Omega (20) "Yes, I am. I've never been there before." "No? Well there's a first time for everything." She shook the blonde hair that flowed onto her shoulders and ran her fingers through it from her temples. "Did I hear you and your Gryphon friend talking about me at the bus stop?" I blushed slightly. "Yes. He thought you were a film actress..." "...And a pornographic one at that, too, I suppose? Well, your friend is right, I'm afraid. I am an actress. And a good living it is too! I gathered also from what I heard your friend was saying (so loudly and clearly!) that he believes film and theatre is all about art and education. He seems to think that it can never be entertainment." "I think he was saying something like that." "How amusing. I suppose that all of life is some kind of school lesson? How jolly dull! Why can't things just be fun? Why can't we do something just because it's enjoyable? If we only ever do something because we think it's good for us or because we might learn something from it, it merely debases life, which must contain an element of fun in it." "I think the Gryphon was also saying that film and theatre shouldn't just entertain..." "He did, did he?" Mused the Actress as the bus's quietly purring engine changed its tone and the bus moved slowly out of the depot. It curved and cornered onto the main road, leaving behind Bay Number 9, where another bus was manoeuvring in. It sped along black tarmac past fields of cattle, wheat and barley, demarcated by tall trees with white-painted trunks which filed past with the same regularity as the white markings in the centre of the road. "Your Gryphon friend has a point, though," admitted the Actress. "Whether films or plays aspire to be art or entertainment is irrelevant, they will always inculcate values into the audience. It is the task of those involved in their production, in whatever capacity, to be aware of these values however deeply hidden they may be. It is quite simply everyone's moral and political duty to ensure not only that their principles are not compromised, but that they are furthered in whatever work they do." "Are you saying that films should be like propaganda?" "Intentionally or not all films, all art and all creative enterprises are propaganda. They all reinforce the cultural and social structures which led to their creation. It is an inevitable and inescapable aspect of everything one does. In my performances I always try to further my views on the rights of women; the struggle of the working classes; the value and vulnerability of the environment; and the self-determination of all species. It may have to be done subtly in the context of the rôles I play, within the constraints of the script and the athleticism and pathos the part demands. But it is there nonetheless. Just as it is expressed in the angles and close-ups selected by the camera operators. Just as it is implied in the justice and deserts the script-writer metes out to each character. Just as it is revealed in the final cut released from the editing room. Everyone involved in a film has his or her input and this indisputably affects the final product and produces a particular effect in the viewer (which may or may not be that intended!)." "So you do believe that film is a kind of propaganda." "In a way. But only insofar that film cannot avoid being so. And usually the message generated is really nothing more than a restatement of the comforting status quo, reinforcing the principles of the film financiers and the target audience. Films can also be appreciated in their own terms: is it entertaining, thrilling, erotic, frightening or funny? The viewer has to judge whether he or she has been entertained, thrilled, aroused, frightened or amused. And if the film achieves what it intended, then it must be deemed a success." The Actress smiled disarmingly and laid down a copy of her magazine, The Struggle, the cover of which featured a picture of a figure huddled in a blanket in the entrance to a shop with the words Homeless and Hungry! scrawled on a piece of cardboard. "I'm sorry to go on like this. I just get so jolly fed up when I hear people like your Gryphon friend going on about things he really doesn't know anything about. But on a different note: who have you voted for in the General Election?" "I haven't voted for anyone," I had to admit. "The General Election wasn't very well advertised in the Suburbs." "Typical White Party indecisiveness, I imagine. And if that's where you come from, and judging from the way you dress I can't imagine it being anywhere else, there isn't much point in voting for anything other than White or Blue unless you want to waste your vote. Parties like the Reds and the Greens just don't have the smallest chance there." "No, they don't." I agreed. "Nobody in the Suburbs votes for either of them." "Not like the City or Baldam where the Red Party almost always triumphs. I imagine people in the Suburbs simply agree with the general misrepresentation of the Red Party: that they will immediately shut down the Stock Exchange, nationalise all industries, depose Her Maphrodite and instantly impose punitive taxation on the rich." "Isn't that just exactly what the Red Party wants to do?" "All socialists, including me, would like to see the capitalist system replaced by a fairer system which focuses on the needs of the poor and the most disadvantaged, rather than perpetuate the injustices which make such a misery of the lives of those least able to defend themselves. All socialists are affronted by a system of patronage which permits wealth to be amassed by those like Her Maphrodite who have gained it entirely by virtue of birth. All socialists want a more equable distribution of wealth and power. But the Red Party represents a very broad amalgamation of socialist, communist, anarcho-syndicalist and social democratic interests, and although individual comrades may have opinions and views much more radical than others, the Party is actually committed to only a gradualist reformist policy. It would not do in a society as complex and integrated as ours to make changes that are too sudden and too radical. Experience has shown that the immediate satisfaction it might give to the more far left members of the party is more than outweighed by the distrust and lack of co-operation it engenders in society as a whole. And a true socialist utopia cannot be achieved without the full approval and commitment of all members of society." "Are those your views?" "If they are the views of the political bureau of the Red Party then as a comrade in the struggle towards a fair and just society they will be my views as well. The Red Party will not gain power if it does not present a unified and coherent front, attractive to all factions of the working class and unlikely to alienate too large a proportion of the bourgeoisie. Once in power, it will not hold onto it for very long if it does not consolidate its support nor forward its policies in a way that endangers their success by prompting a rapid loss of capital and endorsement from industry and commerce. Otherwise, the socialist revolution is lost before it has even begun." The Actress studied me carefully. "I know that you're unlikely to have voted for the Red Party. It would be incredible that anyone from the Suburbs would vote for the relief of poverty and prejudice they have never witnessed and will never suffer from. So, what are you doing here on a bus to Lambdeth so many leagues from the Suburbs? Why haven't you stayed behind and voted in the General Election?" "I'm on a quest for the Truth." The Actress raised her eyebrows in surprise. "That's a jolly odd thing for someone from the Suburbs to be doing! The Truth! Flipping heck! It must be a jolly fashionable thing to do these days. These flipping Illicitists are searching for it I believe. Are you in the Illicit Party?" "Not at all. I just think it's a worthwhile thing to do." The Actress smiled wanly. She leaned forward, her overcoat opening to reveal a plunging neckline and a pearl necklace. "I really don't agree with you. The search for the Truth is diversionary and counter-productive. And anyway, I just don't believe it can ever be found." "Surely if it exists, it can be found." "Even if that axiom were true, I would like to know how anyone could ever be sure that what they'd found was actually the Truth. How can you be sure that it is not something that merely looks like the blooming Truth, walks like the Truth but is merely masquerading as the Truth? How can anyone ever be sure that it is the Truth that one has found? And even if one could be sure,. even if it could be verified as the Truth by some expert, or had a label attached to it reading The Truth, The Universe and Everything, or if the certainty of the Truth was intrinsic in its own discovery. What then? What do you do with it? Is it going to feed people? Or house them? Or solve all the terrible problems of war, pestilence, plague and famine that trouble the world? How are people's welfare any way contingent on the Truth? If the Truth exists, it's always been there, and hasn't needed to be found to alleviate the world's ills. In fact, I believe that if the Truth were ever found, by you or anyone else, it would become just yet another expensive luxury stored at colossal expense in a museum or research institute, further diverting attention from the needs of the underprivileged, the underdeveloped and the undernourished. Even the search for it merely diverts valuable resources away from where they need to go. Surely, it is better to sort out all that which is wrong in this world before leaping ahead and looking for things of interest only to philosophers, scientists and academics." "You don't believe that my quest is at all worthwhile." The Actress laughed kindly. "I don't wish to down-hearten you too much. You do exactly what you like. You're only one individual, and what you do isn't really going to change very much. Even if you do find the Truth, which I frankly doubt. However if you think that you're going to find it in Lambdeth Central, you'd better steel yourself as I believe it's just coming up!" I looked out of the window and noticed that the bus was no longer speeding along past fields or forests, but along a series of raised roadways around which were tall buildings and warehouses. The view was dominated by enormous hoardings, neon-lit product names, traffic lights soaring above and road signs. The roar of the bus's engine was partly obscured by that of other traffic passing above it, below it, and on either side. Then, sure enough, the bus turned off the main motorway, descended down and around a loop of roads, through a tunnel illuminated by the message Lambdeth Central Welcomes Careful Drivers and finally drew to a halt at a bus station attached to a much larger railway station. The buildings all around were constructed of plastic, steel, glass and concrete. People swarmed around escalators, elevators, robots, blinking lights and small trucks. "So, here we are!" Announced the Actress, standing up. "It's been jolly nice meeting you. I'm off to the City now, but I hope you enjoy your stay in Lambdeth. I warn you though. It may be a pleasant sort of place, but it's no utopia!" 11 Lambdeth Central was quite simply the largest railway station I had ever seen. Several times larger than any in the Suburbs. Indeed, it was like a complete town: consisting of a network of pubs, cafés, shops and amusement arcades. Quite clearly it was designed to divert those expecting to wait several hours for their next train. I wasn't at all sure whether this reflected on the frequency of the services or the likelihood of there being delays. Amongst all this provision and behind the electronic indicator boards, were the numbered platforms where trains of all kinds were waiting on distinctly different railway gauges, some purring menacingly with the apparent ability to exceed the speed of sound while remaining terrestrially bound, while others puffed cheerful clouds of smoke from coal-filled furnaces. The station was not crowded, although it was in the midst of the evening commuter rush, and many of the waiting passengers seemed to have only a passing interest in the trains. There were oxen sitting on specially designed seats; a couple of serpentine centipedes reading newspapers; a dire wolf selling magazines in a stall to a boa constrictor who rather ingeniously managed to both pay for a magazine and then hold it open to read; a dimetrodon hastened by with his umbrella in his mouth; and a hippogriff was engaged in selling lottery tickets behind a large model of a blobby pink figure with yellow spots. There was quite enough to see at the railway station, without venturing through the main entrance past the squawking sparrows and pigeons into the university city itself. I could see the tall stone buildings, the clocks ticking with civic pride on ornate towers and a flurry of black gowns and mortar boards on bicycles. For the moment, however, I was more interested in finding something to eat, or at least a coffee to drink. I wandered along the station grounds, peering at the signs to find a place that sold food and drink rather than compact discs, lawn mowers, fluffy toys with I © Baldam written on them and magazines. I carefully trod over the length of an anaconda lying rather untidily outside a Ye Olde Croissants shop, and when I looked up after this difficult manoeuvre I saw a familiar figure waving at me and running in my direction. It was Anna, whose hair was now very short, with massive hooped earrings dangling from her ears, light-weight floral cotton shorts and a very loose white tee-shirt barely long enough to cover her midriff. "Flipping heck! We keep meeting!" she exclaimed. "One moment in Endon and the next in Lambdeth Central. So, are you still with that oversized grasshopper?" "No, I last saw him at a party a long way from here." "Well!" Anna exclaimed again. She looked at me and around her, apparently not quite sure what to do. "Where are you going now?" "I'm looking for somewhere to eat. I feel quite hungry." "That's a super idea! Let's go to one of the cafés here ... Let's see ..." She stood on her sandalled toes and scanned the station. "Let's go to an Uncle Joe's. They do pretty good kirsch and I wouldn't mind sharing a samovar with you." She pointed to a café promoted by a very avuncular character with a thick moustache and a collarless jacket, just between a Big Frank's Frankfurters and a Chinese take-away. We strolled towards it across the plastic carton littered expanse and were welcomed in by a small bull with a ring through his nose and a plastic hat on his head. He escorted us to a table by a window looking out past the cardboard figure of a cheerful Uncle Joe to a waiting steam train. I was somewhat undecided about which of the rather unfamiliarly entitled items on the menu to order. There was never so much variety or choice in the Suburbs. Anna, however, was considerably more knowledgeable than me and with her assistance I selected something that approximated to a steak and chips, while Anna ordered a samovar for us to drink from. I was glad that she was knowledgeable of the ceremonies and procedures associated with such a strange kind of teapot. "You've changed your hairstyle," I commented while Anna poured out the first cup of tea. "It's much shorter." "Well, that's fashion for you, dear! I'm only away from here for such a jolly short time and it's all change! A girl can't stand still for an instant in the modern world! You leave it for a little while and when you get back you have to be jolly quick to avoid looking like yesterday's news!" "Where have you been visiting?" I asked as Anna put down the samovar and I picked up my blisteringly hot cup. My lips were scorched by the liquid, so I chose to leave it to cool for a few moments. "Oh! Here and there! Well, you know where I've been! I've been to the Suburbs amongst other places: and a more blinking tedious place you couldn't imagine! Bourgeois, dull and smugly self-satisfied! That's what I call it! Yes, I know you come from there - you poor thing - but a girl's got to have an opinion! I had ever so much difficulty finding somewhere to stay there. You just wouldn't believe the number of bed and breakfast hotels which were full, despite having Vacancies signs outside! I don't really think I'll be going back to the Suburbs in a hurry! Meeting you there was almost the highlight of my visit. Having seen other places, do you think you'll be hurrying back to live in the Suburbs again?"
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