The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse by Robert Rankin
‘Sorry,’ said Eddie, covering his face with his paws. ‘I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sorry, I sort of blurt things out when I’m scared. It wasn’t loony he said, it was—’
‘Deity,’ said Jack.
‘Deity?’ said the gun-bristling-whatever.
‘Deity,’ said Jack once again.
‘Deity doesn’t sound in the least like loony.’
‘It does when you have tatty old ears like mine,’ said Eddie, pawing at his tatty old ears. ‘And a head full of sawdust. It was definitely deity. I’m sure it was.’
‘It was,’ said Jack. ‘A deity that will soon be worshipped by all the folk of Toy City.’
‘This is indeed the case.’
‘So what is your name?’ Jack asked. ‘Your real name? The name that will be glorified by all of Toy City when you defeat the evil twin. When you are raised to the status of Godhood that you so justly deserve.’
‘Bumlicker,’ Eddie whispered to Jack.
‘I’m just trying to keep us alive,’ Jack whispered back. ‘Please be quiet, Eddie, and let me do the talking.’ Jack bowed towards the Tinto Impersonator. ‘Might we be permitted to know your real name, oh Great One?’
‘I don’t think so, no. It’s private.’
‘Oh, please,’ said Jack. ‘You’re going to kill us anyway. What harm would there be in letting us know your real name?’
‘No, it’s private. And anyway, you might laugh.’
‘Laugh?’ said Jack. ‘Laugh in the face of a deity? Would even we be that stupid?’
‘Well, seeing as you’re both going to die, I suppose there’s no harm. Stand back, I’m going to transform.’
Eddie and Jack stood back and viewed the transformation. It was an impressive transformation. It involved all manner of bits sliding out here and sliding in there and other bits turning around and folding down and up and so forth.
Until.
‘Now I wasn’t expecting that!’ said Eddie.
‘Who are you?’ asked Jack.
A dolly now stood before them: a rather foolish-looking dolly with a big silly face, all wide eyes and rosy cheeks and little kissy mouth. The dolly had golden plaited hair with big red bows, a colourful frock and dear little court shoes of polished patent leather.
‘I’m PRIMROSE,’ said the dolly, in a little dolly voice.
‘Primrose?’ said Jack.
‘Primrose?’ said Eddie.
‘PRIMROSE,’ said PRIMROSE. ‘Prototype Integrated Multi-tasking Robotics Operational System.’
‘That’s Primros,’ said Jack. ‘There’s an “e” on the end of Primrose.’
The dolly’s little kissy mouth became a tight-lipped scowl. ‘And you wonder why I want to keep it private. My acronym is rubbish; it doesn’t even work. I was designed to be a multi-purpose toy that could be enjoyed by girls as well as boys. Some stupid idea that, eh? And PRIMROSE, I ask you: what kind of name is that for a metamorphosing action figure? With the kind of weaponry that can take the head off a golly at two thousand yards. I should have been given a name like SPLAT or ZARK.’
‘Or simply twat,’ said Eddie.
‘What?’ went PRIMROSE, making a very evil face indeed.
‘Sorry, sir, nerves again. I meant TWAT as in, er, Transforming War Action Tank,’ Eddie suggested.
‘Yes,’ said PRIMROSE. ‘Twat. I like that.’
‘I’ll call you Twat then,’ said Eddie.
‘Me too,’ said Jack.
‘You’ll both call me Master,’ said PRIMROSE. ‘Or perhaps it should be Mistress. I get a bit confused myself at times. So many personality changes, I get rather disorientated.’
Eddie looked at Jack.
And Jack looked at Eddie.
‘He’s lying,’ whispered Jack. ‘He’s lying again.’
Eddie looked once more at Jack and Jack looked once more at Eddie and then the two of them looked towards PRIMROSE. If there was ever going to be a better time to rush and overpower the evil twin, neither of them could imagine it.
Eddie and Jack prepared to rush.
PRIMROSE, however, was no longer PRIMROSE, she was now something more approaching ZARK.
‘Whoa,’ went Eddie. ‘What a big, bad boy.’
The ZARK was an all-action combat mode: a martial monster, bristling with polished spikes, lean and mean, armoured and dangerous.
‘So you see the problem,’ it said. ‘However, everything will be resolved. Perhaps I’ll go with Twat. Do you wish to pray to me before I kill you? As you’ll be kneeling, you might want to get a prayer or two going.’
‘We’d rather just stick around, if it’s all right,’ Jack said. ‘Then we could do a lot of praying and bowing down when you’re sworn in officially.’
‘I think that I’ll just kill you now,’ said PRIMROSE.
‘No, hold on,’ said Jack, ‘let’s not be hasty.’
‘There’s no haste involved, I assure you. I’m killing you at my leisure.’
‘No,’ said Jack. ‘You really don’t want to do that.’
‘I do. Really I do.’
‘But if you kill us, you’ll never find the Maguffin.’
‘The what?’
‘The Maguffin,’ said Jack. ‘The all-important something that’s all-importantness is not apparent until its moment has come.’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Of course you do. It’s about this big.’ Jack did mimings. ‘And this-shaped and sort of heavyish in a lighter way than you might expect.’
‘That?’ said PRIMROSE, or whatever PRIMROSE currently called itself. ‘You have that?’
‘Got it from the real Tinto,’ said Jack. ‘He said that one of the famous folk had left it behind after one of their meetings above his bar. I’ll bet you really want it, don’t you?’
‘Well, I …’
‘Go on,’ said Jack. ‘Admit it. It’s really important, isn’t it?’
‘Hand it over to me,’ said PRIMROSE. ‘Now!’
‘I don’t have it on me,’ said Jack. ‘Do you think I’d carry a valuable artefact like that around with me? What does it do, by the way?’
‘You think I’m going to tell you that?’
‘What harm can it do?’ Jack asked. ‘You’re going to kill us anyway.’
‘I’m getting déjà vu here,’ said PRIMROSE.
‘Look,’ said Jack, ‘I know that you think that you want to kill us because we’re such a nuisance. But you don’t want to really. You’re little less than a deity. And deities are noted for granting mercy and answering prayers and stuff like that. I know we’ve got on your nerves a bit and any ordinary mortal would probably want to kill us for that. But you’re not any ordinary mortal, are you? You’re special. You’re unique. You’re one of a kind. Special. You can make your own rules. Do whatever you want.’
‘I certainly can,’ said PRIMROSE.
‘So you could just send us on our way with a wave of your dextrous hand.’
‘I could, if I so chose to.’
‘Then go for it,’ said Jack. ‘Do what a God would do. Forgive and forget. That’s what a special God would do.’
‘Well,’ said PRIMROSE.
‘We’re beneath your notice,’ said Jack. ‘We’re nothing. Tatty old bear and young gormster. Nothing to one as special as you.’
‘You’re certainly that. And I’m certainly special.’
‘So there you go,’ said Jack. ‘That’s omnipotence for you. It’s a done deal.’
‘It is,’ Eddie agreed. ‘Bravo, special guy.’ Eddie offered a thumbless thumbs-up to PRIMROSE.
‘All right,’ said PRIMROSE. ‘I will be merciful. Give me the Maguffin. And you can go.’
‘Certainly,’ said Jack. ‘Absolutely. As soon as Eddie and I and all the famous folk are set free, I will go at once and fetch it for you.’
There was a bit of a pause then.
‘Famous folk set free?’ said PRIMROSE, slowly and thoughtfully.
Ed
And Jack looked down at Eddie.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,’ said PRIMROSE.
‘Poor choice of words there,’ whispered Eddie. ‘And you were doing so well until then.’
‘Oh dear,’ said PRIMROSE. ‘And there was I almost believing you. But set free? You think that I have them captured and locked up. You’re just the same as this stupid bear. You think I’m the evil twin.’
‘No,’ said Jack. ‘Honestly I don’t. And I mean what I say, I honestly don’t.’ Jack tried to make an honest face, but couldn’t.
‘Give me the Maguffin, and give it to me now.’
‘I told you, I don’t have it.’
‘Then to be certain, I’ll search you. Search your body, that is.’ The martial monster rolled towards Jack upon grinding tank tracks. A steel claw extended from its chest regions and snatched the lad by the throat, hauling him from his feet and dragging him up the cold stone passageway wall.
‘Die,’ said Battle Mode PRIMROSE.
Jack fought and struggled, but the steel claw tightened about his throat. Jack’s eyes started from his head and his tongue stuck from his mouth. Being choked to death really hurt. It was no fun at all. Jack struck with his fists and kicked with his feet, but it was all to no avail. The breath was going from him now. The big black darkness was closing in.
And then there was a bit of an explosion. Which lit up the big black darkness.
It came right out of the blue. Or the black. Unexpectedly. The way that most explosions do. This one was a real eardrum-splitter, coming as it did within the confines of a passageway – even a passageway that branched off into other passageways. This explosion really rocked. It was a veritable deafener.
The head of the Martial PRIMROSE turned away from Jack. The head of the Martial PRIMROSE had a dent in its left cheek.
Jack, whose popping eyes had all but dropped from his head, felt the grip around his throat loosen and fell to the passageway floor, coughing and gagging for air.
He saw the head of the Martial PRIMROSE turn somewhat more. And then he saw it take another violent hit.
The second explosion, a double deafener, had Jack covering his ears, and had him glancing with watery blinking eyes towards Eddie.
The bear had the 7.62 mm M134 General Clockwork Mini-gun raised.
‘Run, Jack,’ shouted Eddie, pulling the trigger once again. ‘Run like a rabbit, go on.’
‘No, Eddie, no.’
‘No?’ said the bear.
‘No, I mean, keep firing.’
‘But.’
‘Don’t but me, Eddie. Shoot him some more. Shoot him until he’s dead.’
‘Right,’ said Eddie, ‘now you’re talking.’ He pulled the trigger and another shell hit home.
Martial PRIMROSE rocked upon its tracks. It was armoured, it was tough; inner mechanisms clicked and clacked, shutters opened, gunnery extended. This gunnery levelled at Eddie.
Jack rolled over, snatched the gun from Eddie’s paws and came up firing. ‘Retreat!’ he shouted.
‘But you said.’
‘I know what I said, Eddie. But now I’m saying retreat. Just run.’
‘Like a rabbit?’
‘Like a rabbit. Run!’
Jack snatched up Eddie and tucked him under his arm.
‘I’ll do the running,’ said Jack.
And he ran.
28
Jack ran like a rabbit, with Eddie tucked under his arm, along a tiled passageway and onwards, ever onwards.
Something whistled from behind, passed near to his ducking head, and exploded some distance before him.
‘Discouraging, that,’ remarked Eddie. ‘Somewhat superior fire-power. And our gun only made a few small dents. Any thoughts on this, Jack?’
Jack huffed and puffed and had no thoughts that he wished to convey at present. His long limbs carried him and Eddie back onto the factory floor.
‘I’m sure we’re not really lost,’ said Eddie as he jiggled about under Jack’s arm. ‘I’ll just get my bearings. Bearings, geddit?’ Eddie giggled foolishly. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘nerves.’
‘Please be quiet.’ Jack ducked this way and the next and took cover behind a big brass pumping piston. ‘I don’t think he’ll take pot-shots at us out here.’ Jack raised his head and did furtive peepings. ‘He won’t want to risk damaging any of his demonic machinery.’
The armoured being in full combat mode, no longer on its tank tracks, but now on sturdy steely legs, moved purposefully along between the clattering conveyor belts, a most determined expression upon its latest metal face. Its head swung to the right and left, telescopic vision focused and refocused; tiny brass ear-trumpets extending from the sides of its head picked up each and every sound, deciphered and unscrambled them within the clockwork cranial cortex, sorting the mechanical from the organic …
And homed in upon Jack’s breathing.
The armoured being ceased its marching; hinged flaps upon its shoulders raised, tiny rocket launchers rose and fired two tiny rockets.
These struck home quite close to Jack, causing him and Eddie great distress.
‘So much for your theory about not wanting to fire his guns out here,’ whispered Eddie. ‘Shall we run some more?’
‘I think it would be for the best.’ Jack ducked some more and, hauling Eddie after him, he ran. ‘Which way?’ Jack asked as he reached a place where many possibilities existed.
‘That way,’ said Eddie, pointing.
‘Do you know it’s that way?’
Eddie shrugged beneath Jack’s arm. ‘Ursine intuition?’ he suggested.
‘Fair enough.’ Jack ran in the direction of Eddie’s choice.
Presently they found themselves in a dead-end situation. To the right and left of them high conveyor belts clattered; before them was a wall of riveted steel and behind them strolled the armoured maniac.
Difficult.
‘Shoot him, Jack,’ urged Eddie.
‘I think we already tried that.’
‘He might have a weak spot. Shoot him in the goolies.’
‘I don’t think he has any goolies.’
‘Shut up! Be silent! Cease to speak!’
Jack and Eddie shut their mouths, fell silent and ceased to speak.
‘Stupid,’ said the armoured one. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid. You shot at me. You tried to kill me.’
‘But,’ said Eddie.
‘Shut up! You shot at me. The saviour of Toy City. Me!’
‘Who’s speaking?’ Jack asked.
‘I told you to shut up. And put that ridiculous gun down.’
Jack dropped the 7.62 mm M134 General Clockwork Mini-gun. ‘We give up,’ he said.
‘Of course you give up.’ Cogs whirly-whirled, metal plates inter-locked, armoured bits and bobs shifted and jigsaw-locked. ‘You’re dead; of course you give up.’
‘That’s not what I mean,’ said Jack. ‘I mean that Eddie and I really give up. We’ll tell you everything you need to know. About the Maguffin. Everything. Well, obviously we won’t tell you. But we’ll tell the real you, if you know what I mean.’
‘What do you mean?’ The metallic monster drew nearer to Jack. Its chest rose and fell, expanding and contracting its shining coppery links.
‘I mean I’ll tell everything to your leader. To the one in charge.’
‘I am in charge. I am PRIMROSE.’
‘No,’ said Jack. ‘PRIMROSE is not in charge. You weren’t telling us the truth. I’ll tell everything to the one in charge. The real you. I know who you really are. I know your real name.’
‘You know his real name?’ Eddie made a puzzled face.
‘You’re going to kill us anyway,’ said Jack. ‘What harm can it do?’
‘Not that again.’
‘But what harm can it do?’
‘None. No harm at all.’ The being took a step back. Steel shutters fell over the telescopically visual eye attachments. The ear trumpets slid back into the h
A man of less than average height, with the large face and slender body of the potentially famous, now stood before them. He had a high forehead, deeply set eyes, a narrow nose and a bitter little mouth. He wore a rather splendid three-piece green tweed suit with a golden watch chain and a red silk cravat unknotted over the winged collar of a starched white shirt. He bore more than a strong resemblance to the toymaker.
‘Mr Sredna, I presume,’ said Jack. ‘Sredna Sredna.’
‘So you really do know my name,’ said Mr Sredna.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ said Jack. ‘At last, and face to face.’
‘I would shake your hand,’ said Mr Sredna, ‘but it is not to my choosing. How is it that you know my name?’
‘Because I work for your company: the Sredna Corporation. We have a code 15 situation in New York.’
‘A code 15?’ said Mr Sredna.
‘New York?’ said Eddie.
‘My name is Jon Kelly,’ said Jack. ‘Codename Jack, deep cover operative for the Sredna Corporation, offices in New York, London and Tokyo. I could not divulge my true identity earlier, because I was not certain that I was speaking to you. I’m certain now. I’ve very pleased to meet you, sir.’
‘And I you, my boy.’ Mr Sredna stepped forward and warmly shook Jack by the hand. ‘Jon Kelly. I know you by reputation. A corporation man, who works only for the corporation. I am very pleased to meet you too.’
‘What?’ went Eddie. ‘What is going on here? Jack?’
‘Jon,’ said Jon. ‘Jon Kelly. I’m sorry I had to deceive you, Eddie. But business is business; I’m sure you understand.’
‘I’m sure I don’t,’ said Eddie.
‘Well, it’s neither here nor there. Is there somewhere we can talk, Mr Sredna? Away from all this noise?’
‘Jack?’ Eddie shook his head. ‘I don’t understand any of this.’
‘I’ll just kill this stupid bear before we talk.’ Mr Sredna glared at Eddie.
‘Not worth the trouble,’ said Jon. ‘Let him come with us. He amuses me.’
‘What?’ went Eddie. ‘What? What? What?’
At length they were no longer in the factory. They were high above it, in an elegantly appointed office several storeys up in the East Wing of the chocolate factory building.