Omega (30) "Perhaps in parts of the City like this, there isn't much need to spell correctly or to quote Aristophanes?" Beta suggested. "Nonsense! However impoverished the pupils - and some of them are appallingly poor - there is always a need for a good grasp of the basics of grammar and arithmetic. I am aware that many pupils have difficulty in doing their homework in the bombsites that pass for their homes (if indeed they don't actually live on the street) and I know that correct use of predicate and gerundive cases may seem irrelevant in a world where spoken language is more known for the imaginative use of pejorative terms than any other. I know that the parents, parent or guardians of the pupils find it extremely difficult to afford enough to eat and are often forever moving from one squalid hole to another. But these issues are irrelevant when the aims of universal education and the future refinement of our society are taken into account." The Gryphon brushed his beak with a claw and unruffled his wings. He gave them an impressive shake that threatened to lift him off the ground, and then let them fold again on his back. "Are you going this way?" He asked pointing along the road in the direction we were walking. I nodded. "Do you mind if I accompany you?" We had no reason to object, so the three of us strolled along a road which became steadily less salubrious as we progressed. Many buildings were now in such a state of dereliction that it was astonishing they hadn't totally collapsed in on themselves. There was no shortage of people living there, behind hard plastic screens and wire fences. I was quite grateful for the Gryphon's company who made me feel much safer by virtue of his size and his ability to fight off any attack. Youths stared at us darkly from beneath rusting fire escapes and by the graffiti-adorned pillars that once supported ornate porches. The traffic had become lighter, and much of it was pulled by very haggard ungulates dragging sheets behind them which collected their droppings. We came to a bridge by the bank of a dark brown canal which wound along the edge of the road and separated us from the backs of some forbidding red brick buildings where individuals of considerable ingenuity had succeeded in spray-painting a quite impressive density of obscure graffiti. One particular message in block letters dominated over the others, broadcasting the unpleasant message: GOATS GO HOME! BLACKS RULE O.K.! "Goodness only knows where the goats are supposed to go," sniffed the Gryphon. "The City is as much their home as it is any other species. And look at the water! Have you ever seen - or smelt - anything so revolting?" In the brown water was a shopping trolley resting on one side, a pool of green algae intermixing with oily scum and a few disconsolate ducks bobbing unhappily about on the surface. The smell was truly unpleasant. It was difficult to identify just what made it so disgusting, and it wasn't at all smothered by the floating sheets of newspaper, detergent bottles and cigarette packets on its surface. On the bank was a motley collection of ragged and ageing citizens slumped on the filthy ground around a brazier or crouched in the dark mud. There was a swan more grey with filth than white; a sheep who had lost all its fur and festered with very raw looking sores; a collection of crabs huddled together more for company than warmth; an eryops up to its chin in slimy canal water; and a few foxes scavenging in unpromising piles of rubbish decomposing in the early morning sun. In amongst all this squalor was a tall gentleman with a long beard, hair grown halfway down his back, wearing a long cloak and gown which despite the filth remained a sparklingly inappropriate golden tawny. He was carrying a large flask and a stack of plastic cups, which he doled out to the supplicants. He carefully poured some of the flask's contents into a cup from which rose a thin column of white steam. He also handed out bread rolls which were greedily devoured. He saw the three of us standing, and with an apologetic comment to the sheep he had been serving, strode towards us on his sandalled feet. He smiled welcomingly at us in such an infectious manner that it was impossible not to smile in return. "I take it that you're not poverty stricken?" He remarked amiably. "No," smiled Beta good-humouredly, "but we certainly feel poor in the City. Everything is so very expensive." "It certainly is. Especially to someone like you, who I surmise comes from the Country. But if you have nothing, then that nothing is the same if a cup of tea costs a farthing, a crown or a guinea." "Do you belong to some kind of charitable trust?" The Gryphon wondered. "There certainly is a great need for such services in the City. It's a wonder people manage to survive at all in this filth and squalor." "No, I don't," smiled the gentleman. "What I do, I do because I wish to. There are many charitable organisations in the City, as there are elsewhere in the country, and I have the highest possible regard for them. However, one's commitment to those in need does not end at giving to others to do the task. But I fear that whatever I do makes only an insignificant contribution to alleviating the great poverty that exists here in the midst of so much plenty." He indicated the tall buildings in the distance. "Shouldn't the government be doing what you're doing?" I wondered. "I dare say they should. The rôle of government of whatever political colour is to ameliorate the conditions of those in its charge least able to look after themselves." "Are you a Red, then?" Asked the Gryphon. "If so, you must be pretty pleased at the results of the General Election." "I have no real interest or involvement in the political process. There are good people of all political and religious persuasion, and to concentrate on the virtues of one party over another is not the best way to serve the plight of the needy." "Surely, that's rather naïve," argued the Gryphon. "The Black Party and the Illicit Party don't have very constructive attitudes towards the poor." "I have no opinion. What matters is the goodness and virtue of the individual. True lasting and significant change is not made solely by political policy. There are many in both the parties you mention who have good intentions, however perversely the parties they advocate may represent them." "I just don't believe that political solutions have no value," Beta objected. "Surely if the wealth of the very rich was better distributed, or if the government put more money into stimulating the economy of poor areas, or if things here weren't so expensive ..." "I don't deny that," smiled the gentleman conciliatorily. "All that you say is no doubt true. But it takes time for such political changes to take place, and it were better that they were not too firmly associated with one political persuasion over another if they are so undoubtedly for the common weal, as otherwise they risk being reversed by any future complexion of government. In the meantime, the part to be played is not to talk but to act. And action is all I know or care about. Now, if you may excuse me, I have work to do!" With that, the gentleman returned to the mass of poor people to whom he was doling out tea and bread. We watched him for a few minutes. Beta remarked that we ought to join him, but the Gryphon vetoed the suggestion. "I just don't believe that we as individuals can make any appreciable change at all," he sniffed. "At least not in this capacity. The best way I can help people is in my rôle as a teacher, not by working as a volunteer canteen assistant." Beta nodded reluctantly, so we left the canal and continued along the main road. The canal ran alongside it for several hundred yards, and offered the potential of quite a pleasant walk. However, the appalling potpourri of stenches did not make it one now. The canal was occasionally bridged by functional iron and redbrick bridges, sometimes coated with weeds and moss. "One would have thought that the City Council would do something about the atrocious state of the streets round here," sniffed the Gryphon disparagingly. "They forever complain about the lack of central government funding. They say that it is set at national rates which take no account of the much greater costs in the City than elsewhere in the country. If that were true, surely the Country would be benefiting disproportionately well, considering their much lower costs." "Won't things improve as a result of the General Election?" Wondered Beta. "Won't the Red Party invest more money in areas like this?" "I daresay they will - but there's an enormous amount of work to do. The City Council says that if life in the City was any more attractive than it is, it would simply encourage yet more people out of the Country and condemn them to homelessness and despair in a City unable to cope with the numbers already here." "Quite a few people have left my Village for the City," admitted Beta. "Like my friend Xenana. Off they go, leaving the Village short of farm workers and young people, and making it much more difficult for the rest who are left behind. They want all the things you can have in the City. And the City looks so glamorous on television. You just don't imagine it could be as rundown as this." "The same is true where I come from," the Gryphon elaborated. "Many of my pupils want to come to the City and become film stars, wealthy business people or politicians. I tell them: 'Fine! Go to the City. But visit it first. Be sure that it's really what you want.' I wonder how many take my advice. How many have just cut themselves free from their roots and become prostitutes, criminals or vagrants?" The canal came to an end, and the road became impassable to all traffic as it crowded with market stalls selling fruit and vegetables, video tapes, counterfeit goods and clothes. The Gryphon mentioned that he was near his destination, which were the local education authority offices housed in a tall concrete building protruding rather incongruously from the midst of the old and dilapidated buildings that otherwise composed the district. He hurried off, his wings flapping behind him while we negotiated the gaps between the stalls. The air was full of the cry of market traders anxiously selling their wares. It was difficult to believe that anyone would want to buy some of the things on sell. There were worn out slippers, part used school exercise books, plastic trays and towels featuring crudely painted pictures of such City sights as Her Maphrodite' palace and a very tall column crowned by a giant sheep. One stall sold badges, posters, magazines and books all associated with the Illicit Party. The store-holder was a young goat with a green beret and large boots strapped to his hooves. There were quite a few customers gathered around the stall to buy badges or tee-shirts adorned by Rupert's ubiquitous face. Another stall was selling icons and religious crosses beside which was a large chimpanzee nun shouting rather insistently: "The End is Nigh! Read the Word of the Lord and Gain Salvation!" We dodged past a camel walking by with a sandwich board advertising Cut-Price Jeans on either side of his hump. A large crow was selling records from a small van the sounds of which easily drowned out the calls of the market traders and shuddered through my body from my toes up. A few people were standing and arguing outside small pubs holding pints of beer in their hands. Although they were dressed quite badly, they seemed to have no shortage of money which bulged out from their rear pockets. "It's filthy here!" Commented Beta looking down at her legs now spattered with oval splashes of grime and the soles of her feet which were now almost totally black. "I hope we can find somewhere I can wash. I feel like such a tramp." When we reached the other side of the market, we could see that we were now not at all far from the taller and more grand buildings of the City. Beta sighed in relief. "I'll be so much happier to get away from all this poverty. It's so depressing!" The roads were now more evenly paved and correspondingly more congested. The vehicles passing by were newer, more modern and much more powerful. We walked alongside buildings still occasionally decorated by graffiti, and Beta was pleased to see a small ornate fountain at the side of the road, where water was dripping from the minuscule penis of the statue of a small boy. We paused by the fountain for a drink of the metallic-tasting water and for Beta to wash the dirt off her filthy feet. While she stood on one leg, leaning against a post to keep her balance, I saw the tall and unmistakable shadow of an enormous lion ambling aimlessly along the pavement. He was far too large for the traffic and pedestrians to avoid, but both consciously tried to do so. Only a distant sense appeared to prevent him from causing severe local damage by treading on the parked cars and dislodging lamp-posts. His step seemed quite unsteady. His head was mostly bowed down. And his paws carelessly crunched up waste-paper bins and black plastic rubbish bags. "Lord Arthur!" Gasped Beta, steadying herself on both her feet. "But no sign of Una!" Beta waved at the lion as he came closer. He didn't appear to recognise us until he was barely yards away, and I was afraid he would tread on us and crumple us into the same twisted mess he had just left a child's plastic tricycle. He halted in his tracks and his sad bleary eyes gazed down at us. He shook his enormous head, hitting his mane against a street lamp and shattering it into small fragments which tinkled down beside him. "Good morning," he said wearily and somewhat vaguely. "Hello. We meet again!" "Hello," greeted Beta, with some concern. "Where's Una? Where's the girl we saw you with yesterday?" "Lost! Totally lost! Like everything else: lost! Never to be found again! My fortune! My empire! My life! Lost! There is nothing more for me! Nothing left for me. I am no longer the great and magnificent Lord Arthur, king of all I survey. Even my holdings in this part of the City - such paltry worthless possessions too! All lost! Gone forever! And so humiliatingly!" "Do you know where Una's gone?" Insisted Beta. Lord Arthur ignored her question, appearing not to have even heard it. "Since the Election, it has been as I said. In less than twenty four hours it has been disaster. Tax officials hounding me. Debts I owed from fifteen years ago return to be repaid. All my employees made redundant and on terms which leave me with nothing. Nothing! Which is what I am now! Nothing. To be sneered at by petty criminals, to be turned away from the doors of fair weather friends, to be mocked by the jackals in the media. Everywhere I turn: humiliation, defeat and insult. I am not the lion I was. I may tower high above the miserable ungulates and crustaceans of the City, but I am now no better than them. No longer wealthy. No longer powerful. A bankrupt with a legacy of debt greater than most nation's Gross National Product which will haunt me for the rest of my days. My family disown me. My colleagues disown me. I am nothing more than a pauper." "Do you know where Una is?" Persisted Beta. "Una? The pregnant girl?" Wondered Lord Arthur. "No. To be honest, I don't. I have lost everything. She is just one more thing I have lost. I should never have changed my advisors. I should never have been tempted to make quick rapid gains at the expense of core businesses and allow my business's credit to become so debased. I shouldn't have gambled away so much of my wealth. I shouldn't have frittered so much on the pursuit of worthless pleasure. My yachts, my fleet of Ferraris, my collections of priceless art, my several homes scattered all about the world. All gone!" He opened his mouth and gave vent to a truly terrifying roar which caused several citizens to run away in fear and a car to hit into the back of another that had applied its brakes in sudden alarm. He shook his mane ferociously, smashing the glass of several windows, snapping off a flag staff jutting out of a building and bending the lamp-post he had recently damaged. His tail swung from side to side, smashing a shop window and sending a cyclist flying sideways onto the bumper of a passing car. "It's over. It's all over!" He cried in despair. "The Arthurian empire is now just a legend. One that I trust will always be remembered. One that will not be judged to harshly by history, I hope. To join the procession of great businesses which have preceded it. Now to be plundered by the Red Party vultures, the gangsters of organised crime and the banks. Perhaps as people look upon my great works they will not feel that it has all been in vain. It has had its great moments. I may have been guilty of great crimes and malpractices in my years as a tycoon. I may have become famous as much for my vices and my readiness to sue for libel, as for my fabulous wealth and the comfortable working conditions of my City employees. Time will tell. Only time will tell!" Then, without even the hint of a farewell, he continued on his lumbering confused way in the direction of the market we had left, muttering to himself and occasionally shouting an incoherent cry of rage and frustration.
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