Author's Prologue

All of the following writing is completely fictional. None of the characters are based on anyone in particular, and none of the scenes have ever happened in real-life. The only thing I'll reveal, is that it is an analogous tale, reflecting certain ideas of the author's - as all good writing ought to do.

I Can Hear You

The narrator begins, 'Okay, to explain this idea a bit better, let's create a character. A completely fictitious character. And... let's call him Luke. Luke's a nice enough chap: he's not the most intelligent soul, but he generally means well; and for food he eats faeces. Are you following me so far?'

'Yes,' replied the pupil, 'I am.'

'Okay. So you can imagine this Luke. All his life, since he stopped breast-feeding, all he has eaten has been faeces, and for fluids he's drunk urine.'

'Excuse me.'

'What's up?'

'Does Luke live on infertile ground, unable to grow anything more wholesome, such as fruit and vegetables? And if so, why does he not move to somewhere more suitable?'

'Well, Luke is ficticious, my dear boy. He's never existed, has he? But for the sake of argument, let's just say that, yes, he does live on infertile ground, unable to grow anything. And so all his life, he has eaten faeces and drunk urine, like I said. Now, I'm not a nutritional expert, and I don't know how healthy it would be, eating and drinking faeces and urine all one's life. You wouldn't happen to know about that, would you?'

'No, unfortunately I also am not an expert on such matters.'

'Okay, never mind. Well, let's assume it's not very healthy, for the purposes of this argument. Oh - I've just realised that this won't be a perfect analogy for what I'm trying to say. Oh, but never mind. Let's carry on anyway. You'll see what I mean.

'So there he is, our Luke. He's not in the healthiest of shapes: his brain hasn't been getting any degree of nutrients out of his diet, so his wits are extremely dull; and, not meaning to make light of his poor situation, he can't hold a serious conversation with anyone, male or female, because his breath stinks so damned badly. So let's go in there and help this poor guy out.'

The narrator and his pupil enter Luke's village, carrying baskets of carrots and apples over their shoulders. The village is completely empty: no houses, no water, no flowers or trees, nothing of any kind. Besides the dusty ground that Luke's stood on, and the loincloth that's around his waist. They walk up to Luke. His breath smells awful. But fortunately he understands and speaks English. The narrator had at least thought of something worthwhile, in creating Luke.

'In fact,' says the narrator, steering his pupil back the way they'd come, 'let me tell you what I reckon Luke'll do.'

They're still in Luke's village, don't worry about that. Just a few metres away from him - out of earshot, if you know what I mean.

Luke continues behaving as if this sort of thing happens most days. He's just standing there, politely not looking in their direction, scratching some part of his body. The small of his back, I think.

'Okay. Right, when we offer him this food, he'll either completely reject it, or just take a tiny, tiny bite. In fact, I've flaming created him, have I? So, he will take a bite out of it - albeit a very small one. He'll have a bite of both, an apple and a carrot. Now, unfortunately I've never eaten faeces or drunk urine, so I have to be presumptuous when I say that they would (especially the faeces) have a profoundly pungent taste and everything savoury and delicious would just get overridden by the strong, overwhelming and unforgiving taste of the faeces. So after taking his bite, he'll just look at us, as if we're mad, and say "It doesn't taste of anything." And carry on with his unsavoury diet.'

'Alright,' replied the pupil, 'I believe I understand what your idea is, now.'

'Alright, let's see.'

They head back towards our Luke, and the narrator address him.

'Hallo, young sir!' he says in his cordial manner.

'Yuh, what's up?' is Luke's reply.

'Yes... I'm alright, thank you,' replies the narrator, turning his pupil away from Luke and saying in a quiet voice, 'What are you supposed to reply to "What's up?" hey, son?'

'I'm not sure. I presume it means something in the way of "How are things?", but I agree, I felt a twinge of discomfort when he said that, and I could feel myself groping for a reply, to save you any unnecessary embarassment.'

'Cheers son.' They regain eye-contact with the boy. 'Listen, Luke -'

'Yuh, yo talkin' to me?'

'Yes. Listen: tell me something. We're doing a sort of experiment. What do you eat and drink?'

'I eat shit an' piss, yo.' He says, flailing the hands and arms in front of him. He would have made a good rap star.

'Okay,' the narrator says, 'And that's all? You eat and drink nothing else?'

'Nothin' else, man,' slowly turning his head from left to right, with a pleased grin on his lips, 'I eat shit an' piss from being that high.' He indicates a point about 2 feet above the ground. His grammar could have done with a bit of work, aswell. It must be that diet.

'Right,' the narrator says, getting a carrot out of his shoulder basket and handing it towards Luke, 'Try eating this.'

'Nah,' he didn't pronounce the "h" and he barely pronounced the "a", 'Wha'? You wan' me to eat tha'? You crazy, man?'

'Well, as a matter of fact, I am crazy, but this is one of my least crazy ideas.'

'Wuh?'

'Never mind. Here,' he stuffs one end of the carrot into Luke's fist, 'just have a small bite. It won't do you any harm.'

'You crazy, man. Why should I eat this?'

'We're just doing an experiment - we want to see what you say when you eat it.'

'Why?'

'Oh, come on, man. Just have a damn bite.'

Luke holds the carrot up to his face. Studies it from one end to the other. He brings it close to his nostrils and sniffs it, but he can't discern any smell from it. He frowns. Looks up at the narrator and his pupil, stood there like a couple of pins at the end of the alley (of course he didn't think that, because he'd never been bowling before); looks back down at the horizontal carrot; has another go at getting the smell of the thing; and has a small bite.

The narrator and his companion wait.

To the untrained eye, it appeared that the lad had finished chewing the piece, swallowed it, and was preparing for another bite. The pupil could, in fact, see that Luke was still chewing his first mouthful, very slowly and with suspicion. He was a smart guy.

The pupil continues watching, and they both continue waiting.

'Well, what do you think?' asks the narrator.

The lad gulps down the last bits, and says, 'Got no taste. Dat's rubbish, man. I don't wan' no more.'

'It's good for you, though. A lot better than what you're used to eating. Here, try an apple. Apples are sweeter, so you might get more of a taste out of them.'

'Sweet? Wha' you talkin' about, man? I don't want sweet stuff!'

'Give him an apple, lad.' His pupil chooses an apple from his basket and proffers it to Luke.

'Nah, I don't want no more.' He shakes his head and has his arms crossed, like a school-child.

'This is different, though. You might like this one,' replies the narrator.

'That's not different! It's exactly the same. The same stuff all yous lot eat. Not for me.' He's pretty reluctant to give it a go.

'Alright, watch.' He takes an apple out of his pupil's basket and has a bite. 'Mmm... delicious!' he says. 'These are good for you. They help to prevent cancer. And those carrots help you to see in the dark.'

'Wha' you talkin' 'bout, man? You talkin' about majick? See in the dark? Nah, nah, nah. And what's this cancer thing? I never heared of that.'

'Well, let's just say that cancer can kill you; and carrots aren't magical - they simply make your eyes more sensitive to light, and enable them to retain light from the day to use at night, to see better.' The pupil looks at his teacher quizzically. But he isn't noticed. Luke takes that apple, that was still in the pupil's hand, out of his hand, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a woman runs into the clearing, shouting. She's got long, brown hair, and is wearing a sort of beige dress, made of some thick material. It came down to way below her knees. She's probably about thirty-seven. Quite good-looking, in a way, but could also be described as rugged. She runs straight towards Luke, shouting, and stops dead, right next to him. He doesn't react as she wanted (i.e. run away from her, terrified) - he's too preoccupied with our heroes - so she just slinks away, dejected.

The pupil is intrigued, but remains quiet. He studies Latin and has known for a while that the Latin word "malum" means both "apple" and "evil". That could have had something to do with it.

But anyway, off she goes, leaving our fine company to continue with their exercise.

'Don't worry about her,' said Luke. 'Just my ma,' he explains. He looks at his apple.

'Yeah, I'm not,' replies the narrator. 'Take a bite.'

Luke goes through a similar process with the apple. He smells it, then frowns slightly, and looks up at the two companions. The narrator looks at his pupil. Then Luke steadies the apple in his hand, and takes a bite.

He thinks he can taste it. It tastes pretty nice.

'What do you think?' asks the narrator.

'No taste. It's just the same.'

The narrator and pupil look at each other.

'Okay,' says Luke, 'I can taste it a bit, I think.'

'Do you like it?'

'It's okay. It's not like shit, though.'

'No, it isn't. But this stuff is good for you. Carrots aswell as apples.'

'Nah, no carrots. They don't taste.'

'Listen,' said the narrator, 'Have these baskets of carrots and apples, and start eating these, instead. They'll make you feel a lot better. And if you look around a bit, you'll find a fresh water spring, that you'll be able to drink from. You'll feel better in a couple of days, and the more you eat apples and carrots, the tastier they'll be.'

Luke isn't so sure.

'And also,' continues the narrator, 'if you plant some of them, you'll get apple trees, and carrot patches. The apple trees will take a long time to grow, but if you leave the carrots for a while, and then dig around where you planted them, you'll have some lovely fresh carrots in just a few months.'

'A few months?! That's a long time!'

'Yes, but the apple trees will take years.'

'Years?! Oh man, I don't wanna take years. They'll never grow. I'll be dead before they grow, man.'

'If you plant one now, you'll only have to wait for a few years, but if you keep leaving it, you might end up dying before they're grown.'

'Alright, man. I'll see.'

The narrator places his basket of carrots on the ground, and his pupil follows suit.

'We're off, now. Take it easy, Luke.'

'Yuh.'

The two men leave the village.

Back in the narrator's study, he turns around in his chair and says to his pupil, 'So you see what I mean, now?'

'Yes. I believe I do.'

The narrator gets up from his big chair, walks over to his record cabinet, and chooses a good one from the shelves.

'There you go, James. Take that home and have a listen to it. You're playing the part of Luke, now.'

Disclaimer: In this story, the word "faeces" didn't refer to dead mice.