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HEROICS INC.

Part Three

Queen Sharon appeared with a powerful flourish that sent most of       
Will's household machines into powerpack arrest.  The apartment      
was empty.  She closed her eyes and scanned the city before      
quickly vanishing. After checking that the coast was clear, the      
vacuum made.a tentative appearance to inspect the damage.  It was      
obvious that this stain just would not come out.  The floor was      
scorched where the Queen had been standing. The small sign that      
she had landed on was a bubbling gooey mess.  It had read: HEROICS      
INC.      
      
      
     

 
 
 
When Will woke up it would have been easy to think it was all  
a dream.  The cell at COMS central was just like his apartment.       
There were some differences.  The window shutters informed him      
that they performed an entirely decorative function, the door      
would not respond to his voice command, there was a working GRUB      
machine and video screen, and lastly, Sulphur was quiet.  These      
things were curious, but in his drowsy state, not threatening.      
        The bed looked nice and cosy and ever SO relaxing, he would       
return to its warm protection and....      
        There was something he had forgotten; a reason not to sleep       
that he must remember, that was important to remember.  With a      
huge effort, he thrust himself away from the bed.      
        'The shower!'      
        A shower would help him think.  Will staggered over and      
pressed for water.  The shower politely informed him that 'Due to       
disappointing recent rainfall statistics in this hemisphere, COMS       
water is restricting bathing to one session per customer per day.        
You are therefore ineligible.  Please try later.'      
        Something was making a thumping noise but he ignored it.       
The video screen would tell him why he was so sleepy.  Will turned      
it on.        
Unfortunately, it was a new one; they were always a bit hyper in      
the early days, before their depression set in.      
        'Hello.  I'm your video screen and I'm here to assist and       
educate you. I'm confident about making a valid tutorial      
contribution to your life.  Here at the COMS Correctional      
Facility, we aim to provide a full background to your treatment.       
For a simply thrilling documentary on mental retraining, please      
specify channel A.'      
        Will was finding it hard to concentrate as he rested his      
head against the screen.  The "Ay" he mumbled was more a symptom      
of incomprehension than a request.  He recoiled in fright as a      
large, manic, salivating simulation of himself appeared on the      
screen adorned with a caption that read: Mr Hyde.      
        'Mental re-education has in past been a source of great fear       
and superstition.  Your ignorant ancestors felt compelled to      
dismiss this process as brainwashing, Today of course, more      
enlightened minds realise that there are a full range of positive      
benefits to be derived for the logical restructuring of your      
thought processes...'      
        Will was slowed by the drugs in his system. It took a while      
for the term "Brainwashing" to filter through, but when it did,      
the effect was electric.      
        'That's why I can't go to sleep. I'll never wake up!'      
        He knew that he would have to take drastic action.  Slapping       
himself in the face almost succeeded in inducing a state of       
unconsciousness that the drugs had failed to achieve. The General       
Refreshment and Universal Buffet machine was his only hope.       
Pained, groggy, but full of panic induced adrenaline, he staggered      
to its side.  Fortunately this machine was unique.      
        'As this is to be your last meal before mental retraining,       
normal, and if I may say so, sensible nutritional controls have      
been relaxed.  You may have any meal or drink you require.'      
        Even in his doped state, Will was able to register the irony      
of finally finding a flexible GRUB machine in these circumstances.      
        'Five pints of water, ten cups of hot black caffeine-     
permeated Coffee, and a plate of rancid bacon fat please.'       
        The Machine reluctantly dispensed his order with the vocal       
equivalent of a sneer.      
        'This is the sort of irresponsible menu composition that      
made us necessary, but I suppose it's your stomach.'      
        Having drenched himself with the water, vomited at the smell      
of the bacon fat, and drunk the coffee, Will was starting to snap      
out of things.  The waste disposal system, on the other hand,      
filled with stinking bacon remains was not feeling too healthy.      
        The thumping noise started again and he was wandering if it      
was some odd after-effect, when he realised that it was coming      
from a strange looking trunk in the corner.  Keyed up and with      
some trepidation, he tentatively opened the lid and sighed with a      
mixture of relief and amusement.  Inside the trunk, trussed up in      
a heat resistant muzzle and bindings, was a very dishevelled and      
angry looking Dragon.      
      
              
      
     

 
      
        'But, why you?' Will was confused.      
        'Because I'm programmed to take care of you.  Even against      
my own kind.'      
        'So what happened?  Was it a trap door or something?'      
        'No, nothing like that, nothing melodramatic.  Everything      
was normal, Talking about the stresses and strains of the job.       
Did I ever tell you how boring conversationally the canine model      
is ?'      
        Will struggled to control his impatience.      
        'Is it important at the moment?'      
        'I turned to go and they all jumped me.  It wasn't easy;      
there were some fur and feathers flying, I can tell you.  The next      
thing I remember was bashing my sensitive magatronian head in      
trying to attract your attention.'      
        'You know why I'm here?' Will tried to keep the tremor out      
of his voice,      
        'Mental retraining.  Congratulations! You finally made the      
most unwanted list.'      
        Will ignored the chiding tone.      
        'What's going to happen to me?'      
 'I don't know.  There have been odd rumours, some may be true.       
They do a little redecoration inside your skull and you come out      
with a more positive attitude.'      
        'And you ?'      
        'I get reprogrammed.  Almost everything will be erased.        
There's no point in my remembering the old Will, except as a      
sobering reminder. They might even destroy me.  The new you      
probably won't have the imagination to order a dragon.  You'll get      
something nice and comfortable, maybe even one of those dull      
dachshunds.'      
        Will could not believe how sanguine Sulphur sounded about      
his imminent destruction.      
        'Will it hurt?'      
        Sulphur thought about it.      
        'Not me.  It's just a switch.  You won't feel a thing, or at       
least you won't remember feeling a thing.'      
        'Why didn't they Just do it?  Get it over with whilst I was       
unconscious?'      
        'COMS are not monsters, Will.  They're doing this for your      
own good. They've obviously delayed things so that you can enjoy      
your birthday.'      
        'Do you think it's for my own good.  To have my brain       
redecorated?'      
        'I know you're not happy.  You've made that fairly obvious      
over the past few years.'      
        Will dully slumped against the wall.      
        'So, that's it.  We just wait for them to commit the great       
brain robbery.'      
        The video screen butted in before Sulphur had a chance to       
reply.        
        'You could watch some programmes.  I have a wonderful       
collection of cop shows and prison dramas on correctional cable.'      
        'What's the point?' Will asked.  'I won't remember them.'      
        'If you don't mind me saying so,'' the screen pompously       
replied, 'that's the sort of negative attitude that got you here.'      
        'That's right.  It means I've got nothing to lose so, SHUT      
UP!'      
        'Well if you're going to be grumpy about it...'      
        The Screen switched itself off with all the grandness an       
appliance speaking in a falsetto voice could muster. It wondered      
to itself if it was permissible to ask for a transfer on one's      
first day.      
        Will moved over to Sulphur.  In a rare display of somewhat       
laboured camaraderie, he solemnly knelt and gazed into the      
dragon's eyes.  Sulphur's discomfort level rocketed as he met the      
human's pathetic stare.  They had avoided a "Buddy" speech thus      
far in their co-existence and Sulphur could see no reason to go      
treacly now.      
        'I'm not very good at this, I mean, I've never done this       
before. But if this is the end, thanks for all the help. I'll miss       
you I suppose, even if I don't remember you.' He placed a      
quivering hand an the dragon's scaly green head.  'Is this all,      
old friend?'      
        Sulphur was not a sentimentalist.  He soon decided that he       
could tolerate no more of such syrupy rubbish.      
        'Please stop this nonsense.  It doesn't suit you, In fact      
its nauseating.  The worst performance I've seen since Tiny Tim.       
IS IT ALL, INDEED!'  The dragon puffed a plume of contemptuous      
black smoke,        
'Are you insane?  Have you gone completely gaga Will?  What      
happened to Heroics Incorporated?  We may not succeed but at least      
we can try.'      
        Will looked disturbingly like he was going to hug his       
companion. Sulphur warded him off with his savage glare circuits      
on maximum setting.  Will contented himself with simpering in a      
loose approximation of a resolute smile.      
        In reality.  Sulphur was not as confident About their      
chances as he appeared. "DIODES!  I finally bypass my veracity      
programming and all I can come out with that garbage.  Well," he      
consoled himself, "as long as it keeps the great fool happy until      
they come for him."      
      
      
      


 
 
 
The door didn't have a face, but if it had possessed lips, they      
would have been curled into a sneer, Sulphur had the exhausted      
feeling that, if he puffed out one more blast of flame, he would      
melt.      
        'Go on,' the door's audio circuit said sarcastically, 'try       
again, I'm enjoying it.  You give me a nice warm feeling all      
over.'      
      
        Sulphur tensed.  Enough was enough; this time he would leave       
his mark. The force of the blaze the dragon spat forth was      
tremendous but the sprinkler system remained unimpressed.  It      
informed him for the fifth time of its inability to implement fire      
safety services due to disappointing recent rainfall statistics      
etc.; the usual prepared message.      
        The door remained totally unblemished by the fiery assault.      
        'Come on...' it said in a smugly exasperating tone, 'I'm       
burning to see what you try next.'      
        What next Sulphur thought to itself despondently.  Giving up       
that what's next.  It's all very well trying to cheer Will up, but       
this is getting us nowhere.  I might as well just switch myself      
off now.      
        Will hardly noticed that his companion's escape efforts had       
ceased.  So weakened by impending heat exhaustion that he'd lost      
the desire to be apathetic.  This must have been what an      
historical celebration roast turkey felt like, with the emphasis      
on the "roast."      
        The door was in the midst of triumphantly crooning to      
itself,       
'Come on scaly, light my fire,' when it evaporated.  Will and      
Sulphur slumped together in their mutual gloom, hardly noticed the      
searing explosion that reduced the door to ashes.  It was a shame.       
The Purple Thingy knew how to make a entrance.      
        'Sulphur, it won't work, Stop it...' Will mumbled weakly,      
'Stop it now.'      
        Curiously enough, although aimed at Sulphur's lapsed efforts      
to cremate the door, Will's words happened to exactly echo the      
Purple Thingy's sentiments as Sharon surveyed her potential      
champion.  Will was not the sort of person epic poems were written      
about.  He just did not look the type.      
        He was just under six feet with a pronounced paunch that      
defied the best efforts of modern nutritional technology, and the      
posture of an arthritic ninety year-old.  Will's long, thin face      
also did little to inspire much confidence.  Mousy straight brown      
hair that, even when not twisted into weird contortions by his      
dysfunctional shower, still managed to refuse any attempts at      
control. His eyes were a soft brown, troubled and defiant, partly      
masked by an ancient pair of glasses, long made obsolete by COMS      
optical repair techniques.  His lips were full but tightened by      
tension and surrounded by a straggly pathetic attempt at beard      
growth.      
        It was indeed fortunate for the continuance of life in the       
solar system that, being unfamiliar with the structure of the       
humanoid type, the Purple Thingy did not recognise a "dork" when      
it saw one.     Then, there was the dragon to be considered.  The      
universe was full of terrifying, magnificent, reptilian beasts and      
this seedy-pocket sized worm in no way resembled any of them, With      
its long slender neck, chiselled fangs and large yellow absorbent      
eyes.  This beast seemed to the Thingy to embody all the      
aggression and spite of a baby hamster.      
        The Thingy was sorely tempted to return to its original plan      
of complete species irradiation when Will spoke.      
        'How much time do we have ?'      
        Time? The Thingy paused, Time, that was the trouble.  There      
was a time limit on the choice, A Thingy could shuffle universes      
like playing cards but it could not alter a second to find its      
champion.  That was against the rules and Purple Thingys were 
sticklers for  regulations. They did not do that sort of thing.  
That is not to say, that there was no such Thingy as one that lied, 
cheated and was not very nice, because there was.      
  



    
      
      
Far, far away.  So far that it would take the entire lifespan of       
everyone who has ever lived on Earth to get there, there lived      
such a Thingy.  An Orange one.        
        This Thingy did not regard itself as being mean.  There had      
to be some sort of counter-balancing system in the universe to      
stop everything becoming too nauseatingly happy. The Orange Thingy       
performed a useful socio-economic function.  To be fair, how many       
times have humans chased wasps with rolled up newspapers and said:       
"Come here - I won't hurt you?"      
        Concepts of truth and murder did not enter the mortal mind      
when exterminating insects.  It was a curious by-product of      
Mankind's self-absorption that, while it mostly viewed the      
extinction of nearly all other species on its world in this same      
unimportant light, the occasional personal injury - a stubbed toe      
or minor cut for example - was of major import, and it was      
basically the same principle with the Orange One.  The Thingy felt      
perfectly justified in any treatment it decided to mete out to      
trivial cultures; after all, a human does not consider the      
disgruntled feelings of numerous surface dwelling bacteria before      
taking a shower.        
        Like its Purple counterpart, the Orange Thingy had recently       
noticed the species Homo Sapiens and it was gaining a considerable       
amount of amusement from Queen Sharon's efforts.  This was going      
to be simple.      
      
     



 
      
It was difficult to gauge which of them were stunned most by their       
visitor, Will or Sulphur.  Both their mouths hung limp with equal       
elasticity.  Queen Sharon remained silent.  The Thingy had learned       
that it was wise to allow primitive life forms time to assimilate      
its incredible presence.  Normally a few hours were adequate.       
However, there was some doubt about these two.      
        It had to be said that when constructing a new form the      
Thingy did a terrific job and Sharon, Queen of the Illuminated Way      
was magnificent. Her supremely-modeled light purple physique was      
eight feet tall and radiated power from every perfect inch,      
cloaked in fine robes as finely decorated as she, more than      
fitting the royal bill.        
A lush forest of marvellous lilac tresses framed a face filled      
with regal authority, a force of personality lightened and warmed      
by the gentlest eyes and kindest smile ever to make their      
appearance on the planet. It was hardly surprising that Will took      
a while to find his voice.      
        'Has the brainwashing started?'      
        Sulphur mumbled reply was sure.      
        'If COMS could create this.  We wouldn't be working for      
you.'      
        'Are we dead?'      
        It was then that Sharon spoke In a voice that managed to be       
both commanding and richly musical.      
        'Know ye, mortal and mechanism, that I am Sharon, Queen of      
the Illuminated Way and Guardian of all that is good in the      
universe."      
        Will nodded to himself      
        'We're dead.'      
        'No, We're not dead.  It's worse than that,' Sulphur hissed.         
        'I have chosen you, Will Prince, representative of Earth, to      
be my champion.'      
        'Told you,'      
        Will adopted a fixed grin to hide his panic.      
        'Never mind that!  What do I do now?'      
        'I don't know.  But whatever it is, be polite.'      
        Will tentatively raised a shaking hand.      
        'Excuse me, your,' he searched for a form of address,      
'...your       
Splendidness.'      
        'Call me Sharon.'      
        The Purple Queen fixed them with a lock of such gentle       
understanding that Will almost forgot what he was going to say.      
        'Sharon.  It's a nice name.  I'd like to find out more about       
the champion thing.  It sounds, interesting.  But...well...why      
me?'      
        'If you like, I will explain.  I must warn you however that      
I don't like interruptions.'      
        Will replied with a nod.  A silent one.      
      
      
      
     



 
In contrast to its Purple compatriot, the Orange Thingy was having      
a wonderful time.  Floating about ninety million miles from Earth,       
gently supported by a solar flare, it gained a vast amount of       
amusement from viewing the Purple Thingy's new persona and the       
absurdity of its choice.      
        It quickly decided not to kill Will, as, for the moment, he      
was no threat, and besides, it had destroyed all life in the      
Patellian system before breakfast and did not want to appear      
greedy.      
      
     





 
      
The Purple Queen finished her address.  Will turned to Sulphur      
with a glassy-eyed grimace that vividly said: "This is your fault.       
You made me get up this morning."      
        The Queen's explanation of what was required had been fairly       
simple and straightforward.      
        On the other side of the universe was a planet with the       
incredibly stupid name of "Spoggle".  On this planet, closely      
guarded by possible sundry dark forces (at least no one had      
survived so far) and probably protected by the odd impossible task      
or two, was an object of vital importance to the future of all      
life.  This object was called the MADID.      
        Since universal protocol prevented the purple Queen from       
rescuing this "MADID", the Queen had decided to elect Will as       
champion and engage the services of HEROICS INC. for the job.       
There were of course many dire dangers and grim perils inherent in      
this position but that was what heroes were for - dumb bravery.      
        Will was welcome to recruit others from his system to help      
his efforts, subject to the terms and conditions of his      
employment.  That was it in a nutshell.  Will felt that the      
nutshell image was appropriate.  The whole thing sounded like the      
work of a nutcase.      
        Sulphur filled the uncomfortable silence.        
        'Your Majesty.  May we have a moment to discuss your offer?'      
        The Queen granted her assent and vanished.  The Thingy would       
listen invisibly.      
        Will reacted with the normal two-pronged reactions of a      
human faced with impending difficult tasks:        
      
A. Try to avoid a decision.       
      
B. Be totally sure that you cannot do the job. He had no idea what      
to do.      
              
        'Well?' Will anxiously questioned Sulphur as he slumped back       
onto the bed.      
        'Well, she's not computer generated.'      
        'Is she real?'      
        'Is she an all-powerful purple ruler?  How do I know?  I've       
never met one.'      
        'How do we find out?'      
        'Ask her for proof.  It's no good making a decision about      
the rest of what she says without it.'      
        'So we Just say - Dear Sharon.  Sorry about doubting you but       
can we have some proof of your powers...'      
        It was instant.  The terrible lack of air, the rugged dead       
terrain.  Will felt his body start to swell as his internal gases       
struggled to spread him over the surrounding lunar landscape.      
        Sulphur screamed: "Enough!" soundlessly in the vacuum, and      
they were back in the cell.  Several seconds of thankful wheezing      
gasps and a sore throat later, Will managed a hoarse verdict.        
        'It's got me convinced.  What's next ?'      
        'There's the offer.  On the minus side, you could die'      
        'On the plus side?'      
        'On the plus side, you always wanted an adventure, like your       
heroes.'      
        'My heroes were myths and fiction.  You can have dangerous       
adventures when you're fictional.  It's easy, you can't get hurt      
and it doesn't matter if you do.  The only live examples I've seen      
were actors, and they were supported by a film crew the size of an      
army and a big special effects budget.'      
        'Look at it this way.  You're in a cell waiting to be       
brainwashed, and I'm probably going to be scrapped.  What have we      
got to lose?'      
        'So.  You think we should try it?'      
        'I think you should at least ask for her terms.  There may      
be a special effects budget.' Will agreed.  "Can I see...'      
        He felt his hand clasp something, and glancing down, noticed      
a rolled piece of hide had appeared.  Will lay it on the ground      
and unrolled it, noticing as he did the scaly green texture.  He      
winked at Sulphur.      
        'Maybe it's a relative.'      
        The hide was covered in strange symbols, written in what      
looked like red ink, Will was impressed.      
        'She certainly goes in for all the props.'      
        'Never mind the frills. It Would be more useful if it were      
in an Earth language.'      
        In response to Sulphur's words.  The gobbledegook instantly       
became legible.  As they began to read they both momentarily      
wished that it had not.      
     

 
      
Will Prince and Heroics Inc., Standard Employment Contract NO, 666       
Relating to the Retrieval of the MADID.      
      
1.  With the exception of transportation from subjects native      
system to SPOGGLE and, probably, the return journey, no assistance      
will be provided by Sharon, Queen of the Illuminated Way, as said      
assistance constitutes direct contravention of universal protocol.      
      
2.  In the event of the subject's death, accident or injury, no       
liability will be borne by the employer.      
      
3.  The subject is required to engage adequate help to undertake      
the task. There is no set number of assistants.  However, the      
subject is strongly advised to bear in mind possible mortality      
rates when making this choice      
      
4.  Payment.  With the exception of THE MADID, which shall remain      
the property of the employer, any material gains or precious      
objects obtained by the group are liable to be kept by them.      
      
5.  Adherence to those laws of Spoggle that become apparent must      
be followed at all times, unless subsequently proved to be life-      
threatening or nonsensical.      
      
6.  Uniform.  The subject will be provided with a weapon and a      
Band of Intangibility, These items to be returned an completion of      
task or death of subject, whichever is sooner.      
      
7.  Any or all conditions of employment are subject to change at      
the discretion of the employer.  The employer is not liable to      
provide written or verbal notice of any change.      
      
I, Will Prince, hereby accept all conditions present, or future.      
      
Signed:                                      Sulphur: Witness:      
      
      
      
      
      
        Sulphur tried to make the best of things.      
        'At least it seems honest.'      
        'Bugger that! I don't want honesty.  I want rights and       
privileges. At the very least, help and protection.'      
        'Is it the right to be brainwashed or protection from       
brainwashing that you require?'      
        Will visibly wilted as his lack of options sank in, his      
voice had quietened when he finally spoke.        
        'So. You think this is really happening?'      
        'Do I think that we have been visited by a purple demi-god      
who wants our help in saving the universe?'      
        'Do you?      
        'Mankind has, over the centuries, believed in all sort of       
strange deities, I find the idea of Queen Sharon to be no more       
preposterous than most of those.  It may be, that living with you      
has severely overtaxed my logic functions, but yes, I do think      
that she is real.  I know of no earthly force that could fake her,      
or of any that would want to.  Her example was very convincing.       
She could have fooled your mental systems but not mine without      
possessing some sort of major internal power.'      
        'What about Spoggle?  This MADID, whatever it is?'      
        'We have to take her at her word.  After all.  She had no       
reason to pick us.  Although I can't say much for her taste.'      
        'So you think I should do it?'      
'I think WE have no choice, You always wanted a job.'      
'It's hardly a career with a future.'      
        'Think of it as an adventure.  A thrill that you've always       
wanted, like free-falling.'      
        'Without a parachute,' Will wearily closed his eyes.  'What      
a birthday present.  No more birthdays, I suppose Spoggle can't be      
as bad as Dickensland.'      
'No,' Sulphur smiled, showing off his fangs to best      
advantage,"...or brainwashing-land for that matter.'      
        'Still, it would be nice if they had a tourist board so that      
we could see what it was like.  Imagine the brochure: "Come to      
Spoggle for an adventure you'll never forget. ... If you survive      
that is."      
        'I think you've made a decision.'      
        'Not really.  I think this is the sort of decision that's      
made for you.  How do you think we call back her great Queenliness      
t...'      
        Queen Sharon reappeared before Will could even finish.       
        "Silly question," he thought.      
      
     



 
      
The good thing about being an Orange Thingy was that you were      
right a lot of the time, or at least, no one argued with you if      
you were wrong. Yet again, the Orange One had cause to      
congratulate itself, on its fine Judgement.  It had been right not      
to kill the human; his droll comedy of a life could prove to be      
vaguely entertaining.      
        A tourist brochure for Spoggle.  The very idea was      
delicious.        
What next... a handbook for Hades? a manual for Nagrorian Six, or       
perhaps in view of their cannibal population, a menu!  Perhaps      
these creatures would not be as dull as they seemed.  The Orange      
Thingy hoped not. It had a extremely low boredom threshold.

© Gary Cahalane