2012 Part 6

'Come on, Let's go back', she said. She tossed her head and set off. Alexander stood silently and allowed himself to be led through the caves, into the lift and down to the waiting taxi. They travelled in silence.

As the vehicle turned the entrance to Regent's Park, Themis slipped the dividing gla.s.s to the cab and asked the driver to pull over. Still silent, Alexander got down while she motioned the now curious driver to continue. Alexander walked as far as the lake, where he sat on a bench self-absorbed. He had no idea of actual time, but sensed subliminally the queer absence of activity which in the dead of night creates inexplicable whispers and rustlings, ill explained movements, footsteps and the occasional real sound of a car. He sensed a city almost but not quite asleep.

His mind returning to him, was charged with new thoughts, which existed hitherto only vaguely known, sometimes glimpsed obscurely. Now they were easily accessible as if he were riffling through a well organised filing cabinet. He found he could take a thought, express it perfectly in his head, link it to any other, rework it and plot the development of the concept as it had grown through the history of human thought. He had total knowledge, unyoked to time, separate from, but incorporating his own personal experience. Beyond this, he sensed a host of other categories of human experience belonging outside himself, harder to join with but potentially equally accessible if he were to make the effort. He tried to catch onto a group of them by physically turning his head, without result. He found that by, as it were, turning his mind to face in a particular direction he could bring them into focus.

The mere knowledge of this drew from him a powerful resistance in his dominant personal psyche which drove him to his feet and set him running. Anywhere to escape the awful portent of his recent encounters. He needed desperately to shake them off, like a dog from the water, to rid himself by running so far he would leave them behind. But the sound of his foot falls seemed to overtake him in the night and the rasping breath in his throat echoed in the trees and bushes, spurring him onwards.

The further he ran, the more wildly he went, until at last he stopped with a loud wail of despair. Panting hard, he leaned heavily against a lamp-post his arm crooked to keep him from falling.

It's no use, he thought, once there is knowledge, there's no going back, like Adam, I know what I know and cannot unknow it. Panic shot through him as he realised that whatever he did; the knowledge would still be there. But I can refuse to go along with it. I have my will, despite whatever I know, I don't have to take any action.

Even as he formulated thoughts of refusal, he knew he would not be able to maintain his will in the face of what he knew....of what was crowding into his brain. Arguments for action ranged themselves with stark accuracy, making refusal the act of a coward. Act he must. To know what must be done and not to act is self-betrayal. Henceforward, he would have to live with that realisation or his life would be as phoney as an eleven pound note.

'Why me?' he railed aloud. He muttered incoherently to himself. 'I can't do it, I don't know where to begin! And there's no time! They said so.' He laughed aloud hollowly. 'No time for immortals, that's a laugh!' He beat his fist at the lamp-post as if that proud bearer of the city's illumination were personally responsible for his problems.

'H'allow me to h'a.s.sist young man. 'Praps yer a bit p.i.s.sed eh, boychik? or suicidal is it?'

The speaker was a small ugly little man of around five feet, dressed in an amusing archaic mixture of spats, striped trousers and morning coat. Knees and elbows stuck prominently from his gabardine, his ears were pointed, and he was very hairy. A coa.r.s.e thatch overhung his collar and grew vertically from the top of his bare head. A wicked grin showed little tombstone teeth glinting whitely in the gloom. As he spoke he straightened so he could waggle his goatee directly at Alexander.

'Yea! Yea! You know 'oo I am,' he giggled. His whinnying tone grated on Alexander's ear. 'Yer woke me up my lad with all this rus.h.i.+n' about inna trees and bushes,' He thrust his scruffy chin into Alexander's face, searching him minutely. 'But I'm fast an' run wiv the wind, over rocks 'n canyons, wake me up matey 'n I c'n catch you. Catch! Catch! Hee! Hee! Catch's catch can, I c'n catch yer!'

With this the little manikin hopped all around Alexander, waving his brolly like a matador and he finally ended up cross-legged on a park bench. He rummaged somewhere deep in his pocket for a curiously shaped pipe, filled it a.s.siduously with tobacco, searched for matches and lit it. He looked up the while at Alexander and, then back at the pipe and said through a cloud of smoke, a toothy grin splitting his dark visage.

'Apollo's got my tunin' pipe, Hermes nicked it and sold it 'im, I used to be able to tell the future but 'e nicked that along 'a the pipe. But you know, don't yer, of course y'do.' He paused gazing quizzically at Alexander. 'You're pretty too, like 'im. What'll you nick from poor Pannie then?' He bounced from the bench, with the same amazing rapidity by which he had attained it.

As he came close, Alexander thought his animal smell seemed quite appropriate.

'E said 'e made it hisself, but it's lie, it were mine, all mine. That's why 'Era keeps me near by 'er, she knows, and you know 'cos yer know and Pannie knows y'know. It's all lies. They say I'm in league with...shush, you know 'oo...but it's lies, 'cos there aint no you know 'oo...it's in their minds, 'cos they gotta blame somebody so they puts it all onter me. But 'Era knows what's what and she keeps me near by 'er.'

Suddenly he delved into the front of his striped trousers and pulled his huge erect phallus from the hairy depths. Waving it triumphantly at the lamp-post, as if in direct compet.i.tion, he cavorted round Alexander and it, singing. 'It's lies, all lies, I am maker, conceiver, I am song, dance and merriment!'

After several tours, he stowed his remarkable instrument back in its hirsute darkness and stood grinning for all he was worth.

In spite of his cares, Alexander could not help laughing. The little man encouraged him by flapping his hands, palms up, and whinnying like a demented donkey. The effect was to make the youth laugh until tears streamed down his face and his ribs hurt.

'See, merriment...that's it my lad, none o' this 'ang-dog stuff. Trouble with 'Era and all 'er crowd is they take 'emselves too serious, and that's funny don'cher fink?'

He turned his head around in mock anxiety and whispered, 'don't tell 'er I said that.' Mimicking her voice wonderfully, he went on playfully. 'I am not amused Pannie my boy.' That's what she'd say, but she is when I get goin', I h'amuse 'em all. Wiv'out me they'd never larff, not properly, only at the misfortunes of each other.

They're a jealous lot, forever gettin' one-up off each other. Not me, I just take the p.i.s.s. Gotta laugh or gotta cry. Hey was you cryin'? Thought I heard you cry just then. He sat again, cross-legged on the bench and beckoned Alexander to join him.

'So, talk ter me, boychik. What's our proud 'Era bin an done to you then? As if I can't guess.'

Unexpected encounters seemed to be the order of the day. Alexander wondered if only he could see Pannie. If so were they both in another dimension or was the little man in his?

'That depends' said Pannie.

So thoughts are no longer my own, thought Alexander.

'You gott.i.t boychik' voiced Pannie out loud.

'Whose are they then? And can anyone listen in?' he thought, without speaking.

'Only us,' thought Pannie 'What - all of you all the time!'

'Well, if we wanted to I 'spose we could, never tried it meself makes the brain 'urt, but I could...Yea, I could. That's what makes Zeus special. 'E c'n do it easy, don't be fooled by 'im 'e's got loads of concentration 'e 'as.

'You said just now it depends, depends on what?' Thought Alexander, anxious that Zeus might be tuned in to this interchange and being powerless to do anything about it, decided it had to go on even if he was.

'Depends on what you want,' Pannie's mind was now fully engaged with his, and the conversation became an entwining of thoughts. Vast quant.i.ties of communication were absorbed one into the other in no time at all.

'I don't understand' Alexander's apparent lack of knowledge was interpreted by Pannie's mind as more than mere ignorance, rather a lack of practical experience of the knowledge Alexander had had from Mnemosyne, Hera and Thea. All the G.o.ds had this knowledge, not all of them used it, simply because of the energy it used when there were more pleasurable or exciting things to do with it than crack your brain to initiate new action. Pannie knew this better than most. Running after nymphs, hiding in bushes to jump out and 'get' them, took its toll. Being a laugh and keeping the curious of mankind at arm's length from his mistress, was as much as he could do; and that was more than enough. But he could of course, if he wanted, he just didn't want to.

'Neither do I want to act. Ill considered action could lead to anything. You can't always control what can happen. It's too serious,' thought Alexander. Pannie's linked mind agreed.

'S'right ole c.o.c.k. Yer can't live like that all the time, it'd drive yer bananas, bein' serious all the time. Can't be doing with all that obeissancing and sak'rificin' and fartarsin' around with b.l.o.o.d.y entrails an' all that. Farcical if you asks me! Mind you, the G.o.ds, they used 't lap it up, made 'em feel wanted like.'

Alexander's mind conjured armies of objections, hosts of detailed impossibilities, mountains of resistance. The clouds of doubt almost choked Pannie's bright and darting mind, which despite his nimbleness, nearly eclipsed his thought processes. No wonder Hera had broken off her encounter and sent him to soften up the lad. Pannie's mind made a skip, and lodged itself outside Alexander's. Without breaking off, it rested just out of range of the destructive doubt which clogged up the localised Chronosphere. It registered a flash of dissatisfaction with his mistress for this stupid task and he received a small shock in response. s.h.i.+t! He thought, Hera was on auto-think.

Pannie's mind knew about doubt, disbelief, refusal, call it what you will. This was how mortals rendered G.o.ds useless; stopped their fun. Working up mortals was fun and since they died so soon, there was an unending supply of new recruits. But once doubt was widespread the stream dried up. Now Gaia was complaining and on the point of giving up and even Pannie's fun loving brain could see the importance of that. No Gaia, no people, no fun, not even the prospect of any and only this doubting stripling between him and that!

Out of reach of Alexander's mind Pannie waited until Alexander got over his attack of the collywobbles. When the cloud of doubt and refusal lost intensity Pannie's mind put out a thought feeler. Alexander's mind was running out of energy, it had had a hard time in the last few hours and needed to sort itself out, unravel and take things easy for a bit.

Pannie's own lazy mind was well aware of the effort needed to keep going in the Chronosphere all the time, the fancy G.o.ds did it a lot, that's what made them powerful, they just knew everything so acted quickly and that way got a lot of control.

Pannie's mind followed the feeler and engaged again. Ignoring the thinning banks of doubt with expressions of disgust, Pannie brought Alexander down to earth. 'See 'ere mate, It'd be easier on all 'on us if we stick t' level one boychik'

'Level one?' thought Alexander, 'Yea, don'cher know nuffin' about the 'sphere and 'ow it works 'n all that?

'Well I know a bit about timelines, lifts and getting about on the Chronosphere.'

'H'i know ha'bit about timelines h'and lifts,' mimicked the uncouth little man. 'Yer don't know nuffin' you! 'Ow long yer been att.i.t then boychik?'

Alexander was surprised that he had been 'att.i.t' for longer than he realised....all his life he thought.

'About twenty four years, and stop calling me boychik!'

The manikin began to laugh, and then he was all laughter rippling along the night paths, skimming the lapping water of the streetlit lake. 'Twenny four yers, 'an 'e finks 'e knows sumfink about it!'

Stopping his skipping, he thrust his thoughts right at him.

'You know 'ow long I've bin att.i.t, eh? D'you know? Yer don't do yer? More'n five thousand years, an' that's only what you mortals fink, 'cause we was muckin' abaht onner 'sphere a lot longern'at. So done'cher give me no lip abaht no twenny four years, boychik, you've gotta long way t'go you 'ave, boychik! You listen t'me matey, an gett.i.t good. Level one, that's like beginners, like what we does wiv nymphs and tree G.o.ds an' all them little G.o.ds. Them biguns, the Named, like 'Era n Prometheus an' them sort, they don't 'ave nuffin t'do wiv them little 'uns, that's fer me t'do, I gottem all to 'andle, I 'ave, an' lemme tell yer they needs 'andlin'. So that's level one Boychik - like it's like talkin', but it ain't talkin' it's finkin' like, it's faster'n talkin' 'cos yer don't 'ave ter take it in like, it's there an' you can 'ave lots'a people att.i.t at the same time, see. Like you n' me now. But I'm doin' it slower'n usual 'cos yer green as gra.s.s.'

Alexander realised that the little man had not opened his mouth for some time, and was sitting calmly smoking his curious pipe, smiling his little animal smile, stroking his ragged goatee and occasionally rearranging the bulge in the front of his trousers. He also realised he had taken in what Pannie was thinking and was also replying at the same time instantaneously.

'You gott.i.t, boychick, that's level one. Nah-then, level two's a different box 'a tricks all t' gevver.'

The narrative style of communication seemed to melt and what came from him hovered suspended before him and met the thought patterns coming from Pannie, they merged and he again found himself in a powerful mind-whirl of exchanges which left him at the extreme edge of concentration.

'That's level two, stronger innit? Like what you got wiv 'Era 'n Themis jus' now. You can get a lotta info that way, but it's knackerin' 'cept fer them big 'uns what works 'arder'n me att.i.t.'

Even while Alexander was linked into the thought patterns of the little man, he felt at the edges of the join, other movements, hoverings.

'That's them, the big'uns, see, we're all on the 'sphere all the time. That's level three, an' that's the 'ardist of 'em all. I can only do it fer a bit, til I'm proper wore out wiv it.' He c.o.c.ked his head quizzically. 'See what I mean boychik? An' sometimes they goes on auto-think, that's like when they wants t' keep an eye on yer, so's yer doin' what yer told even though they're up t' summink' else miles away or inna nuvver timeline.'

Working on level one, Alexander found he could maintain the connection without the strain of level two and realised that level three was a good way beyond him. He was glad to be away from the Names if they usually operated on the higher levels all the time and found it a relief to be linked to Pannie, despite his initial revulsion to him.

'You'll get over that 'ole son, You'll get ter find me irresistible before yer done. Till then I can take it. Your lot 'ave been givin' it me fer yers, and I allus get the last larf, I do. Any'ow what yer pickin' up on the edge is 'Era n' Zeus arguin' about you, me 'ole c.o.c.k-sparrer. 'Cause they're worryin' you ain't got what it takes to do what's gotta be done. You can listen in if yer want, if you can 'old on to it, but I wouldn't do it meself, 'cos it sounds like they're loads 'a timelines away an' right on the other side of the 'sphere like.'

Alexander knew he did not have the energy to range on the Chronosphere as Pannie seemed able to do, he reckoned he was doing pretty well to handle level one after a mere 'twenny four years' and the grin from Pannie confirmed it.

Alexander wondered if there was a fourth level, without being able to conceptualise how this might manifest itself, since he was having trouble making sense of how to get in tune with the shadowy edge he could vaguely feel at the farthest penumbra of his mind, without having the slightest inkling how he would make contact with it.

'Yea' boychick, 'course there's more but it's beyond me. S'only 'appened once as far as I know. When we was all fightin' them t.i.tans. We was losin' 'n some 'ow we sort' a' got all outer our minds togevver an like sent a whoosh of thought force at 'em. Zeus called it 'is special, an' it did the trick, we aint 'ad no more trouble from them t.i.tans since then like, but I were all wore out fer ages, 'n so was loads of us. Mind you, not as wore out as them t.i.tans,' and he laughed again all over the park.

'Isn't Mnemosyne a t.i.tan though?' Alexander conveyed a lifetime of learning with her into the thought mix between them.

'Yea, s'true. But Zeus spared the wimmin t.i.tans so's they knows their place now, an' co-operates 'cause they know what'd 'appen if they got all c.o.c.ky-like again,' and Pannie communicated the whole battle of the t.i.tans with details from his viewpoint, quite differently from the way Alexander had had it from Mnemosyne.

He was now fully distracted from his earlier thoughts of Zeus and was nicely weaving a fascinating thought pattern with this strangely likeable little man, filling in many of the gaps in his understanding. At the same time allowing him to feel more and more comfortable on level one of this thought-sharing process. But he did not have time to go further for Pannie in a moment of immense disappointment for Alexander, disengaged, and Alexander learned that thought-sharing on level one was a two way process, which each partner controlled individually and as Pannie now articulated verbally, 'It takes two to tango, boychik!'.

Pannie got up from the bench, and set off in the general direction of the Post Office Tower, Alexander understood he was expected to follow. When they were in sight of Baker Street tube station, he was already breathless at the unexpected pace set by the strange manikin, who had so alarmed him earlier that day and whom Hera had recommended to him as a mentor.

A glance at his watch told him it was four am on Sat.u.r.day and he knew the station was closed.

'Where are you going?' Alexander shouted ahead of him in an attempt to re-engage the scuttling figure in the middle distance. He tried communicating on level one by concentrating his thoughts on the fast moving figure, to his chagrin the world was filled with cracked laughter. It struck him he could either follow or let him go.

Without the mental energy required to follow, Alexander stopped hurrying and allowed the little bent figure to disappear into the dark entrance of the tube station. The laughter faded into a distant echo and he was alone with the night again.

His main instinct was to continue to run as before, to escape the revelation of Zeus, but where to go? The sensation of being watched was not just physically but mentally strong upon him. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from any of the untold others that were on the timelines of the Chronosphere. He felt as if thrust onto a vast stage, where the numberless audience was in darkness, betrayed only by a slight hum of voices. Were he to move a muscle all of them would become aware of his presence and as one concentrate on what he was to do next. Transfixed, he could neither go back into his recent past nor forward into a future that was all confusion.

'You'll 'ave t' come wiv me boychick, there's nuffink else for it ole' son' He sensed a strong call from underground, beneath his feet and knew Pannie was close.

'Where are you?'

'Dahn 'ere boychik, inn'a Tube.You comin'? 'Cos yer ain't goin' nowhere else, I can tell yer. Nah then mate...' The communication was sharp and exasperated. '...Yer can't go back now, 'cos you left all that be'ind, so you gotta go on, innit? 'An' my job's to 'elp yer on, So yer gotta go wiv me, see, simple, eh?' Adding under his breath. 'Cor blimey! Whatta prat!'

'How do I get to where you are?' The mere fact of someone else, anyone, offering options broke the impa.s.se for now. Alexander decided to follow the little man wherever he went, since between the two of them he alone appeared to be in control of the situation.

'Ain't yer got that cloak what'sit, Zeus giv ya? Great, put it on an' yer'll be 'ere toot sweet.'

Alexander remembered the mesh mantle given by Zeus, which was neatly folded in his pocket. Finer than silk, it had a lightness and texture like nothing else he had known. Swinging it like a cloak round his shoulders, he began to feel dizzy and in a haze landed with a b.u.mp on the deserted platform of the Bakerloo Line.

'Blimey, squire, you didn't 'arf give me a start!' expostulated the little man as Alexander landed on top of him in a flurry of arms and legs. 'Why didn't yer tell me you was comin' throo like b.l.o.o.d.y Superman?'

'What do you mean?' said Alexander brus.h.i.+ng himself off. 'I thought you knew what was going to happen when you said to put on Zeus' coat.'

'Well...' Pannie grinned ruefully. 'The fings Zeus gives fer pressies usually's pretty special, and can do fings like, y'know, make yer invisible or stop arrers 'n bullets, fings like that, but I didn't know 'zactly what it'd do, like.' He felt the material between hairy thumb and stubby finger. 'Yea, thought as much, s'made outta Haephestos' net. Cor, I wondered what 'appened to it, seems like Zeus, crafty b.u.g.g.e.r, got 'old of it 'n made a coat out of it. I wonder where 'e kept it all this time?' You should h'a bin there when owd 'Ep frew it over Ares 'n Aphrodite', they was both b.o.l.l.o.c.k naked, well, not in 'er case, if yer sees what I means!'

Again laughter flooded the whole cavern of the underground platform and could be heard all the way out to Waterloo Station. It was not exactly how Alexander had heard the story, but he let it go, and Pannie laughed even more as he comprehended how seriously Alexander had believed in the infidelity of Aphrodite and Ares and their links to human s.e.xuality. A kind of mind sparring went on, at the edge of level two that got neither of them anywhere. Alexander decided to move things on.

'Now that I've got here, what happens next?' Alexander asked on level one.

'Search me 'ole c.o.c.k, I'm just 'ere t' keep a beady eye on yer, see y' don't come to no 'arm, but if yer like, there's some people I want yer to meet'

'Who?'

'That's fer me ter know and you ter find out!'

'You said just now it was your job to help me on.'

'Yea, s'right, but you gotta make the decisions, know what I mean?'

'No, I don't know what you mean!' Alexander was getting exasperated. Everything about the man suddenly grated on his nerves. The silly accent for one thing; this was a G.o.d, not a very dignified one maybe, but not some East End barrow-boy either. He was of Russian origin, of Greek descent, he might be an earthy character, but all this Pearly King stuff, was too much. The toothy grin, the bad breath, the waggling goatee and the crudity, while a little amusing he conceded, was a poor act really. If this was Hera's 'mentor' well, he was sure she could have chosen better than this. Why not continue with Mnemosyne? There was enough of them to choose from goodness knows. He had rather liked what he saw of Prometheus, big and gentle, someone who knew about suffering and how to handle it. An increasing gale of laughter, rushed around the station, blowing dustily and dampishly around him, as if a train was about to emerge from the tunnel. The rus.h.i.+ng laughter really did turn from Pannie's voice in his head to the rattling entrance of a train into the station. It was a through train to Stanmore, probably the first of the day. He decided to get off at Finchley Road and get a cab home. Pannie scampered to the head of the train and alighted in the first carriage nearest the driver. Alexander, to put some distance between them, got on the last one with the guard. The train was virtually empty, just a few early morning working people, half asleep and wrapped in themselves, travelling coc.o.o.ns, impenetrable, gestating.

'Mind the doors!' bellowed the guard, an unusually huge man who stepped one foot onto the platform to check no one was trapped.

Alexander was surprised at the jobsworth att.i.tude of the man, when there was no one but himself and Pannie on the platform and they were already on board. Pannie's maniacal laughter continued to ring in his mind, and he realised they were still mentally engaged. Pannie was filling him up with his hooting sarcasm and mischievously not prepared to have a sensible dialogue.

Briefly, Alexander's mind skipped to Hera and her avowal that this misshapen creature knew a lot about JNO and would be useful to him. Like a hole in the head, he thought. There was more laughter. He sat down on the cross bench near the doors facing the guard. At Swiss Cottage, he observed the enormous guard was staring at him. He could hardly see the man clearly for he had slashed the peak of his cap, sergeant-major style, so it flattened against his forehead, obscuring his eyes. A large, hard man, who was serious about his job. Ran a tight train, brooked no nonsense. Alexander's mind filled with foreboding. The laughter in his head ceased, there was something about the guard's size and demeanour making him uneasy and to cap it all he felt Pannie's mind was now interested, as if he knew something. It was not so much the guard's sheer size, nor his trappings of petty authority which affected him, so much as the man's obvious delight with his uniform, his bulk and his sense of power rather than service. The man was a bully and would use his size and authority with pleasure.

Alexander was reminded of some of his school teachers, for whom the exercise of their adult power was more important than what happened to pupils and who had pleasure browbeating the smaller and weaker children. The foreboding rose to an impotent fear, as powerful as when he confronted Hera, or Zeus. He noted with interest that Prometheus had not frightened him, despite his bulk, with him he had felt his vulnerability had been recognised.

He despised himself for this weakness in the face of authority. He had always felt it. Beginning with the women on Ios, so big, so powerful, Mnemosyne's great knowledge which he would never master, Hera's awesome presence, Penny's grit-hard determination, Thea's righteousness.

The larger the authority of the person, the greater his uncontrollable feeling of inferiority. It did not seem to matter how much he tried to deny these feelings as irrational. He learned to be forthright by an effort of will, and would often challenge people who produced this irrational fear in him. Still it remained deeply rooted. He believed he was the equal of any one. A fellow human, sharing the same failings, so that it was unfair of anyone to intimidate him. He was angry when his own vulnerability went unrecognised by others who saw vulnerability as weakness to be exploited. The unfairness of it was the mainspring of his need to resist. It was only just occurring to him that they themselves may be being intimidated by something in their turn. That they were frightened and frightened others to deflect the feeling.

He had never confronted this a.n.a.lysis as thoroughly as he did now under the unwavering gaze of the headmasterish guard. Whether it was the link with Pannie or the thought sharing with Thea and Hera earlier, he didn't know, but he had had one of those mind-changing flashes of insight, after which one is never quite the same again.

There was a sudden clarity of belief in the strength of his vulnerability. What a delightful paradox he thought. In the contradiction lay self-discovery. To be vulnerable is actually to be strong, but only if you could share it with others, and, you could share it with anyone! Simply because everyone was vulnerable in the same basic ways, it was only in their reactions that they were different and so only seemed strong. The trick of it was to check out their areas of vulnerability, and share it. Their power would immediately diminish to equalise with your own, even if they can still do you harm! You may not be able to stop them harming you, but you can stop being intimidated by them.

Thus power is always equal even with G.o.ds, because you could only be what you were as a human being. Because their superior powers were outside your control, the best you can do is to be as human as you can and confront them with your own powers. As G.o.ds they must have compa.s.sion or they had to be false G.o.ds, mere tyrants, and tyrants have to be fought!

The train stopped at St. John's Wood. The guard punched at the bank of b.u.t.tons to open the doors, no one got on or off. This did not prevent him from lowering the little green hinged seat from the wall and waiting. He sat bolt upright, the toe-caps of his huge boots glinting, and he stared fixedly at Alexander, who despite his sudden revelation about vulnerability, felt very uncomfortably vulnerable.

Alexander waited with growing impatience and unease for the train to resume. The guard remained motionless. The doors stayed open. The silence was tangible. Something was wrong. Panic surged through him which he only just controlled with an effort of will, his whole body shouted at him to run.

The other half-dozen pa.s.sengers following the gaze of the guard fixed upon Alexander. He realised with a sense of inordinate shock that he had no ticket and that the guard knew. It was Pannie! That little devil! Pannie had put the idea in the guard's head. Alexander struggled with his feelings, determined to handle the inevitable with dignity.

The guard rose slowly, purposefully and with an audible sigh, came towards him, arms crossed on his chest, blocking the aisle.

'Tickets please!' He barked. It was an order. He made instinctively for his wallet. A wave of guilt flowed through him starting somewhere in the pit of his stomach and washed simultaneously up to his temples and down to the soles of his feet. There was nothing he could do to prevent this minor tyrant from exposing him in front of the now alert and interested pa.s.sengers. He felt this minor lapse was all that was needed for the guard to set about him and that his fellow pa.s.sengers would condone whatever happened. As he reached inside his jacket he knew all the time he was utterly unable to explain how he got into the station and why he had no ticket. Pannie's laughter in his head was little short of maniacal.

'I must have lost it', his voice sounded lame to him as he made a phoney show of searching in vain through his wallet.

'Name!' The guard spoke sharply and clearly and the whole carriage heard. Alexander mumbled in a whisper something about paying on the way out, being in a rush.

'Speak up! I cant hear you...Sir' The guard came too close, invaded his remaining s.p.a.ce, pushed up against his leg and leaned over, his face filling his field of vision so Alexander got a strong whiff of tobacco laden breath, heavily laced with garlic. He felt smaller than he had for ages, smaller even than when he met Hera. He just wanted to disappear. At the same time he raged in himself about the injustice of it all. He wanted to tell the man he had never in his life boarded a train without a ticket and would never dream of it. He hadn't intended to get on a train the way he had. He would pay at the other end, it was all a ghastly chapter of errors that were not his fault....not his fault, the words repeated themselves over and over in his mind, until they came out in a breathless whisper sounding entirely stupid. But truly, it wasn't his fault.