A Pencil Like A Blessing

There is blood on the foot of the Virgin.

Gaius enters the chapel.

What's going on?

Mea culpa, says the Virgin. I panicked and stepped on the children's new beetle. 

Then she smacked us, snivels Terence.

And how is the beetle? asks Gaius. Who let it out of the jar?

Me, says Terence. I was showing it to Butterball.

Butterball squats, to have a good look at the beetle.

It's okay, says Butterball, but it's legs are broken.

Let's see, says Baldy, also squatting. Terence squats too.

The beetle stares balefully at the three infants, and spits in three different directions.

Now there's blood on their fat little knees. Serves them right.

Interesting, says Gaius. I must make a note that Timarcha tenebricosa DOES sometimes bleed from the knees. I don't suppose you have a pencil?

The Virgin is insulted. To be asked for a pencil!

Gaius can tell. He wishes he hadn't asked for a pencil. It will make it more awkward to ask for a passport.

He tries diplomacy.

Is your son interested in science?

Of course he is, says the Virgin. He is top of his class. Why only last year he went on a class trip to the Arctic Circle.

Really. And how did he get there? asks Gaius

The usual way, says the Virgin. It's shrinking, you know.

Yes, the ice is. The circle itself is drifting northwards, due to the earth's tilt, says Gaius. I read that somewhere.

Don't tell Butterball, says the Virgin. He'll want a new globe to stand on.

I imagine he knows, says Gaius. Being so clever.

Indeed, says the Virgin.

She softens. Actually, I do have a pencil.

Wonderful. May I borrow it for a moment? asks Gaius.

What kind of pencil will she have? No doubt a sharp one.

Here it is now. She holds up the pencil, like a blessing.

It's a blue one, topped by a light bulb.

Is that light bulb part of the pencil? asks Gaius.

No, it's a sharpener, says the Virgin. Nifty, isn't it. They come from China.

Very nifty, says Gaius.

This is going well now. He decides not to risk going backwards by asking for paper.

Facts And Freedom

Belle buys a tray of fresh oysters, and a bottle of local white wine.

François-René takes an oyster, sniffs it and sucks it.

It brings back memories of his beloved sister. (When they used to eat oysters, that is).

He says so.

Sartre says that, in his opinion, to eat is to appropriate by destruction.

Belle replies: Well, in that case...

And whips away the tray, before he can take one.

It's not fair.

Sartre is sulking.

The tide has turned. Dark clouds have rolled in.

Belle starts waving.

Sweezus and Arthur see her waving and wheel their bikes over, followed, at a short distance, by a bird.

Hi guys! Come and join us! says Belle. We're eating fresh oysters.

Brilliant, says Sweezus, taking two.

Saint Roley drops onto the pavement, exhausted.

He hops over to Sartre.

You look like I feel, says Saint Roley.

I was contemplating the unstable co-existence of facts and freedom, says Sartre.

Exactly, says Saint Roley.

Unstable coexistence of.... says Sweezus. Hang on. Can I write that down?

I'm thinking of going back to Paris, says Sartre. So better do it soon. Unless you're coming with me.

Facts and freedom coincide, says Sweezus. We're all going. Who's got a pen?

The perennial problem.

François-René solves it this time. He keeps a tiny pen in the pocket of his trousers, attached to a notebook.

.......

Gaius and Jeanne Jugan arrive at the Eglise de Saint Méen, and enter by the back door.

Hello, folks! says Méen, wiping his hands on a tea towel. How goes the mission?

It's over, says Gaius. And we need a favour. Where is young Butterball?

I think Terence and Baldy have already found him, says Méen.

Loud laughter comes from the chapel.

A scream.

Then three sharp smacks.

Then loud sobbing.

From this we can gather a bad thing has happened.

Perhaps to the beetle.

Depends Who You Follow

Sweezus and Arthur are cycling back to Cancale.

Saint Roley is flying behind them, for practice.

They never look back.

Saint Roley is tiring, dropping suddenly in the air, then, with difficulty, rising.

But he keeps up, because he is listening.

Sweezus: That water was freezing!

Arthur: Summer's over.

Sweezus: Yeah, where are we now?

Arthur: October.

Saint Roley thinks: That's the answer! October.

Sweezus: The oystercatchers asked me if it was October.

Arthur: Why would they want to know?

Sweezus: Dunno. But soon as I finish with Sartre I'm heading south for the winter.

Arthur: Me too. Where's Moreton Bay?

Sweezus: Queensland. Near Brissie.

They both look at one another. Surfing on the Gold Coast. How cool would that be?

Saint Roley flies valiantly. He might make it to Cancale, but not to Brissie.

It's hopeless.

He should have waited for Gaius and Jeanne Jugan.

They are cycling back to Cancale with Terence, Baldy and the Scarabée.

Gaius: Saint Roley will be a valuable asset in Moreton Bay. The problem is, how to transport him.

Jeanne Jugan: Why can't he fly?

Gaius: It's over sixteen thousand kilometres. Time is of the essence, if one wants to halt developers.

Jeanne Jugan: I see. Could you get him a passport?

Gaius: A bird with a passport?

Jeanne Jugan: Wait.  Does Terence have a passport?

Gaius: Yes, but he needs it. I wonder if Baldy has one?

Baldy: Am I coming?

Gaius: Certainly not. You are staying. Where was it you came from?

Baldy: Le Puy-en-Velay.

Jeanne Jugan: Then he won't have a passport. Your best bet is Butterball. He did a gap year. The whole town saw him off. He went to....let me think....the Arctic Circle.

Gaius: This is promising. But Baldy looks more like Saint Roley than Butterball. Black and white feathers. Orange finger.

Jeanne Jugan: It's only a paint job. Do you know a good artist?

Gaius: I do.

Had he heard this Saint Roley might have ended his first long flight feeling more hopeful.

Applied Nothingness

You have done well, Saint Roley, says Gaius.

Thank you, says Saint Roley,

 So I'm going to make you an offer. How do you feel about curlews? says Gaius.

Ambivalent, says Saint Roley. They are fellow waders. In a sense, our brothers.

Admirable sentiments, says Gaius. Now, I have learned from Birdlife International, that the Far Eastern Curlew is endangered.

Aren't we all? says Saint Roley.

Hear me out, says Gaius. This is a particular instance. The Far Eastern Curlew's habitat in Moreton Bay is being threatened by developers. It's a crisis.

I do well in a crisis, says Saint Roley.

That's the spirit, says Gaius. However, I'm not sure I can take you back to Australia by plane.

You want me to fly? says Saint Roley. Thanks but no thanks.

There are other ways, says Gaius. He is thinking of them as he speaks. All of them dodgy.

I'll give him his flying lesson, says Arthur. Come over here, Roley.

You're NOT going to throw him over the edge of the Pointe de Grouin! says Jeanne Jugan.

Do it! cries Terence. You'll fly back to me, won't you Saint Roley?

Saint Roley is scared. So scared that he flutters up onto Jeanne Jugan's shoulder, and drops a feather.

See that! says Jeanne Jugan. He can fly quite well already.

Wonderful, says Gaius. I can always rely on you, Arthur.

Come on, Arthur, says Sweezus. Back to Cancale. Belle's stuck there with Sartre.

Being seduced, says Arthur.

Jeanne looks surprised, and takes Sartre's hat off.

It was unravelling anyway, and now it's no longer respectable.

.......

The tide is still out.

The oyster beds of Cancale are uncovered.

Belle, François-René, and Jean Paul are observing the visible rows.

Jean Paul is trying to think of something to say about oysters. Something existential.

François-René says something first.

There are two kinds of oysters in France, says François-René.

Boy ones and girl ones, says Belle.

No. Oh, ha ha! says François-René. You have your father's sense of humour. What I was going to say...

Hell is other people, mutters Jean Paul Sartre.

...is that there is the indigenous flat oyster and the imported hollow oyster, says François-René. Most of those in Cancale are the hollow type.

The hollow type. An opening for Sartre. Being and nothingness, applied to the oyster.

Too late!

François-René continues: The flat type has been dying out since the seventies, due to parasites.

Parasites.

Belle doesn't care. She really likes oysters.

Why don't we buy some from that stall over there? We could have an oyster picnic.

Sartre is in favour of an oyster picnic.

At a certain point in the picnic, he intends to say:

To eat is to appropriate by destruction.

And see how they take it.

The Wisdom Of Inaction

Below the Pointe de Groiun, Arthur is asleep in the cave.

Or: unconscious, in the grotto.

He stirs, and murmurs: For a long time.......

A voice answers: I have dwelt here, under vast porticoes, that the seaside suns tint....

Arthur awakens (perhaps).

Seaside suns!

All right, ocean sunsets.

But Arthur is awake now.

Outside the cave, a motor boat is slowing. Putt-putt-brummm---burrr.

A splashing occurs, and a bird squawk. Saint Roley is being transferred.

Sweezus appears under the vast portico. Tinted by the bright seaside sun not yet setting.

Arthur stands up, and feels ......perfectly normal.

Hey! shouts Arthur. I'm here.

You dick head! answers Sweezus. You could've drowned.

No, I couldn't, says Arthur. I was in here. I dreamed of a former life. But it was someone else's.

Yeah, right, says Sweezus. I rescued Saint Roley. And got a lift back with the coast guard. They're still looking for you.

Let's see, says Arthur. He sticks his head out of the cave. The coast guard patrol boat is zigzagging purposefully about on the water.

Arthur is gratified.

Make yourself useful, dude. Hold the parrot, says Sweezus.

Okay, says Arthur, taking the bird.

I'm not really a parrot, says Saint Roley.

I'm not really a bird lover, says Sweezus.

Me either, says Arthur. He needs to learn how to fly.

I know, says Saint Roley. You were meant to teach me. But you didn't come.

He feels safe saying this, at the base of the cliff face.

I'm not doing it now, says Arthur. I've only just come good again.

You good again? says Sweezus. Awesome. Let's get up there, and get rid of the bird.

They start up the steep path to where Gaius, Jeanne Jugan, Terence, Baldy and the blood spitting Scarabée are waiting.

Talking, on the way:

Former life, huh? says Sweezus. Whose was it?

Baudelaire, says Arthur. My poetry hero. He wrote Les Fleurs du mal.

Flowers of bad, says Sweezus. Wicked title.

Saint Roley! cries Terence, leaning dangerously over the edge of the Pointe de Grouin.

Arthur! cries Gaius. You survived!

Nothing to it, says Arthur, dropping Saint Roley on the ground beside Terence.

And you recovered Saint Roley, says Gaius. Good man.

And now I've got to teach him to fly, says Arthur.

Not yet, says Gaius. First things first. A debriefing. What happened, Saint Roley?

Saint Roley walks away from the dangerous edge to face his team leader, and says:

At first I thought it would be easy. They seemed to understand. Even told me where I could safely put down the cheeses. But knowing the problem doesn't solve it. They're programmed to repeat the same actions. I considered the dilemma. and came up with a solution, involving role play.....

Goodness! says Gaius. You have exceeded all expectations. Well done.

Sweezus considers saying: Yeah, but it all went cactus just before he was leaving.

And, wisely, chooses not to.

Three Options

What is he doing here?

How to answer the coast guard?

Sweezus thinks fast. He has several options.

1. Toe cramps.

2. Arthur being missing.

3. Recovering a parrot.

One of the coast guards has waded ashore.

Err... lost a parrot, says Sweezus.

Quoi! says the coast guard. There are no parrots here.

That will be me, says Saint Roley. I sometimes go by that title.

Yeah, that's him, says Sweezus.

That is an oystercatcher, says the coast guard. And therefore you have no right to remove him from this bird sanctuary.

Sweezus is taken aback. He tries the second option.

Okay... umm...did you happen to see another guy swimming in this direction. Or drowning?

Certainly not, says the coast guard. We would have stopped immediately. Is someone missing?

Hey! says Saint Roley. Does this mean I can't leave?

What? says the coast guard. You're a bird. Of course you can leave.

Under your own steam, whispers Osie. You can't be REMOVED. None of us can. It's all good.

Is someone missing? repeats the coast guard. You must make a report. Was this person also swimming to the bird sanctuary?

Yeah... no, says Sweezus. Probably not. Actually...

He seizes on option one.

....I had a toe cramp.

Ah, says the coast guard. You have my great sympathy. Toe cramps are painful. Did you try flexing?

Yeah, kind of, says Sweezus.

The problem is, says Saint Roley, I can't fly.

Can't fly! shrieks Osette. And here you are coming here telling us all what to do!

He can't fly, says Sweezus. So, could you give us a lift back?

At last, Sweezus is thinking clearly.

D'accord, says the coast guard. But for the purposes of my report, this bird is a parrot.

Suits me, says Sweezus. Will you.... pick him up?

He's your parrot, says the coast guard.

Not my parrot, says Sweezus. A kid in my team.

Terence, says Saint Roley. Did he miss me?

He's got a blood-spitting beetle, says Sweezus.

The coast guard picks up Saint Roley and wades out to the patrol boat. Sweezus follows.

Bye! calls Ostelle.

The others ignore Saint Roley's departure. He can't even fly. What a swizzle.

We shall go slowly, says the coast guard, in order to look for your friend.

Cool, says Sweezus, already scanning the ocean.

He's done his best for everyone.

It's a good feeling.

He Arches And Spasms

Normally, Arthur wouldn't think of scrambling down a cliff and swimming across to a bird sanctuary, to save a bird on a mission.

It makes sense to him now.

Coming? says Arthur, to Sweezus.

He starts scrambling down the cliff path without waiting.

Heck! says Sweezus. I'd better go with him. He might have concussion.

Might he? says Gaius. He did look peaky.

Yeah, he fell off the mezzanine, says Sweezus.

I knew someone would, says Gaius. I thought it would be Terence.

Terence isn't listening. He is shaking the specimen jar, to re-animate his beetle.

Stop it! cries Baldy. Come and watch Arthur. He's going to swim over and rescue Saint Roley.

No way, says Sweezus, heading down the cliff path.

The tide is out now.

The atmospheric grotto is accessible.

Arthur has reached the bottom, and seen it.

He has gone in.

Sweezus is looking seaward, and doesn't see Arthur.

He strikes out for the Ile des Landes.

Is that Arthur, in the distance?

No, it's a dolphin.

From the grotto Arthur sees Sweezus swimming towards the island.

Don't go far off, thinks Arthur. A day is long....

Arthur wouldn't normally quote Pablo Neruda, his friend and rival.

He really might have concussion.

Sweezus has developed a toe cramp.

Jeanne Jugan is watching him from the cliff top. He arches and spasms.

I'm calling the coast guard! says Jeanne Jugan. That young man is in trouble. And the other one is missing.

Which one is missing! cries Gaius. Not Arthur!

As if it matters.

Jeanne calls the coast guard.

By this time, Sweezus has recovered, after rubbing and stretching his toes. He is an experienced swimmer. He has almost reached the island when the coast guard arrives.

On the island Saint Roley and the oystercatchers are winding up business.

Now, are you certain? says Saint Roley.

Yes, says Osette. And if we forget, we've got the cheeses.

And they are? says Saint Roley. Remind me.

Up there, out of danger, says Osie. Is it October?

How should I know? says Saint Roley. Let's ask that guy.

It's Sweezus, coming ashore, board shorts dripping.

Is it October? asks Saint Roley.

Like, who needs to know? asks Sweezus.

We do, say the oystercatchers.

Sweezus hates birds. He can't help it. They just give him the creeps. And where is Arthur?

The coast guard calls out through a megaphone.

Attention, monsieur! Que faites-vous ici? Répondez!

Shit! What's the best thing to say?