TAKING THE PLUNGE (Final Instalment)

Written by Ann Farmer

~~~   ***   ~~~

Here’s yesterday’s instalment. All will be revealed in today’s final instalment – read on …

~~~   ***   ~~~

London, speaking to Moonbeam, continues: ‘Someone told me – no, not the Caretaker – about how things should be. It was Oxford,’ he added, ‘but he said too much – he disappeared, him and Manchester, like all the others. But before that happened, he whispered these things to me when we met on our exercise breaks – he said he’d heard them from someone else, someone who was no longer around. I wasn’t sure at first – I didn’t know if he was simply going mad, imagining all the things he was telling me. Perhaps I am too. But if I am,’ he said resolutely, ‘I’d rather be alive and mad, than dead of despair!’

She gazed at him, her blue eyes shining. ‘Would you?’ He nodded. ‘Then so would I!’

‘Will you come with me?’ 

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know – but I’ll think of something – somewhere – if only you’ll come with me!’

Neither of them heard the door open, but at that moment, seemingly out of nowhere, the Caretaker appeared. ‘So,’ he said sardonically. ‘A suicide pact?’

‘Call it a joint escape committee,’ London said coolly. It was a gamble, but somehow he knew the Caretaker would not betray them – not yet, anyway. His pride would compel him to try to persuade them to drink from the cup of despair so cunningly disguised as logical thinking. 

And yet, when he spoke again, the Caretaker sounded almost humble. ‘I’m still willing to help you – it’s the least I can do.’

‘You can say that again,’ London said sarcastically. ‘But since you seem to know everything, before we go, you can answer me one question. Oxford told me that there was a God. Not just a swear word – but a real person. Well?’

The Caretaker relaxed visibly. ‘That’s an easy one. It’s a well-known fact that “God”, as you call him, is – or I should say, was – merely a human construct; a myth invented to keep the workers under the heel of their oppressors.’

‘Funny,’ London replied. ‘That sounds pretty much like all the myths invented by the unrepresentative Representatives and the Eternal Guardians to keep the workers under their control.’ The Caretaker shrugged, and London nodded, satisfied. ‘I’d rather believe in a God of hope than in your counsel of despair. What do you say to that?’

The Caretaker shrugged again, but there was a look of cunning in his eyes. ‘What do I have to say? Nothing at all.’    

‘Just as I thought,’ London smiled grimly. ‘You are His fallen angel, tempting people to their doom – Lucifer, the Devil, Satan –’ 

His adversary smirked, and London knew he had scored a hit. ‘I prefer to call myself the Caretaker.’

‘Call yourself whatever you like – without God, you’d have no existence at all!’ He pressed his advantage.  ‘But perhaps I over-promoted you – perhaps you’re not the Devil, but the Devil’s gopher – his underling, his factotum, his stooge – tasked with tempting depressed and lonely souls to Hell. But I suspect that Down Below, they don’t appreciate your valuable work – when it’s blindingly obvious that you could run the outfit so much better!’

The Caretaker attempted a smile but only managed a scowl, his eyes betraying suppressed fury and something even more telling – devilish pride. Then he vanished – but not before London had seen the flames of Hell in his eyes. 

Moonbeam looked terrified, but London took her hand. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. ‘Having told us everything – all the stuff that nobody else could know – he had nothing to say, because if he’d affirmed God’s existence it would have offered us hope. So he denied God’s existence; but in so doing he denied himself. His existence depends on God; if God’s enemy exists, then God must exist. That’s why he refused to answer my question.’

‘Then that is the answer,’ Moonbeam said. ‘But, London – will he betray us?’ 

‘I very much doubt it. His disappearing act could be a trick, of course – but we must take a gamble on it. Moonbeam, we must get out – if we don’t, we’ll end up as spies – as betrayers. That’s the way it will be until this rotten system is torn down.’

‘But we can’t do that – just the two of us,’ she frowned.

 ‘Maybe not – but maybe our children will. Come on – let’s go!’

‘But where?’ she asked, bewildered. ‘If we try to go out – it’s not just all the form-filling – they track and trace everyone who tries it – they’ll never let us go!’

‘We are going out,’ he insisted, grabbing her hand. ‘But we’re going down the chute!’

‘The chute? But it goes straight down to the incinerator! He told us –’

‘Not that one!’ London smiled. ‘I noticed he wasn’t keen on me getting too close to the recycling chute, so there must be a reason. Of course,’ he added, ‘it could be a double bluff, but he really wanted us to commit suicide, so I think he was telling the truth about it. And that’s why he was so honest about what’s going on in this place – he tries to stoke everyone’s sense of grievance and despair without giving any hope of change. And he tried to convince me that there was no way out apart from his “final exit”. That’s why I figure the recycling chute is the real “way out”.’ 

‘I suppose even the Devil can tell the truth if he thinks it might lead to our destruction,’ she mused. ‘When he told me about love, he was trying to tempt me to despair, but instead he gave me hope. All we ever hear about is hate, but as you said, how can there be hate without love?’

London grinned. ‘Too right! And Oxford told me – he said, “The truth will set you free.”  Whatever happens, we’ll never be slaves again.’

‘But what about Oxford – and Manchester? Surely they wouldn’t have gone down that rubbish chute?’

‘Not willingly, you can be sure of that. But maybe they figured out the real exit, and took it.’

‘I do hope so – but if that’s the case, the Caretaker won’t be happy about it. Are you quite sure we won’t meet him again?’

‘Look,’ he said, ‘after giving us hope instead of instilling despair – after actually increasing our faith – he’ll be demoted! They’ll get him stoking the fires of Hell – let’s face it,’ he added grimly, ‘he’s had plenty of practice. His pride has taken a knock, and humility doesn’t come naturally to him. But he needn’t worry us anymore – this is the first day of the rest of our lives. Are you ready to take the plunge?’

She put her hand in his. That was the answer.

THE END