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![](/staticarchive/317496a096d6c86486a71d4521994bcd171a6bb3.gif) Little
Brother Part 3 by
Chris Hanson
If
you've seen The Truman Show, you'll recognise some of the ideas
on which Chris Hanson draws in this clever parody, which she originally
contributed to the Fantasy Archers topic of The Archers . But even if you haven't seen the film, there's much to enjoy
in this dark tale of fantasy and reality.
Read
the story from the beginning
Chris Carter was going to pastures new if it killed him. If They tried
to stop him, They would have to confront him. If he met a fire this time,
he would find a way round it. He decided to leave at night. He knew that
night vision cameras existed, but he did not know how sophisticated They
were. Anyway, didn't They need sleep too? There was probably only one
of Them on watch, and so some of Them would have to be woken up from their
cosy beds. Maximum inconvenience, that was the aim.
He
slipped out of the house after midnight, collected his bike, and set off
for Borchester. He had never cycled so far before, he was not sure how
long it would take. However, determination overcame his tired leg muscles,
and eventually he arrived. Now, he had to find Meadow Rise. His knowledge
of Borchester was limited, so it was more by luck than anything else that
he arrived at the block of flats. He met nobody on the way, and saw nobody
about at all. Surveying the flats and their dismal surroundings, he could
see why the Grundys had hated Meadow Rise so much, especially old Joe,
who had gone a bit mad according to Ed.
Chris
searched around outside the block. Ah, there it was - Jazzer's brother's
motor bike. Chris had considered carefully whether borrowing Jazzer's
brother's bike was a good idea or not, as Ed usually referred to him as
"Jazzer's mental brother". On balance, he had decided it was
better to borrow a bike from someone he knew than steal one from a stranger.
He didn't want to end up like his Uncle Clive, in and out of prison. Chris
hung on to this thought, and tried not to think of Jazzer's mental brother's
reaction when he discovered his precious bike was missing. Chris convinced
himself that anyway, he would have returned the bike before its absence
was noticed - or worse, They would have got him, and the borrowed bike
would be the least of his problems.
Chris
started the bike, and rode off, hoping that nobody in Jazzer's flat would
be woken by the noise. Which direction to go? He considered as he headed
for the edge of town. Felpersham? He knew people who had been there. Did
that prove it existed? Or should he head for Birmingham? Eventually, he
decided that he would indeed try to get to Birmingham. Last time, They
had been very keen to stop him, so he would defy Them, and go there. He
followed the signs pointing towards the motorway. There was no traffic
on the roads at all, either in Borchester or when he reached the surrounding
countryside.
***
The
ringing of a phone awoke Kay from a deep sleep. He spoke into the receiver
in the slurred voice of the half awake. The news related to him jolted
him into full consciousness. He barked out an order, leapt to his feet,
and began to dress. His wife sleepily asked what was going on, and he
reassured her, although he felt anything but reassured himself. His words
did the trick, though, and he could tell by her breathing that she was
asleep before he left the room.
When
Kay arrived at the Pebble Mill control room, his staff made way for him,
and hovered around uncertainly as he sat in the chair that resembled that
of the captain of the starship Enterprise. He looked at the viewscreen,
and watched the boy on the motor bike heading along the dark road. There
were no street lights, and Chris had been right: they were using night
vision cameras that picked up infra-red radiation. Chris's body heat showed
up as a bright image on the monochrome screen.
"Where
is he going?" - more to himself than anyone else, expecting no reply.
"Has he guessed?" - this time, he looked at the others.
"Yes, we think so."
"We caught an infiltrator. She managed to tell him enough to awaken
his curiosity. After the lampÂ…"
"Infiltrator?" Kay's eyebrows almost disappeared into the beret
he always wore. "Why wasn't I told?"
"We didn't realise until yesterday. We've just been rewatching all
the tapes since the lamp incident. It was Sonja. We asked Helen, but she
said she wasn't near enough to hear what was said, but she thought Sonja
was acting a bit strange at the time. We tried to find Sonja to interrogate
her, but she's disappeared. Her agent says she's not been in touch with
him at all, and doesn't return any of his calls."
Kay frowned. He continued to watch Chris's night ride, his chin resting
on his hand.
***
The
insomniac cyber fans of The Brother Christophe Show were enthralled. In
thousands of homes and workplaces, they watched Christophe's break for
freedom. Their collective wills urged him onwards, onwards. The message
board was full of hope and prayers.
***
Kay
reached a decision. There was only one way to stop Chris from reaching
the limits of Borsetshire. He turned to Weather Control. "Make
a storm," he said. The operator flicked a few switches, and on the
screen the sky clouded over, and the wind began to blow. The clouds continued
to form, and heavy drops of rain fell with increasing speed. The wind
started to howl, bending the trees over the hedges as they lashed back
and forth.
***
Chris
was soaked to the skin. He had no special biker clothes, and it had been
a warm night when he left home. He could hardly see in front of him to
steer along the country road, his eyes were screwed up tightly against
the driving rain. The surface was dangerously greasy, and he could feel
the bike sliding under him. It was all he could do to hold it upright,
his feet slipping on the footrest without proper grips on his soles.
Chris
was no philosopher, but had he been able to articulate the thought, he
would have said the gods were conspiring against him.
He
would not however have guessed the nature of the gods.
***
"Make
it a hurricane," instructed Kay. The staff looked at him in horror.
One queried the order, but a look from Kay silenced her. He gave Weather
Control a meaningful stare, and the operator reluctantly turned up the
wind and rain levels.
All
the staff watched the screen in horrified fascination.
***
The
wind was so strong now that Chris could not possibly hold the bike on
the road. He veered off to the right, and as the wheels met the grass
verge, he skidded, slewed round, and the rear of the bike hit the wall
bordering the adjacent field. Chris was thrown from the bike. He landed
awkwardly. He lay, unmoving, while the rain sluiced down on him as if
he were under a great waterfall.
***
The
control room staff dared to look at Kay. He was staring at the screen.
It was impossible to read his expression. Then one of them whispered what
they were all thinking, "Is he dead?"
Nobody answered.
The sudden ringing of the phone made them all jump. A woman picked it
up. "It's for you, Kay. It's Dickon."
"Dickon, this isn't a very convenient moment."
"Kay, what are you doing up there? The system is grinding to a halt.
So many people are accessing the website that we can't cope. We may have
to close the system down. I can't access it myself now, I keep getting
timed out, but the last time I was able to look, I could see Chris was
in serious trouble. It's the most exciting thing that's ever happened
to him, the viewers can't get enough.
"Look, Kay, you must get him out of it and get back to boring. Otherwise
the whole company site will go offline - and there's no point in having
exciting events if nobody can see them, is there?"
Kay
realised the wisdom of this last remark, but what could he do now?
Then he realised that if Chris were unconscious, or even dead, very little
would be happening anyway, plus if he made the picture as unclear as possibleÂ…
He gave Weather Control his instructions. The hurricane died away remarkably
quickly, and fog crept slowly over the screen. Excellent! It was only
possible to make out the figure of Chris lying in the road if one knew
precisely where to look. The viewers would soon get bored and go back
to more titillating fare. Yes, they would keep checking on him, but they
would not watch him continuously.
Read
the final part - with twist after twist
More parodies - from Agatha Christie
to Damon Runyon
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