The Bad Hand Of God

Arne-Doppelganger has stopped in Senlis to mend a puncture.

It's not all that simple.

The bicycle is real but he is a virtual rider.

Gaius skids to halt alongside him.

At last! says Gaius. I see you have a puncture. Am I right in thinking we might be here for some time?

It's funny to see his own face scowling at him, while Arne's voice whines and crackles.

How about YOU give me a .....? crackle crackle.

I shall be wandering about in the Chantilly Forest says Gaius. Call me if you need me.

He wheels his own bicycle down the sign-posted path to the Forest.

What a beautiful forest. Six thousand hectares of woodland. Oaks, chestnuts, birdlife, water rats. Large fishponds, built  by Cistercian monks in the thirteenth century. Gaius sits down beside a wide sandy track.

'Chevaux de galop sur la piste'.

Lucky he is sitting. The horses of the Aga Khan gallop by at top speed, kicking sand all over his apple.

Hey! says Gaius. But the horses and jockeys are gone.

Gaius wheels his bike back to where Arne is still peering at the puncture.

What is your opinion of privilege? asks Gaius.

Crackle crackle, says Arne.

Of course, says Gaius, that would be your opinion.

Turn me off, will you, says Arne unexpectedly. This button.

Gaius turns off the sound.

Now it is just Gaius and Virtual Gaius looking at the puncture.

I despise all luxury and privilege, says Virtual Gaius.

Really? says Gaius. So do I. Would you like a hand with the puncture?

Thank you, says Virtual Gaius.

........

A long way further south, Vello and David have just pulled into Auxerre.

Excellent, says Vello. We've made a good distance today.

Are we stopping? asks David, puffing.

I think so, for now, says Vello. What would you like to do, Terence?

I would like to go to Balance, says Terence. Because Willy the Wind is there.

We're not going to Valence, says Vello. I thought you would ask for a chocolate bar, or a milk shake.

That's what I would like, says David.

Later, says Vello. Seeing young Terence isn't hungry, I should like to see the frescoes.

Are they horses? asks Terence.

No, they are ninth century paintings on a wall in the crypt of the Abbey of Saint Germain d'Auxerre, the oldest wall paintings in France, says Vello.

Are they paintings of horses? asks Terence.

I don't think so, says Vello. But let us go down there and see.

It is dark and creepy down in the crypt of the Abbey of Saint Germain d'Auxerre.

The ancient wall paintings flicker and fade in the dim light of candles. It smells like damp stone.

I WOULD like a milk shake, says Terence.

Look, says David. A saint. Which one is it?

Saint Stephen, says Vello, reading. First Christian martyr. He's being stoned for blasphemy.

Terence looks at Saint Stephen. He looks like someone he knows. Poor Saint Stephen. His head is bleeding. And a hand is poking down from the clouds.

That is the hand of God, says Vello.

Wooh! It's Grandpa, throwing a stone at Saint Stephen!