A NEW YEAR’S WISH (Part 2 & Last)    

by Richard Banks

         Sensing that I had learnt all I was likely to from Betty, I release her from the beam and watch her crawl on hands and knees to the door and let in a large man with a suitcase who, although similar in dress and appearance to the first man is an entirely separate person. Having tossed Betty the customary wad of banknotes he lets himself into the freezer and shuts the door behind him. Betty stands up, presses a red button on the control panel and - apparently oblivious to the noisy quivering of the freezer - begins the wiping of dishes on her draining board.

         I leave her to it and while my first inclination is to zoom back up and report on the unexpected windfall for the masses, second thoughts tell me that a conversation with one of the men will almost certainly, be more interesting than the celestial seminar I am otherwise obliged to attend. Therefore, being in no hurry to return, I do a brief reconnoitre of the surrounding area before placing myself outside Betty’s kitchen door in wait for the next man. He is not long in coming, this time from the inside out.

         If he is surprised to join me within the celestial beam he hides it well behind an expression on the frosty side of inscrutable. I am, I tell him, conducting a six-monthly review on behalf of the Almighty One. This is, of course, no more than the truth although I suspect his understanding as to whom I am referring to is somewhat different to my own certain knowledge. Fortunately, he is from a part of the world where the questioning of authority is not encouraged; if he has any doubts about me he is sufficiently impressed by the beam to keep them to himself.

         I assume an air of jovial camaraderie which I hope will put him at his ease. “Not bad, hey, latest model, driver-operated and with warp-speed delivery to any co-ordinate in the world. There’re a few years off from becoming standard issue but when they do they will be well worth the wait. Until then your present transits will, I’m sure, be more than adequate. Tell me, how are they shaping up? Any problems?”

         For someone who should now be at his ease he seems anything but.

         “Comrade Commissary, I report no problems. Please, no, it is a lie! Everything good. Indeed, everything better than good. With the Supreme Leader to guide us how could it be otherwise?”

         What he means, of course, is that those who voice unpopular opinions are likely to find themselves ex-comrades, if not ex-people. I assure him that it is his patriotic duty to report problems. Problems, I explain, are the stepping stones to solutions. “How is our glorious country to make progress if we don’t know what’s wrong?”

         He seems reassured and begins a somewhat gruesome account of comrades he knows who have lost fingers and other parts of themselves while travelling between the Control Centre and, what he calls catch and dispatch devices. “It is,” he says, “a small price to pay for the technological breakthrough which every loyal Korean knows to be the esteemed gift of the Dear Leader.”

         “And the devices?” I say, drawing him back to my question. “Apart from the minor inconveniences you describe, what is your overall assessment of them?”

         He says that he prefers the ones disguised as Portaloos. They are easier to access and do not require the collaboration of capitalist lackeys who, he suspects, are keeping more of the money than they should. He understands that a new device is under construction in the form of retro telephone boxes; these will be exported abroad and sold as ornamental features by garden centres unaware of their primary purpose.   

         So, there we have it, North Korea has developed a particle teleportation system – the first country in the world to do so - and are using it to covertly send their nationals into other countries not informed of their uninvited guests. But what are the Koreans up to?    

         “Your mission,” I say. “Define its operational objectives and assess your effectiveness in achieving them on a scale of one to five.”

         He again looks nervous and perspiration begins to gather on his forehead. I smile and tell him that five is the highest mark on the scale and that his assessment of his own performance will be the only one entered in my report. This cheers him up no end and without any further encouragement launches into a long-winded account of his part in what he describes as the ‘Great Slippythrough.’ It turns out that his mission is to buy high-value consumer goods from Harrods and Harvey Nichols and take them back to the Control Centre from whence they are taken by the lorry load to the Supreme Leader’s palace. As to what he does with it all my interviewee is unable or unwilling to say. However, as the clothing items relate only to sizes likely to fit the Supreme Leader and his wife we might reasonably assume that most of the purchased items go no further than the palace.

         “But where does the glorious fatherland find the foreign exchange to pay for all these things?”

         His looks at me with surprise, reasoning to himself that an informed insider like myself should know where.

         I bluff along. “I mean what is your part in procuring the necessary finance?”

         He says that once a week he collects it from the factory where it is printed and puts it in a large truck that he drives to the Control Centre. “There is always plenty of money,” he says. “There is no reason for anyone to be poor when you can just make it.”

         He asks if he might be excused now as he has a bus to catch. If he misses the bus he will have to hire a cab which his supervisor would regard as a bourgeois extravagance. I thank him for his invaluable assistance and release him into the outside world where he instantly loses all recollection of me. He departs towards the main road where the cross-London bus will arrive and leave in less than five minutes. It seems almost an insult to his earnest endeavour that by the time he either catches or misses the bus I will be back in the celestial realm savouring a large glass of the sacred nectar. It is moments like this that makes the Hereafter the paradise it truly is. The questionnaire I will leave until morning by which time life on Earth will have moved on almost a hundred years.

                                           *****

         For those of you expecting some resolution to the events, I have described reconcile yourself to the reality that life on Earth is a long saga that can only be properly evaluated in its broad sweep, i.e. the progress, or otherwise, that is discernable over the course of a millennium. There are, however, some oft-repeated themes that can be relied on to show us the inevitable drift of events. Chief of these is man’s pursuit of wealth which with monotonous regularity goes mainly to those who already have it. With money, of course, goes power and the big guys will always use it to dominate the rest; with men so it is with nations. Apply these principles to my narrative and you have its inevitable resolution. Even in the slow lane of time, the outrageous good fortune of minnows like Betty and North Korea will never last for long.

         As for me the end of this pointless exercise in celestial bureaucracy will come when I complete the all-important questionnaire, a simple enough task bearing in mind that none of the questions have any relevance to the events I have witnessed. I will put my ticks in the boxes I know to be favoured by the Focus Group and write a few upbeat lines in the comments section that should be equally pleasing to them. That done I will be free to amuse myself for a few hours before doing some ‘meeting and greeting’ on the celestial stairway. Rumour has it that Samuel Pepys is on his way up from Purgatory, his infidelities not only observed from above but recorded in his diary for all posterity to read. His wife has been waiting for almost one hundred years; he will have much to explain. Oh to be a fly on the wall when they meet. To spare their blushes it will happen in a soundproof chat room. It will be his final purging, after that he will glow in righteousness like the rest of us, or spend further time below. 

         As for those of you still on Earth don’t expect to get here anytime soon. Until that day we will only meet when wishes are required. If that happens, surprise me, prove an old cynic wrong. I challenge you, do some good with your wishes, in fact, do better than good. Spread peace and joy, reform the world, your kind intent will serve you well.

[Ends] 

Copyright Richard Banks