h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Alberta feels a tug on her pinions. It's the seal, looking serious.

'You know anything about this ptarmigan?' he demands, glancing round at nothing in particular. 'It keeps talking, but it isn't there. Only when it *was* there, it was quite obviously you, wasn't it?'

Behind his back, the lammergaier swirls a talon at her temple. Pinniped has clearly finally lost it.

'Listen, Coleridge : the ptarmigan disappeared, sort of, because you came through. And the bear disappeared, sort of, because Speak came through. Those things have your characters, see?'

The albatross doesn't see.

'And they're still here', adds the seal, anxiously. 'They've only sort-of disappeared. And maybe we're all here twice. Maybe we've all got doppel-thingies here'.

The rest of the party are ignoring him with renewed vigour, if such a thing is possible. Pinniped is becoming frantic.

'I don't want to meet another him', he stammers, pointing at the salmonid. 'And I definitely don't want to meet another me'.

She couldn't tell if the voice was real or if it was inside her head. That's all she needed - schizophrenia.

Jazzme wanted to play cards. She supposed hearts would be his trump suit. And the hound wanted her to throw her rule book away. No more security trumping spontaneity. No more return tickets. No longer defining herself by her responsibilities rather than her accomplishments. She wondered if the hound would let her keep that role of antacids in her pocket.

Sure, she knew it had to happen. But she wanted to stay where she was for a while longer. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find herself back in happier times surrounded by all the people who gave her life meaning - by loved ones now gone, by friends now cold and distant. She knew who she was in those days, and what her purpose was. There is security in knowing who you are and where you belong.

Now the seal is babbling about splitting to become two. How is that possible? She had diminished, not replicated. What did he know that she didn't?

Life without rules!
It seemed like a wonderful chance live to the extreme.
But the shark knew the librarian was right, without rules how could you enjoy the knowledge we had broken them.
There was no one in the group who had not, at least on occasion, broken the rules. But the rules were what had kept them together.. predator and prey, Leader and fowler, follower.
Without a Wardrobe to return to what was the point in going on?
What the hay!
Let's get onto the Ice!

F S

The hound woke up to see them skating on the ice. Good solid ice packed with friendship and firmed with understanding and compassion.
Life was good. The cold was waking her up at last. She looked across at the wise librarian, wrapped in her red cloak and timidly being led around the ice by Jazzme, his arm holding her protectively. Her eyes looking to the future and her heart secure in the past.

'So what do you reckon, hound?'

Which Seal was speaking to her now? Don't be silly there was only one Pin.

'I reckon it's a long journey, Pin, and a bit of a bumpy ride. Florida is right about the wardrobe though. We all need a way back
I don't think we have to search for it though' she added.

'Well done Mutt' said the Seal 'When the time is right it'll just be there in front of you.'

All this talk about rules was of interest to jazz - of course he'd broken quite a lot of them in his long life but quite agreed that we have to have them.

Though of lowly birth he had always taken notice of the grand old English gentlemen who insisted on the rules - for others but not for them.

Like the others in this mottled party he didn't want to abandon the past - just it is gone and you cannot make the better of it.

'Nor all your tears wash out a word of it' as old Omar put it.

It had been many years since he skated but was quite enjoying the experience of sailing along with Hypatia - he even stopped to pat the dog on the head and say 'good boy'.

On straightening up he was sure he could see a black clad figure in connical cap sailing over the distant tree tops on a broomstick.

Hypatia began to gain a bit more confidence on the ice. She had never skated on ice before. Her winter sports had been limited to a bit of sledding. It never stayed cold long enough where she lived for ice skating. And there had never been enough snow for skiing. Perhaps the engineer would give her a lesson in that as well.

The skating was enjoyable. She supposed it was possible for winter to be more than gray skies with little else to do than sit inside and dream of spring.

Still, she was supposed to be in autumn - not winter. It seemed that she was always being thrust into someone else's winter. She had a right to her autumn. She had earned it. Yet everywhere she looked was snow and ice. And everyone seemed content with it except her.

'Come on Pin,' the hound urged the Seal to move; no easy task.

'Well stay there if you must.' She bounded through the snow back towards the place where the wardrobe had been, past the wreckage of the motor bikes until at last she found what was needed; then back to the librarian.

'For you, Hypatia,' she handed over the perfect autumn red maple leaf.

'But Boots it's winter, where did you find this?'

'It's not just winter Hypatia, it is what it is. For you it needs to be autumn. For Pin I think it's almost spring.'

Hypatia took the leaf and settled into the comfort of her autumn, content now to observe from the safety of her pain.

'And you boots, what season is it for you?' She asked

The dog started to hum. Trout covered his ears. Pin watched expectantly, would the hound revert to humour to mask his reality yet again?

'Wath that thong?' Orchid was hoping for a Karaoke evening.

It's been a long cold lonely winter, it seems like years since it's been clear

'And is the sun coming Boots?' Hypatia hugged the maple leaf close to her.

'Not yet, but I think it's past midnight.'

High in the sky a dark figure with a pointed hat astride a broomstick waited to strike again.

She looked at the assembled players with disdain. What a pathetic lot. They were either spouting utter nonsense or wallowing in superficial imagery. The librarian was about as profound as Donald Duck. The only one not past his sell by date was the sheep, and he had been smart enough to stay in Ohio.

She approached the skaters. The hound grew quiet. She liked the hound better when he was marking his territory. At least that was an honest statement. There is nothing trite about yellow snow. The engineer drew the librarian to him protectively.

The seal looked around in alarm, mistaking her at first for someone else and the lammergeier rocked back and forth nervously on the branch of the rowan. The Russian scowled, the elephant seal harrumphed, and Trout Montague developed an errection of magnificent proportions. The only one who seemed unaffected by her presence was the shark.

She handed the librarian a card on which was written, "In creating the strange milieu in which your story takes place, you must first understand as well as you possibly can the familiar milieu in which your own life is taking place. Until you have examined and comprehended the world around you, you can't possibly create a complex and believable imaginary world." Orson Scott Card

Then she spoke. "Stop thinking about it Hypatia and just do it. It's time to either s**t ot get off the pot."

A glance at the page of dates he kept at hand the shark noticed that 12/20 was on the verge of becoming 12/21. For may of the friends it had already happened-- for the rest it was a matter of but a few hours.
In one magical moment the days would stop becoming shorter and start to grow again. It was a natural and inevitable occurrence.. even speak could not interfere with the eternal progression of time.
he decided not to speak, the Enchantress understood him. For better or worse the others were linked together in far more than just this story.
Springtime waited only for the equinox. Until then...
He skated another figure eight with the Boots in one loop and the Seal in the other.

F S

'Oh B*****ks!' thought the hound.
'Just when you're on the verge of becoming a grown up...there's that glorious playground beckoning again.'

'Don't smile at me Bitch!' he snapped. 'I so understand the milieu .... bl***y french words...of my reality. Besides don't I know you? '

'Don't let her frighten you!' He rounded on the startled group.

'Oh for God's sake Trout, either finish yourself off or put it away!'

The evil enchantress positively smirked.

'Don't think I'm going to pee on demand, bitch!' He snapped.

The evil enchantress threw back her head and laughed, a deep throaty gloating laugh that made Hypatia's blood run cold, she wasn't ready for this.

Trout Montague muttered darkly and did both as instructed clearly seduced by the evil secretions of the enchantress. With solstice come and gone, a snowdrop poked its hopeful head through the blanket of crisp white snow that covered this land; the cycle of life continued to revolve. Trout Montague stepped on it, screwing down as he did so as if extinguishing the heat from a well-smoked cigar. Evil, it felt. The Solnushka had felt it too, and pulled the pinnipedal pelt in closer to her shoulders, warming to the darkness that throbbed within her ample décolletage, resonating with the pounding Trout. The Solnushka kicked the dog, for being “nice” and followed suit by aiming a jack-booted foot at the lovelorn Jazzme, who tumbled headlong into the snow. The Librarian winced, Alberta and Waz squawked, the shark was non-plussed and the seal grinned like a feline from east of the north-Wales border. And customarily, everyone ignored the sheep, who was plainly too incredibly stupid to be either good or evil; just utterly dumb.

Get off the pot indeed! The mild-mannered librarian disliked conflict and would normally walk around a country block to avoid it. It made her physically ill, for one thing - all that blood rushing and epinephrine pumping tended to raise her blood pressure, gave her headaches and often caused hives. Besides, it was undignified. Her tendency to walk away from unpleasant people and situations often gave the impression that she was either indifferent or faint-hearted or both. Fortunately, people seldom found themselves in a position to learn otherwise.

And like most people, Hypatia took an insult or slight to a friend just as seriously as one to herself. More so in many circumstances. She helped Jazzme out of the snow and checked Boots for any sign of injury. Then she walked up to the Russian and, without saying a word, flattened her with a right cross to the chin.

The enchantress laughed again. "That's much better. Active verbs, Hypatia."

Well thanks love, said Jazme, refraining from kicking the Russian in the ribs. Couldn't hit a girl when she was down could you?
Not English you know chaps!!!

Hypatia felt ashamed of herself for striking the Russian. After all, it was the evil influence of the Enchantress that was to blame for Solnushka's actions. Normally the Russian quite liked Boots.

"Jazzme, we need to get away from here before she taints all of us. I enjoyed punching the Russian much more than I should have."

The engineer produced a compass from his pants pocket. "I've had about enough of the north. What say we head south, my dear?"

"That sounds like a lovely idea. South it is, then."

With that the two unloaded their gear from the crumpled trike and headed toward some village lights on the southern horizon. "Anyone else coming?"

Jazzme was happy heading South. He did't like the snow. It was OK when he was just a lad, and though he didn't feel at all old, the childish pursuits lacked interest for him now.

He applauded Hypatia for punching the Russian, no matter what the cause, in his young days that had been an automatic reaction. Someone hit you you struck back before they had a chance to hit you again.

I suppose the Russian couldn't help herself but the score was now even and the incident relegated to the past. Not removed but forgotten and forgiven, as I'm sure your solid punch is too.

I hope we can find a bit of warmth and good cheer in this village up ahead. After all the season of good cheer lies just after the winter solstice and was celebrated, whatever your beliefs, from time immemorial.

‘You coming thouth, then?’ Orchid is having one of her headstrong moments. Pinniped counters with the weary-disinterest look.

‘Lithen, you bothy little thy-it’, hitheth the whale. ‘We’re alwayth doing it in your thenery. Why not thomeone elthe’th for onthe?’

Pinniped turns inordinately slowly to right and left, as though the effort of looking around is immensely painful. ‘Not my scenery’, he murmurs in a voice so abject that you wonder if he’s used up his quota of syllables.

‘Hel-lo-o?’ shrieks Orchid. ‘Of courthe it’th your thodding thenery. There’th ithe and thnow everywhere. There’th a grey thky. There’th nothing to thee in any directhion!’

‘Neutral territory’, sighs Pinniped. ‘Not mine either. I hate it. Blank page’

‘Well, let’th go thomewhere interethting, then, for Chritht’th thake…’

The seal shrugs. ‘Yeah. You go. Right’, with all of the enthusiasm he’s inclined to muster.

‘You bathtard!’ barks Orchid. ‘Exthactly what are you thaying? That it’th a cop-out when people want to write about thingth they’re familiar with? That light-heartedneth ith thomehow inferior to your mitherable, portentouth, thy-ite?’

‘Yeah. If you like’.

Orchid turns to whoever’s listening. The only remotely close approximation to attentiveness turns out to be the hound.

‘Can you believe he jutht thaid that?’ she demands, eyes ablaze.

Except he didn’t, thinks boots. You said it, Orchid, and you of all people should be wary of how easy it is to put words into to the phocoid’s mouth.

The hound’s unresponsiveness leads the whale straight back to Pinniped. ‘Ath if we could go on our own, anyway’, she sobs. ‘You know we don’t exitht without you’.

‘Could have fooled me’, says the seal, evenly. ‘You’re alive in your own right, all of you. You don’t need me, any of you. Go south. Enjoy it. I’ve got other things to do’.

And suddenly the seal has vanished. It isn’t one of those fancy vanishing acts with lavish special effects; it’s just as though he was never there.

The hound puts his paws over his eyes. One way or another, they’ll come to regret this.

South? The hound thought about it for about as long as it takes to clean a kennel or cook a meal, neither of which she had any handle on when it came to time scale. Did she want to go South? Hadn't she been there before. Wasn't South a warm place that wrapped you in comfort and saftey?

'Not entirely' said Montague. 'South has its dangers too. Tigers, mosquitoes, snakes'....he perked up at the thought of snakes and savoured a salacious smile.

'So the Russian could become a tiger?' The dog deliberately ignored Fish Boy's inuendo filled smirk.
Why were they so against the Russian? She was after all merely a figment of her own imagination and how sad it would be if they were all 'nice'.

'More likely a cannibal that shrinks heads!' Spat Jazzme over his shoulder.

'Not sure'

'About what?'

'Going South.'

So the Seal had things to do. Really? OK so why was Orchid giving him such a hard time?

'Come on Boots it'll be fun' The librarian beckoned from the near future.

'Not sure I want fun...'

'Not sure what you want, are you Mutt?'

'S*d off no one invited you in!' She took out an eraser and rubbed it off the page.

'There clean slate... new beginnings!'

'Season of good cheer?' said Jazzme.

What a palaver just because they suggested going South. Mosquitoes, tigers ?

We don't have to go sub-tropical for goodness sake- lets see if we can find a friendly pub in this village.

"A pub. Now that's the best idea I've heard for ages. I hope it's one of those old comfortable ones with heavy beams and smoky ceilings and a dart board." She was dreadful at darts, but the others didn't know that and so weren't immediately alarmed.

She linked her arm in Jazzme's. "Besides, when you are far enough north, the only direction you can go is south."

So Hypatia and Jazzme, arms linked together popped off into the pub.
Shame for the others because the assorted animal life could not go in, except perhaps for the dog.

Sure enogh there was a goodly log fire, oak beams and a couple of frothing pints of ale. The pair settled down content with their lot for the time being. The darts could wait for a while.