Part Seven
Bill walked forwards, kicking his way through undergrowth thicker,
greener and more lush than anything he had seen in America. Clearly
h2g2 had many good things going for it, if it was clean enough to
produce plantlife like that, and trees so large. Bill wouldn't have
thought that possible from his life in America. The world was too
polluted, beyond repair. Or so he had thought.
Up
ahead, something glimmered through the trees, a flash of white
revealed briefly by the wind moving leaves. Bill pressed on with
renewed speed. This might be where he was supposed to go. Abruptly,
he found himself at the edge of the trees, facing a clearing.
Perhaps a hundred metres of gently sloped grass rose uninterrupted
to the base of a large white wall which surrounded some sort of
large building. Towers rose from within the walls, and he could
hear the sounds of people talking and chanting.
He
started forwards again, and had not got more than halfway to the
wall when two people stepped out of a gate - he would have sworn
the gate hadn't been there before it opened - and headed towards
him. Bill stopped, using the time to study them. They were both
tall, dressed in similarly cut robes of a deep green which brushed
on the grass behind them, and Bill thought one of them looked
a bit like Agnes, although it was little more than a passing resemblance.
They both had startling eyes - green, but such an intense colour
it almost appeared to be glowing. They stopped a couple of metres
in front of Bill.
'Greetings',
the one on the left, a man, said.
'Your
arrival was expected', the one on the right, a woman, added. 'Although
not so soon, we had wrongly thought.' Bill nodded. The Dustbins
had hinted at it.
'You
have things to teach me, I understand', he said.
'Your
understanding is correct. We will
Teach you, guide you and show you what you need
To fulfil your task, help yourself and save
What can be saved before the long night comes', the man said.
'And
what is that, exactly?'
'What
can be saved, is all you can save. You
Must know this already if you are here.'
'Yes,
I know that, but what is it that you have to teach me?' Bill asked.
'The Dustbins of Wisdom were big on destiny but vague on how I
was meant to actually go about achieving it.' The woman smiled
slightly.
'They
are vague, deliberately so, for
If they were clear and easy for all to
Understand, there would be no way for us
To ensure that only those intended
Are able to discover the meaning
Of the words the Dustbins speak unto them', she said. Bill frowned
at her.
'Do
you always speak like that?' He inquired.
'Measured
speech concentrates the mind, so we
Speak in lines of ten syllables, as it
Requires more concentration than straight prose,
Although perhaps not as much as blank verse', the man told him.
'Will
I have to speak like that?'
'Only
if you wish to. Some of our kind
Speak normally, while others use only
Rhyming couplets, riddles, or limericks.' Bill shuddered.
'That
sounds terrible', he said. 'So where do I go to find out more
about what you're going to teach me?'
'Where
else but to the classrooms? There you will
Join our initiates, and set out on
The path to the white robes and green eyes which mark
Our kind, and the power with which we will,
One day, restore the balance of the world.'
'Let
me guess', Bill said. 'I'm the one who's supposed to restore the
balance - you're all just around to help me, aren't you?'
The
woman nodded. Bill sighed.
'I
suppose I'd better get started then', he said.
