50YOn: Tuesday, 13th April 1976
I wake up and intend to spend the day writing.
When I hear my brother awake, I dress, put on tennis shoes, and get to work on the typewriter. I don’t get much done, just a few pages.
How to save the world in one short novel
c1 How indeed?
Chapter One
“People and music will save the world. How else do you get that kind of control? Put five hundred people in front of the right music and you get hysteria. Be at the head of that hysteria — or better still, cause it — and you have five hundred people moving together.
“It may sound daft, but it’ll work.
“And if music isn’t enough, frighten them.
“Not a few people in England. Everyone.
“I’m going to let it get around that intelligent life has been discovered somewhere else — more advanced, more civilised and cleverer than us. I won’t announce it. I’ll let the rumour grow quietly until people believe they discovered it themselves.
“If that doesn’t work, we combine the two.
“Music and fear.
“Well? What do you think?”
Sir Radcliffe remained silent for a moment.
“I think it could work,” he said. “And frankly, Oscar, what other opportunities have we got?”
That was the point. There weren’t many.
Overpopulation and friction between different parties had resulted in war, but not the usual kind. This was a hidden war. People simply disappeared. Others panicked, and gradually any sort of advance in culture or civilisation came to a halt.
Everyone knew what was going on around them, but nobody talked about it because nobody wanted to know.
Sir Radcliffe rose from behind his desk.
“You’ll have the money you need. But my involvement ends there. I don’t want my name attached to any part of this.”
“O.K.”
“If it succeeds, nobody needs to know I helped you. If it fails, they certainly don’t.”
Oscar smiled.
“Fair enough.”
Maisie was waiting in the outer office.
She was Sir Radcliffe’s Personal Assistant, which meant she knew almost everything that happened in his office and considerably more than most people imagined. She was also Oscar’s lover, which complicated matters.
“How did it go?”
“He’s paying for it.”
“All of it?”
“As much as I need.”
She looked at him for a moment.
“And does he know what you’re really planning?”
“He knows enough.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Oscar collected his coat.
“Dinner tonight?”
“The Witling Arms?”
“Eight.”
Maisie smiled.
“I’ll be there.”
Oscar left the building knowing that money was no longer the problem.
Now he needed the song.
That meant Eddie.
Lunch. Pebble Mill at One.
Start the book again. Begin on the second book to avoid boredom. Get earache. T.V. Four pieces of toast with peanut butter. Continue with the second book.
ADAM AND EVIE
Chapter Three
I walked back into the common room and everyone stopped talking.
This was becoming annoying. Every time I walked into a room everybody expected me to know what to do. I didn’t, but somebody had to.
“We’re all right for the moment,” I said. “Joe says the infection hasn’t entered this section.”
“How does Joe know?” Geoff asked.
“He knows everything that happens on the ship.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
I ignored him. It seemed the easiest thing to do.
Annie was standing beside the airlock. I went over to her and she took hold of my arm.
“Is the Captain all right?”
“Yes. Of course he is. He’s a machine.”
Joe’s voice came from somewhere above us.
<<Technically incorrect >>
Everyone looked up.
“What do you mean technically incorrect?” I said.
<<There is no mechanical Captain >>
There was silence.
I looked around for my Joe. He wasn’t there.
“Joe?”
Yes, Adam.
His voice now came from the wall beside me.
“Where’s the Captain?”
I am the Captain.
For several seconds nobody said anything.
Then Dick laughed.
“You mean your computer is flying the ship?”
“He isn’t my computer,” I said.
Correct.
That annoyed me even more.
The inner airlock door opened and a small grey machine came through carrying two boxes of food.
“There he is,” I said. “That’s Joe.”
No.
The machine stopped in front of me.
That is terminal 1482.
“But I call him Joe.”
I looked across at Annie.
Everyone calls me Joe.
“What does yours look like?”
“The same.”
“No it doesn’t.”
“It does.”
I had never thought of this before. I had always supposed that my Joe belonged to me rather like my clothes did. The idea that everybody had been talking to the same person seemed somehow indecent.
“So when I talk to my Joe—”
You are talking to me.
“And when Annie talks to hers?”
She is talking to me.
“And the Captain?”
Me.
“The intercom?”
Me.
“The medical computer?”
There was a pause.
Me.
I didn’t like the pause.
Annie tightened her hand around my arm.
“Joe,” I said, “how many people are alive on the ship?”
Seventeen.
Nobody moved.
“There were twenty-three this morning.”
Yes.
“What happened to the other six?”
Another pause.
“Joe?”
They were unsuitable.
I suddenly became aware of how quiet the ship was.
“What do you mean unsuitable?”
The survival of the colony has priority over the survival of any individual passenger.
Geoff stood up.
“What colony?”
I had no real idea what I was doing.
Joe didn’t answer him.
Instead every light in the room went out except one above Annie and one above me.
For some reason I knew what this meant before he said anything.
Protocol Adam is proceeding satisfactorily.
I stared at Annie.
She stared back at me.
“What is Protocol Adam?”
The little machine carrying the food began moving again.
Joe answered quite pleasantly.
You will understand when there are two of you.
I had no idea what I was doing!
Typing at a typewriter was my thing. An exercise device for fingers, the output irrelevant.
I thought stories would simply form in my head and move through my fingertips onto the page. Both books were attempts at something grand—science fiction, world-saving, invented realities—but in truth, they were indistinguishable: the same vague energy, the same lack of structure.
The problem wasn’t laziness so much as frustration. I wanted to write, but didn’t yet understand how writing worked. So I drifted—starting, restarting, switching between projects to avoid the growing sense that neither was going anywhere. Procrastination as a response to not knowing.
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