March: A Tale of Salmon and Swedes (The Glothic Tales Book 4) Read online

  ‘And in impeccable alphabetical order,’ March said, looking up from tapping away on the iPad, but amazed at her memory.

  ‘So, would you like to visit the Dodecahedron?’

  ‘Yes of course I would ….. but hold on. If no one other than Mr. Prescott-Jones and his two fellow office bearers know about Gloth, how is the Dodecahedron’s existence understood by these people, at the, what was it again, the Vatican?’

  ‘The Vatican, along with the Pope is a very mysterious and secretive religious order. Although outwardly, their Catholic message makes for a very popular religion for millions upon millions of people on Earth, under the surface of their organisation lies deep, long kept secrets and mysterious traditions, which all bar a select few people know about. Even given what the Camera Stellata thinks, my gut feeling is that there are those within the Vatican who know about a connection to what they would probably refer to as a heavenly reality, but which is Gloth of course. Only a few perhaps, but I think the fact of the connection between Pope Gregory and Gloth is far too important to have been lost over time by the Vatican. As Mr. Prescott-Jones said himself, it was those of Glothic royal blood, like his forefathers, who created Rome in deference to Rom, the birthplace of Pope Gregory. That they created a replica of the Dodecahedron confirms logically in my mind that Gloth is indeed known to at least a select few, including the Pope of course, at the Vatican.’

  ‘So Gloth is not such a big secret after all?’

  ‘Well perha….’ Trys started to say, but was interrupted by the iPad in March’s hands suddenly bursting loudly into song.

  You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life

  See that girl, watch that scene, digging the Dancing Queen

  Friday night and the lights are low

  Looking out for the place to go…

  ‘Sorry, but how do I turn the volume down on this thing?’ March asked, with his cheeks reddening in embarrassment, as he passed the iPad to Trys.

  ‘Here,’ she said, as she pushed the volume button on the side of the device down to silent. ‘I don’t think Abba worshiping was one of those twelve virtues I mentioned.’

  ‘No, perhaps not.’

  ‘Don’t look so embarrassed, March. If it helps you any, I quite like a little Abba music from time to time too. They were immensely popular here thirty or forty years ago, and are still to many. I don’t quite know what it was, or is, about their music and their voices I mean, but their music is so unique that as far as I know, they hold the record for being the most successful, and profitable, musicians of all time. Even more than the Beatles.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘They were another musical group; all men though, whose popularity was about ten years before Abba. More research for you, huh?’

  It seems so.’

  Trys took the iPad from him and did a quick search for the Beatles. Once she found a video of ‘Get Back’, she hit play and handed the iPad back to March. He watched, listened, and then very soon went to find the volume button by himself and turned it down to mute. ‘Not quite the same magnetism, is there?’

  ‘Seemingly not. Well, I have letters to write, while you have calculations to make, so perhaps we should both be doing something far more productive than watching music videos.’

  ‘Yes, agreed. But just one quick question, if I may, before I start my calculations.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What would be an approximate exchange value of the EdErg index against the pieces of Earth paper?’

  ‘You said a quick question, March!’ Goodness me. Look, every country here uses a different currency, or paper money, so the value varies widely, and on top of that, the values fluctuate by the minute, hour, day and month.’

  ‘That’s insane!’

  ‘From a Gloth perspective, yes, but here it is absolutely normal, because it is an easy way to make a quick profit, or loss, as the case may be. In other words, it’s institutionalised gambling on a country’s worth. The only moderately stable rate of exchange you could use, if it’s for your calculations, would probably be the price of gold, as gold has a relative value throughout the Twelve Sun Systems. Its value per ounce fluctuates here like money too, but far less than the numerous denominations of paper money, and I’m sure there is a weighted index on the EdErg index that relates to gold.’

  ‘So much for a quick question.’

  *****

  While Trys got to work on writing her letters in the study, March retired to his room to work on his calculations, hoping he could find a way to marginally increase exports from Earth, and in doing so achieve a modicum of a positive result, which he could report back to his father. He was also recalibrating his thoughts of a long stay on Earth, as from what he had seen in his first few days, there was little to excite him. He sipped his can of Coca-Cola, purely out of thirst rather than enjoyment, and suddenly pined for a Ranting Teensy, which was a very popular drink on Gloth, with young people in particular. Made from the mauve rubbery sap of the Dotsigh tree and tasting somewhat similar to heavily diluted Fozzoxly, its truly remarkable property was in delivering instant energy in seconds. So powerful in fact, that one small glass could keep one awake for four to five days.

  Thinking about needing energy himself, he thought back to his conversation with Trys about how fundamentally archaic energy production and consumption was here on Earth. Throughout the rest of the Twelve Sun Systems, energy was in such infinite abundance that barely a thought was given to it. Whether it be either electromagnetic energy to operate devices or machinery, light to propel spacecraft, or sound waves attached to light to transmit instant communication, such as for voice, data, music or live video, all of these energy sources were naturally infinite, as these and many other energy sources filled the entire Universe.

  A little dejected, with only the possibility of visiting the fabled Dodecahedron in Rome offering even a hint of excitement; and only a replica at that, he went back to his calculations, hoping to find a quick and dirty salmon solution, so he could end his mission as soon as possible.

  After an hour of multiplying the maximum carrying capacity of the existing shuttles at one hundred and twenty kilograms of salmon and five kilograms of caviar, and then increasing the frequency of their flights to Earth from once per month to once per week, on top of factoring in a net price reduction of twenty percent, which he only hoped Prescott-Jones could deliver under his plan, the equation he arrived at would only arrest the current slide in Earth profit from eleven percent, year on year, to a better, but still unsatisfactory three percent slide. If the increase in frequency of shuttle flights allowed for more Glothic armament sales to be delivered to Earth, then the equation narrowed to a little under break even. A result, which may please his father a little, but would certainly not fund the astronomical expense of new entry ports in the force field, and without them, there would never be a hope of increasing trade between Earth and Gloth by a sufficient amount that would begin to offset the millions of years of accumulated Erdean and Earth losses.

  March pushed the iPad and his notes away across the top of his small desk, in defeat, and leant back in his chair, noticing that his THE had finally regenerated its energy, so he picked it up and looked for something to cheer him up. He found it rapidly.

  So I say

  Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing

  Thanks for all the joy they're bringing

  Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty

  What would life be?

  Without a song or a dance what are we?

  So I say thank you for the music

  For giving it to me

  As Abba continued singing away, he suddenly wondered about the words, ‘thank you for the music, and giving it to me,’ and if it was possible that they could give him their music.

  ‘Hold on,’ he muttered to himself, and grabbed his Q’muniktor; quickly searching his address book for an old friend on Gloth he hadn’t seen in ages, Outcrop Simmer, who was a musi
c promoter. Well, not quite so grand, but he did supply background music to every elevator, sky tube and scoot path on Gloth.

  Quickly attaching a couple of Abba songs to his message he wrote, ‘Hi Out! Long time no see. Hey, what do you think about this music? Would it suit your customers? Waiting for your reply. March G.’

  ‘Hungry?’ he heard from behind him, and he turned to see Trys poking her head through the door.

  ‘Um, yes. I could do with a break.

  ‘Any luck with your calculations?’

  ‘Yes and no.’

  ‘Tell me about it over lunch. I’ll pop back downstairs and make some for us.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ he said, jumping up from his chair.

  While they ate, March explained the result of all his calculations, and how it was impossible, as he saw it, to make anything approaching a satisfactory outcome because of the limitations the force field created. On top of that, he knew from experience now that the shuttle missions were dangerous, or unreliable to say the least, and because of the shuttle’s size, totally unsuitable for transporting profitable quantities of cargo. There was no possible way he could see that Earth could add to Gloth’s wealth without entry ports, and that his father would never agree to the cost of them, while the trade opportunities and the market for advanced weaponry were so limited.

  ‘And that won’t improve either, March. Local planetary conflicts and wars don’t make anywhere near a reasonable profit. Wars between planets is the starting point of decent profitability, but because Earth is totally cut off from the Twelve Sun Systems, they don’t even know that there are planets out there that they could go to war with, let alone get there and then get to work.’

  ‘True. It must be so frustrating for you though. I mean, I’ve only been here a few days, and already I am totally despairing of the situation here. How have you put up with it for so long?’

  ‘To be honest, March, I gave up a long time ago, when I reached the same conclusions as you are coming to. But this is my last posting, so I’ve made the best of it, made a few friends, and now I’ll happily wait for my orders to arrive soon for my return home to Gloth. I miss real people and the diversity of them, who I always got to meet on Gloth during the months of Grand Council Assemblies. You know, like people from Myscopinia, who talk to you telepathically, or those from Outer Multitudinous, who are such superb conversation makers with their four heads. Never a silent moment with them jabbering away to themselves, and always with a smile or a laugh at the ready. Most of all I think I miss Lacertilians though. They are such a refined race of people, and well, the men are just so drop dead handsome, aren’t they? Oh, and of course the Haandrills from Varius Two, who, with four arms, can shake both your hands and give you a hug at the same time.

  But here, it’s only damn Erdeans. Even the ones with some Glothic blood are still Erdean, and thoroughly boring. I suppose they can’t help it though. I mean it’s in their genes, isn’t it? And they are cut off from knowing anyone other than themselves. Such a travesty.’

  ‘Will you be replaced?’

  ‘You may have to ask your father that question. I am not sure, as there is so little to do here, and to be honest with you, if you don’t mind me being frank, there is very little that can be done for Earth, as it is wandering down the same path as Erde travelled, and heading towards its second self destruction, so perhaps it would be better to forget about trying and just leave Earth and its horrid Erdean gene be until it disappears, again, and finally.’

  ‘Did you pop some depressants in our breakfast tea this morning?’

  Trys laughed loudly. ‘Oh March, I wish I had, and then we would both have an excuse for being so down about things today. Look, I have to walk down to the post office after lunch to post my letters. It’s quite nice weather today, so would you like to come with me, and then we can take a short walk in Hyde Park, and perhaps sit on a bench and talk about the weather. That’s what people do here when it’s a nice day.’

  ‘Sounds line a splendid idea. Of course.’

  Dum Dum Diddle

  After a pleasant afternoon, which included Trys introducing March to the delicacy of scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, at a nearby tea room, they arrived back home in a much better mood than when they had left a few hours before.

  As it had been a little warm in the sun, March went upstairs to change. As he did, he noticed his Q’muniktor flashing with a new message. He grabbed it and tapped.

  ‘Hey Big M! Yes, too long. Now, this muzac you sent me. Where did you get it? It’s ouuuttaa, ouuuttaa man!! For my business it’s an easy winner, but I think it could be big, huge, humungous! So I sent the tracks to a guy I know, Dum Dum Diddle, who does inter Sun System hologramatic concert broadcasting. He’s a real biggie in it, and he has already replied and wants to know more. Like soon too Big M!! Can you send me vids, fast? Out.’

  March quickly grabbed his THE, and spent half an hour uploading and converting a few Abba videos to his Q’muniktor, then attached them to his reply to Out.

  ‘Hey Out! What? Huge? Ok, here you go. Three muzac vids! Let me know. March G.’

  March was wearing a smile that Trys hadn’t seen on his face before, when he went downstairs, so she knew something had cheered him up, and very quickly.

  ‘You look pleased with yourself,’ she said, looking up at him from her armchair in the sitting room.

  ‘I’m not sure, but I might have stumbled onto something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have a friend on Gloth, who runs a small music business, but he has a friend who is huge in the music and hologramatic concert business throughout the Twelve Sun Systems.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, I sent my friend a couple of Abba songs, and he reckons this other guy might be interested.’

  ‘Interesting. So do you think something will come of it?’

  ‘Not sure. He asked for a few videos, so I just sent them to him. I guess all I can do is wait and see.’

  ‘Easier to export than salmon I suppose,’ Trys said with a little laugh. ‘I have no idea about the value of entertainment, but I would think that salmon and caviar would be far more lucrative. What is the price of salmon on Gloth now? Last time I was there I think it was around a Month for a small serving.’

  ‘Oh, on the EdErg index?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh it’s a lot more now. About five Months.’

  ‘And the buying price here on Earth is less than a Day at present I think.’

  ‘About that, yes.’

  ‘So that’s a six thousand percent profit margin. Stick to salmon then!’

  ‘Wow. Your mental arithmetic is fast. I would have needed my calculator for that one.’

  ‘I did very well at school; I’ll have you know. Top of my class in mathematics and algebra.’

  ‘Well done! So ok, while I’ve got a living breathing maths genius in front of me, I’ve been wondering about something that you can solve for me.’

  ‘Of course, what?’

  ‘The exchange value between the EdErg index and the paper money here in London.’

  ‘Not an easy one, March because of all the currencies, as I mentioned before. But the last time I had to do the calculation was for a transaction I worked on with Mr. Prescott-Jones. In the end we settled on two currencies to use. The Pound, which is the money here in England, and the Dollar, which is American money and worth about one half of a Pound. It was a few months ago now, but little has changed since then though. So for that transaction, one Pound was worth eight Minutes, and a Dollar, four Minutes.’

  ‘That’s only a fraction of the cost of a Curdll on Gloth.’

  ‘Of course it is. Money here is absolutely worthless; it’s just little pieces of paper, so I think that the Glothic Treasury were very generous in their estimation. However, in the end we used gold to settle the deal, as we do with all transactions, as at least there is a realisable value to gold here and on Gloth. The only problem i
s that it is so damned heavy. I’ve got some in the sideboard there, waiting for the next shuttle run. It could have gone back with your arrival, but it is far too heavy for me to carry. I thought I would wait until after you arrived, so you could carry it for me to the next shuttle.’

  ‘No problem at all, of course I can.’

  *****

  Over dinner of fish and chips, which they had bought from a shop in a side street nearby, March was pleasantly surprised by the paper wrapped hot meal he had carried home, and thought it was delightfully delicious in fact, as he picked out morsels of greasy fish and chips with his fingers, from the whitish paper laid out in the middle of the dining table. He found that he preferred splashes of vinegar on his chips though to a squeeze of lemon, after trying both.

  When his Q’muniktor vibrated in his trouser pocket, he quickly licked his greasy fingers, and then wiped them on his paper napkin before pulling it from his pocket. He tapped the screen.

  ‘Big M! Dum Dum says he wants a hold and first option on this. Also, he wants to know how much there is. Audio, video, concert recordings, the lot. Can you hold, and can you send the info? Out!’

  March was dumbstruck. ‘Sorry, I’ll be back in a minute,’ he said, as he jumped up from the table, before returning with Trys’ iPad.

  ‘So?’ Trys asked, as he sat down.

  ‘I need to check how many songs Abba recorded, and how many videos of their concerts are available,’ he said, as he searched for the data on the iPad.

  ‘Ah, for your music friend?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, I would guess at a hundred songs or more. They were not only popular, but also prolific during their time.’

  ‘Here we are, and you’re quite right. If I only count the official releases, there are well over a hundred songs, plus ten recorded concerts and forty music videos. I’ll quickly send this data to Out,’ he said, tapping away furiously at his Q’muniktor.

  ‘Hurry up then, your dinner is getting cold.’