March: A Tale of Salmon and Swedes (The Glothic Tales Book 4) Page 5

  March clicked on the last reference and carefully watched the instructional video, before returning to the bathroom and then successfully getting hot water to run into the bath. With the assistance of THE, March solved a number of other bathroom mysteries, including how to operate the bath plug, use towels, how to flush a toilet and how to make a hairdryer work. However, a much bigger dilemma awaited him after his bath. When he opened his wardrobe, he gasped in shock.

  *****

  March found Trys in the kitchen, making supper.

  ‘Oh, you look much more presentable,’ she said, when she saw him walk in.

  ‘These feel like something that should contain potatoes.’

  ‘Jeans are fashionable casual wear here,’ she replied, and March noticed that without her beanie, her hair was long and silver, and that she looked a little younger than when he first set eyes on her in the park.

  ‘They are rather uncomfortable.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll adapt to the little changes on Earth. Anyway, can you take this tray through to the dining room and I’ll bring the tea.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  When they sat down at the dining table, Trys poured the tea. ‘Help yourself; you must be hungry after your long journey. So, how is your father?’

  ‘Um, he’s fine,’ March said, and took a bite of his sandwich.

  ‘He’s a fine man and has become a very wise Supreme Potentate, and he always sends me a kind message every time I submit my reports. He’s a stickler for detail, and politeness. You look very much like your father too.’

  ‘Our genes,’ he managed, with his mouth full.

  ‘Well, I’m looking forward to getting home to Gloth in a couple of years. I could have returned a few years ago, but I don’t know, I quite like it here and it’s a good job, so no need to rush into retirement just yet.’

  ‘Do you miss Gloth?’

  ‘Sometimes I suppose, but I have enough here to keep me busy. Perhaps I miss the colours. One can have quite enough of blue skies, seas, oceans and rivers after a while, although here in London, a blue sky is a rarity. Grey is the most common colour here, so yes, I have to admit that I do miss our lovely magenta skies on Gloth.

  Anyway, enough about all that. You’re here to do some work, and I’m told that salmon and caviar are on the top of your list.’

  ‘Precious metals, technology and arms are on my list too. But after my experience in getting here, I think having polar gates or entry ports installed in the force field wouldn’t be a bad idea. However, my father doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, as he is still of the mind that the Erdean gene should be kept totally quarantined.’

  ‘Perhaps you need a little time to understand his concern, as I’m sure you will be in for a few surprises here, especially during the next couple of weeks. When I first arrived, I thought people here were absolute savages, but I have tempered my opinion, well, a little over the years.’

  ‘So what’s your opinion of them now?’

  ‘Confused mostly, because they are so easily convinced by convenient lies and manipulated history, yet awfully reluctant to be persuaded by truth. They seem much more content with fantasy than fact, and have a value system that would be totally foreign to those who live in the rest of the Twelve Sun Systems. I believe it stems from their enforced isolation by Gloth, so I can’t be too harsh on them for not understanding what they don’t know about.’

  ‘My father tried to explain to me about their value of pieces of paper, but I didn’t understand. I did a little research before my departure, but there was little mention of it in THE.’

  ‘Oh THE! Is The History of Earth still available? I used to send updates for it, but let me think now; it must be over twenty years since I sent my last one. Yes, now I recall. It was an update about a pretty little princess here, who had the misfortune to die quite young. It was such a tragedy, and the end of a lovely fairy tale story. Well, anyway, shortly after that, I received a message from the editor saying that due to a lack of readership, and any interest in Earth, that it would only be updated on a fifty-year cycle. A pity though, because I quite liked writing those little updates.’

  ‘These are lovely sandwiches. What are they?’

  ‘Cucumber.’

  ‘They’re nice. Um, have you ever heard of Abba?’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  *****

  Oxford Street was, as it always is on a Saturday morning – full of throngs of shoppers filling the sidewalks on either side of the road. March struggled against the oncoming, and passing crowds, while at the same time trying to guide his umbrella between, over and under the oncoming, and passing umbrellas that hindered his progress. As he had never experienced anything that resembled a crowd on Gloth, nor used such an odd tool as an umbrella, it was quite a first morning welcome to Earth reality for him. He tried to copy Trys, as she seemed to meld herself, and her umbrella, into, and between the crowds of scurrying people and hardly missed her step as she floated between the crush of never ending bodies, and brollies.

  ‘We can stop for a coffee and cake if you like.’

  ‘Um, yes, ok,’ he replied, happy to grasp the opportunity of a respite from the freezing cold rain and torrential crowds.

  Even though Trys had told him, over their light breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, pork sausages, black pudding and baked beans that Nike runners, Levi’s 501, a Lacoste rugby shirt and a leather jacket from Milan were seen as extremely fashionable in London, March still felt very uncomfortable and underdressed, as he followed her into Starbucks. He suffered pangs for the civility of Gloth as Trys readied to order at a crowded counter after having joined a long queue. The concept of waiting in line to be served was totally foreign and insulting to him, yet he held his tongue.

  He watched with intense interest though, as in turn, the people in the queue in front of them exchanged small pieces of coloured paper for their coffees and assorted cakes and treats and then very oddly, the young woman, who had taken their pieces of coloured paper from them, in exchange for the coffee he presumed, then handed them an assortment of small round shiny pieces of metal. March was very confused by this, as in his thinking, the small pieces of gold and silver metal looked extremely precious, and clearly of much greater value than either the pieces of paper or the coffee and cakes.

  As he was trying to calculate the logic of this repeated process, he then noticed a man handing the young woman a thin rectangular piece of silver plastic, which she inserted into a small device, and then gave the man his coffee, and handed back his plastic card. She smiled at him, and said thank you, but she didn’t give him any gold and silver. He was about to ask Trys about this mystery, but they were now at the counter, and Trys asked the young woman for two cappuccinos.

  ‘Is a cappuccino ok with you?’ she asked him, almost as an afterthought.

  ‘Um, yes, fine,’ March replied without thinking, or knowing what a cappuccino was, as he was far more interested in watching Trys take a coloured piece of paper from her purse, and hand it to the young woman.

  ‘That’ll be five pounds sixty, please,’ the young woman said, and Trys handed over her piece of coloured paper. The young woman then handed Trys some pieces of shining metal and said, ‘here’s your change, now I’ll just get your cappuccinos.’

  ‘Can I see them?’

  ‘See what?’ Trys asked, a little confused by his question.

  ‘The pieces of precious metal.’

  ‘Um, ok,’ she said, as she handed them to him, and March studied them in his hand with great interest. They indeed felt very precious.

  After circling for an age, carrying their cardboard coffees, and with March still intently studying the pieces of gold, silver and brass in the palm of his hand, some people finally vacated a table, and Trys shoved her way in front of a couple, who apparently weren’t as practised as she was at table snatching.

  As they sat, March asked, ‘what are they called?’

  ‘Money, um, well they’re c
oins. Money consists of notes and coins.’

  ‘Notes?’

  ‘Notes are made of paper, and coins from metal.’

  ‘Ah, right, so the coloured pieces of paper are called notes. But these coins are more valuable, aren’t they?’ he asked, as he opened his hand, showing them to Trys.

  ‘No, the paper is worth more.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. These are made from precious metals, so they have real value. Paper is worthless.’

  ‘You have a lot to learn about…..’ Trys started to say, and was going to explain the time value of Earth money, but a dispute broke out at the table next to them, as two women and a man argued over who had arrived first at the recently vacated table.

  ‘Is it always like this?’

  ‘What, fighting for a table?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I mean, the crowds of people. Do they always congregate in huge packs?’

  ‘In London, yes. There’s not enough room for everyone, so it’s always a little bit of a fight to find your place. But there are quieter places.’

  ‘I think I would prefer the quieter places, to be honest.’

  ‘I do too.’

  ‘So, why do you stay?’

  ‘Because this is where I can stay in contact with the Camera Stellata.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘It’s complicated, but as I’m sure you know, Earth doesn’t have a leader, or even a planetary council or government.’

  ‘No, I didn’t know that. I did read about a body called the United Nations, and had presumed that was the planetary governing body.’

  ‘Oh the UN as it’s called, is a rabble. It only meets with the aim to try to stop wars, but usually ends up only starting them – so they can then proudly stop them. It’s hilarious to watch.’

  ‘So how can Earth possibly control itself?’

  ‘It does and it doesn’t. Welcome to chaos,’ she said, with a wry grin. ‘There are I think, at last count, around one hundred and sixty countries on Earth, some big, but mostly small, which each have their own independent government. They usually hate each other with a passion, both within each country and without, argue a lot and generally don’t get along at all well together. Conflicts break out, but the sides and allegiances change like the wind, so it all gets very confusing as to who is whose friend or enemy at any given point in time.’

  ‘That’s an impossibility.’

  ‘Not here, it isn’t. It’s the reality. But fortunately, there’s the Camera Stellata, which is sometimes called the Star Chamber.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘It’s a bit like a gathering of twelve Supreme Potentates, who meet every three months or so to try to bring some order to the chaos. They are all descendants of the Glothic royal family members, who were resettled here by Septimity because they were of mixed Erdean and Glothic genetics, and in particular, from January and her son April, who was of course, in line to become Supreme Potentate. Unfortunately for him, as we know, that was not to be. However, each member of the Camera Stellata is definitely of Glothic royal blood, as they all descend from the Glothic royal family, well, all via Pope Gregory, or December the Tenth as you may know him, and his Erdean gene that is.

  Anyway, through their connections, and wealth, they act as a loose form of control over the entire planet. Somehow, they get things done, when things need doing.’

  ‘So they command respect.’

  ‘No, not at all, as no one knows about them, or that they even exist. Well, except for a very few people.’

  ‘You, and?’

  ‘And a very select handful of presidents and CEOs of some of the biggest multinational corporations on Earth, but no political leaders of any countries. Well, except one politician who is not exactly a leader, but we’ll talk about him later, as he is my contact here in London.’

  ‘Then these are the people I need to talk to about precious metals, salmon and caviar exports, and arranging arms imports from Gloth.’

  ‘Perhaps, but all in good time, March. I think you need more than your few short hours on Earth to understand the complexities of doing business here.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, a little dejected at her rebuke. He sipped his coffee, which tasted too sweet for his liking, and reached into his jacket pocket for his THE. He tapped, Camera Stellata.

  No entries found.

  Then he tried, Star Chamber.

  No entries found.

  He then entered, money, and a long text explaining the monetary value system on Earth appeared on his screen.

  Money is a totally valueless commodity, which is nevertheless and strangely; insanely treasured by people who inhabit the planet Earth. They collect it with zeal and hoard it away in vast quantities: either under a mattress, or for those who worry a lot, in banks. Vast piles of the paper variety of money are stacked high in banks, which are considered among the most secure places on Earth. This habit is at odds with logic, as the paper is in fact absolutely worthless, until exchanged for goods or services. However, the only way to collect money is to provide goods or services. Wealth managers on Gloth have studied this system for many years, but cannot yet provide a logical explanation as to how it functions. They believe however, that the concept of using paper currency developed from Earth’s complete isolation from Gloth and its financial system, and therefore, had no knowledge of the EdErg Wealth Exchange. Due to this…..

  ‘Is that a new Apple, mate?’ a man’s voice over March’s shoulder asked, and quite startled him.

  ‘Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t order any fruit with my coffee.’

  *****

  The EdErg Wealth Exchange is used throughout the Twelve Sun Systems of Gloth, apart from Earth that is, to complete financial transfers, transactions and credits between individuals, governing bodies, financial institutions and businesses. It goes without saying that the EdErg Wealth Exchange is a wholly owned subsidiary of the Glothic royal family, and therefore is one of their prime sources of wealth enhancement.

  It operates on a simple basis in that value is measured by units of time, and these units have a floating exchange rate. Fluctuations in daily exchange rates are based on economic factors such as an individual planet’s gross domestic production and credit rating as well as the length of its year.

  Under this system, all products and services are valued in denominations of Seconds, Minutes, Hours, Weeks, Months and Years. For multi-stellar corporation or government transactions, the Decade and Century denominations are often used. Transactions are made electronically via a Q’muniktor to ensure security, as well as fail-safe auditing. Every transaction though, is subject to a small fee, which while quite negligible, provides a never-ending stream of infinite income for Gloth and therefore, for the Gregorian royal family.

  The EdErg index value is often reported in Glothic media by using the simplistically based Curdll meter. The Curdll is a warm afternoon drink popular in cafés on most planets, and at last report it had a mean value of twenty-two Minutes. Another more upmarket index uses a glass of Fozzoxly as its unit measure, which comes in at a value of eleven Years, four Months and two Weeks. Give or take a few Days.

  In the days of salmon trade with Erde, before it was obliterated by its own inattentiveness to massive, rotting piles of thousands upon thousands of nuclear warheads, the Erdean dollar exchanged at around four EdErg Minutes. Before it destroyed itself, Erde sold a decent sized salmon to the Glothic Salmon Conglomerate for around ten Erdean dollars, or forty Minutes. On Gloth, the same salmon wholesaled at well over twenty-five Hours. This was the reason March had been sent to Earth. There were Decades, if not Centuries of profit to be made on Earth from salmon alone.

  The only minor complication was that unlike Erde, there was no single base unit of currency on Earth, as each county had its own monetary system. But this was a problem for another day, as March had a lot of fish to fry before he could begin to think about salmon exports and settlement terms.

  *****

  The rain had cleared
, and bright sunshine accompanied March and Tryskolia as they walked the streets of London following their coffee, and after an hour or more, and a quick wander through Hyde Park, they were back at the entry to Tryskolia’s apartment in time for lunch. March’s questions had lessened the further they had walked, and in their place were long silences, dotted with his occasional involuntary humming of choruses from Waterloo and Chiquitita.

  ‘I should give these back to you,’ he said, as they waited for the elevator.

  ‘No need, you can keep them, and oh, that reminds me. I have to give you your entitlement and your diplomatic passport,’ she said, as she saw the coins he was still clutching in his hand. March looked bemused. ‘Money. You’ll need a lot of it while you’re here, and the passport will keep you out of trouble – if you get into trouble.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Everything here costs money; so you will need a lot of it to buy the things you need and want. And the passport is a small book with all your details. Well, your fake earthy details that is, but it will prove that you are a diplomat from Lithuania and therefore protected by diplomatic immunity. Should you have any problem at all, you only need to show it, and…’

  ‘Oh, like our visiting diplomats from the Twelve Sun Systems to Gloth – they get away with anything!’

  ‘Exactly. They can park their car anywhere, get drunk in a restaurant and upend all the tables, insult a police officer and even run up huge debts, all without fear of any repercussions.’

  ‘Very useful.’

  ‘Oh, indeed.’

  ‘Um, can I ask you something?’ he asked, as the elevator took an age to arrive.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Do you think anyone in this Camera Stellata knows about Abba?’

  ‘I’m sure they all do.’

  ‘That’s very good, then.’

  ‘Why?’ Trys asked, as the elevator finally arrived and the doors opened.

  ‘I’m not sure yet. The days are very long here, aren’t they?’