The Sand Reckoner

Forty poppy seeds laid side by side, measuring one Greek dactyl, says Humboldt.

I remember, says Gaius. And each poppy seed by volume theoretically contains ten thousand sand grains.

Theoretically, says Humboldt.

I dispute this, says Kobo.

Yes, says Pinky. What sort of sand?

Irrelevant, says Gaius. Archimedes was inventing a method to calculate the number of sand grains in the universe. A sphere one dactyl in diameter should contain 64,000 poppy seeds. The universe being...

Saint Roley comes over. Everyone should know mathematics. Mathematics could have saved the life of his brother.

What was the answer? asks Saint Roley.

Ten to the power of sixty three, says Humboldt. Wrong of course. But for those days, a respectable effort.

Is it important? asks Pinky.

Yes and no, says Kobo. You can't have too much sand. On the other hand, it can be a burden.

O yes. What happened next? asks Pinky.

The man has to share the house under the dunes with the woman. He has to help her keep the sand from encroaching. Also they are expected to have babies, says Kobo.

Can't he get out? asks Pinky.

No the ladder is gone, says Kobo. The villagers have tricked the man into staying. He tries to escape.

And does he? asks Pinky.

The listeners are hopeful.

No, says Kobo.

Humboldt, Gaius, Saint Roley and Pinky are disappointed.

Wait, says Ageless lobster. Tell them the rest of it, beloved.

There is no rest of it, says Kobo. The man realises that a return to his old life would not give him any more freedom, so he gives up trying.

I see why you like it, says Humboldt.

O do you? says Kobo.

Do you see why I don't? says Ageless.

Right, says Gaius. Packing. We leave in an hour.

What do I need? mutters Ageless.

Your red knitted hat, says Kobo. You won't have washed it. And... are you expecting to moult in the near future?

Such unfeeling suggestions from his beloved.

Agelss looks for his red knitted hat.

What do I need? asks Pinky.

You and I are self sufficient, says Kobo.

In The Morning The Ladder Is Gone

Saint Roley looks through the Shorebirds Identification Booklet.

Parrots, says Terence. Which is the best one?

None of them are parrots, says Saint Roley.

That one! says Terence, pointing out a comb-crested jacana.

Okay, says Saint Roley. See these red dots on the map? This is where you're going. And these dots are where you might spot a comb-crested jacana.

Terence stares at the red dots. They cover the Top End of Australia.

So you won't need me, says Saint Roley.

IF I find one, says Terence.

Take this booklet, says Saint Roley. There are two copies for some reason.

I was given two copies, says Gaius. Yes Terence, you may bring one booklet. It might help with your reading. Which bird are we looking at specifically?

This parrot, says Terence. It has a red hat and long feet.

A red comb and long toes, says Gaius. And it isn't a parrot. Aha! An  interesting note here: Walks on floating vegetation. That's what the long toes will be for. See this, Humboldt?

But Humboldt isn't listening. He is eavesdropping on Kobo, who is giving Pinky a lesson.

Kobo: There are two main types of sand.

Pinky: Which is the best type?

Kobo: It's a matter of opinion. And yet I am torn.

Pinky: I don't know any types. And yet I too am torn.

Kobo: You are torn physically. I am torn between silica and calcium carbonate.

Pinky: You are so clever.

Kobo: I have spent aeons reading.

Pinky: What is your favourite?

Kobo: The Woman in the Dunes by my namesake Kobo Abe.

Pinky: What happens in your favourite?

Kobo: A small fishing village, in the sand dunes. A school teacher comes, collecting insects. He misses the last bus home. The villagers show him to a woman's house in the dunes that is entered by climbing down a rope ladder. In the morning the ladder is gone.

Pinky: I LOVE this story.

Kobo: It's not finished.

Humboldt: What?

Kobo: It's not finished. Have you been eavesdropping?

Humboldt: I have. It fascinates me that you have such an interest in sand.

Kobo: Our interest is a female interest.

Pinky: Yes.

Humboldt: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude.

Gaius: What's this?

Humboldt: Kobo and Pinky were discussing aspects of sand. I seem to have interrupted....

Gaius: There will be plenty of sand where we're going.

Pinky: O super! How much?

Humboldt: To know that, you'd need Archimedes' Sand Reckoner.

Gaius: Ha ha! Yes, his good old Sand Reckoner! How did that work again?

Humboldt: You lay forty poppy seeds side by side......

If Kobo and Pinky had eyebrows, it's now they would raise them.

Talk Creamy

Gaius is on his computer, buying tickets to Weipa.

Drat! says Gaius. We must fly to Cairns first, and then on to Weipa.

I don't mind that, says Humboldt. I should like to get a last look at the Great Barrier Reef. I hear it's dying.

So do I, says Gaius. Now who else is coming?

Me! says Terence.

Not I, says Saint Roley.

You have to come, says Terence.

Perhaps one of the others, says Saint Roley. I feel the need to retreat from society.

What others? says Terence. Pinky's useless.

Not so, says Kobo. Bring Pinky to me.

Humboldt gathers up Pinky, and places her on the widow sill, beside Kobo.

Blow her up again, says Kobo.

Humboldt blows air into Pinky. Ties her up with a bread tie, above the patch and the pencil hole.

She looks like five pink caterpillars escaping.

Pinky opens her eyes to see Kobo the fossilised clam.

Now dear, says Kobo. I have much to teach you.

I know enough already, squeaks Pinky.

Not so, says Kobo. Think of this. You could be your own person, with no hole. As I am.

Where's your voice coming from? asks Pinky. And why is it creamy?

Is it creamy? asks Kobo.

She knows it is creamy.

Yes, says Pinky. Teach me to talk creamy.

You're already doing it, says Kobo. Humboldt has tied you above both your holes, the mend and the one made by a pencil. Where do you think your voice is coming from?

O! says Pinky, trying to listen.

Ommm, says Kobo. It is coming from your Atman, or self within.

Can everyone hear it? asks Pinky.

Ask them, says Kobo.

Can you hear me, Terence? asks Pinky.

But Terence has danced down the passage.

Can you hear me, Saint Roley?

But Saint Roley has got out a bird book.

Can you hear me, Gaius?

Yes, says Gaius. Ah, it's you is it? Your voice sounds creamy. Are you coming to Weipa?

I must ask my spiritual guide, says Pinky.

Go if you wish, says Kobo. I might even come with you. We could run together on the sand and develop large muscles.

I'll come too, says Ageless. Crick crick,,,,,,

No crick crick and no rude commas about it says Kobo. This is between us women.

So I'm not welcome, says Ageless. Typical.

You may come, says Gaius, as you seem to know the habits of the bandy bandy.

Heh heh, smirks Ageless.

He is going to Cairns and then Weipa, with two succulent women,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The Japanese Writer

Bless you! says Gaius.

But Pinky had not been sneezing.

I believe it said 'I choo', says Humboldt.

Did it? asks Gaius What does that mean?

It's deflated, says Humboldt. Perhaps it was despairing.

My fault, says Saint Roley. Pinky lurched into a pencil.

I-choo, says Gaius. If it wasn't a sneeze, then what was it?

Ageless has been listening.

Ask my beloved, says Ageless. She could decipher any sound in the cosmos.

Could she indeed? asks Humboldt. Where is she?

Above the sink, says Ageless. She's in a temper with me at the moment.

Humboldt approaches the sink. The window sill contains many items.

Which one is Kobo?

I-choo, says Kobo. (Perhaps she is sneezing).

Hah! So she is the fossilised clam. How remarkable, thinks Humboldt. She has no visible means of utterance. And yet....

So you are Alexander von Humboldt, says Kobo. Hello.

Hello, says Humboldt. You must be Kobo.

No must about it, says Kobo. I named myself after a Japanese writer.

Which one? asks Humboldt.

Kobo, says Kobo. Do you wish to know what I-choo means or don't you?

Yes I do, says Humboldt. I hear you can decipher any sound in the cosmos. Which is why....

Stop gabbling, says Kobo. No wonder Pinky couldn't finish her sentence.

Her sentence was unfinished? says Humboldt.

Yes, says Kobo. Now just think what that sentence might be.

Humboldt is rather good at thinking.

I-choo. I is easy. A pronoun, representing Pinky. Choo, an unfinished verb in all probability.

Choo... choo... choo... mutters Humboldt.

Come on Humboldt. Not many verbs start this way.

Time's up, says Kobo. Answer: I choose oblivion. That's what she was saying.

She? says Humboldt.

Yes she. She has chosen oblivion, says Kobo.

Very wise in the circumstances, says Humboldt.

But she needn't, says Kobo. If I had a mind to, I could teach her how to speak without opening an aperture.

As you do, marvels Humboldt. You are very talented. Tell me, how did you read a book by a Japanese writer?

I joined a library, says Kobo.

I CHOO

Saint Roley has lingered in the front garden, near the peach tree.

It is in blossom.

Pink blossom against a blue sky.

It reminds him of Pinky.

The peach blossom is unaware it shares a quality with Pinky.

Peach blossom has one collective idea.

What is it?

Your guess is as good as mine, but mine is: Hang On When The Weather Turns Stormy.

Good advice, not always followed.

Saint Roley flutters inside.

Down the passage and into the kitchen where Terence dances and twirls in his snake shorts.

Look at me!

The snake shorts have worked their way down.

Saint Roley sees that the snake shorts have a yellow lining inside the waistband.

Your shorts are falling down, says Saint Roley. Turn the waistband over

Terence hitches them up and turns the waistband over. It's yellow! Hurrah! And the shorts stay up better.

Where is Pinky? asks Saint Roley. Is he mended?

Yes, says Terence. But now he can't talk, I don't even want him.

Where? asks Saint Roley.

There on the table, says Terence.

He continues his dancing. Clomp clomp.

Stop that! says Ageless lobster. Enough!

Terence dances even more loudly.

Saint Roley approaches the table, at which Gaius is occupied, testing his new pencils, on a notepad.

Pinky, inflated, is observing.

Saint Roley can see the patched hole.

It beats, as though words are pressing to be released from inside Pinky.

Saint Roley places his ear against the beating hole, hoping to pick up a communication.

It would be helpful if Pinky knew code.

Saint Roley looks at Pinky's five blown up fingers.

Of course. He has fingers. Perhaps he could write.

And there on the table is a very sharp pencil.

Saint Roley picks it up and is about to hand it to Pinky when Pinky leans forward.

Pshh!

A thin stream of air so very thin because the pencil is sharp streams out of Pinky.

And words flow out with it.

~ ~ ~ ~ I CHOO ~ ~ ~ ~

Take The Socks With You

Terence loves his snake shorts.

Multiple black and white snakes on a black background. The snakes even have snake rings.

He starts counting the rings.

He gets up to thirty eleven.

I'll count them, since it means so much to you, says Humboldt.

He counts them in twos, to speed up the process.

Two, four, six, eight, etc. He stops at forty, in order to educate Terence.

Forty at this point, says Humboldt. But there are more rings on the tail, very close together. Now, count along with me.

Forty eight, says Terence.

Forty one, says Humboldt.

Let me see, says Gaius. He peers at the snake shorts. You are both wrong. One, two, three......There are twelve rings in the tail section. That makes fifty two altogether.

I hadn't finished, says Humboldt.

I had, says Terence

Is this important? asks Ageless lobster.

Terence will be hoping there are forty eight or more, says Gaius.

I WAS, says Terence. But there isn't.

Fifty two is more, says Ageless. Probably a bandy bandy.

You know of the bandy bandy? asks Gaius. It's the reason we're going to Weipa.

O yes, says Ageless. I have met with a few on my travels. They cross the road on humid nights.

Jumping Jupiter! says Gaius. That's exactly what I've heard. The question is why?

Where they live, it's humid, says Ageless.

Then why mention it at all? asks Humboldt.

I didn't, says Ageless. What else have you heard that they do?

They wear socks, says Terence.

They do not! says Gaius. Belle bought you those socks because she couldn't find snake shorts in the Monoprix.

Take them with you, says Ageless. Are they cotton?

I don't know, says Gaius. Was there another parcel by any chance, addressed to me?

Yes, says Ageless. Now where did I put it?

He shuffles into the pantry. Comes out with a box.

Inside the box are one dozen sharpened lead pencils, and a Swiss army knife.

Belle has remembered.

Humboldt wishes that he had ordered something.

He would have liked a smartphone.

The Head Trap

At last! The plane lands in Adelaide.

Gaius, Humboldt, Terence and Saint Roley get off.

Terence wears the flow ring like a necklace, in spite of all warnings.

Gaius has the deflated Pinky jammed into his pocket.

This is my first time in Australia, says Humboldt. I look forward to it.

It's a fine country, says Gaius.

Politically stable, I imagine, says Humboldt.

Of recent times, says Gaius. But you never know what might happen.

I know, says Terence, tapping the flow ring.

Boing! It springs up to form a wire cage entrapping his head.

Humboldt taps the top of the flow ring. It collapses.

Some things are knowable, says Humboldt.

I was going to do that, says Terence.

Your arm isn't long enough, says Humboldt.

Will Pinky be able to talk? asks Terence.

That is not knowable, says Gaius. You say he speaks out of his hole. But the hole will be patched up with fish glue. The possibility of communication remains to be seen.

He has to, says Terence.

Time will tell, says Humboldt. Time resolves all finite things.

There's wisdom, says Gaius.

By now they are at the baggage carousel waiting for their bicycle flat packs.

They spot them. They seize them. They open them up.

No need for a bus, says Gaius.

They assemble their bicycles.

Will Schopenhauer want his bike back? asks Humboldt.

Not likely, says Gaius.

Excellent, says Humboldt.

I'll follow you, says Saint Roley.

I'll take Terence, says Gaius.

They cycle to Gaius's house. It takes a long time because of the road works.

They arrive and go through to the kitchen.

Ageless lobster is waiting.

From Ageless they learn that Australia has a new prime minister.

Again? says Gaius. Who is it this time?

ScoMo, says Ageless.

Is that a person? asks Humboldt.

Yes, a person, says Ageless. And that is the problem. No wisdom. This country will founder. I'm thinking of running.

You should, says Gaius. We aren't staying. We're heading to Weipa.

FISH GLUE! says Terence. He jumps up and down.

The flow ring entraps his head again.

What a marvel! says Ageless.

Gaius gets out a rubber patch and his fish glue. He mends Pinky.

Pinky is blown up for a fifth time.

His head is full of thoughts, but they can't come out anywhere.

There's a parcel for Terence, says Ageless.

GET ME OUT OF THIS HEAD TRAP! yells Terence. It'll be my new snake shorts!

Get ME out of MY head trap! thinks Pinky.

Life Three And Life Four

Lunch is over. The trays have been taken away.

I think I can blow now, says Terence. Give me my pink thing.

Saint Roley hesitates.

Give it! says Terence.

You've got raspberry compote all round your mouth, says Saint Roley.

What colour is it? asks Terence.

Red, says Saint Roley.

What colour is my pink thing? asks Terence.

(He'll win this).

Pink, says Saint Roley.

Well, says Terence. It's nearly the same.

Okay, says Saint Roley, but my point was....

Too late now for whatever his point was. Terence is blowing.

Pinky inflates.

Yes! His second life is beginning!

How long will it be?

Eeeeurr! squeaks Pinky.

It talks, says Terence, letting go of the end he blew into.

Pfffff.

Pinky goes down.

Terence has another go. This time he holds the end tightly.

Pinky is mentally prepared now.

What are my prospects.....?

Did you hear that? says Terence. He's asking what are his prospects?

Not too good, says Saint Roley. Look he's going down already. Are you holding the end?

YES! says Terence. Stupid Pinky!

I see what's wrong, says Saint Roley. You must have nicked a hole in the rubber.

Is that his prospects? asks Terence.

No, says Saint Roley. Prospects are what you can expect to happen. The hole has already happened.

Okay, I'll tell him, says Terence.

He blows Pinky up a third time.

Listen, says Terence. Your prospects are rubbish. I made a hole in you. Say something quickly.

Tie me higher up, says Pinky.

You'll be small, says Terence.

I don't mind that. But I might lose my voice, says Pinky. My voice comes out through this hole.

What a terrible spot you are in, says Saint Roley.

What's going on? asks Gaius from the seat behind them.

My pink thing can talk! says Terence. But it talks through a hole and the hole needs fixing, because it makes him go flat and he loses his prospects.

Gaius understands this kind of thing, though it happens rarely.

Fish glue will fix it, says Gaius.  Fish glue and a patch. But I can't do it until we land. Fish glue is not allowed on a plane.

Yay! says Terence. Did you hear that Pinky?

Pinky didn't.

Lunch Delays Resurrection

Give me my pink thing! says Terence.

Gaius hands it back.

It is still trapped inside the magic flow ring.

Terence pulls at a pink rubber finger.

Bumhole! says Terence. It's trapped.

Shush! says Saint Roley.

It's not saying anything, says Terence. It's a rubber glove with a face on.

I know, says Saint Roley. I meant shush YOU.

Shush me, says Terence. You're funny. Help me get it out. Pull its finger.

I might pop it, says Saint Roley. Can you reach in and pull off the bread tie?

Good plan, says Terence. The air will whoosh out, and it'll be smaller.

The pink rubber glove looks alarmed.

It has only recently come into existence.

Until ten minutes ago it was flaccidly tucked in a nook in the Emirates galley.

With a twin pink rubber glove close beside him.

At least so he supposes. They were a pair.

Surely this brief span of awareness is not to end so quickly.

His eyes tell all this to Saint Roley.

Wait! says Saint Roley.

Why? asks Terence.

Let me speak to it first, says Saint Roley.

He leans closer to the magic flow ring in which the pink rubber glove is imprisoned.

If we let you down now, it may seem like the end, but it won't be.

The pink rubber glove's eyes say: WHY?

A second life awaits you, says Saint Roley. Or a third if you count the time you spent before being inflated.

Would you trust Saint Roley?

Pinky does not have much choice.

Go ahead, says Saint Roley. Let its air out.

Terence pulls off the bread tie, nicking a hole in the rubber.

The air rushes out.

It is the air of the flight attendant.

The pink rubber glove is yanked out.

Now blow it up again, says Terence.

I can't, says Saint  Roley.

Well, I can't, says Terence. Get Gaius to do it.

Saint Roley flutters up and looks over the seat.

He's just got his lunch, says Saint Roley.

What do I get? asks Terence.

The trolley comes by.

Terence gets a lunch tray. He's got quinoa salad topped with bocconcini and dark chocolate mousse with raspberry compote.

Gaius is eating grilled salmon with creamy pumpkin risoni.

Humboldt is trying the ayam masak kicap (spicy chicken with green bean sambal).

Saint Roley has special requirements and so far has got nothing.

The pink rubber glove waits in sure and certain hope of resurrection.

Good luck with that, Pinky.

My Pink Thing

On the Emirates flight from Dubai to Adelaide, Terence sits next to Saint Roley.

Behind them sit Gaius and Humboldt.

They hear the magic bracelet popping and tinging.

I was surprised he bought a slinky, says Gaius. I supposed he'd buy socks.

Did you see what it said on the packaging? asks Humboldt. It's educational.

 Popping open and surprising everyone, says Gaius. I don't see the value.

Boing! The magic slinky pops up above seat height. And drops down. Tinkle, crash!

See that? says Terence, standing up in this seat and looking over.

Yes, says Gaius. Where is it now?

Saint Roley's getting it, says Terence. See what happened?

It popped open, says Gaius.

Yes but HOW? asks Terence.

You tapped it, says Humboldt. You flattened it and then you tapped it and boing!

Correct, says Terence. I put it on my head. It was my crown!

Here it is, says Saint Roley, from somewhere on the seat in front of Gaius.

May I see it? asks Gaius.

No, says Terence. There's another trick I can do with it. No wait, yes, stick your arm over.

Gaius sticks out his arm.

Terence flattens the arm ring and pokes his arm through.

Now we hold hands.

Gaius grasps Terence's little cement fingers and claw.

Terence, who is higher than Gaius because he is standing, can now show Gaius the most amazing trick ever.

This will be amazing, says Terence. Are you ready?

Ready, says Gaius.

Terence sets the arm ring in motion. It slinks magically down his arm onto Gaius's.

Wonderful! says Gaius.

Now you stand up, says Terence.

Please remain seated, says the flight attendant. We are about to experience some turbulence. You too, little boy.

No, says Terence I have to get my slinky magic bracelet back.

I'll get it from the gentleman, says the flight attendant.

She looks at Gaius, expecting him to give her the slinky.

But Gaius is now fascinated by the interactive flow toy. As is Humboldt.

I can't get it off easily, says Gaius. I'll return it in a moment.

The flight attendant looks sympathetically at Terence.

Be patient. And do sit down, sweetheart.

Terence sits down and starts bawling.

What's the matter? asks the flight attendant

He wants to do the next trick, says Saint Roley. He wants to trap something inside it.

He's trapped the gentleman's arm inside it, says the flight attendant.

No, says Saint Roley. Not that. A small object, like a pink rubber fish.

I'll see what I can do, says the flight attendant, but he won't be able to do it until he gets his ring back.

At least this is progress.

She goes off to look for something like a pink rubber fish.

She comes back when the turbulence is over.

She has a pink rubber glove which she has drawn a face on. She has blown it up and sealed it off with a bread tie.

Who knew Emirates had bread ties?

Woo-hoo! says Terence. Can I stand up now?

Yes, says the flight attendant. Ask the gentleman to give you your toy back.

Look! says Terence, waving the pink rubber glove at Gaius.

Eureka! says Humboldt. Just what we need here!

He grabs it.

Gaius, who has (easily) removed the flow ring from his arm, now flattens the flow ring.

Humboldt places the inflated pink rubber glove inside it.

Tap tap.

Boing! the flow ring pops open and forms a circular wire ring cage.

The pink thing is trapped in the middle!

Terence looks daggers.

It's HIS slinky, and HIS idea.

And his pink thing.

Slinky Magic

Vello explains his idea for a series of holograms.

In the first one, myself as a boy. I'm precociously clever. A poet.

Ridiculous! says David. You have an old face. You'll be lampooned by cartoonists.

Can it be done? demands Vello.

Sure it can, says Charley. These days anything is possible.

I've heard that before, says Vello. But sometimes my nose runs. How do you explain that?

What? says Charley.

He means there isn't a cure ..... begins David.

..... for the common cold, says Monsieur Lambert. How true.

Thank you, says David.

Yes, thank you, for finishing David's unnecessary explanation of my remark, says Vello. Well done Monsieur Lambert. Now, how will you make me thirteen again?

Ah....hmm, says Monsieur Lambert.

He had not spent all that long in the toilet, googling holograms, but there was a short video he watched, in which a man made a convincing jellyfish hologram using his cell phone.

I shall need a picture of you as a thirteen year old boy, says Monsieur Lambert. And a cell phone, a CD case and some sticky tape.

Charley snorts at the low tech nature of these requirements. And where would you find a CD case in this day and age?

I could get one from an elderly relative, says Khadija.

Very good, says Vello. You go and get it. Monsieur Lambert will explain what we do with it.

We make a template, says Monsieur Lambert. A triangle. We cut out four triangles from the plastic CD case. We stick them together with sticky tape, in the shape of a pyramid.

This is delightful, says Vello. See, David. He knows what to do. You need not have questioned his competence.

Monsieur Lambert ignores this. He continues:

We place the pyramid over the cell phone screen, and hey presto.

It is clear to even Vello that hey presto alone is inadequate. Is the phone on?  Whence comes the picture?

Khadija disappears to look for an elderly relative.

This is not going as well as anyone hoped, me included.

I wonder what Terence is doing?

He had five dollars to spend in Dubai Airport.

What did he end up buying?

If you think: snake socks with forty eight rings on, then you do not know Terence.

Terence has bought a Flow Ring Arm Slinky Magic Bracelet.

And this magic bracelet is the best thing EVER.

How Hard It Was Living

How about five hundred? suggests Monsieur Lambert.

It's a long way from fifty, but why not aim high?

Vello shrugs.

Done, says Vello. He is already picturing his hologram.

Yes! Five hundred! Monsieur Lambert is emboldened.

He saw a hologram once. It was of a dead person.

The dead person, an elderly man, was someone's grandfather.

He sat in a chair, and spoke of his early life, smiling and remembering.

A young person was watching him. She was the granddaughter.

She had opened a door.

The hologram had been triggered

Her grandfather spoke to her kindly, about bunnies.

(no that wasn't right).

He spoke of the Depression and how hard it was living in those days. They killed rabbits.

The granddaughter laughed and then cried. She loved the hologram.

I should be honoured to transform you into a hologram, says Monsieur Lambert.

I thought you said you couldn't do it, says Vello.

For a fee, I could do it, says Monsieur Lambert.

We need a tendering process, says Charley. My guy might be cheaper.

But I know Vello's quirks, says Monsieur Lambert.

Not all of them, says Vello. But I'll try you.

Monsieur Lambert is thrilled with the outcome. But he must now bone up on holograms.

Wait, says David. Ask him what he knows about holograms.

Excuse me, I need the toilet. Back in a jiffy, says Monsieur Lambert, rushing out quickly.

That was suss, says David. Vello, think, before you make a decision. Remember Pigalle?

Pigalle? says Vello.

I know. That statue of you in the Louvre, says Khadija. It was done by Pigalle.

You as a classical nude, says David. What a flop it was. Not exhibited for over a century.

Not my fault, says Vello.

He put your head on an old soldier's body, says David. I'm just saying. These things happen.

I was busy, says Vello. This time I shall have control of the process.

I'll call my guy anyway, says Charley. He might give your guy some pointers.

Monsieur Lambert returns from the toilet.

Lasers! says Monsieur Lambert. Split beams! Coherent light! Interference patterns!

Marvellous! says Vello. You are more of an expert than you let on. Now let me explain how I see myself looking......

The Angst Of The Sculptor

The mayor of Ferney has other appointments.

Vello has been passed on to others.

Councillors Khadija (culture and comms) and Charley (sportives) are talking him through the problems of replacing the statue.

A new one would be nicer, says Khadija. We could hold an event.

A cycling event, says Charley. A road race.

Or a cultural expo, says Khadija.

And where would you place me? asks Vello.

Near the post office, says Khadija. There's a space there. It's near the old statue. There'd be a contrast. The old and new you.

Near the post office! says Vello. I'd look like the postman.

Yes. Because of the bicycle, says Charley. That might be a problem. We could put you outside the Fitness Centre.

Great idea, says Khadija.

Vello runs his fingers through his high fade.

David keeps quiet. So does Monsieur Lambert. They sip their coffee and nibble almond biscuits.

I refuse to be thwarted, says Vello.

The mayor says we must keep the old statue, says Charley. It's non negotiable.

I have an idea, says Monsieur Lambert.

Let the people vote, says David.

No. The people will vote for the old statue, says Monsieur Lambert. People are like that. My idea is so up to date I don't know how to do it, but you young councillors might.

What is it? asks Khadija.

A hologram, says Monsieur Lambert.

Brilliant! says Charley. A moving hologram. Popping up in odd places. On it's bike. Speaking and everything.

Speaking? says Vello. I like it. Let us get started.

I'll have to call someone, says Charley. This guy I know.

I seem to have talked myself out of a commission, says Monsieur Lambert.

The idea remains your intellectual property, says Khadija.

Yes yes, says Vello. I shall reward you for everything you have come up with so far. What do you think it's worth, Monsieur Lambert?

Let me think, says Monsieur Lambert. It's not easy to price an idea.

Several ideas, says David.

You keep out of this, says Vello.

Monsieur Lambert thinks. Should he ask for a lot? It's a hard life for a sculptor. He was counting on this commission. He has talked himself out of it. He even talked himself out of doing the haircut. He can do haircuts. The high fade looks so simple. Basically, just a taper. He could have done it. Have more confidence, Lambert! How hard is making a hologram? He could google the method....

How about fifty? says Vello.

Monsieur Lambert! For too long you hesitated. Now you must work your way up from the low point of fifty.

Everyone in the room (except Vello) feels the angst of the sculptor.

Cool Skinny

Vello is fuming.

Monsieur Lambert has insisted on a mountain bike instead of a racer.

Easier to sculpt, says Monsieur Lambert.

Vello refuses to wheel it.

Now for new clothes.

Monsieur Lambert takes him to G-Star Raw, in Espace Candide.

Vello likes buying new clothes, so he softens.

The salesman, Laurence, is cool.

Your face is familiar, says Laurence.

It is to me, too, says Vello. Now how about something natty.

Natty, says Laurence. That we can do.

Vello looks around at the stressed denim and low crotches. The skinny chinos. The floral shirts.

Certain taboos you can get away with, says Laurence.

I know, says Vello. Pick me out something.

Laurence chooses baggy jeans (so eighties) a short sleeve paisley shirt, a pinstripe jacket and a bucket hat.

Not the hat, says Vello. It'd flatten my high fade.

True, says Laurence. Perhaps your friend would like it. His head is already quite flat.

David had been propping up the mountain bike, and looking through the window.

But he heard that. A bucket hat is the last thing he needs, if his head is flat already

No thank you, says David. Are we done? Don't we have to be somewhere?

Yes, says Monsieur Lambert. The Mairie. But first, Vello should wear the new outfit.

Vello changes into his taboo cool and wearable outfit.

He looks okay, because he is skinny.

Off they go to the Mairie (having paid Laurence a great deal of money, with a discount for the publicity associated with the proposed statue).

Mayor Raphoz is a busy man, but he has made time for the patron of Ferney.

Sit down, says Mayor Raphoz. I'll have coffee brought. This is an honour.

Yes, says Vello. Were you surprised I'm not wearing a frock coat?

Not at all, says Mayor Raphoz. We all follow your cycling exploits. It was disappointing for all of us when you were unable to ride in the Tour this year.

Piles, says Vello, remembering.

Ahem, coughs Mayor Raphoz, politely. Too much information.

We have a proposal, says Vello. Monsieur Lambert is willing to sculpt me as I am today, with modern hair, clothes and a bicycle, albeit the wrong sort.

It's all very fine, whatever the bicycle, says Mayor Raphoz. There's always room for a new statue of our patron. Perhaps near the post office.

You misunderstand me, says Vello. This statue will replace the old one of me in the frock coat and stockings.

What! cries Mayor Raphoz. But that statue is famous! And it is on our town logo. Imagine the disorder!

I do, I do, says Vello.

Onion Juice

At Dubai Airport, Gaius, Humboldt, Terence and Saint Roley wait for their flight.

Gaius and Humboldt have found seats and given Terence five dollars.

He has gone off with Saint Roley to spend it.

Not a lot is happening.

Not here.

But how are Vello and David doing, in Ferney?

Let's see.

It is sixteen hours later. They have met Monsieur Lambert, in his apartment, which is near the Mairie.

Here they are in his salon, with him, drinking coffee.

On the wall above the fireplace is a photograph of the statue in question.

Monsieur Lambert: I'm very fond of that statue.

David: You should be. It's famous.

Vello: I hope you're not going to reneg.

Monsieur Lambert: No no. Of course not. But there is a small matter.

Vello: Payment? I'll pay.

Monsieur Lambert: Not that.

Vello: The haircut? I'll let you do it. I'll have a high fade.

Monsieur Lambert: Is that one of those new hipster hair styles? I don't do them.

David: Then what is this small matter?

Monsieur Lambert: The town logo.

Vello: What the devil has the town logo to do with my haircut?

David: Vello! You're not following.

Vello: I am!

Monsieur Lambert: Not only the hairstyle but the clothes and the bicycle. If the statue is remodelled, it won't be the same as the logo.

Vello: You mean my statue is on the town logo?

Monsieur Lambert: Yes in, outline. And it's expensive to alter a logo.

Vello: Are you refusing!

Monsieur Lambert: No. I'm saying we need to visit the mayor of Ferney.

Vello: Right! What are we waiting for?

Monsieur Lambert: First I suggest you get the haircut. The mayor will then have a better idea of our proposal.

Vello: Perhaps I should get a bicycle as well to show him what a bicycle looks like!

David: Calm down. I'm sure he knows what a bicycle looks like.

Monsieur Lambert: It's a fine suggestion. I'll take you first to Relone Hair Designer-Barbière. They do those modern hipster hairstyles. And then to Bouticycle, where we can borrow a bicycle. Both businesses will enjoy the publicity, if this comes off.

Vello: Will they? I'm not sure I want to....

David: This was your idea in the first place. You should buy new clothes as well.

Vello: I suppose so. Go the whole hog. Why not?

And so Monsieur Lambert takes them to the Barbière, where Vello gets a high fade of sorts.

It's not as high as he imagined.

But he is given a shot of D.U.C. whisky beforehand, and an onion juice face rub.

So it's not all that bad.

Flipping And Freaking In Dubai

At last. The plane lands in Dubai.

Terminal three. Giraffe World Kitchen,

This is nice, says Humboldt.

Yes, I've been here before, says Gaius. I pass through occasionally, with a needy cuttlefish or a rare spider. What are you having?

The Flipping Amazing Pancake sounds good, says Humboldt.

He said FLIPPING! says Terence.

There is no harm in flipping, says Gaius.

It's freaking, whispers Saint Roley.

Okay, whispers Terence. Are you having one?

No, says Saint Roley. The smoked oysters stuffed me.

(Ha! He said stuffed!)

I'll have the Flipping Amazing Pancake too, says Gaius. It comes with blueberries and bananas.

I want what SHE'S having, says Terence.

 Who is she and what is she having?

A little girl is having two halves of a strawberry wedged round a slice of banana, speared on a wooden stick, with a side serve of dipping chocolate.

I don't think so, says Gaius. Have a sparkling water.

Terence is silent. He glowers at the Giraffe World giraffe. It isn't even a real one.

May I borrow your phone? asks Humboldt. I'd like to look myself up on Wikipedia.

Ha ha, laughs Gaius. There will be errors, I promise you.

A portrait can't lie, says Humboldt.

Yes it can, says Gaius. You should see mine. I look like a failed academic.

Worth a try, says Humboldt. It might shed light on my mother.

Let him, says Saint Roley. I should love to see a portrait of my mother.

I never met your mother, says Gaius. You were found in a scrape that was deserted.

I ruined you, says Terence. And your brother.

Our eggs, says Saint Roley. You didn't ruin us.

Gaius hands Humboldt his phone.

Humboldt fumbles with icons and apps.

Aha. Alexander von Humboldt.

Here he is with his mother.

She looks like nun, in a heavy brown head dress. She looks straight ahead, stony. He, with his golden curls looks pleadingly up at his mother.

Sadness descends on him.

Until the Flipping Amazing Pancake turns up.

Sadness lifts. After all, he is now an adult.

Perhaps it's not even himself in the portrait. Perhaps it's his brother.

Yes. An error. Of course it is Wilhelm! Ha ha!

There is a happy occurrence for Terence too.

The strawberry-banana-chocolate dipper! Complimentary, for the infant.

Dubai Airport. Yay!

Mother's Favourite

Humboldt edges past Gaius to the window seat, and sits down.

What's this about legs? asks Humboldt.

Gaius is taken aback. There has been nothing about legs in particular.

Legs? says Gaius.

Young Terence says you read to him from your notes.

I did, says Gaius. He was quite perspicacious.

He was not, says Humboldt. Unless your notes say the bandy bandy has legs.

They don't, says Gaius. They are, if memory serves me, from Wikipedia.

I thought you said Weipa, says Humboldt.

Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia. I scribbled down a few notes when we were in Paris.

So where did he get the idea of legs from? asks Humboldt.

What preceded the mention? asks Gaius.

Um... says Humboldt. Something about socks. He was complaining.

Of course, says Gaius. Did he say they had not enough rings?

He did, says Humboldt. The bandy bandy has forty eight. Or does it?

Forty eight OR MORE, says Gaius. I'm glad that you're here. Why forty eight, I ask you?

A minimum? suggests Humboldt.

Possibly. I shall make a note to test that, says Gaius. If I see a bandy bandy with less than forty eight rings I shall go in and edit the article.

You can do that? asks Humboldt.

Oh yes, says Gaius. But if it wasn't on Wikipedia, I can't.

Was it or wasn't it? asks Humboldt.

That part of my notes is missing, says Gaius. I'm sorry. What's that you're eating?

A smoked oyster, says Humboldt, spitting it out. I was talking to Saint Roley and picked up something I shouldn't have. They are business class leftovers.

Amazing! says Gaius. I mean, that they gave you business class leftovers.

Not me, him, says Humboldt. We spoke of his brother. And I spoke of mine.

You have a brother? asks Gaius.

Wilhelm, says Humboldt. Mother's favourite.

Mothers! says Gaius, (hoping this will suffice).

I've been trying to dredge up a few happy memories of my mother, says Humboldt. She was emotionally distant. When she died I received a letter from a friend saying "Her death must be particularly welcomed by you".

Well there's a good memory, right there,  says Gaius.

Not really, says Humboldt. I'm thinking more of head patting, cuddles.....

If you can't remember them, says Gaius, perhaps there weren't any. Not all mothers are tender.

Humboldt picks up his chewed oyster again. Sniffs it.

A thought occurs.

Wikipedia. Is he on it? If so, is she? Will there be a portrait? Him with his mother. She with a snood on. He, innocent, golden curls, looking up at his mother, hopeful of maternal attention.

She, with what sort of expression?

He swallows the oyster.

Not Nothing Now

I would offer you a smoked oyster, says Saint Roley, but I see they have teeth marks.

Thank you. Your delicacy is noted, says Humboldt.

Which way did you mean that? asks Saint Roley, tucking in.

Both ways, says Humboldt. I thought it an apt remark.

You are good with words, says Saint Roley.

My brother was better, says Humboldt.

Was? says Saint Roley. Have you too lost a brother?

We lost touch, says Humboldt. We had different intellectual interests. He became a linguist and diplomat. I became an explorer, after mother died.

Was she kind, your mother? asks Saint Roley.

She was distant and stern, says Humboldt.

Are you SURE? asks Saint Roley.

Humboldt thinks about his mother, who really was distant and stern, and had wished him to become a civil servant.

He has not thought about her in years.

Now he is older he should try and remember her nice side.

He tries.

He absently picks up a smoked oyster. Chews it.

Tries to picture her smiling, and patting his curls. It could have happened.

Good aren't they, says Saint Roley. I feel replete now. Will you do me a favour?

Certainly, says Humboldt. What is it?

Help me off with these socks, says Saint Roley. People have been laughing.

Feet up! says Humboldt.

Saint Roley sticks his feet up, just as Terence walks past.

Forty eight rings, says Terence. And we've only got ONE!

What are you talking about? asks Saint Roley.

The bandy bandy, says Terence. It has forty eight rings on its socks!

Not on its socks, says Saint Roley.

Humboldt agrees. It is highly unlikely.

On its legs then, says Terence. When it crosses the road in the night time.

Legs! Where did you get hold of such nonsense? asks Humboldt.

Gaius, says Terence. He read out his notes. And I had to answer three questions.

What were they? asks Saint Roley. Let's see if I know.

Why, why and why, says Terence.

I don't know, says Saint Roley. These are difficult questions.

I'm intrigued, says Humboldt. You stay here Terence. I'm going to sit next to Gaius and get to the bottom of it.

He gets up and moves down the aisle, with his recycled smoked oyster.

Okay, parrot, says Terence. What's this stinky food you're eating?

Oysters, says Saint Roley. What did you get, off the trolley?

NOTHING! says Terence. Except a red drink.

That's not nothing, says Saint Roley.

It is now, says Terence.

See Why

The same flight. Not in Dubai yet.

Humboldt sits next to Saint Roley.

This is my opportunity to get to know the bird better, thinks Humboldt.

Saint Roley is contemplating his snake socks. He never asked for snake socks.

The socks are ill-matched, thanks to a series of events, beginning with their purchase, and ending with him having to wear odd ones to mollify Terence.

It occurs to Saint Roley that now three of the four snake socks are distorted.

These are the thoughts of Saint Roley, when Humboldt interrupts them.

Tell me, says Humboldt, what happened that time when you left us to visit Saint Malo?

Ah, says Saint Roley. Some things are best not to speak of.

Sad things? asks Humboldt.

Sad things, says Saint Roley. I had a brother.

We all know that, says Humboldt. He was lost at sea. Did you sit on the shore and recall him?

No, says Saint Roley. I found him hard to remember. We were both young at the time.

Snack? asks a flight attendant, passing.

No thank you, says Humboldt.

I would have liked one, thinks Saint Roley. How can I get one?

He thinks of a plan.

Excuse me, says Saint Roley.

Certainly, says Humboldt, allowing him past.

Saint Roley follows the flight attendant with the snacks trolley.

Taps her hard on the back of her knee.

She buckles.

Eyup! says the flight attendant. It's the bird in the socks!

There is another flight attendant at the far end of the trolley. The drinks end.

Does he want a snack? asks the other one.

He may do, says the snacks one.

I do! says Saint Roley.

By now several aisle-seated passengers are staring at Saint Roley.

His socks look funny.

Saint Roley ignores them but resolves to take the socks off at the next opportunity.

Do you have anything resembling a mollusc? he asks politely.

In shape or in taste? asks the flight attendant.

Texture, preferably, says Saint Roley.

Not here, says the flight attendant, but in business class they are having smoked oysters.

Saint Roley is disappointed.

I could see if there are any leftovers, she adds.

Thank you, says Saint Roley. May I come with you?

Don't you trust me to do it? she asks.

He looks at her. Yes, he trusts her to do it.

But why would there be any smoked oysters left over? They are so delicious. He can almost taste them. The fishy aroma, the sweet bitterness, the grainy texture, the delightful possibility of grit......

He returns to his seat.

Better now? asks Humboldt.

Not yet, says Saint Roley.

The flight attendant returns with a bowl of smoked oysters.

Thank you, says Humboldt, but I didn't.....

They're for me, says Saint Roley.

Humboldt looks closer at the smoked oysters, and sees why.

Some have teeth marks.

Crossings On Humid Nights

On the Emirates flight from Paris to Dubai, Gaius sits next to Terence. Humboldt sits next to Saint Roley.

Gaius, having known Terence longer, thinks this arrangement is best.

The plane speeds though the air.

Terence has a window seat.

Outside, there are puffy white clouds, the same colour as Grandpa Marx's hair.

And marshmallows. But only the white ones.

Terence wriggles his toes, in his snake socks.

Gaius glances sideways, at Terence wriggling his toes.

Wisely he says nothing. He takes out his notebook.

He looks forward to Adelaide and the set of sharpened pencils that Belle will have ordered.

For now, he will bone up on the bandy bandy.

The bandy bandy has forty eight or more black and white rings which fully encircle its body.

How fascinating. Forty eight or more. He would like to discuss this with someone, but not Terence.

What? says Terence, seeing Gaius is frowning.

Nothing, says Gaius.

I'm bored, says Terence. Read to me what you're reading.

I'd rather not, says Gaius.

Can I go for a walk? asks Terence. I need to stretch my marshmallows.

NO! says Gaius. Sit still. I'll read you something. Listen quietly.

Hmm hmm....not that.... hmm hmm.... how about this, this is interesting:

Bandy bandys are sometimes seen crossing roads on humid nights.

Why? asks Terence.

Indeed, says Gaius. The question is threefold.

Terence knows about threefold. His disfunctional family was threefold, when he had it.

He waits.

Threefold, says Gaius. Think hard. List me three questions.

Which one is Saint Joseph? says Terence.

That is completely irrelevant, says Gaius, I'm surprised you came up with it. Think again. Questions about crossing roads on humid nights. Three questions.

Why? Why? Why? says Terence.

Three actual questions, says Gaius. Why the road? Why at night? Why humid?

Terence sees the problem. Gaius wasn't listening.

Because that's where they saw them, says Terence.

Who saw them? asks Gaius.

The people who saw them, says Terence.

Gaius sees at once what Terence is getting at.

Ah, yes! The answer depends on the observer. Well done, Terence. You are quite the little clever clogs.

Terence feels proud. He knows what clogs are.

Cosmos Compost

Belle is in the Café de Flore.

At last she can do what she wants.

But what is it?

She orders a coffee.

Her phone rings. Ring-ring. Ring-ring. A missed call from Gaius.

She calls him back.

Hello? says Gaius. I can't talk now. I'm at the airport.

You just called me, says Belle.

That was Humboldt, says Gaius. He borrowed my phone.

What did he want? asks Belle.

I'll ask him, says Gaius. Better still, I'll put him on.

Hello? says Humboldt. Terence is having an issue with his socks.

What issue? asks Belle.

He believes Saint Roley's snake socks are better than his snake socks, says Humboldt. Saint Roley is willing to swap, but as soon as he offers, Terence becomes suspicious.

He never even wanted the snake socks, says Belle. Put him on.

This is your fault, says Terence.

I agree, says Belle. I wasn't thinking. I should have bought two pairs the same.

As what? asks Terence. The ones I'm wearing or the ones he's wearing?

I'm not going to answer, says Belle. But I have a super idea to fix it.

WHAT? cries Terence.

I'm surprised neither Gaius nor Humboldt thought of it, says Belle.

They're too busy talking about COMPOST, says Terence.

Belle lets that go. She assumes he means COSMOS.

Put Gaius on, says Belle.

No, tell ME, says Terence.

Okay, says Belle. You and Saint Roley swap one snake sock. Then you'll both be the same.

Terence thinks about the implications of doing it.

One of us will be worse and one will be better, says Terence.

But you won't know which one, says Belle. So it won't matter.

Terence is still thinking.

Just try it, says Belle.

Terence pulls one snake sock off.

What are you doing ? asks Saint Roley. Are we swapping at last?

One sock swap, says Terence. You take one off.

Saint Roley can't do it. His three pronged toes keep catching.

He asks Humboldt for help.

Done it? asks Belle.

Wah! cries Terence. Saint Roley's snake sock is baggy.

Oh dear, says Belle. I forgot you have baby feet.

Not BABY FEET! says Terence.

Dear little feet, says Belle.

She hears: snivel-snivel....sniff.... hiccup...yay! ouch! wah!....snivel-snivel....yay!

Humboldt has fixed the problem, with a coffee stirrer and three marshmallows.

All fixed? asks Belle.

Yes, says Humboldt. Until the marshmallows melt.

They won't melt, says Belle. His feet don't get hot like yours or mine do.

Humboldt thinks foot temperature is only one of several factors. Outside temperature for example. It's hot in Dubai. No doubt it's also hot in Weipa. He must monitor the baggy sock closely.

Belle knows this too. But her coffee is here. And a mint macaron. Why should she care?

Cut Out The Cut

The train is ten minutes from Ferney.

Belle calls Vello back.

Papa, it's all sorted. Monsieur Lambert can sculpt bikes. And cut hair. He'll give you a nice modern haircut, and do you on a bicycle. He's...

Excellent! says Vello. Wait. I already have a modern haircut.

No you don't, says Belle. Have you seen yourself lately?

Vello turns to David.

Rate my hairstyle, says Vello.

Five, says David Hume.

David gives my hairstyle a five, says Vello.

Out of ten? asks Belle.

Certainly not! says Vello. What out of, David?

Ten, says David.

What would you know? asks Vello.

I'm observing the young men in our carriage, says David. They have modern hairstyles, in comparison to which yours is a five. I'm being generous.

Papa! are you there? asks Belle. What's David saying?

All right, says Vello. I'll have Monsieur Lambert's haircut.

Great, says Belle. When it's done, send me a photo!

Yes, dear, says Vello.

The train will arrive in five minutes.

Vello eyes the young men in the carriage.

He nudges David.

How about that one?

Bit young for you, says David.

Nonsense, says Vello. I'll have that one.

A woman behind them tut tuts.

HAIRSTYLES madam! says Vello, turning around to the woman.

Sure! says the woman. You are interested in hairstyles of young men? Why is that?

I'm getting one, says Vello. I've chosen that one.

Do you know the name? asks the woman.

I don't need to, says Vello. It's his hairstyle I'm interested in.

I refer to the name of the hairstyle, says the woman,.

What is it? asks David. It may be useful to Monsieur Lambert.

That is a burst fade combover pomp, says the woman. It's too much for you. I suggest a low fade combover and undercut. Or a bald fade and line up....

The train stops.

The young men with the hairstyles get off.

Vello is doodling on the back of his hand.

David thanks the woman.

Thank you, madam, and good day.

She shrugs and gets off to meet her family.

Come on, Vello, says David. Don't fuss.

What did she call it? asks Vello.

A combover, says David. If I were you, I'd forget it.

Forget it! says Vello. What then?

Use your reason, says David. Your sculptor is also your hairdresser. He may sculpt whatever style he chooses. You need not be involved.

After all, this was obvious!

Vello steps off the train lightly.

Wheels In The Head

Belle calls Vello, who has not yet reached Ferney.

Belle: How's the train trip?

Vello: Belle! I'm on the train to Ferney.

Belle: I know. Is it comfortable?

Vello: How should I know? I'm in a state of agitation. David has been questioning Monsieur Lambert's sculpting capabilities.

Belle: The last one he made of you was lovely. He made you look funny and wise.

Vello: Yes, it was very natural, but there is the question of modern hairstyles, and ... can he sculpt a bicycle?

Belle: Of course he can. Would you like me to call Monsieur Lambert and discuss it?

Vello: Would you? You are a treasure.

Belle: Terence doesn't think so. But I do my best. Well, enjoy the rest of your journey, dear papa.

Vello: I shall try to. Bye bye, darling.

Belle calls Monsieur Lambert the sculptor.

Hello? says Monsieur Lambert. This is Monsieur Lambert the sculptor.

Monsieur Lambert, says Belle, I am Belle et Bonne, the adopted daughter of your most famous subject.

Voltaire, the Patriarch of Ferney! cries Monsieur Lambert. You are his adopted daughter! He always spoke highly of you.

With good reason, says Belle et Bonne.

And how may I help you, dearest madame? asks Monsieur Lambert.

It's a bit tickly, says Belle et Bonne.

Try me, says Monsieur Lambert, thinking he would not mind something tickly, from this young woman.

Papa is on his way to Ferney to meet you, says Belle et Bonne. He wishes to ask you a favour, which you are at liberty to refuse.

What is it?

Times have changed, says Belle et Bonne, and Papa is now a cyclist with a modern hairstyle.

I see where you are going, says Monsieur Lambert. He wants an update. Was he afraid to ask me himself?

Embarrassed, perhaps, says Belle. He hasn't got a modern hairstyle. The Tour de France has taken up all of his time.

I didn't see him in the Tour, says Monsieur Lambert. There was a new rider.

Humboldt, says Belle et Bonne. A ring-in. Papa was Team Director and.... may I tell you a secret?

Oui, oui! You may.

Occasional clown, says Belle et Bonne. But the first thing he'll do in Ferney is get a new haircut.

I cut hair, says Monsieur Lambert. There are not too many sculpting jobs about these days.

I suppose not, says Belle et Bonne. I'm sure he'll adore your haircut. You're a world class sculptor. Now for the thing I must ask you. Don't be afraid to say no.

Monsieur Lambert is already half in love with the exquisite (he imagines) Belle et Bonne. He will not say no.

Can you do him on a bicycle? asks Belle et Bonne.

Silence.

Or standing next to bicycle, holding it up? she adds.

Wheels turn in Monsieur Lambert's head.

Snake Socks

There you are! says Gaius.

Here I am, says Terence rudely.

We almost left without you, says Humboldt.

I wouldn't care, says Terence. Everything is RUBBISH.

Didn't you get Snake Shorts? asks Saint Roley.

No! says Terence. I got stupid Snake Socks.

Let me see them, says Saint Roley.

Belle unwraps them. And the striped tee shirt.

Those are nice, says Saint Roley.

And he'll be getting Snake Shorts in Adelaide, says Belle. 

He won't have time, says Gaius.

I'll order them and get them delivered to your house, says Belle. They'll be there when he arrives.

Very good! says Gaius. Let me think. Is there anything else I need delivered?

You never have any pencils, says Belle. And Arthur's in San Sebastian, which means no knife.

Excellent, says Gaius. Will you order me a set of sharpened pencils, and a Swiss army knife?

Give me your credit card details, says Belle.

Gaius fumbles in his chinos for his credit card. Humboldt is amazed.

How the world has moved on, for its shopping!

Can I try the socks on? asks Saint Roley.

Ha ha! laughs Terence. A parrot in snake socks!

Saint Roley ignores the description.

He tries on the socks.

They wrinkle round his ankles, but his widely spaced toes keep them on.

He hops joyfully.

Terence is jealous.

There are two pairs, says Belle.

Terence tries on the other pair of snake socks. They are not quite the same as Saint Roley's.

The heels and toes are white (which is the same) the central part is dark grey, (which isn't) and the one ring which made Belle and Aurélie decide they were snake socks is light grey (which also isn't). They are the opposite.

Whose are better? asks Terence, with the socks on.

Yours, says Saint Roley.

So do you want them? asks Terence.

Oh no! says Saint Roley.

Terence has trapped him.

He's lying.

Master Of Science Of The Universe

Terence rifles through the shorts, while Belle watches, thinking of Pablo.

A vendeuse approaches.

May I help you? she asks. I am Aurélie. Do you search for something in particular?

Black and white ring shorts, says Terence.

Ring shorts? says Aurélie. Is this a new sport for les enfants?

Belle starts paying attention.

He means shorts with black and white rings, says Belle. You don't seem to have any.

Is it stripes, or circles? asks Aurélie. We have striped ones. See. Bermuda Rayé.

The stripes are vertical.

Rings are supposed to join up, says Terence. Don't you know anything?

He's going looking for snakes, says Belle. In the Gulf of Carpentaria.

Alors! Now I am with you, says Aurélie. Would it be the bandy bandy?

Yes it would! says Belle. How did you know?

They have discovered a new one, says Aurélie. I study endangered species at the Sorbonne. Sadly the new one is already endangered due to bauxite mining in the area.

That's really rough, says Belle.

Yes, says Aurélie, but the immediate problem is shorts for the petit garçon. Unfortunately we do not stock snake shorts, but I know where you can buy them.

She takes out her phone and brings up Snake Shorts.

Shows Terence.

The Snake Shorts are cool. They are black and white. They have white snakes on them, with black rings. They come in sizes 1 to 10. (The shorts do. The snakes are identical).

Cotton On! says Belle. We can actually get them in Adelaide.

Yes you can, says Aurélie.

Thanks Aurélie, says Belle.

It's my job, says Aurélie.

Surely it isn't, says Belle This is a Monoprix.

Ha ha, laughs Aurélie. I'm thinking of my future job, once I finish my Master of Science of the Universe, Environment and Ecology.

That's awesome, says Belle. Well, good luck with that, Aurélie. Come on Terence.

Not yet! says Terence. I haven't got anything.

We have a striped black and white Marinière tee shirt, says Aurélie. Horizontal stripes. You could try it.

No! says Terence. Not a tee shirt!

Why not? asks Belle. Try it. It will be something, until you get the Snake Shorts.

Yes try it, says Aurélie. It is only six euros.

Terence won't try it, but Belle buys it anyway. And two pairs of snake socks which are not really snake socks but Belle and Aurélie have decided they are.

Just because they have one thin black line on.

Stupid ladies.

Black and White Rings

Vello and David are on the train to Ferney.

How will you do it? asks David.

Do what? says Vello.

Get the people of Ferney to agree to replace a well known statue, says David.

A beloved iconic statue, says Vello.

If you say so, says David.

They love me, says Vello. If I wish to modernise my statue, they'll be all for it.

It may be too modern, says David, unfolding the plan.

They both regard it.

No, no, says Vello. Sweezus has left my face blank. Monsieur Lambert, who sculpted the original, can use the same face, but I shall insist on a contemporary hairstyle.

You should, says David. A curled wig on a man on a bicycle would look.....

Clownish, says Vello.

And you'd know, agrees David. Let's hope he does bicycles. There could be structural issues.

Don't try and put me off, says Vello.

The train rattles on.

A modern train?

Okay.

The train zooms towards Ferney.

......

Meanwhile Sweezus, Arthur and Pablo have left the hotel and headed for Gare Montparnasse to catch the train to Hendaye, and change there for San Sebastian.

It's not overly hot in San Sebastian.

There would be ructions, if Terence knew that.

......

Terence is complaining to Belle about the snakes he'll encounter in Weeper.

Snakes!

You'll like the snakes, says Belle. Gaius told me about them. They have black and white rings.

Terence takes in the new information.

Black and white rings.

Can I get new shorts? asks Terence.

There's not much time, says Belle. Why do you want them?

But Terence won't say. He just wants them.

Belle takes Terence on a quick shopping trip to the Monoprix.

There is sale on, in the enfants department. Forty percent off.

But no black and white ring shorts.

My Heart Moves From Cold To Fire

Gaius has obtained a steaming kettle. He separates the folds of Vello's paper napkin, as they dampen.

Hurry up, says Vello.

Do you want me to do this or don't you? says Gaius.

Yes, but quickly, says Vello.

There, says Gaius. See what you've made me do?

Vello's head has been robbed of its features.

Never mind, says David. We all know what you look like. How is the bicycle?

Quite good, says Gaius. Basic. But it's only a statue.

The sculptor will make the best of it, says Vello.

Very wise, says David. Let's not miss the train.

They head for the door.

Terence is waiting outside.

What is it? snaps Vello.

Nothing, says Terence. I have to ask Gaius something.

Ask away, says Vello. He's in there, with a kettle.

What is it Terence? asks Gaius.

Is it too hot in Spain? asks Terence.

Depends, says Gaius.

That's what Saint Roley said, says Terence.

Did he elaborate? asks Gaius, interested in Saint Roley's reasoning.

No, says Terence. Do I have to come to Weeper?

No, says Gaius. You don't have to come. And it's Weipa not Weeper. But Humboldt and Saint Roley are coming.

And snakes, says Terence.

The snakes are already there, says Gaius. And they are exceedingly tiny.

He would take out his diagrams to show Terence how tiny, but they're not in this room.

........

Terence goes back to Sweezus's room. The door is open. Belle is inside, talking to Pablo.

I have to go home soon, says Belle. To run the office.

Nothing is extinguished or forgotten, says Pablo.

I'll stay in Paris a couple more more days, then head back to Adelaide, says Belle.

I'll be there in January for the Tour Down Under, says Pablo.

That's nice, says Belle.

Truly?

Yes truly, says Belle.

My heart moves from cold to fire, says Pablo.

That's even nicer.

.......

Sweezus opens his eyes and sees Terence, close up.

Last chance! says Terence.

For what? asks Sweezus.

To take me to Spain, says Terence. Otherwise I have to see snakes.

Only small ones, says Sweezus. You'll like it up there.

Up where? asks Terence.

Gulf of Carpentaria, says Sweezus, not thinking.

I hate carpenters, says Terence. And I hate golf.

Sweezus has only just woken up. But he knows what Terence is thinking.

GULF! says Sweezus. Water. CARPENTARIA, not Saint freaking Joseph.

Falling As Snakes

Even the best nights must end. The Clown Bar is closing.

Vello has paid the large bill.

It was expensive but worth it, thinks Vello, as he pays with his credit card.

Everyone spills out into the warm Paris night.

The parallel parties go off in opposite directions. The two Saint Roleys touch wings in passing.

Are you FRIENDS? asks Terence.

Of course, says Saint Roley.

He didn't like me, says Terence.

He didn't have time to get used to you, says Saint Roley.

I got used to him straight away, says Terence. He's a bumbrain.

Saint Roley decides not to argue.

Where are we going next? asks Terence.

Let's wait and see, says Saint Roley.

They wait and see.

It's a hotel in the Folie-Méricourt. A nice one.

Team Philosophe and Team Condor have three rooms between them.

Belle is sharing one with Terence and Saint Roley.

She collapses into bed, without even getting them a cushion.

In bed, she dreams of the future.

In the dream it is morning. Vello and David are heading for the Gare de Lyon in a taxi.

No wait. It IS morning. Vello and David are about to head for Gare de Lyon in a taxi.

You're really going to Ferney? asks Belle.

Yes dear, says Vello. I have Sweezus's design for my statue in my pocket.

Let's see it in the cold light of morning, says Belle.

Good thinking, says Vello. Sweezus is still available for last minute corrections....

He takes the paper napkin from his pocket. Tries to unfold it. Succeeds only partly. It is torn in some places.

Hum, says Vello. It's fortunate that we checked. Where's Sweezus?

Still sleeping.

Gaius comes into the room, and sees the problem. Not surprising. He had already foreseen it.

Try steaming, says Gaius.

David goes downstairs to ask for a kettle.

We'll miss the train, fusses Vello.

......

Terence has been looking for Sweezus. He has knocked loudly on ten or more doors.

Angry voices have pursued him.

At last, Pablo opens.

Qué? says Pablo.

Am I coming with you?

No, says Pablo. We men are going to Spain. It is hot there. Forty seven degrees. Too hot for an infant.

Terence stomps back to Belle's room where Saint Roley is waiting.

Is it too hot in Spain? asks Terence.

I suppose so, says Saint Roley. In some parts. It depends probably. Why don't we ask Gaius?

Terence scowls.

He suspects he will end up with Gaius. And where is Gaius going? To a place that's called Weeper, with snakes.

I know the future, says Terence.

Is it in your shorts? asks Saint Roley.

Terence had forgotten about the Sea Salt. There is not much left. But there's some in his pocket. Saint Roley is clever. Not a bumbrain.

Terence jigs up and down.

Sea Salt falls to the floor at his cement feet.

It falls ~~~

definitively ~~~

as snakes ~~~

I Don't Exist Over There

Parallel Saint Roley eats a deep fried whelk and a macaron crumb.

So this is the life of my counterpart, thinks parallel Saint Roley.

He wipes his orange beak, with a black wing feather.

He surveys the party of humans he is now among.

A couple of philosophers, or clowns. Like the ones at his table.

A natural historian and a Prussian scientist/explorer. Tick.

A couple of poets. Also.

One creative. Hah. They must be two a penny.

One lady. Same.

A cement infant, with a claw.

He doesn't know a cement infant. He will talk to the infant.

In my parallel universe, you don't exist, says parallel Saint Roley.

I don't like your face, says Terence. Where's real Saint Roley?

I don't like yours, says parallel Saint Roley.

Everyone likes mine, says Terence.

I don't, says parallel Saint Roley. Why do you have a claw?

On my face? asks Terence.

Didn't say it was on your face, says parallel Saint Roley. I don't like your claw either.

Wah! says Terence.

What's the matter? asks Belle.

 I don't exist over there, says Terence.

Of course you don't, says Belle. He's talking about our equivalents. See that lady? She'll be my equivalent.

She waves at the lady.

The lady waves back.

She is expecting a baby.

Belle turns away from the lady.

Pablo turns towards Belle.

Saint Roley emerges from under the parallel table, and makes a help sign.

Help sign of the oystercatcher: Wings up, eyes rolling.

Let me return to my universe!

Belle pokes Pablo, who nudges her back in an amorous manner.

Parallel Saint Roley takes advantage of the fracas. He hops back to his table.

Saint Roley! cries the expectant lady (that's what she calls him). Mind my seat. I must go for a pee!

Saint Roley (our Saint Roley) has meanwhile hopped back to his table.

He eats a deep fried whelk and a macaron crumb.

And is grateful.

Tragic Rigid

The night in the Clown Bar wears on.

Sweezus has finished his design for Vello's new statue.

He shows it to Vello.

Do my legs look like that? asks Vello.

Belle leans over.

That's the  wheels! You're on a bike, remember?

Let me see, says David. Oh yes, but your head looks quite small.

I haven't factored in the perspective, says Sweezus. His head 'll be bigger.

As in life, observes David.

It's a very nice statue, says Belle. And it looks good in green.

That's the MEDIUM, says Vello. Soup lines on paper napkin, with crystals of Sea Salt. Am I to keep it?

Yeah, boss, says Sweezus. But wait till it's dry.

Too late. Vello has picked it up, folded it and shoved it into his pocket.

Terence has been quietly picking the biscuit topping off his fluffy mousse and raspberry sorbet, but now he has finished.

What to do with the crumbs?

Nothing.

But Belle sees them.

Eat your crumbs, says Belle. They're made of crushed macarons.

No, says Terence.

Arthur reaches over to try one. He likes macarons.

So does Sweezus. Their hands crash, and macaron crumbs scatter.

Maybe Saint Roley would like them, says Belle. I know he's always hungry.

She pokes her head under the table.

Hello, says parallel Saint Roley.

Thank you for doing that, says Belle, spotting the neat pile of leg hairs.

Doing what? wonders parallel Saint Roley.

Are you hungry? asks Belle.

Yes, quite hungry, he answers.

Come up to the table for some macaron crumbs, says Belle. And Arthur might have a spare whelk or two. He's finding some of them chewy.

Parallel Saint Roley hops up to the table.

Gaius looks at him with the eye of a natural historian who has drunk more wine than usual.

Hmm.

Look at this, says Terence, to parallel Saint Roley. A parrot claw!

He is pointing to the tragic rigid claw of Humboldt's baked pigeon.

How to react? Parallel Saint Roley tries a blank face.

Then he tries a beatific one.

Light beams from his visage.

You're different, says Terence. Turn that headlight off.

I may as well come clean, says parallel Saint Roley. I am from under the next table. Your real Saint Roley is there, impersonating me. I have taken his place for the rest of the evening.

How fascinating, says Gaius.

I thought I detected a difference, says Humboldt.

Do you have similar histories? asks Gaius, ignoring the insinuation that he has missed something.

Both lost a brother, says parallel Saint Roley. Both joined a motley crew of humans. Both given thankless tasks. Both always hungry.

Me too, says Terence.

He would say that.  But he did lose a blood brother once (baby BB). So it's true in a way.

Parallel Saints

By now they have drunk a lot of funky artisanal French wine.

The Sea Salt is spread all over the table in parallel lines.

Observe the parallel universes, says Vello. In mine, I'd be a clown.

You're a clown in this one, observes David. In a parallel universe you might be a philosopher.

Very funny, says Vello. I'm thinking of going back to Ferney. Want to come with me?

Whatever for? asks David. Last time we went there your chateau had been opened to the public. We had to sneak up the back stairs to get into your bedroom.

I want to do something about my statue, says Vello. I'm portrayed in a frock coat and stockings, leaning on a cane. It's hardly the image of me of nowadays.

Sweezus risks putting his oar in.

Yeah, says Sweezus. A racing bike would be cooler. Let me design it. Anyone got a pencil?

Of course no one has.

Sweezus spreads out a paper towel and dips his finger in sea soup.

This will take some time, the paper keeps tearing.

Arthur throws Sea Salt on the paper. Salt might dry it up.

Pablo is not watching. He is making moon eyes at Belle.

She is in her own parallel universe, cuddling a baby.

Not his baby.

David pours more wine.

Gaius and Humboldt are the soberest. They are discussing how they might travel to Weipa.

Arthur will arrange it, says Gaius He's good at such things. He can do it before he goes off with Sweezus and Pablo. By the way Arthur, where are you going?

Urm... Spain, says Arthur.

Really, says Gaius. Perhaps you could take Terence with you.

No, we can't, says Sweezus, looking up sharply and ripping (once again) his paper.

Pity, says Vello. It was coming along nicely. I suppose it doesn't have to be green?

Nah, says Sweezus. That's just the medium.

Terence looks at the medium, in which Vello is green.

Under the table Saint Roley is patiently picking the leg hairs out of Belle's shoes.

He stacks them neatly near Gaius's feet, assuming Gaius won't kick them.

He has been following the conversation.

If there's a parallel universe, it may well be near here.

Perhaps, thinks Saint Roley, under a parallel table, in this very Clown Bar, another Saint Roley is picking leg hairs from another woman's shoe.

He inches his way out from under the table, and heads for the next one.

He squeezes under the parallel table.

Hello brother! says a parallel Saint Roley.