The Elias Anomaly

Eighteen

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Joseph found that he knew the way to Liverpool Street station without having to consult a map. He also thought that the loft apartment he had occupied was probably worth about as much as a small African country. Walking along the streets of London, Joseph had a pleasant experience. He felt familiarity in his surroundings, not something he had encountered since leaving Dewsmonk.

Thinking about it Joseph believed that he should know a fair bit about the City of London. He considered his fake suburban life to have been an unusual convenience. It allowed him the liberty of freedom from the commuter rat race.

He believed that once upon a time he had stood, miserable, on trains from the northern Home Counties, headed for the City. It turned out that his memories of where everything was and the street paths between tube stations was recent and accurate.

None of his walk had revealed to him a glimmer into the mind of the ever elusive Robert Stamp. Joseph tried to work up some worry or concern. Stamp's identity refused to surface in his brain. A poor state of affairs for an identity he believed strongly was his. Thinking harder Joseph found he didn't care much for Stamp or his life, so Joseph couldn't care about either of them.

It turned out there were three coffee shops in Liverpool Street station. In addition there was one pub, one fast food franchise and two restaurants all of which would have served him coffee. One of the dedicated coffee vendors was no more than a hole in the wall, though, that still left two to choose from.

Refusing to dither about which coffee shop the voice had meant Joseph sat at a table in the one he liked better. He chose it for completely arbitrary reasons related to his own taste. He bought himself a large cappuccino and sat at a table near the edge of the milling crowds of rail passengers. The voice may have urged secrecy and discretion but, as far as Joseph was concerned, he had no secrets. Nor, for that matter, did he have any reason to be discreet.

There was the phantom of 'unspecified but significant amounts of danger' or whatever the voice had warned of. Phantoms appeared weak by daylight, so Joseph felt free to ignore them. He sipped at his cappuccino and wondered why he hadn't brought some reading material to pass the time while waiting.

Joseph didn't face a long wait. He had sipped no more than half an inch of his foamy coffee before a young man with stupid floppy hair sat in the seat opposite him. The young man was particularly young. He was no more than twenty one or two. He looked to be in the throes of a slow starting and spectacularly underpowered adolescence. His skin was smooth and pale, his dark hair lank but voluminous. The boy did not look as if he had to shave often, if, indeed, he had to shave at all.

"Nice to see you Mister Elias," the boy said. "Simon Grace, Department of Sub-Realities." He held out a hand, expecting it to be shaken.

Moving past the constant burr of confusion mixed with mild consternation Joseph shook the hand.

"Is that a real thing?" Joseph asked. "Department of Sub-Realities? Or is it some kind of school project you're working on?"

"You're referring, of course, to my age," Simon said. "Let's get past that barrier to my credibility. Pretend that you are aware that I have the good fortune to be blessed. In the first case with societal connections and also with a highly-complex analytical mind. These factors have combined to put me on a path that got me a doctorate at sixteen and my own governmental department at twenty."

"Have you the fortune?" Joseph asked. "Or are we just pretending?"

"We're pretending that you won't ask stupid questions like that. We are pretending you already know the answers," Simon replied. "The truth is a tedious matter of fact. Well, when I say I have my own governmental department I should point something out. Technically my aunt is the MP in charge from the point of view of Westminster, I won't be old enough until May. Nevertheless I am pretty much in charge of the operation.

"Hard for me not to be, it's a single small office in a government building occupied chiefly by Home Office personnel. I said 'Department of Sub-realities'. I didn't mean to imply 'represents the Department of Sub-realities'. I meant to imply 'I am the Department of Sub-Realities'."

"So what does the Department of Sub-Realities do, exactly?" Joseph asked. The boy's manner was starting to irritate him. The fact that the boy appeared to know much more about the situation than anyone else made him all the more obnoxious.

"Oh, well, in essence I investigate obscure corners of available endoplex systems," Simon said. "I monitor them for threats to our national security or integrity. That's the official slogan, as it were. I don't think there's many in either house who even pretend to understand or care about it. That's an advantage though, in this case, anything powerful and unknown has to be a threat to a politician. The last thing they want to discover is that Endoverse or Plexi-cosmos have been influencing the voters. All the while they may have been sitting on their hands."

"So they've entrusted the surveillance job to you?" Joseph asked not trying too hard to mask the incredulity in his voice.

"If it were left up to the house then they wouldn't bloody well do anything," Simon replied. "They have no idea how to regulate these digital spaces. Look at the length of time it took to construct an appropriate legal framework to deal with cyber-bullying and whatnot. If they were to devote ten minutes thought to the matter they might think to replace me with something more governmental. Thankfully, they don't. Between you and me they don't even seem to pay the blindest bit of notice to the papers and reports I circulate. Not unless someone wants to earn some easy publicity points by suggesting that we clamp down on the plexes."

"Clamp down?" Joseph asked.

"If you're on the right that is equivalent to locking out everyone except the rich," Simon explained. "If you're on the left it means trying to get the companies to install governmental surveillance programs. They're keen watch the population as they run wild in the fantasy kingdoms. Doesn't win votes particularly but it always incenses the opposition media. It can garner a decent amount of column inches. And so the world turns."

"So to sum up," Joseph said. "You poke around in endoplex code for fun and the tax payer funds your research. Have I missed anything?" Joseph's sardonic tone was partly fuelled by a natural distate for the obnoxious little prig sat before him. Joseph also had to acknowledge an odd dizziness that had begun to surface during the boy's monologue.

At first Joseph had thought the two more closely related to one another. As the speech had gone on had come to the conclusion that he was not feeling in the best of sorts. The sounds of people marching past on their way to various trains was beginning to grate. The hollow echo of their voices gabbling into mobile phones had taken on a ringing edge in Joseph's ears. Neither the giddiness nor the ringing noise were improving Joseph's mood.

"Well, not at the very basic level," Simon replied with a shrug. "In fact your conclusion demonstrates the kind of conclusion many other MPs would come to. But only if they devoted that all-important ten minutes to considering my department."

Simon leaned forward over the table.

"The deeper level is, though, not something that your average MP would understand or consider," he said. "Most people wouldn't. They never stop to ask why I'm poking around in that vat of code. They never consider that I might go looking for something. None of them would believe in the things I have found when I have found them, or even see the point in them."

"So, what is it you have found?" Joseph asked. The ringing tone had infected even the young man's relatively quiet tone now. The lights on the ceiling appeared to have elevated in brightness to the level of discomfort. Giddiness had tipped over into a pulsing, throbbing ache.

"Unexpected things, Mr Elias," Simon said. "Wonderful things." The boy paused, studying Joseph's face with a look of concern. "Mr Elias, are you alright? You seem to have gone... rather pale... gazzazzjagazzmazz... fuzzmzzznzzzrrrrrrrrzzzzzzz."

The light all around Joseph appeared to grow in brightness and intensity until it was all that he could see. All the sound in the world broke apart, like the stuttering of a broken digital television box. After a few moments it settled into a constant square digital burr.

Joseph could feel his body fall from his chair but he was no longer in control. The light popped and everything went black.