Free Bang by Charles Kennedy Scott Page B

I.’
    ‘Gentlemen, our conversation has come to an end.’
    The two officers seemed satisfied now. One said, ‘This
way, prisoner. Look lively!’
    ‘Prisoner?’ said the other, and spun round.
    ‘Where has she gone?’
    ‘She’s missing!’
    ‘You must report this at once,’ said the Decorating
Officer, ‘to the Missing Persons Officer.’
    ‘Where might we find him. Is he on this floor? These
floors are so confusing. One so much resembles another.’
    ‘You’re looking at him. Me! I job-share with the
Missing Persons Officer. He in turn job shares with the record keeper at the
Abduction Unit. But that is quite another matter.’
    ‘It is lucky we came to you, then.’
    ‘Very well,’ said the Missing Persons Officer, ‘Who is
this person you would like to report missing? Are they tall, short, thin, fat?
Male, female, unsure? What is the missing person’s name? What is your
relationship with said missing person? How long have they been missing? Any
distinguishing features? These are some of the many questions I will ask.’
    One officer said, 'She has a fork sticking out of her
finger. That is how I recognise her.'
    'Stop!'
    The other said, 'I know her by her hairstyle – it
resembles our friend’s whose knee you pinned a medal to.'
    'Not yet!’
    ‘She’s utterly indistinguishable to us otherwise.’
    ‘No! You must come to my office to answer the many
questions I must ask you. The wonderful thing about this procedure is that
often by the time we have completed the questionnaire the missing person has
been found, and though it feels like we have been doing lots of work, we have
in fact been sitting down together eating and drinking and asking and answering
questions. I received a medal for inventing this procedure. I awarded it to
myself in front of a mirror. Unfortunately I blinked at the wrong moment and
pinned the medal in my eye. That is why I am half blind, and why I sometimes
pin medals to the wrong parts of officers. This way. Follow me. Whoops, that is
a wall.’

 
     
    5
– A P lumbing
Job
     
     
    Moments ago as the men bickered Delilah had backed
herself towards the wall, which was colour-coded like the lift buttons for the
floor, and swaggered quietly away. This colour-coding for a building of 333
floors was an administrative nightmare. The difficulty was that there were not
enough colours. Policy therefore was to choose one colour and vary it. Floor 49
was lilac, 48 a shade lighter and 50 a shade darker, but only very slightly,
imperceptibly. This was continued throughout the 333 floors. The Authority
trained people in the art of subtle colour recognition, how to distinguish one
shade or hue of lilac from the next. A policy intended to help employees find
their way around, and not to aid non-employees, people such as Delilah, who
were trying to escape. So, to 49’s backdrop of lilac, Delilah quietly slipped
away, barefooted, crazy-haired, in overalls, with a fork sticking out of her
finger, which she hid up a cuff of the overalls.
    And now she had just been challenged.
    ‘Stop, who goes there? I am an administrator from the
Color Coding Office and demand to know.’ The administrator shook what appeared
to be a rolled-up colour chart at her. Two whistling painters waltzed past,
thumbs hung in their pockets, talking about a friend of theirs who worked over
in the Public Body. Delilah chose once more to make use of the power of speech.
She said, though her voice felt funny, lower, gruffer, ‘I am a plumber. Let me
through. I have a job on.’
    ‘You’re not that missing plumber there’s a quarter of
a promotion reward for, are you?’
    ‘Do I look like that missing plumber?’
    ‘I don’t know. What does that missing plumber look
like?’
    ‘For a start,’ said Delilah, ‘he’s a man. He’s also
much taller than me. Now stand aside, office administrator, I have a blocked
U-bend to see to.’
    ‘I am sorry to have held you up. Good luck with the
U-bend. I bet it’s