Where Is It Going ?

That's nice, said Pliny the Elder. Jesus now has a dog for a companion. Although I'm not sure I can suspend my disbelief to encompass its ability to speak.

Me neither, I said. But we must try. What do you think of the name?

Farquhar MacTaggart, said Pliny. A fine name. I believe it's the name of the first Earl of Ross.

Yes, I said. It's the English version of his name, which was Fearchar mac an t-sagairt. He rose from obscurity in the thirteenth century when he cut off the heads of the king's enemies and presented them as gifts to the king, and was then appointed a knight.

A fitting companion for Jesus, said Pliny.

Are you being sarcastic? I asked.

Certainly not, said Pliny. Jesus needs a foil. Perhaps the wisdom of Farquhar will help Jesus to write his article for Velosophy.

This is my story, I said, Not yours. But yes, that may be where it is going.

Well, why aren't you writing it? asked Pliny.

I'm taking a break. I'm going to Canberra until next Monday, I replied.

You didn't tell me, said Pliny. I hope you've left me something to eat.

Two pomegranates, I said. You can eat those.

Thank you, said Pliny. I see I shall be visiting the pie shop.

Bye then, I said.

Enjoy yourself, said Pliny.

Dogs Know What They Know

Jesus tried to explain to Belle et Bonne and Marie why Farquar was not a lovely name. They both laughed.

Maybe I'm losing my sense of humour, thought Jesus. Lighten up!

Just then Farquar bounded up, and began to lick Belle et Bonne's bare leg.

Hello doggy, hello feller, she said, bending down to give him a pat. What a darling puppy! Hello Farky!

Farky turned his attention to Jesus, latching on to the hem of his shorts.

Hey! said Jesus, trying to detach his new friend. Good boy! Good boy! Now, off you go back to your family.

No! said the dog. I'm staying with you!

Did you hear that? said Marie, astonished. That dog spoke to you.

Awesome! said Jesus. He bent down and addressed the dog.

Farquar, he said. Did you just say something to me?

The name's Farquhar, said Farquhar. Farquhar MacTaggart. I like you. So I'm going to stay with you.

But you belong to those people back there, said Jesus.

Farquhar MacTaggart decides who he belongs to, said Farquhar.

Why do you like me? asked Jesus.

You have an air of self doubt, said Farquhar MacTaggart.

Do I? asked Jesus, doubtfully.

QED, said Farquhar. I like that in a man.

You can't keep him, said Belle et Bonne. That would be stealing.

Stealing! barked Farquhar MacTaggart. Stealing! I'm not a piece of property!

Let's just go, said Jesus. And see what happens.

They left the beach and recovered their bicycles, Farquhar following behind.

Dont forget your sheet! barked Farquhar. It's over there on that bush.

How did you now it was mine? asked Jesus.

I'm a dog, said Farquhar.

Farquar!

The cycling holiday was nearly at an end. Marie, Belle et Bonne and Jesus retraced their route along the coast road. It was such a beautiful afternoon that they decided to stop riding for a while and take a walk on the beach.

Marie and Belle et Bonne walked ahead, while Jesus lagged behind. He was trying to think of what to write. It was true that he had begun to keep a diary last Easter, but he hadn't kept it up. In fact he'd only written in it twice. He remembered writing something about hoping someone would not be eaten by a shark.

Who was it?, he wondered.

Suddenly he heard a woman's voice calling urgently.

Farquar! Farquar! Farky!

A large brown dog bounded past.

What! thought Jesus. Surely no one would call their dog Farquar!

As he continued walking, the sounds of children's voices reached his ears.

Far-kar! Far-kar! shouted the children.

Unbelievable, said Jesus to himself. As if it isn't bad enough to call your dog Farquar in any case, to call your dog Farquar when you have young children unable to pronounce his name except as Far-kar has to be the height of irresponsibility.

He sped up to tell Marie, and Belle et Bonne.

Can you believe that dog back there's called Farquar? he asked them.

Oh, what a lovely name, said Belle et Bonne.

Positive Thoughts

Jesus broke the silence first.

Well, everybody farts, he said.

That's not the point, said Marie. Why did Zola give that character your name?

He had long hair, said Belle et Bonne.

But what was the subtext? pursued Marie.

To show what sort of people the villagers were, said Belle et Bonne. Their sense of humour and their attitude towards religion. And also, perhaps, to bring some lightness and humour into a grim story of rape, murder, greed and extortion.

I always wanted to write a novel, said Jesus.

Why don't you? asked Marie.

No literary talent, said Jesus.

But you tweet beautifully, said Belle et Bonne. And I bet you keep a diary.

I do, said Jesus. I started one last Easter.

How about writing something for Velosophy, said Marie. Something philosophical.

I don't know, said Jesus. I don't really have anything philosophical to say.

Yes you do, said Belle et Bonne. You have Do Unto Others.

Oh that, said Jesus modestly. It's just simple game theory really.

It is, agreed Marie. And it doesn't always work. Anyway, think about it. You don't have to be wise. The only thing Uncle Vello and David insist on is that whatever you write, there has to be a bicycle in it.

Wow! said Jesus. I know as much about bicycles as the next man. I might just have a go. You know, I feel really positive now. You girls are a tonic. Let's stop and have a chocolate break.

I thought you'd eaten it all, said Belle et Bonne.

I bought some more, said Jesus.

Easter Sunday Revelations

As we are lagging behind in real time we shall not bother about the literary conversation our cycling friends had on Good Friday. Instead, we shall fast forward to another literary conversation which developed the following day.

No, let us leave that one as well, and catch up with them today, when a third interesting literary conversation develops.

It is now Easter Sunday, and the cycling holiday is going well. The weather has fined up, and the coast road is rolling alond beside the coast in an exemplary manner. Belle et Bonne, Marie and Jesus are riding side by side, happily but illegally. They are talking about Kobo and Baby Pierre.

Do you remember, asked Marie, the name of that novel that Kobo was reading? The one that Baby Pierre used in his example of how it was best not to know the future?

Yes, said Jesus. It was The Earth by Emile Zola. I meant to get it from the library. I wanted to find out what happened to poor Francoise.

Me too, said Marie. I just wondered if you'd read it.

I have! said Belle et Bonne. I love Zola. But I wouldn't recommend that YOU read it, she added, looking at Jesus. There's someone in it you might not like.

Me? said Jesus, surprised. Why not?

Well, said Belle et Bonne, there's a character in it called Jesus Christ, but he's not meant to be you.

That wouldn't bother me, said Jesus. What's he like?

He's a lazy reprobate and a thief, said Belle et Bonne, and worst of all....oh no, I don't want to tell you.

What? said Marie. You have to tell us now!

Yes, you have to, said Jesus.

Alright, said Belle et Bonne. You asked for it. He farts all the time, on purpose, and for fun, to amuse his friends and his daughter.

Marie and Jesus were silent for a moment, digesting this.

The Shroud of Turin

Jesus woke up on Good Friday. Something was stuck to his face. He pulled it off. It was the sheet that he'd wrapped himself up in to try and keep warm during the night.

Ugh, he said, disentangling himself. It's covered in chocolate. He held it up for Marie and Belle et Bonne to see.

Belle et Bonne and Marie doubled up with laughter.

What's so funny, asked Jesus?

It looks like the shroud of Turin, said Marie. There's your face on the cloth, and two big brown handprints. That'll teach you to eat chocolate in bed.

Never mind that now, said Jesus. How am I going to get it off?

Wash it in the sea, said Belle et Bonne.

So they waited while Jesus went down to the sea and washed his sheet in the cold salty water.

Belle et Bonne looked at Marie.

Jesus! she said.

Mmm, said Marie. This isn't his day.

Jesus came back with his wet sheet dripping.

Now how am I going to get it dry? he asked grumpily.

I suppose you'll have to drape it over a bush and hope the sun comes out, said Marie.
What a way to spend the morning!

I'll just leave it here, said Jesus. I wouldn't want to hold everyone up. I'll pick it up on the way back.

So they headed off down the coast road, looking for somewhere to have breakfast.

As they rode three abreast, an interesting literary conversation developed.

Good Friday

You've brought far too much chocolate, said Marie. And I don't see a sleeping bag. What are you going to do if we decide to camp out?

Don't worry about me, said Jesus. I've got this sheet.

And he pulled a grubby white sheet from the bottom of his pack.

That won't keep you very warm, said Marie.

Never mind, said Jesus. Have a chocolate.

No thanks. said Marie. No chocolate till Sunday.

What? said Jesus.

Don't you know the rule? aked Belle et Bonne.

No, this is the first I've heard of it, said Jesus.

I thought you of all people would know that rule, said Belle et Bonne. You surprise me. You don't seem very religious.

Religious! Why should I be religious? scoffed Jesus.

Yes Belle, said Marie. Jesus doesn't need to be religious. And neither are we religious, she added.

Then you ought to have a chocolate, said Jesus.

No thanks, said Marie. There are other reasons not to eat chocolate.

They cycled all afternoon along the coast road beside the wind-tossed sea. They bought pizzas for dinner and ate them under a pine tree.

Let's sleep under this tree tonight, said Belle et Bonne. It doesn't look like it'll rain.

Alright, said Marie, and Jesus agreed.

They lay side by side looking up at the clouds and the stars through the pine branches, Jesus in the middle because he was cold.

Jesus got out his Blackberry. The clouds look like blue white and black chrysanthemums, he said.

Are you tweeting that? asked Belle et Bonne.

Yes, replied Jesus.

It's nice, said Marie. Goodnight.

Goodnight, said Jesus, pulling out another block of chocolate.

To keep me warm, he said.

Sure, said Belle et Bonne. Goodnight Jesus. Sleep well. Good Friday tomorrow.

See if I care, said Jesus.

Maundy Thursday

On the way home Jesus was filled with self doubt. What had Belle et Bonne meant by 'We fell about in admiration'? People usually fall about laughing. Could she have switched answers in mid-sentence to save his feelings?

You're too sensitive, he told himself. But tonight, be a little less out there.

That night the moon looked to him like a pale orange biscuit. He tweeted a careful description.

And then he thought, Yippee! tomorrow I'm going on holiday!

The next morning he turned up at Marie's and knocked at the door.

Hi, said Marie. Bright and early I see. Is that all your stuff?

Yep, said Jesus.

It doesn't look like much, said Marie. Did you bring something to sleep in?

Yep, said Jesus. Are you ready? Let's go.

Belle et Bonne appeared, wearing very short shorts.

Belle, said Marie. I hope you've packed a raincoat. And some leg warmers.

Don't worry. I have, said Belle et Bonne. So let's go!

They rode off together through the city and down to the coast, where they headed south. Clouds gathered and it began to drizzle slightly.

You might not see the moon tonight, said Marie.

I tweet clouds as well, said Jesus.

You have many talents, said Belle et Bonne.

I never know when you're pulling my leg, said Jesus.

That's funny, said Belle et Bonne. Neither do I.

Soon it felt like lunchtime.

Is it lunchtime? asked Belle et Bonne.

Yes, said Marie.

They stopped. Marie produced sandwiches, water and fruit. Jesus opened his backpack.

The two girls stared. It appeared to be full of chocolate. Blocks of chocolate, bars of chocolate, chocolate eggs, chocolate bunnies, chocolate bilbies, chocolate pandas, gold foil-wrapped chocolate fish.

And very little else.

Tweeting the Moon.

Well, said Belle et Bonne, I'm adopted, so that makes me doubly lucky. But anyway, you have a famous father too.

Not that famous, said Jesus.

Are you kidding? said Belle et Bonne.

Oh him, said Jesus. A misunderstanding after the event. I guess you could say I'm adopted too. So, what's Voltaire like as a dad?

He's great, said Belle et Bonne. A little difficult sometimes. You just have to humour him.

Mmm. Same, said Jesus.

Marie came in with the tea.

Would anyone like a hot cross bun? she asked.

Yes please, said Belle et Bonne.

No thanks, said Jesus.

Oh sorry, said Marie. I should have thought.

It's not that, said Jesus. It's because I hate peel.

Then you're in luck, said Marie. These ones are choc chip.

Yum, said Jesus.

They drank tea and munched choc chip easter buns in silence for a while.

Oh by the way, said Marie, I'm following you on Twitter.

Me too, said Belle et Bonne. We love your moon tweets. They're so... over the top.

Yeah, said Jesus. I really try to let my self go. Did you like last night's one? "Full frown-faced moon breaks free of tarry custard-rimmed cloud-flake only to be obscured again by dragon's claw".

We fell about in admiration, said Belle et Bonne.

Famous Father

The next morning, Marie's phone rang.

Hello it's me again, said Jesus.

Yes? said Marie.

Two things, said Jesus. One, will we be camping?

Yes, said Marie. If it's fine we'll be camping.

The only thing is, said Jesus, I've bought so much chocolate my backpack is full.

Well don't bring it all, said Marie. What's the other thing?

I'd really like to meet Belle et Bonne before we go. Can I come over?

Alright, said Marie. Come over.

Half an hour later Jesus knocked on the door. Belle et Bonne opened it.

Hello, said Jesus. Are you Belle et Bonne?

Yes, she replied. You must be Jesus. Nice to meet you. Come in. Marie's making a cup of tea.

Well this is nice, Said Jesus.

Yes it is nice, said Belle et Bonne.

Belle et Bonne, began Jesus, how did you get such an awesome name?

It's a nickname my papa gave me. It means beautiful and good.

I know that, said Jesus. I remember my schoolboy French. And you are very beautiful, so I imagine you are good.

Thank you. Papa thinks so, said Belle et Bonne.

Who is your papa? asked Jesus.

Don't you know? He's Voltaire the famous philosopher. He goes by the nickname of The VeloDrone, for the purposes of his cycling magazine.

Jesus was impressed.

Voltaire! he exclaimed. You're so lucky to have such a famous father!

Leave the Chocolate to Jesus

He has a Twitter account, said Marie, to Belle et Bonne. He tweets as Sweezus.

Let's have a look, said Belle et Bonne.

She searched for Sweezus on Twitter.

Here he is! Woah! All his tweets are about the MOON!

Let's see, said Marie, looking over Belle et Bonne's shoulder.

"A dented silver coracle moon rides the glistening spume of the maelstrom in the blackwater sky", they read.

Weird, said Belle et Bonne.

No, he's really nice, said Marie. You'll like him.

Just then her phone rang, It was Jesus again.

I was just thinking, said Jesus. What about food?

Don't worry about food, said Marie. Belle et Bonne and I will organise it.

Great, said Jesus. What will we be having?

Picnic food, said Marie. Sandwiches, fruit, water.

Chocolate? asked Jesus, hopefully.

If you like, said Marie. It's good energy food.

Tell you what, said Jesus. I'll bring the chocolate.

Don't bring too much, said Marie. And only dark chocolate. And make sure it's wrapped, we don't want it melting.

Sure, said Jesus, not really listening. Just leave it to me.

Following Jesus

Jesus was sad. His favourite character had been killed off in a blog that he followed.

Poor Frog, thought Jesus. What a way to go. Then he brightened. Soon it would be Easter. Not that he liked Easter. But this year he had plans.

He had recently joined a book club where he had met Marie. Marie was co-editor of a cycling magazine, and she had invited him to join her on an Easter cycling tour, with her friend Belle et Bonne. They were planning to set off on Thursday.

I'd better call her, thought Jesus. I need to know what to bring.

Hi Marie, he said, when she answered.

What's up? said Marie. Hey, are you okay? You sound a bit flat.

Yeah, I'm okay, said Jesus. Just peed off about Frog.

Me too, said Marie. He was the best one in it. I loved him when he stuck up for himself at the science event. I carry within me the seeds of my own propagation. Classic!

Yeah, classic, said Jesus. Anyway, what do I have to bring on Thursday?

Just your bike, said Marie. And your helmet, and a warm jacket in case it turns cold.

And my Blackberry, said Jesus. I'll be tweeting our trip.

Oh will you? said Belle et Bonne. So you have a Twitter account?

Yep! It's pretty new.

What are you called? asked Marie

Don't laugh, said Jesus.

I won't, said Marie.

Sweezus, said Jesus.

Cool, said Marie. You got that from Baby Pierre. What do you tweet about, mainly?

Follow me and you'll see, said Jesus.

Squelch!

Ageless looked.

The first thing he saw was Kobo.

How beautiful she is, he whispered. What a curvaceous hinge. What creamy....

Never mind her! hissed Baby Pierre. Look on the other side of the flowers. There's a new Frog!

Ageless stirred himself from his reverie, and extended his gaze. There was indeed a new Frog, slightly bigger than the old Frog, and younger.

What's going on? called Frog faintly, from below.

Nothing, answered Baby Pierre.

He turned to Ageless.

Should we tell him?

No we shouldn't, said Ageless. It would break his little red heart. I'll deal with it. Well, I'm off now. Bye bye, Baby Pierre dear boy, come and see me in the Library, any time, except Easter when the Library will be closed.

So you're not coming in? said Baby Pierre.

No, said Ageless. And don't tell Kobo I was here.

As if, said Baby Pierre. Well I'll be seeing you. First I'd better go down and see Frog.

No, I told you I'd deal with it, said Ageless, jumping off the window ledge and landing with an ominous squelch.

Did you hurt yourself, Ageless? cried Baby Pierre.

No, said Ageless, I had quite a soft landing. And Frog's little problem is solved.

An Affecting Scene

It was late when they arrived home, but the lights were still on in the house.

Let's climb onto the window ledge, said Baby Pierre, and look through the window.

I can't get up there, said Frog. I'll wait down below.

So Ageless and Baby Pierre made their way up the wall, and on to the ledge and looked in through the window.

There's mummy! said Baby Pierre, pointing to Pierre in the corner. And there's the Manifest Stone.

That's your mummy? said Ageless. She has.... most unusual features.

Yes she has, said Baby Pierre. One of them is that she is bossy. Another is that she is religious. A third is that she is stupid.

I meant her appearance, said Ageless.

Don't be rude about my mummy! said Baby Pierre.

Sorry, said Ageless. The Manifest Stone looks .... less irregular.

The Manifest Stone is boring, said Baby Pierre. It never does anything. It just is.

Ah! said Ageless.

What do you mean, "Ah!"? said Baby Pierre. Don't tell me you are religious?

Well, said Ageless, I do tend to want to believe in something. I told your Aunt Kobo once that I believed in a Universal Creative Lobsterian Force...

Oh I remember, said Baby Pierre. She laughed so much she fell into the sink.

You mean that was TRUE? said Ageless, impressed.

Yes, it was true, said Baby Pierre. But she didn't get out of it by praying. Look, that's her over there! Near that pot. That pot wasn't there when I left. Nor were those white roses. And ....oh no! .....look!

Ageless looked.....

Temptation

The science event was over and Baby Pierre was taking Frog home. Ageless accompanied them to the bus stop. Frog looked up at the night sky.

Look, he said faintly, a red star. I shall soon be as tiny as that red star. I feel myself shrinking fast.

That red star up there is the Lobster's Armpit, said Ageless. Humans call it
Betelgeuse.

Ah! said Baby Pierre. That is one of the sights I wanted to see!

Well, there it is, said Ageless. What else did you want to see?

I wanted to see you, said Baby Pierre. I wanted to tell you that I didn't want you to be my daddy.

I am not your daddy, said Ageless.

But you wanted to be my daddy, said Baby Pierre.

No I didn't, I just made that up for Kobo, said Ageless, uncomfortably.

Oh, said Baby Pierre. I also wanted to see the Library. But it was closed.

It will be open again tomorrow, said Ageless. You don't have to go home.

Frog needs to go home, said Baby Pierre. But I'll go to the Library one day.

Meet me there, said Ageless. I'm there every day. Thinking up stories.

For Kobo? Baby Pierre's eyes widened.

Yes, for Kobo, said Ageless.

Why don't you come home with us, Ageless? said Frog. You could talk to her then.

Oh no, I don't think so, said Ageless. No, that wouldn't do.

You wouldn't have to come in, said Baby Pierre. You could just look through the window. At least you could see her.

Alright, said Ageless, I will.

The Power of Beauty

Everyone in the Blue Group was impressed with Frog. A tomato that recognised a quote from Nietszche!

Of course, said Frog. Nietszche was referring to Christian morality, not life forms, synthetic or otherwise. I believe that I myself contain the seeds of my own propagation. Furthermore, I feel my time is near. Therefore do not think me rude if I leave you prematurely. Let me remind you before I go that you have only two minutes left to come up with a list of three policy issues to present to the assembled groups downstairs. Goodbye, my friends.

And Frog left the table, his dignity intact.

Downstairs he found Ageless and Baby Pierre already sitting at their table.

You look very red, said Baby Pierre. What happened?

Nothing, said Frog. Can we go home now?

No, said Ageless. It's clicker pad time! Are we hopeful, sceptical or alarmed about the future of Synthetic Biology? What do we think, boys? We've got one vote between
us.

You decide, said Baby Pierre. I think Frog needs to go home.

Oh, said Ageless, clicking on 'alarmed'. Drat! I meant to click on 'hopeful'!

Did you? said Frog. Does that mean you've changed your mind?

Yes, said Ageless. There was such a pretty young lady in my group.

Name Tag

Oh look! said one of the ladies, whose name was Sandra. The tomato's fallen off the table.

She bent down to pick Frog up.

Careful! said Frog.

It talks! exclaimed Sandra.

I'm one of the group, explained Frog. I got up on the table because the chair was too low.

Why aren't you wearing a name tag? asked another woman, whose name was Nadja.

I didn't know we had to, said Frog.

I'll do one for you, said Sandra. What's your name?

Frog, said Frog.

The others at the table stopped talking and looked at Frog.

Are you here as an example of what we're meant to be talking about? asked Brad.

No, said Frog. What do you mean?

I mean, said Brad, you appear to be a frog that looks like a tomato.

Or a tomato that thinks it's a frog, said Nadja.

We don't allow that sort of thing to be made in Germany, said Elsa, who was German.

Don't be too concerned, said, Koh, who was Korean and worked in a lab. Such a thing is very difficult to make. It takes thousands of tries, and then, when you make one, it usually dies.

True, said the Professor. Everything contains the seeds of its own destruction.

Hey Ho! said Frog. Nietszche!

Two Sickening Thoughts

At last they arrived at RIAUS. Ageless successfully smuggled Baby Pierre and Frog inside under his hat. They sat down at a round table between the bar and the stage.

They've only given me one clicker pad, said Ageless. So you boys can't vote. But you can tell me what you think.

I think...began Frog.

Not yet, said Ageless.

The panel consisted of scientists and researchers and lawyers. They each gave a ten minute presentation. It seemed that Synthetic Biology was about creating new forms of life in the laboratory, and frightening everyone with the results.

Afterwards the audience split into discussion groups. Frog was in the Blue Group, upstairs. He sat on a chair at the Blue Group table. It was too low for him. He decided to sit up on the table. He was happy to see plates of nibbles in the centre of the table, as he was feeling rather peckish.

Four friendly-looking ladies of varying ages sat down at Frog's table, followed by a Professor, and a young man called Brad.

Does anyone mind if I start eating? asked Brad. I'm starving.

Go for it Brad, said the two older ladies, feeling motherly.

Brad picked up a small round quivering piece of pink flesh, topped with a blob of yellow, and polished it off in an instant.

Frog had a sickening thought. What if the piece of pink quivering flesh was Synthetic? Yuck.

Then he had another. He was the only tomato on a table of nibbles, and Brad was eyeing him off!

He tried to roll inconspicuously off the table.

Dangerous

The red knitted hat that Ageless produced was smaller than Baby Pierre had imagined, and full of holes.

It has a lot of holes in it, he said, trying to sound non-judgemental.

It has, agreed Ageless. I don't find knitting easy you know. I keep dropping stitches. But look on the bright side. You and your friend will be able to breathe.

Do you think we'll fit under it? asked Frog.

You don't know much about knitting, said Ageless. It stretches and stretches.

But the holes will get bigger too, said Baby Pierre. And then we'll fall out.

Dropped stitches don't work like that, said Ageless patiently. They go into ladders, like stockings.

Ladders, said Frog. That sounds safe enough. I'm happy to get in.

You don't need to get in just yet, said Ageless. The Royal Institution is right across town. And we're running late, so let's get a move on.

They set off, across North Terrace and through Gawler Place to Rundle Mall.

Are we there yet? said Frog.

Half way, replied Ageless. Would you like me to carry you?

He waved a large pincer at Frog.

No thankyou, said Frog. I can manage.

What's Synthetic Biology? asked Baby Pierre.

It's something scientists do, said Ageless. I'm against it myself.

But what is it? asked Baby Pierre.

Dangerous, said Ageless. But you two are younger than me. You may be all for it.

I'm not really younger than you, said Baby Pierre. You forget I'm a stone. Frog is certainly younger.

Then I may be all for it, said Frog. When I know what it is.

A Tulip !

When I say I go by the name Ageless, said the lobster, I should add that all lobsters go by that name, because we do not age.

Wow! said Frog, again. How lucky are you?

It's a mixed blessing, said the lobster. It means we have to die of a nasty accident. Believe me, you wouldn't like to live with that.

I would, said Frog.

No, you wouldn't, said Ageless firmly. I would choose to be a tomato any day.

No, you wouldn't, said Frog. I'm only a few weeks old and look at me.

Oh, stop it, said Baby Pierre. Mr Ageless, do you know Kobo the fossilised clam?

The lobster stiffened, although this was imperceptible.

My beloved Kobo! he cried. I do!

Then you are my daddy, said Baby Pierre. Why didn't you recognise me by the lobster claw marking on top of my head?

I thought it was a tulip, said Ageless.

Frog grinned, then stopped because his skin felt rather tight.

A tulip! said Baby Pierre.

Never mind, said Frog. You didn't recognise your daddy either.

That's because he's blue, muttered Baby Pierre.

Of course I'm blue, said Ageless. What did you think I would be? Red?

Yes, said Baby Pierre. If you want to know, I thought you would be red.

Ha ha! laughed Ageless. If I were red I would be COOKED! That's exactly the sort of nasty accident we lobsters try to avoid. Well, boys are you coming?

Let me see the red hat first, before deciding, said Baby Pierre.

Here it is, said Ageless. Click, click, I knitted it myself!

Who is The Middle-Aged Lobster?

The middle-aged lobster stopped. He glanced back at Baby Pierre and Frog.

It's closing time, boys, he said. Didn't you know?

Oh, said Baby Pierre, disappointed. We were hoping to look in a mirror.

Were you indeed? said the lobster. May I ask why?

My friend wants to monitor the progress of his ...umm... Baby Pierre trailed off.

Advancing decrepitude, said Frog. May as well say it.

You look like a perfectly ripe tomato to me, said the lobster. I wouldn't worry about it. Now boys, I'm going to an event across town. It's at the Royal Science Institution. There will be a discussion on the topic of Synthetic Biology, food, drink and best of all, clicker pads. Would you like to come along?

We don't have tickets, said Baby Pierre.

You can come in with me. You are both small. I could secrete you under my hat, said the middle aged lobster. And once inside, we can share the same seat.

What sort of hat is it? asked Baby Pierre, with mounting suspicion.

A red one, said the lobster.

And is your name Ageless? asked Baby Pierre.

I go by that name, admitted the lobster.

Wow! said Frog.

Missing his Daddy

Oh look! said a woman sitting on the front row. Someone's left a couple of exhibits on these seats. Looks like... a Pacific Cultures stone amulet and... a shrunken head!

Baby Pierre looked at Frog.

Time to go, he said.

They slipped off their seats and hurried down the stairs, emerging on North Terrace under a darkening sky.

Hee hee, laughed Baby Pierre. She thought you were a shrunken head!

Why did she? said Frog, looking worried. Have I started to shrivel up?

Baby Pierre peered closely at the leathery skin of his friend.

Yes, he said. You have. But only a little. Don't worry.

I want to see, said Frog. I need a mirror.

There'll be a mirror at the Library, said Baby Pierre. Come on!

There won't, said Frog, glumly. There will only be books.

There will be toilets, said Baby Pierre, airily. And they always have mirrors.

Alright, said Frog, wondering how Baby Pierre had come by such knowledge.

They walked up North Terrace until they came at last to the State Library. The lights were on inside but a number of people were coming out, amongst them, a middle-aged lobster.

Look, said Frog. Perhaps that's your daddy!

No, said Baby Pierre. That can't be my daddy. He isn't red.

The lobster ambled past them, in a purposeful way.

Past and Future

It was getting late. The next building they passed was already closed.

I hope that's not the library, said Baby Pierre.

It says ART GALLERY on the front, observed Frog.

So I was right, said Baby Pierre. It's not the Library.

Frog looked sour.

The next building was set back from the road beyond sunken lawns edged by palm trees. People were hurrying inside.

This must be the Library, said Baby Pierre.

But it wasn't the library, it was the Museum. Baby Pierre and Frog had arrived just in time for the Sprigg Lecture. They decided to stay.

They walked up the grand central staircase and turned right into the Pacific Cultures Gallery. They chose two seats on the front row.

What if someone sits on us? said Frog.

They will get a surprise, said Baby Pierre. Especially if they sit on you.

The lecture was about Megafauna. The speaker had published a book on the Diprotodon. She told the audience that just before she published the book she had learned that current thinking had changed. The two different species of Diprotodon were actually male and female of the same species.

There's a case where it would have been better to know the future, whispered Frog loudly.

Poo! said Baby Pierre. It would have been better to know the past.

Just the Zeitgeist

Red! said Frog. I'm going red? I knew I felt funny.

Calm down, said Baby Pierre. You're only a pale shade of orange. And you're still green on top.

It's this sunshine, said Frog. I'm going under a tree. And by the way, did I hear you say Sweezus just now?

Yes you did, said Baby Pierre. I was surprised when I saw you'd changed colour.

But I thought you were an atheist and free thinker, said Frog.

So? said Baby Pierre.

Nothing, said Frog. I was just surprised that's all.

Being an atheist and free thinker, said Baby Pierre, does not preclude one from using euphemistic non-blasphemous exclamations.

Yes it does, said Frog.

Not if you can't help it, said Baby Pierre. Some things just slip out.

I know, said Frog. But why do they slip out?

Oh it's just the zeitgeist, said Baby Pierre dismissively. Now, what are we going to do about you? Are you going to sit under that tree or are you coming with me to find the library?

We may as well push on, said Frog. How do I look now?

You look like a toad, said Baby Pierre unkindly.

The Terrible Fate of Poor Francoise

Wait a minute, said Frog. What's to become of me?

What? said Baby Pierre. Come on!

No, said Frog. I'm worried. You're alright. You're a stone.

I am, said Baby Pierre. And I know this much. It's a terrible thing to know the future.

Why? asked Frog, settling down on the poisoned grass. Tell me why it's a terrible thing.

I will, said Baby Pierre, sitting down next to his friend. It's something I learned from Auntie Kobo.

What does Kobo know about the future? asked Frog. She's a fossilised clam!

She loves to read, said Baby Pierre. And a terrible thing happened to her last week. She started a book called The Earth, by Emile Zola. But she made the mistake of reading the introduction first.

Now I know what's going to happen, said Frog.

No you don't, said Baby Pierre. She was reading the introduction quite happily when
she suddenly found herself reading about something that happens to one of the characters, Francoise. A truly terrible thing. Her sister Lise deliberately and impulsively pushes her onto a scythe, and she dies, her belly and unborn child slit open by the blade.

Eeuuuw! said Frog. That's horrible! Why was Kobo reading a book like that?

It's a classic of French realism, you ningnong, said Baby Pierre. The point is, Auntie Kobo had to read the whole book knowing that was going to happen. And she hated it.

Frog sighed.

It was only a book, he said. That hardly equates to my existential angst. I'm going to get old and soft and die. You're not.

You are shiny and hard and green, said Baby Piere confidently. It won't happen for ages and ages.

Look again, said Frog.

Oh Sweezus! said Baby Pierre. You're going red!

Poison

Baby Pierre and Frog got off the bus on North Terrace. They crossed the road.

I wonder which one of these buildings is the Library? said Frog.

I don't know,said Baby Pierre. We should have asked the bus driver. Let's sit down here in the sun and decide what to do.

They sat on a lawn in front of a building with open doors from which angry-looking people were emerging to the faint strains of a cello concerto. At the top of the steps was a movable sign that read SOLD OUT.

This is nice, said Frog. I can hear music. It sounds like Dvorjak.

So it does, said Baby Pierre. But look behind you.

Frog looked. A man with a mask and a backpack was squirting brown liquid onto the grass in a seemingly random fashion. Squirt, squirt, squirt, went the man. Then he went away.

Do you think it was poison? asked Frog.

Yes, said Baby Pierre. And now look. People are sitting on the grass that he poisoned, and eating their lunch.

He pointed to a young woman and a small child who were doing just that.

There's nothing wrong with poison, said Frog. It only kills bad things.

Frog! said Baby Pierre. You talk like a tomato!

Sorry, said Frog. I am a tomato. We are different, you and I.

A defeatist tomato, said Baby Pierre.

You'll be here long after I've shrivelled up and died, said Frog, disconsolately.

No I won't, said Baby Pierre. Get up. We're moving on.

Travel Free and Sit Where You Please

Baby Pierre and Frog waited at the bus stop.

A bus came along, and stopped. They clambered on.

You're supposed to hail the bus, said the driver. But I've made an exception in your case, as neither of you have arms.

Thank you driver, said Baby Pierre. I am Baby Pierre and this is Frog.

You don't need to tell me your names, said the driver. Where do you want to go?

To the Library, said Baby Pierre.

Then you're on the right bus, said the driver. And as a baby, you get to travel free.

Wait a minute said Baby Pierre. I am not strictly speaking a baby. I am a small stone. I am young for a stone, I admit, and innocent in the ways of the world, but I daresay I'm at least million years old.

Then you qualify as a senior, said the driver, and you may still travel free.

What a system, said Baby Pierre. Come on Frog.

Wait, said the driver. Is he really a frog?

No, I'm not, said Frog, speaking up for himself. I'm a small green tomato. Do I need to pay?

If you were a frog, said the driver, you would have to travel in the care of an adult and remain at all times enclosed in a box. But as you are a vegetable...

A vegetable! squeaked Frog. I'm a fruit!

A fruit then, said the driver hurriedly. As you are a fruit you may travel free and sit where you please.

Thank you driver, said Frog, as he and Baby Pierre moved to the back of the bus.

Well! said Frog. It is evident that a great deal of discrimination goes on in the wide world. He didn't say you had to be in a box in the care of an adult when he thought you were a baby!

Indeed, said Baby Pierre. That does seem unfair. But as we have both turned out be members of privileged classes, let us be glad.