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
