Episode 41
Deep Magic Blues - Part I
... from the Files of Hydrogen Guy
Morning in Maple Ridge, capitol of industry and intrigue, thriving centre of commerce and shadowy city of secrets! It is called by some the Prague of Western Canada; others know it as Hong Kong of the North. Its alleyways conceal as many mysteries as the Sphinx, and its high-rises contain as many plots as the Chinese Imperial court. It is a day like any other, with promises of startling revelations soon to bubble to the surface...
We find the City's valiant protectors at one of their favourite cafés. They are both tall men. Hydrogen Guy is pale and clean-shaven, with short dark hair; Deuterium Boy is tanned, with long brown hair pulled back in a pony tail, and a goatee beard and mustache. Their costumes are slightly rumpled from a long night's work. Hydrogen Guy wears a long, flowing cape, sky blue with a metallic shimmer to it. He wears black slacks (pressed, normally), a black utility belt, and a royal blue dress shirt. His shoes are dressy yet practical for leaping from rooftop to rooftop; his tie is red, with a yellow "HG" monogram. On his head is a cap-like helmet, which extends down over his eyes to form a mask. The hat is capped off by a yellow feather, looking a bit more wilted than jaunty this morning.
Deuterium Boy's costume is decidedly more flamboyant. He is hatless, in a yellow shirt and red satiny shorts, lime green tights and mask, red boots, and a yellow utility belt. Just over his left breast is a green crest with the letters "DB". His cape is absurdly short, coming to just above his posterior, and absurdly green. Several of the other patrons in the café find it a bit much to look at first thing in the morning, but he doesn't care.
Hydrogen Guy, who is clutching a battered two-foot rubber skeleton, is attempting to order some restorative gourmet hot beverages.
Java Serf
I'm sorry, we don't serve rubber
skeletons.
Hydrogen Guy
He's just here for the ambiance.
The java serf looks suspicious.
Hydrogen Guy
It's okay. He's cool.
Java Serf
Well... okay. A hot chocolate and a heavy
water mocha latté, right?
Hydrogen Guy
Please.
Deuterium Boy
Why did you bring Doug, anyway?
Hydrogen Guy
Ah, Deuterium Boy, as always the subtlety
of our rubbery colleague escapes you. Through a careful examination of the
retrograde motion of Mercury through Cassiopeia, and the conjunction of Jupiter
with Neptune, I've discovered that today is Doug's thirteen hundred and fiftieth
birthday.
Deuterium Boy
Holy Hair Club for Skeletons, Hydrogen
Guy! He doesn't look a day over... well, he's still got a price tag stuck to the
bottom of his foot.
Hydrogen Guy
Well, of course, I meant Doug the alien
astrophysicist and Zen master, not the rubber skeleton who channels him. By any
reasonable estimate, Doug's spirit's been floating through the ether for
centuries, and I thought a birthday fete might do him some good.
Deuterium Boy
Of course! Happy birthday,
Doug!
Doug
*gurgle*
Hydrogen Guy
I think he's having a good time
already.
The java serf brings them their beverages, heaped with non-dairy whipped cream substitute, and shoots Doug one last suspicious look. They find a table and sit down. Despite the early hour, the place is busy.
Deuterium Boy
[yawns] What time is it, HG?
Hydrogen Guy
Quarter after seven. Just enough time to
make a couple toasts to Doug, then head back to the Hydrogen Cave and change for
work.
Deuterium Boy
Cripes, what a long night. Who'd've
thought nihilists could be so persistent?
Hydrogen Guy
They're nihilists. What do they have to
get up in the morning for?
Suddenly, the café lights dim. Strange sound effects reverberate across the room, as if echoing from a great distance. A slight breeze ruffles napkins and newspapers, despite a lack of open doors or windows.
Doug
K'k;tb ngint tk'kuk!
K'k;twt'k, wki kii k;l taw t'bak!
The lights return to normal. The other café patrons are looking around in fear and confusion, while the java serf glares at Doug.
Hydrogen Guy
Great Feynman's Ghost! What was all that
about?
Deuterium Boy
Maybe he's upset there's no
cake...
A woman at the next table turns to them.
Carol
Pardon me, I think I can help.
Hydrogen Guy
Really?
Carol
I recognize the language as the ancient Warrior's
Tongue of the K'bng tribe of west Africa.
Deuterium Boy
Wow, really? Do you study African
dialects?
Carol
No, I handle the tribe's portfolio at Wood Gundy.
My name's Carol.
She hands Deuterium Boy her business card.
Hydrogen Guy
Can you tell us what he said?
Carol
He said, "Dark forces are gathering by the faerie
ring at the foot of Otter's Dike". Chief T'kwa expressed very similar sentiments
when shares in Nortel dropped like a brick last week.
Deuterium Boy
Otter's Dike - that's just north of Pitt
Meadows, on the outskirts of town.
Hydrogen Guy
What a stroke of luck you were here, Carol
- we might never have deciphered Doug's warning. We may now have a chance to
save civilization from a nameless, unknown terror!
Carol
Nameless unknown terror. Oh my God, my
stocks!
She pulls a cellphone from her pocket and starts dialing frantically.
Hydrogen Guy
Well, DB, looks like we'll have to call
and let the Institute know we'll be gone again... What do you think, another
sudden hospitalization of an elderly relative?
Deuterium Boy
That always works. It's a good thing the
Director's sixty three years old with heart palpitations himself.
Hydrogen Guy flags down the java serf.
Hydrogen Guy
Hey! Can we get these to go?
Java serf
That's the last time I overlook the
no-skeletons rule, buddy.
Pitt Meadows is the small community stretching from the Maple Ridge city limits in the east, to the Pitt River in the west. To the south is the Fraser River, and to the north, the Golden Ears mountains and their foothills. Much of the land in the north of the community, known as the Pitt Polder, consists of low-lying farms and wetlands, reclaimed from the river by a series of dikes. It is beautiful country - quiet, rural, misty, and with an air of unspoken secrets.
The Tritium Truck heads north off the main highway, and following a series of country roads comes to a gravel access road. Unusually, it is lined with cars, many of them expensive, and vans belonging to various local media outlets. They park the truck, and then hike a short ways across a grassy overgrown field towards the dikes.
They come within sight of Otter's Dike. Several rows of folding chairs have been set up in the field facing the dike, occupied by a jostling scrum of reporter, photographers, and TV camera operators. Their attention is focused on a blond man in a double-breasted suit, speaking at a podium jammed with microphones. The podium, strangely, is set up within a wide circle of mushrooms at the foot of the dike. Several other suited men stand off to the side. Hydrogen Guy thinks he recognizes one of them as the Mayor of Pitt Meadows. The Diatomic Duo hang back, observing.
Deuterium Boy
There aren't any dark forces here, just
the media.
Hydrogen Guy
Good point, DB, there's no comparison...
Hm, looks like they're wrapping things up.
The man at the podium steps away from the microphones amid a crescendo of camera flashes and shouted questions. Carefully stepping over the mushrooms, he waves as he joins the others. The group walks off down the dike, followed closely by the persistent media scrum. One journalist, a blonde woman, glances over her shoulder and spots Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy. She detaches from the main group and heads in their direction.
Deuterium Boy
We've been spotted.
Hydrogen Guy
If it isn't our friend from the Maple
Ridge Gazette, Lola Lakefront-Property.
Deuterium Boy
You wish she was our friend...
Lola
Hydrogen Guy! Deuterium Boy! What are your
reactions to this morning's announcement?
Hydrogen Guy
Shocking!
Deuterium Boy
I'm aghast!
Hydrogen Guy
A great leap forward in newt husbandry!
Tell me, what are we reacting to?
Lola
Amalgo NorthWest's buy-out of the Municipality of
Pitt Meadows.
Deuterium Boy
WHAT?
Hydrogen Guy
Surely you're joking, Ms.
Lakefront-Property?
Lola
Okay, maybe I'm over-dramatizing. Amalgo has
purchased the Otter's Dike property in exchange for taking over the
Municipality's debt.
Deuterium Boy
Wait, I'm lost.
Hydrogen Guy
So am I, I never read your
paper.
Lola
[sighs] A few years ago a development company sank
about half a million into surveys, environmental reports, blah blah blah, to
develop the land we're standing on for a golf resort and conference centre
complex. The Municipality approved the development despite public sentiment and
it all looked like a done deal.... until a series of petitions forced a
referendum on the issue thanks to a referendum bylaw the Council naively passed
last year. The Municipality lost, and faced a sticky choice - ignore the
referendum results and piss off the voters, or kill the deal and piss off the
developers. Follow me?
Hydrogen Guy
Anywhere, darling.
Lola
Cute. Anyway, being politicians, the Council
decided they'd rather be re-elected, so they canceled the deal. The developers
sued them and won - they got twenty million dollars. Add that to the
Municipality's already ballooning deficit, plus all of that bad publicity in the
business community, and it's brown trouser time for the Chamber of Commerce.
Anyway the Mayor and two Councilmen - no councilwomen, I'd like to
point out - joined the PM's latest "Team Canada" jaunt to the Pacific Rim in an
attempt to restore Pitt Meadow's image In Indonesia they hooked up with some big
fish from Amalgo NorthWest, which controls some diamond mines there. Former pals
of Suharto, too, by all accounts. Anyway, apparently an agreement was made in a
smoky room to talk again in the future. Well boys, the future is last week, as
Amalgo's agreed to the aforementioned deal and some rather ominous sounding
"future considerations".
How'd that sound? That was a condensed version
of my article.
Deuterium Boy
Sorry, I went into the kitchen for chips
five minutes ago.
Hydrogen Guy
So let me understand - Amalgo's restarting
the golf course project?
Lola
They haven't said that, but that's what everyone
expects. They run a chain of golf courses in Europe and Asia.
Hydrogen Guy
A fascinating development. No pun
intended. And really, quite a picturesque site for a press conference.
Lola
Really. It's not the locale that gets me, it's the
hour. If Goodfellow wanted to hear the call of the loons, he could've just held
it at the League of Heroes.
Hydrogen Guy
Ha ha. Goodfellow, he was the Men's
Warehouse customer?
Lola
Right, Robin Goodfellow, VP Media and Public
Relations for the Pacific Northwest. He's probably going to be the one wielding
Amalgo's local clout.
Hydrogen Guy
Seems to have a puckish sense of
humour.
Deuterium Boy
Touché, HG.
Lola
What are you two babbling about?
Hydrogen Guy
Are you thinking what I'm thinking,
DB?
Deuterium Boy
Indubitably, HG. The Fair Folk are
working a hostile take-over of Pitt Meadows from the Nether World. But
why?
Hydrogen Guy
Good question.
Lola
Oh, for Christ's sakes, you guys. Just because a
guy's got a funny Shakespearean name and holds a press conference in the middle
of a ring of toadstools doesn't make him an evil fairy!
Hydrogen Guy
Hey, his personal life is his own
business. I'm talking Tuatha de Dannan here.
Lola
Whatever. I don't have time for fairy tales. The
morning edition needs this story two hours ago. Later.
She leaves them to contemplate the now empty fairy ring.
Hydrogen Guy
I hate it when she leaves. My repartee
always drops a notch when she's not a round.
Deuterium Boy
That's not your repartee you're thinking
of... So what do you think, have we got something here?
Hydrogen Guy
Oh yeah. This has a reek about it. Let's
go see Chuck War, maybe he can tell us something about Amalgo
NorthWest
A short while later, in Chuck War's fortified headquarters - the Garage of Freedom. Chuck War is puttering with the War Rig's engine. Hydrogen Guy is seated at Chuck's work bench, sipping his not-so-hot chocolate. Deuterium Boy is sitting in the corner playing Chuck's PlayStation 2.
Chuck War
Yeah, I can tell you about Amalgo NorthWest.
They got a rap sheet.
Hydrogen Guy
With Galactic Customs?
Chuck War
Mmm.
Hydrogen Guy is surprised. Chuck War, Action Hero, is a member of the League of Heroes (local 441), and has helped the Diatomic Duo on numerous occasions. However, he rarely discusses his work with Galactic Customs, an interplanetary enforcement agency which many years ago recruited him as a member, and supplies him with his formidable arsenal.
Hydrogen Guy
For what?
Chuck War
Lemme start at the beginning. They're
involved in most of the usual Third World shit these multinational corps get
into - slave labour, padding the wallets of dictators, inhuman working
conditions, some weapons sales.
Hydrogen Guy
Despicable, but not GC's
concern.
Chuck War
No, thank God. But here's the angle -
Amalgo's sold some stuff to a few Asian governments that caught our eye, and
GC's picked up humans working for Amalgo on six trade worlds, from Sirius to the
Core.
Hydrogen Guy
Trying to buy stuff that can't be sold to
"developing worlds", huh? Weapons, shields, hyperdrive?
Chuck War
Shields, weapons, yeah. Not warp. Mostly they
were going for the smart stuff - components like quinsistors, superconducting
cloth, positronic relays. Stuff that'd make every high-tech company on Earth
look like an arts and crafts booth at the county fair.
Deuterium Boy pipes up without tearing his eyes from the TV screen.
Deuterium Boy
Are you sure these traders were human?
Not Faerie?
Chuck War
[shrugs] According to the report, they
scanned as human. Somehow, though, they always managed to escape before they
could be processed and shipped back to Earth.
Hydrogen Guy
Funny.
Chuck War
Just out of professional interest, what would
a Faerie, or Tuatha de Dannan, or whatever, scan like?
Hydrogen Guy
Beats me. Maybe human, maybe something
else. Maybe they wouldn't scan at all. They are of Earth, more so than humans
are, but somehow apart from it. They live in their own Faerie Lands - Avalon,
Peradinium, an eternal Midsummer Night's Dream. Pre-scientific cultures all over
the world have known them for millennia, none better than the Celts. They
control, as C.S. Lewis said, "a deep magic from the dawn of time". They were
humanity's first gods, but they're still a dangerous unknown.
Deuterium Boy
Are you done?
Hydrogen Guy
Sorry, I'm stealing Mulder's shtick again,
aren't I?
Chuck War
You guys gonna need backup on this
one?
Hydrogen Guy
Thanks Chuck, but I don't think so. I
don't see this as being a guns-blazing sort of case. Deuterium Boy?
Deuterium Boy
Amalgo?
Hydrogen Guy
Amalgo.
Deuterium Boy
Just lemme clear this level...
ANW Plaza, Georgia Street, Vancouver - recently completed, and the second tallest skyscraper in town. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy arrive at Media and Public Relations, Fifth floor, and approach the receptionist.
Hydrogen Guy
Excuse me, we'd like to speak with Mr.
Robin Goodfellow. League of Heroes, local 441.
They present their League ID's. The receptionist spares them a cursory glance.
Receptionist
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy. For your
11:30 appointment?
Deuterium Boy
We don't --
Hydrogen Guy
Yes, that's correct.
Receptionist
You have about five minutes, but I think
he's free. Down the hall and to your left. I'll let him know you're
here.
Hydrogen Guy
Thank you.
They leave the front desk and proceed down the hall.
Deuterium Boy
Did you make an appointment?
Hydrogen Guy
No, apparently we're expected. This guy's
channels are as good as Doug's.
Deuterium Boy
Maybe we can convince him to make this a
lunch meeting.
Hydrogen Guy
On Amalgo's expense account.
They come to an office door; the plaque on the door says "Robin Goodfellow, Vice President, Media and Public Relations". Hydrogen Guy knocks, and a voice within calls "Come in!".
The office is modern, well furnished in traditional corporate style, heavy on glass and veneer, decorated with executive toys, and with an expansive window overlooking the city. Robin Goodfellow is sitting behind the desk, jotting in his daytimer. He looks up and smiles. He has a boyish appearance, sandy brown hair, and a trace of an Irish accent. He rises to shake their hands, standing perhaps three inches shorter than Hydrogen Guy.
Goodfellow
Hydrogen Guy, Deuterium Boy. I'm very
excited to meet you. I've been a fan of yours for some time.
Hydrogen Guy
Thank you, Mr. Goodfellow. It's a pleasure
to meet you.
Goodfellow
I find it fascinating, this having the
"super-powers" of hydrogen and deuterium and all of that. The ability to alter
their physical and chemical states at will. Sometime you'll have to explain to
me what it all means.
Deuterium Boy
It's kind of complicated.
Hydrogen Guy
Extremely. We've been at it almost six
years now and I'm sure even we don't know the full extent of our
powers.
Goodfellow
Fascinating!
He waves for them to sit in the two chairs in front of the desk. He shifts his daytimer to the side as Deuterium Boy momentarily fiddles with one of Goodfellow's pendulum toys.
Hydrogen Guy
We must admit, Mr. Goodfellow, we dropped
by unannounced and were surprised to find we had an appointment.
Goodfellow
Oh, well I spotted you at the end of the
press conference this morning, and I took the liberty. I made a guess at what
time you'd make your way over here. I'm glad it's worked out quite well for both
of us.
Deuterium Boy
Very astute.
Hydrogen Guy
Yes, that explains it.
Goodfellow
I thought, after the announcements, you
might have some concerns. I am aware of your feud, I suppose one could call it,
with ICBC, and your discomfort with multinationals generally, and having us
suddenly appear like this in your own back yard...
Hydrogen Guy
It was very kind of you to accommodate
us.
Goodfellow
Not at all. It's simply good public
relations. If you can get the local knights-errant on side then it's easier to
gain the public trust.
Deuterium Boy
An excellent strategy.
Hydrogen Guy
Did you have superheroes where you grew
up, Mr. Goodfellow?
Goodfellow
Of a sort. Not really the same sort of thing
as you have in Canada, or in America, for that matter.
Deuterium Boy
The two are very different.
Goodfellow
So I've been told.
There is a silent pause, as Goodfellow does not elaborate on either point. With a glance from Deuterium Boy, Hydrogen Guy resumes.
Hydrogen Guy
Mr. Goodfellow, I have some questions for
you that may seem a little odd, or worse, blunt.
Goodfellow
I'll try to answer them
satisfactorily.
Hydrogen Guy
Does Amalgo plan to pursue the development
plans for the Otter's Dike area?
Goodfellow
No, actually. The people of Pitt Meadows
have already rejected any development in the Polder, and our company respects
their decision. We feel that Otter's Dike is an important wetlands area, and
Amalgo NorthWest believes in protecting the environment.
Deuterium Boy
Then why take over the
property?
Goodfellow
It's not so much the property... Amalgo
NorthWest feels that Pitt Meadows is worth investing in. It's an important
community, located as it is between the twin cities of Maple Ridge and
Vancouver. It's a gateway, if you will. And the Otter's Dike lands have been an
important issue to the people here, so we thought that by ensuring its future
we'd be both demonstrating our good will and showing confidence in the
community.
Deuterium Boy mimes having a toothache. Hydrogen Guy ignores him.
Hydrogen Guy
But by absorbing the Municipality's debt,
Amalgo now has what might be considered an inappropriate interest in the local
government.
Goodfellow
It's not an "inappropriate interest", as you
say, rather we see the situation now as us having a deeper stake in the
community, one which will ultimately benefit both the company and the people and
economy of Pitt Meadows.
Deuterium Boy
So what do "future considerations"
mean?
Goodfellow
Ah, that. It's just a catch phrase, if you
like, meaning that further details of a reciprocal relationship will be
discussed at a later date. There's nothing shady or despotic about it, if that's
what you mean. We're not gangsters, Deuterium Boy, nor are we ICBC.
Hydrogen Guy
Certainly not. With ICBC, we know what
we're dealing with.
Goodfellow
You're not sure who you're dealing
with?
Hydrogen Guy
We have some fair speculation.
Goodfellow
Hydrogen Guy, Deuterium Boy... Amalgo
NorthWest is an exemplary corporate citizen. We support Culture and the Arts
throughout Europe and the Pacific Rim, we sponsor schools for the poor and those
with special needs everywhere from Jakarta to Dublin, to yes, even Vancouver. If
I may be equally blunt, that's more than the League of Heroes is doing for the
community. Our concern for the public well-being goes beyond chasing lobsters
with Napoleonic complexes.
Hydrogen Guy
[aside] If I hear one more lobster joke
from anyone...
Deuterium Boy
Mr. Goodfellow, where is the ownership of
Amalgo located?
Goodfellow
We started, actually, as a merchant marine
group out of the Republic of Ireland, but now our head office is in London. But
we have interests and shareholders around the world... Gentlemen, I feel this
interview is spinning its wheels. It's nearly noon, may I at least offer you
some coffee? Or tea?
Hydrogen Guy
I'll have some tea, please.
Deuterium Boy
For me too, please.
Goodfellow
Very good. Deuterium Boy, you prefer heavy
water, I understand> I'll see what I can find. I'll be right back.
He rises and exits the office. As the door closes behind him, Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy exhale loudly.
Deuterium Boy
I hate talking to public relations.
Super-villains, they just talk and talk, they can't wait to tell you all their
plans before they kill you. PR guys, you have to stick them with a cattle prod
before they'll admit to taking a dump in the morning.
Hydrogen Guy
I know it's like...
He pauses.
Hydrogen Guy
Do you hear that?
Deuterium Boy cocks his head. Very softly, but now gaining in volume, the sound of a tin whistle creeps into the room. The tune is bouncy, noisy and melodious.
Deuterium Boy
Yes... yes, I do. Somebody's
radio?
Hydrogen Guy
I don't think so. I didn't see any other
occupied offices down here.
Deuterium Boy
Then where's it coming from?
They remain still, listening.
Deuterium Boy
Over there...
To their left are two bookcases stacked with management texts, multimedia guides, and various knickknacks. The space between them, which they had previously taken as wood paneling, they now notice are a set of carved wooden doors. The doors are slightly incongruous with the rest of the room. Hardly part of the slick, sterile modern decor, they are intricately carved in patterns of ivy and woodland animals. The dark oak looks old but well-cared for, polished to a shine.
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy get up from their chairs and walk slowly towards the doors.
The whistle has been joined by a fiddle. The tune hops and rolls, flutters and glides. It is simple and merry, but seems to promise something deeper. Both of them find it vaguely familiar, despite their assurance that they had never heard anything like it before.
They lean against the doors, putting their ears against the wood. Faintly they hear the hands clapping and feet stomping to the rhythm, and the beat of a skin drum. Now and again there is a crescendo of laughter.
They glance at each other. As investigators there is little else they can do, and the music, they feel, is urging them on. Each grabs hold of a door handle - carved faces, one laughing, the other wailing in sorrow, both very grotesque - and they pull. The doors swing open readily.
An intoxicating wave of sound and scent washes over them. They stare into a great wood long-house, a banquet hall filled with revelers. The hall is lit by numerous great torch torches, towering over the tables on tripods. The walls are hung with garlands of flowers, boughs of cedar, ivy, and other greenery less identifiable to their city-bred eyes. Two stag's heads hang at either end of the hall, antlers festooned with daisies. One hangs over another pair of doors, the other over a throne of giant proportions. A tables run the length of the room, covered in white cloth and heaped with food, bread and cheese and fruit, whole roast pigs and pheasants, bowls of steaming vegetables, and jugs of drink.
Each place along the table is occupied by some fantastic person - strong, handsome men, and beautiful women, with hair colours ranging from white to yellow, orange, red, brown, green, chestnut to blue-black. Their skins-tones likewise range from porcelain white to deep black; one or two seem distinctly green. They are richly dressed in medieval clothes. Many of the men wear finely-wrought gold rings, like open links of chain, around their necks. They are all eating, drinking, laughing, singing - in other words, apparently having a fabulous time.
In the middle of the hall is a man on the fiddle, playing the music of such tempo and intricacy that any of the best concert violinists would be hard pressed to match. Vigorously he hops and stomps along with the music. Beside him a young boy is playing the tin whistle, playing high and clear, weaving around the convoluted melody of the fiddle like a sparrow through the rafters. Crouched at their feet is a dwarf, cheerfully beating a drum to within an inch of its life.
Around them twirl the dancers. The women wear long white gowns of translucent material which swirl round them, in front of them and before them like the arms of a spiral galaxy, while the men wear plain tunics of green and brown. They dance in circles, to the left and to the right, in alternating bands around the players.
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy, who have fought aliens, terrorists, monsters, demons, master spies, sorcerers, technologies from the future and a talking bear, merely stare dumbfounded. They look back over their shoulders at Goodfellow's office, then back at the great hall.
Finally they step forward into the hall, letting the doors swing shut behind them.
A familiar face, boyish, with now disheveled hair crowned with leaves bounds towards them, dressed in tattered green and brown.
Puck
Hi ho! Hi ho! Two new gold-torqued princes have
come among us! Welcome, my lords! Welcome!
Their costumes have changed. The flamboyant superhero costumes have been replaced by princely medieval costumes in their respective colours. Around their necks have appeared the same gold rings as worn by other men in the hall. Their utility belts are gone, although Hydrogen Guy still wears the Ruler of Elendil in its usual sheath. Deuterium Boy is alarmed to find he is weaponless.
Puck
Come join the feast! Drink with us to the days
long past - there is mead, ale and wine aplenty, after your fancy --
Deuterium Boy turns and whispers to Hydrogen Guy.
Deuterium Boy
I don't think we should eat or drink
anything here.
Hydrogen Guy
Hm? Oh, uh... right. Yes, good thinking,
DB.
Puck leads them to one of the tables, where he sits them between two women - a raven-haired woman in red next to Deuterium Boy, and a red-haired woman in green beside Hydrogen Guy. They smiling beguilingly. Puck reaches past Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy and starts filling their plates with meat and vegetables.
Puck
Eat, my friends! It's the finest you'll ever
taste, in this world or the next, the most enticing from across the land
--
Deuterium Boy
Thank you, but we're stuffed.
Puck
Ah! But did you not say in the corridor that you
wished I would provide you lunch? This is far more than lunch, my good Deuterium
Boy...
Suddenly, both Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy find themselves feeling famished. Hydrogen Guy reaches for a drumstick, but Deuterium Boy slaps his hand away. Hydrogen Guy gives him a slightly offended look.
Deuterium Boy spies an enormously fat man down the table, devouring a whole roast boar single-handedly. As he sucks the meat off each bone, he tosses them over his shoulder to the drooling dogs waiting behind him.
Deuterium Boy
If you will, kind Puck, collect for us
those bones. The marrow will be all we need.
Puck
But the feast! Such a fine spread! The cook will
be deeply offended...
Deuterium Boy
The bones, please.
With a great show of reluctance, Puck leaves to wrest the discarded bones from the dogs. He places them before Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy and leaves. Deuterium Boy picks up a knife from the table and starts to crack open the bones, scooping out the marrow and shoveling it into his mouth. Hydrogen Guy comes to with a start.
Hydrogen Guy
What in Planck's name are you
doing?
Deuterium Boy
Eating. You should too, it's the only way
to stave off that damned faerie hunger.
Hydrogen Guy looks at the plates of mouth-watering food in front of them. A large steaming mug of hot chocolate, piled with whipped cream, marshmallows, and chocolate shavings, has appeared in front of him.
Hydrogen Guy
But...
Deuterium Boy
HG, snap out of it! If we eat or drink
anything from the faerie lands, we'll be trapped here forever. The only safe
food is the stuff no one will offer you.
Hydrogen Guy
But... there's Yorkshire
pudding!
Deuterium Boy
Jim...
Hydrogen Guy
[sighs] Oh, all right. I guess you're
right, I just got wrapped up in it all...
His eye is caught again by the dancers. Good lord, what are those women wearing? The red-head beside him places her hand on his arm.
Deuterium Boy
The women are worse.
Hydrogen Guy
Eh heh heh...
The music comes to an end, and the dancers disperse to great cheers and applause from the tables. Puck bounds to the centre of the room, just before the giant throne.
Puck
Ho! Hi! Welcome all, welcome friends! The Feast of
the Long Past has begun, and let not one of us fast nor be of sour disposition.
For how often do we see a night such as this, but once every thousand
years?
Company
Never! Never, good Puck!
Puck
Never, indeed! And rarer still, is it not, to have
Princes of the Dawning Future among us? Ho the guests!
Company
Ho the guests!
Puck
Ho!
The assembled company shouts and cheers, drinking and shouting "Ho!" with great spirit.
Hydrogen Guy
Are they talking about us?
Deuterium Boy
I think it's some kind of
toast.
Hydrogen Guy
Well! Er... ho?
Deuterium Boy
No.
Hydrogen Guy
Drat.
The company falls silent as there is thunderous pounding on the doors at the opposite end of the hall. All turn toward the doors, then towards Puck, some showing fear.
Puck
Well! Do I hear a gentle tapping at the threshold?
Is this the dainty knock of some fair maiden, p'raps?
Reveler #1
If you think that means a maiden without,
Puck, I think she must have been tapping your head!
Reveler #2
Perhaps Puck thinks the mountains dainty, or
the trembling of the earth gentle?
Puck
Ha! You've caught me in fun. 'Tis none but the
tapping of our own High King! Porters, throw open the doors, before Oberon sees
fit to throw them open himself!
The doors swing open with a gust of wind, and out of the night (wasn't it morning just moments ago?) strides a bearded giant, twelve foot tall or more. He is dressed in crimson robes and a purple cape, with a sword hanging from his belt that is easily seven feet long. On his head is an elaborate crown of mistletoe and ivy, woven together with thick silver threads. He strides across the hall to the cheers of the company, and takes his seat in the giant throne.
He looks down sternly at the tiny Puck.
Oberon
Would you have me pound my knuckles raw, Puck,
before I gained entry to my own hall?
Puck
Praise to you, Oberon Pendragon, High King of all
the Fair Lands! The merriment was in a considerable furor when you arrived, Your
Majesty, and we did not hear your knock. Perhaps you did not knock loudly
enough?
Oberon
The only sound of merriment I heard through
those doors was your own, Puck. I hope the company found you in good humour, but
next you treat me so, my servant, I shall flail you alive.
Puck
Oh! Woe am I, Your Majesty, that I incur your
wrath! I am but a simple Puck, who delights in the laughter of --
Oberon
-- of his own braying voice. Very well, Robin,
you are forgiven anon. Now to business. Welcome, friends, old and new! Of the
new, of course, I speak of Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy. Long have I
anticipated tonight's feast, when the Kings of the Long Past would welcome the
Princes of the Dawning Future into our midst! What say you to this company, of
this fine celebration? Is it to your liking?
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy get to their feet.
Hydrogen Guy
It is... like nothing I've seen before, my
lord. Why have we been brought here?
Oberon
You bring yourselves. If you do not know why you
are here, I certainly cannot tell you.
Deuterium Boy
You're playing word games with us,
Oberon. Why have you opened the ways for us, here and now?
Oberon
Deuterium Boy, you are not as taken with us as
your companion. You do us a discourtesy.
Deuterium Boy
Courtesy demands an answer.
Oberon
Very well... It has come to our notice that you
have some unkind fancies about the Fair Folk. I wish to dispel them.
Deuterium Boy
What is your interest in Pitt Meadows,
then? And your connection with Amalgo NorthWest?
Oberon
We have withdrawn from the mundane world.
Centuries of mistrust and persecution by so-called men of faith have poisoned
what once was a rich and prosperous relationship. The Faerie fear you mortals as
once you fear us.
A silence falls over the company.
Oberon
Come now! The festive mood has dispersed. This
is not why I came, and it is time we did something for it! Puck!
Puck
The hunt, Your Majesty?
Oberon
The hunt!
Puck produces a horn, and raising it to his lips gives three blows. The company rises and cheers, moving en masse to the doors. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy are swept along with them. The doors part and the crowd pours into the night.
Outside the hall are several dozen horses, waiting impatiently. Each of the men mount a horse. Oberon, with an agility impossible for a being of his mass, onto a gigantic white stallion. The steed is shaggy and muscled like a draft horse, and easily twice as tall, but lean as a racer.
The Diatomic Duo's female companions lead them each to a horse of their own. Hydrogen Guy's is a midget breed of Oberon's - that is, a fine white horse of earthly size. Deuterium Boy's is dappled, less muscular but still looking formidably swift.
From somewhere around the corner rides Puck, looking comical but somehow terrible, astride a mulish creature resembling a pony from some barren country inhabited by winged monkeys. He drives before him a pack of yapping, baying hounds. He rides abreast of Oberon and sounds another blast on his horn.
The hounds howl in response and spring forward. Oberon draws his sword, and with a shout of "Eustachius!" gallops after them. The rest of the company starts off in close pursuit with more cheers and echoes of Oberon's cry. In the thick of them is Hydrogen Guy, with the Ruler of Elendil raised aloft, shouting "Carr-Parinello!" as his battle cry. Deuterium Boy calls after him to no avail, giving him little choice but to ride off in pursuit.
The country outside the Faerie Hall consists of rolling, grassy plains bounded on the west by a deep, dark forest. The hall sits on a hillock about half a kilometer from the edge of the wood, and is the only structure in sight. The company rides towards the wood, then veers south to parallel the edge of the trees. The hounds race ahead, darting in and out of the trees. Oberon and Puck are far ahead in the lead, with Hydrogen Guy only a few meters behind. Despite his horse's efforts, Deuterium Boy finds himself trailing farther and farther behind. At last he manages to catch the attention of one of his fellow riders.
Deuterium Boy
What the hell is going on?!
Rider
The hunt!
Deuterium Boy
Yes, I know it's a hunt! What are we
hunting!
The rider points straight ahead.
Rider
There! Look there!
The hounds have flushed an animal from the forest - a stag the size of a bull elephant, coloured like ebony in the moonlight. It leaps and bounds through the scrub, traveling faster than any animal Deuterium Boy had ever seen. Yet the dogs kept right behind. Oberon closes on it, grinning like a madman, his sword now slung over his back, arms tensed, as though preparing to leap on the creature's back and wrestle it to the ground. Hydrogen Guy is not far behind, still waving the Ruler of Elendil, which is glowing a bright blue like a xenon head-lamp. Puck rides between them, urging both of them onwards.
Rider
That is the stag Eustachius! Oberon is said to be
cursed to chase it until the end of time!
Deuterium Boy
You've got to be --
His reply is lost in another cry as the stag veers off from the edge of the forest, heading not for the safety of the wood but across the open field. The company keeps up its pursuit. As they ride, the party stretches farther afield until Deuterium Boy trails last of all, with the stag, Oberon and Hydrogen Guy nearly lost to sight ahead. The land flattens out, eventually growing marshy as they approach a dike.
The stag leaps the obstacle with a dozen meters to spare; Oberon's horse duplicates the feat. The rest follow, each easily clearing the dike on their faerie horses, until Deuterium Boy reaches it and --
-- and is thrown from his horse, landing with a solid thud that knocks him cold.
He awakens to find the twilight of dawn dissolving into day and the cry of a startled crane in his ear. He was alone, and lying at the foot of Otter's Dike.
Hydrogen Guy
in the clutches of the fairies? A municipality bought by corporate thugs? What could it all mean? Beats me! Tune in next week for part II of...Deep Magic Blues!
Same Hydrogen Time, Same Hydrogen Website!