Good Omens(50)

“I bet he has a cup of tea first, and then reads the paper,” said Wensleydale, who had on one memorable occasion during the holidays gone unexpectedly into his father's office, where he had formed certain impressions. “And talks about what was on TV last night.”

“Well, orlright, but after that he gets out the book and the big stamp.”

“Which says 'Hush It Up,”' said Pepper.

“It says Top Secret,” said Adam, resenting this attempt at bipartisan creativity. “It's like nucular power stations. They keep blowin' up all the time but no one ever finds out 'cos the goverment hushes it up.”

“They don't keep blowing all the time,” said Wensleydale severely. “My father says they're dead safe and mean we don't have to live in a greenhouse. Anyway, there's a big picture of one in my comic* and it doesn't say anything about it blowing up.”

[Wensleydale's alleged comic was a 94.. week part.. work called Wonders of Nature and Science. He had every single one so far, and had asked for a set of binders for his birthday. Brian's weekly reading was anything with a lot of exclamation marks in the title, like “WhiZZ!!” or “Clang!!” So was Pepper's, although even under the most refined of tortures she still wouldn't admit to the fact that she also bought Just Seventeen under plain covers. Adam didn't read any comics at all. They never lived up to the kind of things he could do in his head.]

“Yes,” said Brian, “But you lent me that comic afterwards and I know what type of picture it was.”

Wensleydale hesitated, and then said in a voice heavy with badly tried patience, “Brian, just because it says Exploded Diagram.. ”

There was the usual brief scuffle.

“Look,” said Adam severely. “Do you want me to tell you about the Aquarium Age, or not?”

The fight, never very serious amongst the siblinghood of the Them, subsided.

“Right,” said Adam. He scratched his head. “Now you've made me forget where I've got to,” he complained.

“Flyin' saucers,” said Brian.

“Right. Right. Well, if you do see a flying UFO, these government men come and tell you off,” said Adam, getting back into his stride. “In a big black car. It happens all the time in America.”

The Them nodded sagely. Of this at least they had no doubt. America was, to them, the place that good people went to when they died. They were prepared to believe that just about anything could happen in America.

“Prob'ly causes traffic jams,” said Adam, “all these men in black cars, going about telling people off for seeing UFOs. They tell you that if you go on seeing 'em, you'll have a Nasty Accident.”

“Prob'ly get run over by a big black car,” said Brian, picking at a scab on a dirty knee. He brightened up. “Do you know,” he said, “my cousin said that in America there's shops that sell thirty.. nine different flavors of ice cream?”

This even silenced Adam, briefly.

“There aren't thirty.. nine flavors of ice cream,” said Pepper. “There aren't thirty.. nine flavors in the whole world.”

“There could be, if you mixed them up,” said Wensleydale, blinking owlishly. “You know. Strawberry and chocolate. Chocolate and vanilla.” He sought for more English flavors. “Strawberry and vanilla and chocolate,” he added, lamely.

“And then there's Atlantis,” said Adam loudly.

He had their interest there. They enjoyed Atlantis. Cities that sank under the sea were right up the Them's street. They listened intently to a jumbled account of pyramids, weird priesthoods, and ancient secrets.

“Did it just happen sudden, or slowly?” said Brian.

“Sort of sudden an' slowly,” said Adam, “'cos a lot of 'em got away in boats to all the other countries and taught 'em how to do maths an' English an' History an' stuff.”

“Don't see what's so great about that,” said Pepper.

“Could of been good fun, when it was sinking,” said Brian wistfully, recalled the one occasion when Lower Tadfield had been flooded. “People deliverin' the milk and newspapers by boat, no one having to go to school.”

“If I was an Atlantisan, I'd of stayed,” said Wensleydale. This was greeted with disdainful laughter, but he pressed on. “You'd just have to wear a diver's helmet, that's all. And nail all the windows shut and fill the houses with air. It would be great.”

Adam greeted this with the chilly stare he reserved for any of Them who came up with an idea he really wished he'd thought of first.

“They could of done,” he conceded, somewhat weakly. “After they'd sent all the teachers off in the boats. Maybe everyone else stayed on when it went down.”