Omega (11) "Never let it be said that I don't have the best interests for women at heart. But there is a limit to what a woman should be permitted to do, which your friend from Baldam would no doubt dispute. I fail to see any good reason why they should be allowed to vote. I fear it is the woman's vote which may be to blame if the Blue Party fails to win the General Election. That, and the imprudent over-extension of the franchise. It is plain that women are the lesser sex. How many great female artists are there, for instance? And can one imagine any woman having the leadership qualities necessary to become a prime minister or a president?" I didn't comment, although I was sure that there had indeed been several women who had succeeded quite well in the very things Sir George believed they couldn't. The tunnel wound along and away, and was now much narrower. There was a curious form of lane discipline whereby everyone walked on the left and all collisions were avoided despite the flamboyant wings sported by several of the larger insects. The tunnel became narrower and my attempts to avoid brushing against the wings of the insect citizens were increasingly noted by failure. All along the side of the tunnel, now constructed of clay-like earth, were holes which were the doors and windows of very unsophisticated homes. The inhabitants were now generally much smaller, represented primarily by ants, mites and termites. A serpent-sized worm wriggled by between our legs. A cockroach scurried past, furiously twitching his giant antennae. "This isn't such a wealthy district of Endon," I observed. "In truth, no," agreed Sir George. "The scum of the city must live somewhere, and this, I'm afraid, is one of their districts. I apologise for having brought you into such close contact with the lowest of Endon society, dominated by ants and other inferior species." "Are ants innately inferior?" "God's wounds! By God, you cannot compare them with beings such as myself with epithets other than inferior or unfortunate. There is a natural order in Endon's society, as there is in mammalian society, and in keeping with this, just as there are those blessed with intelligence, æsthetic sensitivity and wealth, there must necessarily be those denied any of these things. Beings such as ants were created by the Lord to be wholly subservient to those of greater wisdom and aptitude such as I. It is only just and right that they should occupy such a rôle, just as it is right that I should have the advantages of my wealth and status. "My views are, naturally, governed by sensitivity to the better interests of the annelids, cockroaches, dung beetles and fleas who live in these filthy districts. It is best they recognise their inferiority, serve their betters with no insurrectious opinions; and to do so they are guided by the greater moral, artistic and intellectual abilities of those like myself. The conception that inferiors such as these, who enjoy only the most base of popular entertainment and speak in a debased form of the English language, should ever be treated as more than nominally equally is enough to make me shudder. I am convinced that many of the great evils of our time are due to the unwarranted freedom granted to them. Indeed, ants are even permitted to partake of the electoral process, and have representatives in the Endon City Council." "Are there many poor districts like this in the city?" I wondered, experiencing great difficulty in navigating through the scattered piles of litter and rubbish. I hoped that we'd soon find our way to a precinct not distinguished by peeling posters, huge heaps of neglected dung and with so many insects squatting by the roadside with limbs outstretched, and pleading for alms. "Like any city, Endon has a full variety of districts from the highest to the lowest," sniffed Sir George, studiously ignoring the beggars' entreaties. "There are much better appointed quarters, such as where I live, with magnificent, pleasantly designed houses. They have wide streets and the houses have spacious gardens. It is there that the most peerless of Endon's citizens live, with their staff of inferior invertebrates to tend the gardens, clean the streets and secure our properties from invasion by the scum you see here. "Then there are these districts of urban hell, where the Red Party is unquestionably very popular, preaching rebellion and disorder. Areas rife with crime, murder, drugs and violence. Full of the unemployed, the idle and the feckless. Areas which should by rights be purged from the city and whose loss would not be in the slightest bit detrimental to the city's vitality. "In between these extremes of sophistication and degradation, there are the districts of the artisans, mostly bees, who toil hard and seem more content living in modest homes where they manufacture white goods, honey, electrical components and motor cars. Then there are districts inhabited by merchants, accountants, dentists and teachers. More ordered than here but less opulent than where I live. And finally there are the districts for the honest workers - the clerks, factory-workers, soldiers and policemen - not as poor as this but certainly not wealthy. "But below all others and too far below for me to even bear to address, certainly to touch and without which the city of Endon would be improved are districts like this: for scum who have no real part in our society. I am told that nearly 50% of the city live in these districts. I know that if the Red Party were to have their way this mutinous crowd of the unemployed, the criminal and the state-dependent would consume all of Endon by fire, smoke and anarchy. I am just grateful that the majority of this rabble is too illiterate, apathetic and disorganised to ever pose a threat to the social order, but if they were to ever arise... Why then, Endon would be Hell on earth! Grasshoppers and butterflies would be crucified and their wealth confiscated. Bees and Wasps would be slaughtered by their own stings. Ladybirds, Dragonflies and Locusts would have their wings removed. That is a day I hope I shall never see." I hoped so too, feeling rather uneasy as the kaleidoscope of the myriad eyes expressionlessly watched Sir George and I proceeding quickly through the long narrow tunnels intentionally not engaging their attention. There were ants and termites gathered in menacing gangs by barred windows. There were cockroaches lying in apparent stupor in the unglazed windows. A tiger with dark glasses was huddled in conference with several ants by the stairs of a fire escape, at the foot of a tall termite-mound. I definitely didn't feel very welcome in this neighbourhood. The tunnel soon widened to accommodate factories, abattoirs and warehouses, around which the streets were strewn with plastic cartons, discarded newspapers and cigarette ends. There were far fewer people, but I could see insects busy at work through the windows of the buildings and there was a general hum of electricity, steam and air-conditioning. The tunnel further widened as we came into a district that must have been one of the more salubrious districts Sir George had mentioned. The houses were large, and could just about be seen behind tall featureless walls topped by broken glass. In front of many houses were small sentry-boxes in which might sit an aggressive looking beetle or spider. The air was clear and clean and songbird-sized mosquitoes fluttered around in the decorative heights of gladioli, rhododendrons and tulips. Besides the guards in front of the houses, there were very few people, although there was plenty of space to hold them. The occasional pond or fountain adorned our way, and monstrous buttercups and daisies lined the roadside. "Do you live round here?" I asked Sir George. "Goodness no!" laughed the grasshopper. "Where I live is much better appointed than this. Do you think I would choose to live in such close proximity to the riffraff we've just passed? But many quite well-off individuals do choose to live here, and quite a few residences are owned by people not really native to Endon at all. Like Lord Arthur over there." He indicated a colossal towering figure, easily thirteen foot high, meandering towards us along the wide roads. He was too large to ever venture down the tunnels we'd emerged from, but he was no insect. At first, blinded by the bright light from the streetlights, I thought he might have been a tiger, but he was in fact an enormous lion quite tall enough to glance over the walls at the houses. Not that he was doing that, as he seemed totally lost in thought and appeared quite frail and weak, despite his massive size and undoubted strength. A once glorious tawny mane was now quite threadbare and portions of fur were shredding off. His tail drooped sadly behind him. "Good morning, Lord Arthur," Sir George called out to the lion when we were within a few yards of him. The grasshopper seemed quite minuscule in comparison to the beast towering high above him, who could easily toss the gangling spindle-legged insect to one side with a single gesture of his monstrous paws. "Is it still morning, Sir George?" Wondered the lion raising his head and coming to a halt just five feet ahead of us. "This morning has seemed so very long. And so depressing. My Endon accountant tells me that I may have to sacrifice all my holdings in your fair city." He scanned the district with eyes quite as large as my head. "I have never really appreciated the beauty of your city before, you know, Sir George, and now that my estate and my factories and my shops are to be sold off to cover my debts I feel I am appreciating it rather belatedly." "Who are buying your holdings?" wondered the grasshopper. "What's left of my holdings," the lion corrected. "Once I owned more than a fifth of your city's businesses. The buyers are a consortium of bees. And believe you me, they are robbing me blind! I'm sure the capital wealth it represents is worth at least five times as much as they have paid. And even the several millions of guineas they have paid will cover barely a fraction of my debts. But every little helps." "Are you staying in Endon for very long, your lordship?" "Not at all, Sir George. I have business to attend to elsewhere. More to sell, I'm afraid. If it were not for the kindness and, dare I say, the great generosity of those friends of mine who have not abandoned me as my stock has sunk on the Exchange, I would have nowhere to stay. Once I had no shortage of homes in this city." "Indeed I bought my home from you, Lord Arthur." "You did! You enterprising arthropod. Not that I'd have ever visited most of the properties I owned. I bought most of them for speculative reasons you know." "I'm sure you did," the grasshopper replied approvingly. "But that was when business was good. Those were the days when the name of Lord Arthur was feared and respected throughout the civilised world. And further than that even. Now I can hardly open the financial pages of a newspaper without seeing articles speculating about when - no longer if - I will become bankrupt. These are sad days indeed, Sir George." "God's Wounds! They are that! There is no longer the respect and honour due paid to aristocrats and businessmen such as we..." "That may be so, though I don't really recall life being any better for it. But it is for me, not the world in general, that I complain. But hold! I must not forever grieve. I have known some very good times. Who is your young friend?" Sir George introduced me formally to the lion. "He is a stranger whom I'm escorting through the city of Endon." "A real stranger too," Lord Arthur growled indulgently. "There aren't very many warm-blooded endoskeletals in this city are there? Except for tigers and merpeople. I trust you'll be taking this young fellow to the Party..." "I hadn't thought of that, your lordship, but that would be a most diverting way to occupy the afternoon. Are you also likely to come?" "No. I'm afraid not. As I said, I have too much business elsewhere. I have an appointment at one o'clock I believe with a representative from Delta who wants to buy the last of my fish factory shares. I think I had best make haste or the day will all be gone." He twitched his monstrous tail, the tassel of which was larger than my whole body, and unsteadily lumbered off in a different direction to that which we were going. "Lord Arthur is old money on hard times," sighed Sir George. "He is a moral example to us all to retain by all means the wealth we have either inherited or achieved. God's wounds! It's incredible to believe that one as wealthy as he could ever have fallen so far. I sincerely hope I never share the same fate." "How did he happen to lose his wealth?" "I'm no economic expert. I employ others to provide me with that expertise and knowledge, but what I have read suggests that Lord Arthur burdened himself with more commitments in steadily declining industries than he could profitably gain from. And then, instead of divesting himself of these commitments or taking advantage of new market conditions, he simply ploughed more and more of his wealth into the hopeless task of keeping these industries going. Eventually of course the whole edifice collapsed about him. I will never allow that to happen to me. I blame the lion for being too sentimental to his employees and not restructuring soon enough." Sir George paused reflectively. "Still, less of that. I'll take you to the Party as the good lion suggested. My carriage shouldn't be too far from here." Indeed it wasn't. Sir George led me through a wide archway, quite large enough for Lord Arthur to have walked through, and I stood blinking in the strong midday sun illuminating the forests of Endon. Sir George's carriage was waiting for us, just as the grasshopper had predicted. It was very exquisite, drawn by a host of swift stag beetles who were snorting and pawing the ground while waiting. Sir George let me into the sumptuous and luxurious interior of his carriage where he opened a bottle of champagne and with a gesture produced a piping hot meal his chef had prepared for him. "The journey is several leagues distant from here," the grasshopper announced, "so we'd best have luncheon as we travel. I hope you enjoy my simple tastes." The lavish meal of quail eggs, venison, caviar and champagne was somewhat less simple than I was accustomed to, and not having eaten since midday the day before I tucked into it with great relish as the carriage trundled off through the jungle of outsize flora. 6 Zest and chatter from mingling party-goers orchestrated with the remote pulsation of a stereo system greeted me when I arrived at the Party. The journey had been very pleasant. I'd already been impressed by the expansive gardens estate that surrounded the large manor house. There were large ponds full of enormous trout. A tiger with shears was trimming ornamental hedges near the rosebushes. The long neck of a giraffe rose above a maze where he had a distinct advantage in navigating his way out. In such surroundings I imagined a fairly restrained, possibly formal, party and my main anxiety had been that I wasn't suitably dressed. Within moments of entering the massive hallway I was separated from my grasshopper companion in a confusion of unfamiliar people and totally lost sight of him. I had been too intent on admiring the painted frieze on the vaulted ceiling from which descended an enormous crystal chandelier. A wide staircase wound from the hallway to a balcony along which gathered many other guests of every species holding glasses of wine or champagne in their hands, paws or hooves, and often with cigarettes of various dimensions drooping from their lips or mandibles. I felt intimidated by this mass of strangers, which included a tiger in finery, a dolphin in a comfortable leather-lined sofa, a megatherium chatting with a comparatively tiny manticore and an archaeopteryx perched high on a hat stand making drunken conversation with a beret. A pig, a wolf and a similar-sized pygmy elephant wearing frock-coats and spats chatted amiably in a circle. I saw a swirl of guests in other rooms amongst wine-bottles and party food, some dancing to a curious amalgamation of techno, baroque and waltz. As I stood transfixed by perplexity, a young girl, perhaps only fourteen or fifteen years old, was descending the staircase. She wore a long floral shoulderless dress with a wide-brimmed hat perched on long curly brown hair. As she walked down, the guests greeted her respectfully as she passed by: some with great flourishes as broad feathered or stiff tall hats were swept by, some with respectful bows and some by simple nods of acknowledgement. I guessed that this child was quite celebrated, but I didn't recognise her from my limited knowledge of society débutantes featured on Suburban television. She approached the foot of the stairs and headed towards me. "Hello," she greeted, outstretching a long thin ivory-white arm. A single gold bracelet rolled down her wrist as she delicately shook my hand. "My father told me that Sir George had brought along a human to his Party. He also declared that you don't know anyone here. Is that so?" "Yes, it is," I admitted shyly. "Well, I had better perform my duty as my father's daughter and one of the Party's hostesses. My name is Zitha, in case you didn't already know, and I shall gladly show you around. The house is very extensive. It's got absolutely acres of space. Even with the hundreds of guests we've always got here, it never feels full. You could easily get lost in the hallways and corridors. I often get lost myself, you know." She chuckled like a child several years younger than she actually was. "I can stray for days on end. People just can't find me! I still find all sorts of rooms I'd never known about before. Rooms with such secrets, you wouldn't believe! Still," she pirouetted round to survey the guests, "where's Sir George?" In amongst the velociraptors, peacocks, smilodons, elands and moas dressed in such wide diversity it just wasn't possible to distinguish a six foot tall grasshopper. Zitha grinned. "Well, I'm sure he's found someone to talk to. He's ever so popular, you know! However, I'll introduce you to our guests. This gentleman is a police sergeant, aren't you?"
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