Chapter VI
It is often said that no one passes through life unscathed. It matters not one's circumstance of birth: peasants and kings alike will come to know the fear of death and the crushing weight of grief. As years accumulate, so too do the subtle inscriptions of love and loss until some men’s faces become as legible as print. In this regard, Jeff’s visage read like a tragedy. He was a man of miserable disposition, with skin like creased and weathered parchment. His aura as dark and dismal as the dreary English skies above him; his heart as empty and cold as the once-great coal mines he shoveled in his youth.
He had felt like this for many years. Decades, even. Indeed, it was inevitable, for there exists in human nature a fundamental essence that makes living without purpose feel more painful than the prospect of dying. A man must have passion. Something worth laying himself upon the altar for. When man is driven by love, there is no limit to what he can endure, but Jeff had fallen out of love with life.
He was sat hunched in the corner of the creaky old attic he’d converted into his computer room a couple of years ago. Adonis-like figures cast in bronze adorned the shelves, looming over him like deceased companions from a time long passed. The sound of furious tapping filled the room as the glow of the screen accentuated the hollows under his tired eyes – a dim testimony to the frequent restless nights spent watching videos of people dying while contemplating the apparent absence of an interventionist creator.
He sighed in anguish as he heard the unwelcome footsteps moving up the stairs. The attic door pushed gently open, and Jeff’s wife inched her head around it with the wary precision of a frontline soldier fearing a sniper's shot. She'd been on the receiving end of enough of Jeff's verbal bullets to know to tread carefully when disturbing him.
‘Jeff, dear, how are you? What are you up to?’
Jeff’s eyes rolled in indignation. The question pained him. Clearly he was on the computer, and any more information than that was none of her bloody business!
‘What does it look like, woman?’ he snapped. ‘I’m on Facebook.’
‘Oh, I thought you hated that thing? You refused to add any of our friends and family, remember?’
‘Yeah, I do hate it. It’s a load of shit but there’s this stupid bald twat from the USA who I can’t stand, so I’m emailing his work to tell them that he’s a cu
nt.’
Puzzled, she thought about how to continue. She wanted to try and see if she could steer him towards a more productive use of his time, but found herself hesitating in anticipation of another hurtful vituperation.
‘Oh… well, are you sure it’s worth all the effort? Perhaps the man has some struggles of his own and wasn’t at his best when you spoke with him?’
‘Oh, he’s definitely a retard,’ Jeff chuckled. ‘He’s been arrested over 150 times, booted out of the army for taking drugs, and now he’s been forced to sell his house and move in to some suburban cuck-shack with this snaggle-toothed warpig and her 3 kids. His life is over.’
‘Okay, I see… but doesn’t this then seem a bit, you know, silly?’
‘You’re silly!’ Jeff slammed his fist down furiously onto the desk. He let the words hang in the air for a few seconds more before repeating them with added authority. ‘
You’re silly!’
‘You’re right, dear. I’m the silly one. I shouldn’t have said anything. I was just popping up to say that your grandkids have arrived downstairs. Do you want to come and say hello? It’s been around 18 months since you last saw them. I’ve baked treats for everyone.’
‘What!’ Jeff cried out in panic as he looked around the room for somewhere to hide. ‘Tell them I’m not in!!’
Jeff’s wife stepped forward and lightly rested her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to console him.
‘Baby, come on, I’m sure they’d love to see their grandfather. We could sit in the garden together and watch them play. There’s still some sunshine left.’
‘Oh, sure, that sounds absolutely riveting. Shall I grab my felt hat and camcorder just to make absolutely sure the neighbours think I’m a pedo? Besides, kids have got to be the stupidest investment a couple can ever make. Just you wait: in a decade or so they’ll have this place on the market and both of us shoved into a care home, getting seven shades of shit beaten out of us by some fat Nigerian nurse with hands like George Foreman.’
‘Stop,’ she pleaded gently. ‘You’re all riled up and being hurtful. If you don’t fancy coming downstairs, then how about we go for a walk together later after they leave? That cheered you up last week, didn’t it?’
‘I don’t know… did it?’ Jeff replied sarcastically. ‘They say people often kill themselves right when their spirits appear to have been lifted. Maybe I was cheerful because I’d taken my hanging rope to the barn outside. You could have found me swinging like a pendulum from the rafters. Neck all contorted and stretched like a giraffe, and my eyes bloodshot and bulging out of my head as if I were…’
‘FUCK’S SAKE, JEFF, ENOUGH!’ she cried out in desperation. ‘Enough! I cannot take this anymore! We cannot live like this. You have
got to do something about your depression. You’re killing me with this negativity.’
Jeff paused, and an uncomfortable silence lay heavy in the room until the sudden ring of the telephone mercifully cut through it.
‘I’ll get it,’ she whispered meekly.
‘Hello?’
‘Good afternoon, ma’am, this is OneMoreRep, I am sorry to disturb you, but may I speak to your husband, Jeff?’
‘Hello, dear, one moment and I’ll see if I can find him,’ she replied.
She covered the phone’s speaker with her hand and whispered over to Jeff.
‘It’s for you, Jeff. It’s OneMoreRep.’
Jeff let out a high-pitched whimper. ‘Fuck’s sake. I’m not doing it! I don’t care what it is!’
‘Jeff, just relax and take the phone. It’s probably nothing.’ She passed the phone over to him and took the opportunity to exit the room before Jeff’s mood deteriorated further.
‘Yes, hello, OneMoreRep, what is it?’
‘Jeff, sorry to bother you, old chap. I’m calling you from the spaceship. It’s hard to explain but we are in a bit of a pickle. Fat Goodrum fucked the radio earlier and we lost comms with Primemuscle. Long story short, he’s travelled back in time to rape Shizzo and Basile is having to go through the wormhole after him. If he doesn’t stop him, Getbig is finished.’
‘It’s not my problem!’ Jeff interjected. ‘I told you idiots this plan was fucking stupid in the first place. Plot holes everywhere. Stupidest thing I’ve ever fucking heard. Whatever it is now, I’m
not going and you
can’t make me!’
OneMoreRep remained composed, unfazed by Jeff’s familiar histrionics. ‘Jesus, just chill out. No one is making you do anything, and you’re not invited anyway. I just wanted to ask you a quick question. I’m struggling to get hold of Matt Canning. He provided me with some important calculations before we left, but I need him to do some more now based on Basile’s mass. I can no longer reach him by email or phone, and there’s always a chance he’s been locked up in the nuthouse. Can you give me Josh’s email so I can ask if he could swing by in person? He’s the closest one to Matt and it’s a matter of urgency.’
‘Sorry,’ Jeff replied. ‘I deleted all my emails a while back. I don’t have his details anymore.’
‘Fuck, that’s annoying. This really is proving to be a nightmare. Okay, well, thanks anyway, and I hope…’
‘Wait…’ Jeff pleaded with perceptible desperation in his voice.
‘Yes?’
‘Take me with you guys.’
OneMoreRep let out a little laugh. ‘Jeff, don’t be ridiculous. You
hate this. You hate…’
‘I’m begging. Please… I’m begging.’
‘Look, Jeff, you said yourself that…’ OneMoreRep was interrupted by the sound of Jeff crying.
‘I mean it. I’ll be good. I’ll behave. Just fucking let me come. I’ve… I’ve got nothing left.’
OneMoreRep capitulated. He always was a soft touch at heart. ‘Okay, okay. Calm down. Take a deep breath. You can come. You know I always wanted you on the team but you told us all to get fucked when the mission was announced. Here’s what you can do: pack a bag and head down to the spaceport just outside London. I’ll charter one of those little 3-man rockets to get you to Canada in the next few hours. You’re going to have to visit Canning yourself and then send the equations back to me as soon as you can.’
‘Canning!’ Jeff cried. ‘Fuck off, I’m not visiting that mong.’
‘See, I told you this was stupid. Fine, just forget it.’
‘No, no, wait. I’m sorry. I’ll go. But if he starts counting cards or making me play with Lego, I’m getting the fuck out of there.’
‘C’mon, he’s got like 1 percent, barely noticeable autism, Jeff. You’ll be fine. But, and I’m pleading with you here, don’t upset him. You know that these types like to have routines and you’re going to be turning up at his home unannounced. Just don’t stress him out, okay? We need these calculations.’
‘Don’t worry, I got this. I’ll go pack my things.’
Okay, I’ll message you soon with the flight details. Godspeed.’
