearful. “Arco, it’ll be you next.”
Arco sat down, shaking slightly.
“If they torture him, he’ll give me up.” he said. “He’s a good man; he’ll hold out for a bit, but no-one can withstand it indefinitely.”
“What will they do to him?” asked Lena.
“They’ll start with the mushrooms.” said Arco. “After that … well, it’s best not to think about it.”
Cygnus, at that moment, had Corvus tied up in the basement of the Office of Security, but things weren’t going as well as he’d hoped.
“You were seen carrying machine parts.” said Cygnus. “What are you up to? Tell us, or you’ll get another shock. A big one this time.”
“Isn’t that against your principles?” asked Corvus. “Using electricity.”
“Trying to be funny, are we?” said Cygnus. “That won’t get you anywhere here.”
He pressed a button and Corvus’s entire body convulsed. Then, Corvus began singing.
“Stop that!” shouted Alpha, who was standing by with a hypodermic syringe.
“I’m a god!” shouted Corvus. “I’m eternal! I’m invincible!”
“You fool,” said Cygnus to Alpha angrily. “You gave him too much psilocybin.”
“It’s not my fault.” said Alpha. “He must be unusually sensitive to it. Maybe he’s been spitting out the mushrooms at the pow-wow.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow, when you’ve sobered up.” said Cygnus. “Then, you’ll tell us what we want to know, or you’ll feel pain beyond anything you could possibly imagine.”
“You’re nothing but a social construction!” shouted Corvus, and he dissolved into peals of hysterical laughter.
For three days, Arco and Lena worried about Corvus and about their own situation. Lena tried to ask the committee representatives about Corvus but she was met with only blank, knowing stares and passive-aggressive questions.
Then, the committee came for them.
It was evening, and Arco was working in the cellar while Lena was making bread from semi-wild grains she’d gathered. She looked up to see a crowd of men armed with guns, massing around the front of the house. Rushing to the back, she found more men there.
She shouted to Arco, who emerged from the cellar.
“It’s over.” she said tearfully. “They’ve come for us, Arco.”
Leo ran to her and she cradled his shoulders. His eyes were wide with fear.
“What will they do to us, Mama?” he asked her.
“To the cellar!” said Arco.
“What good will that do us?” said Lena despairingly.
“I’ve finished my machine.” said Arco.
Lena and Leo followed him down the cellar stairs, and Arco closed the bookcase behind them. Outside, the men were banging on the door and shouting. Leo was crying.
Arco flicked a panel of switches one by one and numerous lights and panels illuminated, displaying figures and diagrams.
Upstairs, they heard the sound of the men trying to break down the doors.
“They’re coming in, Arco!” said Lena, in a hushed desperate tone.
“They won’t get in.” said Arco, smiling. “Entire house is protected by a forcefield now.”
“Forcefield?” said Lena. “I thought your father was doing anti-gravity research?”
“He was.” said Arco. “I worked out how to create impermeable planes and polyhedrons by bending and compressing spacetime.”
He pressed more switches and a view of the outside of the house appeared. A huge mob of angry Central Party Committee people were standing there, some with guns levelled at the house. Cygnus put a megaphone to his lips.
“Come out!” he shouted. “You’re completely surrounded. The game’s up, Arco. Give yourself up and your family will be treated leniently.”
“What are we going to do?” wailed Lena.
Leo’s terrified face was pressed against her stomach.
“This.” said Arco, and he began to manipulate a joystick.
The men outside seemed to move downwards.
“What’s happening?” said Lena in astonishment.
Leo turned to look at the computer screens and his terror turned to amazement.
“We’re flying!” he exclaimed.
The men receded below them and soon they could see the space where their house had previously stood, the terraced house neatly sliced from its adjoining neighbours. The men were looking up in astonishment.
“Arco, they’re shooting at us!” said Lena.
“The shield is impenetrable by ordinary matter.” said Arco. “I can even make it elastic.”
He pressed another switch and the men began to dive for cover as their own bullets bounced back at them. The house began to move off towards the mountains.
“We’ll find somewhere better to live.” said Arco. “Somewhere free from McKennaism and the Central Committee.”
“Look!” said Leo, pointing at a screen. “What is it?”
“It’s a car.” said Lena. “It’s Corvus! He’s escaped!”
Below them an ancient VW was careering out of the village. As they watched, it burst through the gates, sentries scattering left and right.
“Good for him!” said Arco.
On the edge of the village, enormous old anti-aircraft guns began to shoot at them, the bullets flying past in all directions.
“Idiots!” said Arco.
“They’re turning them on Corvus!” said Lena.
“That’s quite enough of that.” said Arco, and he ran to a monitor at the side and grasped another joystick.
As they watched, the guns and the men operating them abruptly flattened, as if squashed by a giant invisible foot.
“What did you do to them?” said Lena.
“Gravity vortex.” said Arco. “Before we leave, I think I’ll flatten the Security Office too.”
And with that, he pressed a button and a strange distortion passed through the air, following which the Security Office in the distance crunched flat.
It was another hour before Corvus stopped for a break and noticed a house hovering above him. Soon they reunited on a patch of grassy land far from the village.
Corvus was bruised and bleeding but alive and in one piece.
“Arco,” he said, “when you said you were trying to complete your father’s anti-gravity research, I thought maybe you were talking about levitating spoons or something, not flying houses. To be perfectly honestly, I didn’t think you’d even manage to levitate a spoon.”
“The scientists of old said all the low-hanging fruit was picked.” said Arco jauntily. “They were wrong. They blinded themselves to it, after the first nuclear bombs were detonated. Secretly, even they were afraid of science.”
In the distance, the sound of explosions and guns being fired emerged from the direction of the village.
“It’s an uprising.” said Lena. “I knew they rebel, one day.”
“I think,” said Arco slowly, “if Terence McKenna had been alive today, he would have approved of an uprising.”
Corvus stared thoughtfully into the distance, in the direction of the village.
“Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick.”
“Who said that?” asked Lena.
“Terence McKenna.” said Corvus.
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