Empire of Fashion

[Pleater]

As the afternoon wore on, and we became more dispirited, I asked about the method used to transport the people away, and presumably bring us here.

They looked at the quiet one of the Committee.

'They do not talk about the equipment used to open the doorways between the worlds, not in front of Others.'
He put in the capital letter to give it significance.
'However, we have managed to gather some intelligence about it. We have even managed to gain access to it and so bring you here, though I am sorry that, in order to be certain of finding suitable men for our purpose, we also brought you ladies. It could not be helped and we do apologise for it.'

'I take it that we will not be able to return home unless we succeed in this venture.'
There was an awkward pause.
'Or is even that not at all certain?'

The civil servant smiled. 'You do have a knack of asking awkward questions.' he declared. 'I do suspect that we will be staying here for some time.'
'But you could return us to the time of our departure.'
'No. The ring will make a way into another reality, but it is at the present time, there is no way to move back in time.'
'Of course,' I agreed.
'But we do not intend to fail, we will be leaving after dinner to visit some people, that is the gentlemen will be going. We must leave you to your own devices, but we should be back by morning.'

I bit my tongue, endured another dreadful meal and wished them well as they set off into the night. They has some tiny carriages each pulled by four diminutive ponies. They were of the New Forest type, but rather smaller than the ones I normally see at home.

They were not back by morning. The women were very concerned and kept a constant watch for them. Eventually about noon three boys came with the vehicles and a note. They had gone to Wales. Nothing more could be discovered, and so we just had to wait for them to return.

[Pleater]

I gathered up a heap of dry dead plants and used my reading glasses to focus the sun onto some fine wisps of grass. It was soon burning merrily, spreading across the walled garden and removing years of neglect.

The women came running from the House in alarm, and tried to beat out the flames with brushes and mops.

'You'll bring the Fashion Police!' they shouted at me.
'Why? Surely they wouldn't be concerned by a garden fire.'
'They watch everything, you must not do anything to attract their attention.'
'How do they watch?'
My question was answered by the sound of an aircraft engine, and a small helicopter came into view over the high walls. It's pilot found a place to land and two of the passengers came to where we were all assembled. I had been pulled along by the household women, which was not wise.

The Fashion Police in their turquoise uniforms are arrogant, cocksure and they smirk - but the women were so meek and apologetic that I could have slapped them.

Fortunately there was a dirty old broken bottle lying on the burnt area, and the men concluded that it had caused the fire. They did not wish to get their boots dirty, I could see, so they took the first explanation which fitted the facts as they saw them.

Unfortunately the pilot kept the engine running downwind of the fire, and when it came to be time to take off, the revs would not increase. I assumed that the smoke had clogged the air filters, but the pilot seemed to have no clue about the possible causes of the problem.

They raised the alarm using a radio, I went to have a look inside whilst the Fashion Police were having a rather intense discussion on the other side of the aircraft. The company colours, turquoise and gold were used everywhere, and their rather artistic looking logo was on everything, even the material upholstering the seats.

The floor of the aircraft was littered with wrappers and dropped or discarded items. I picked up a pen and tried it on my hand, it did not work, so I swapped it for the identical, but working one on the clipboard in the pocket inthe pilot's door. I found a notebook under the seat, lots of sweets - someone did not like the yellow ones, a few coins, something sticky I did not want to know about. I put the pen and notebook in my skirt pocket, and retreated.

[Pleater]

Not wishing to walk past the Fashion Police, I used the helicopter as cover and moved away from everyone.

The three of me had agreed to use a tree as a rendezvous point, it was a weeping cherry and had a large area beneath its branches where nothing grew, but around it there was a ferocious tangle of brambles. To gain access to the centre of the branches it was necessary to walk through the old grotto, a place full of nooks and corners, and if you knew where to turn you'd be able to duck under the archway and be under the canopy.

As I ducked I sensed that there was someone on the other side, and paused.
'Who's there?'
'Us.'
I stepped out and looked around at the Captain and the Chorister. The Chorister was holding a sturdy branch. The Captain was empty handed, but there was a bow and quiver set against the rockery, and a garden trugh with a good number of rabbits laid in it. She saw where I was looking, and grinned
'One more microwaved meal and I might have done something drastic, like gnawing off my own leg. As you're here, can you kotch them? My knife is useless for kitchen duties.'

I drew my knife and began to clean and skin the rabbits. The chorister made a face and a sound full of vowels and doubleyous. I told them that the helicopter was broken.
'They'll probably send a recovery crew out from wherever their base is. I hope they are efficient, I want to cook these.'
'What in?' I enquired grimly, 'There is only the microwave.'
'Spitroast perhaps.'
I looked at the insides of the first rabbit, and spread them out a little more.
'I don't think that this is a rabbit as I know them.' I said slowly, 'It isn't a vegetarian.'

The stomach contents proved to be part of a small bird, insects and what could have been a small fish. The Captain decided against eating rabbit from this reality, and I cleaned my knife, then remembered the notebook and pen.
'Look, I got this from the helicopter whilst they were arguing - pen and paper.'
'Anything interesting in it?'
'Just paper.'
The Chorister took it and flipped the pages. I had looked at it from the wrong side, there was writing on pages at what I had thought was the back of the notebook.

[Standard]

She came in and curtsied to Hamish, which we soon came to realise was entirely normal.

So things there are pretty much as here it seems.

[Pleater]

Just when I am about to get on to the explanation - I am going to be away from the computer for a week or so.

The story was supposed to be complete by now - as were all the preparations for my absence here - but that has not worked out either.

Ah well - the best laid plans of MHICE and me gang aft agley

I am sure that Panache and davedove will be able to keep you entertained whilst I am away, and I look forward to taking up the prequel to their tales.

Fear not, the Hamish persona is not left in a sad brown suit.

Anne the Pleater

[Livingston]

That is entirely fine with me, Anne. I have to leave for a week myself so I will end up being able to read the prequel before theirs.

[Pleater]

During the days following the arrival of the helicopter we had to be careful as there were Fashion police guarding the aircraft and those off duty wandered about as though they owned the place. We were obliged to look after them, cooking and cleaning, carrying and fetching, they did not do a hand's turn for themselves and the women were very weary by the time several more helicopters arrived to remove them as soon as the repairs to the downed machine were effected.

For the first time I saw one of the Company Men - not one of this world in their employ but one wearing a golden tunic. He was decidedly too plump for the cut of it, his face had an unhealthy flush of red, and his mousey blond curls were thinning and rather badly permed. He peered around shortsightedly, and gave orders in a squeaky voice.

The men he brought with him to do the work were of an altogether different type - far too sharp. It was one of them who oversaw the unloading of the meals to replace those eaten by the fashion police - and the three of me went to get them. We made the mistake of calculating the number of meals eaten, the number of meals we had put into the baskets and how many more were needed to make up the number far too quickly and easily.

I turned and requested another two boxes, and then saw the expression on the man's face.

'So you can calculate - who taught you?'
'Granddad.' said the Captain, quickly. 'Is there something wrong?'
He gave a nasty grin.
'Oh no - I think we can find you some work at the local depot.'
'Oh no.' I gasped, for I had just finished planting the walled garden with the vegetable seeds I had brought with me.

Next day we were moved to the local depot, and were set to work in an office there, where the paperwork was in considerable disarray and the accounts were in disorder. It seemed that they had had no one numerate working there for years, and no one working really cared - but there had been an audit done and they had been given a warning that things had to be done better, and that the errors in previous years had to be resolved.

For three weeks we worked accurately and diligently, and things began to add up. At the end of the month we were sent to the regional HQ with the paperwork for the last decade.

That was the first time we traveled in a ring car. It was just a small one, with a ring that traveled only vertically, and from inside the car it was totally uneventful. There was a slight jolt - a safety feature which ensured that the whole car was transported, apparently, and then the door was opened and we stepped out into a hall busy with people, and where there were eight sets of the small rings and one large one.

It must have been a railway station at one time, and there were platforms around it for trains. A steam train was departing as we arrived, clanking and hissing dismally, it seemed in dire need of maintenance.

We were led to a magnificent town hall, where we presented the paperwork and waited until the clerks there were satisfied that it tallied with their records. A rather shrunken elderly man in a gold tunic came to look at us.

'So - did you do the work on the accounts?' he enquired.
'Yes, Sir,' said the Captain. 'It was very difficult.'
'I expect it was. You can work here now. The locals have no ability with figures, at least not the men.'
The Chorister gave a little cry of alarm, and I felt my shoulders sink, but we were ushered away to a room full of desks and boxes of papers, and told to get busy.

[Arlen]

This just gets better and better!

[Pleater]

Our lowly status as females actually gave us more freedom, and the office was on the mezzanine floor so one of me could watch the coming and goings, and make notes in the notebook. Paper and pens were not easily available.

Once we had begun the work we stayed late in the evening, and then we began to leave to eat dinner and then return to work. Although there was a night watchman the offices were never locked, as there were deliveries at all times of the day and night - presumably whenever there was room in a car boxes of papers were loaded on and then they were brought straight to the town hall.

Thankfully our work brought us better food, and we were given dark blue shawls in recognition of our usefulness. They contrasted rather oddly with the pale lime green coloured gowns which were now what we had to wear.

We shared a small apartment which was intended for four, but which we had to ourselves as there were no other women office workers. We even had a radio, and were woken each working day by the cheerful announcement of the time followed by happy morning music. There was no off switch, and the volume control did not rotate far enough to make it inaudible. As there were news bulletins and announcements from time to time we did not dare try to disconnect the speaker entirely just in case we missed something.

Once we were fairly sure we knew the systems, or at least what other departments did, we began to move, and to steal paperwork. We tried to make it as random as possible, and we put our shawls around our hands so as not to leave finger prints. About two thirds of the papers were put into wrong files, and almost one third was shredded small then put into a sink full of water and rubbed to pulp, then washed away. We were careful to include some papers from our own office, some from those already processed and some from the stacks waiting to be done. We used different washrooms around the building, and we waited for our sabotage to take effect.

It seemed that there was nothing happening for a long time, weeks passed, but we resisted the temptation to increase the thefts. Then, when the Captain noticed an alteration in the routine of the Golden, we decided to call a halt.

Two days later there was an almighty disruption as a small army of auditors arrived and we were all excluded from the offices.

After a couple of days we asked a supervisor if it would be alright for us to go home, as there was nothing to do, and promised faithfully to return in a week to see how things were going.

We were sent to the Hall of the Rings, to keep the records there.

I heard the Captain humming a tune as we waited to be assigned, and the Chorister and I exchanged smiles, though just why we found the Ride of the Valkyrie amusing I could not really say.

[Pleater]

The Hall of the Rings was being guarded. There were Fashion Police everywhere, armed with small automatic weapons and strutting about getting in the way.

The Hall was in use day and night, and from the records we were set to keeping we knew that for most of the time the transfers were done in only a few hours each week. It was soon obvious that there was something going on which was disrupting normal working. After overhearing a few comments it seemed that there was a rebellion amongst the wolf hunters, that a ring station had been taken over and several consignments of meals had been highjacked, so there were plans to do something to restore control.

The Captain heard that if not for the consignment of acryli-beast pelts expected from the high Arctic at the end of the summer hunting season, that 'the pins would be pulled' on this world, - which seemed to mean that the Fashion Fur personnel would withdraw and leave the locals to survive as best they could. That would be tantamount to a death sentence for most of the population, and it was rather chilling to think that it was most likely Hamish and the three male me's fault, as I had managed to listen in on one side of a phone conversation between two Golden, and the description of the kilts meant it could only be the Copper, the Civil Servant and the Chemistry Teacher.

'We will have to do something soon, or it will be too late,' said the Chorister. 'There is something going to happen tomorrow in the Hall of Rings, we have to be out of here by ten o'clock.' She waved the notice just delivered to our office by a sneering Blue Meanie. The Captain made signs to be quiet and went to the door in case there was someone able to overhear. It seemed that all was clear but she walked over to the Chorister and spoke softly.
'I'm sorry, but this is really making me feel ill, all the sneaking about and,' the Chorister gave a sob and felt for a tissue. 'If only we could do something, anything, so we could go home.'

The Captain put a hand on her shoulder.
'Tomorrow you can leave the Hall, and we'll stay and try to see what is going on. We'll probably have to stay overnight, and meet up again the morning after, if we can't get out unseen.'

A few minutes later we were called to help in making records of the arrival of several hundred people from the Home world. They had been sent home abruptly and with no explanation, many of them with only the clothes they were wearing. We took names and copied the off world ID cards they had, and then they were sent to the stations closest to their homes, after they had been issued with the latest grayish pink garments which were the latest seasonal alteration.

I had a sudden thought, and quickly acquired two sets of the new clothes for the Captain and myself. If the deadline was declared during the time we were hiding we would stand out like sore thumbs in our present attire. I held them under my blue shawl until I could lay them in the bottom of the box I was using for the records.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw one of the Fashion police approaching, as he might have been about to take the boxes, but he ordered us to take them to an office quite close to where we were working, and so we could hide the garments undetected.