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tury dead。 The high…domed display cases； clustered with enigmatic antiques。 The kilims and curios。 Seen it all before。 But somehow never really seen it。 Never in depth； in clarity。 Seen what it represented。 What He represented。
'Permanence；' Dan had said。 'Safety； the status quo。 I am part of all this； a metaphor； a symbol。 A whatnot。'
Ms Vrillium rattled the neck of a Venetian decanter into a silvered goblet。 'We'll have that out of here for a kick off。' She addressed her words to a full…length portrait of the lad himself。
'His painting？' The voice was half gone in Gloria's throat。
'Painting nothing。 That dear is what they call a patchwork quilt and it is patched from human skins。'
Gloria felt very sick indeed。
The ongoing situation currently ongoing between the Fundamentalists and the Jesuits was stepping up apace。 Although the weaponry involved was somewhat cobwebby and of dubious serviceability； the protagonists went about their respective businesses with a will。 For when both parties have God on their side； both can be equally assured of winning。
There had already been several unfortunate incidents involving certain 'Smart' weapons systems。 Having had five decades to meditate upon their own smartness； these appeared to have reached states of enlightenment which put them above the whim of mortal man。 Thus； few； if any； ever found their allotted targets。
Then； there was the matter of the anti…missile missiles； the anti…missile…missile missiles； the holographically…projected decoy missiles； the holographically…projected decoy confusion missiles； the jamming systems； the anti…jamming rejamming systems and the systems which did nothing in particular but were still exciting for all of that。 Adding to all this were the systems which failed immediately； those which reserved their malfunctionings until the vital moment and those； which included most of the foregoing； which required the skilled hand of the highly…trained expert。 A breed now long gone to dust。
One further point is worthy of note。 Both the edifices now currently under bombardment had withstood the now legendary Nuclear Holocaust Event； a time when men really knew how to chuck the sophisticated widow…making hardware about。 The bumps and grinds now currently on the go appeared to pose but little threat in the 'laying waste to' department。
L。 Ron Hubbard the twenty…third； sensing that Dan's tragic demise might well afford the opportunity for him to elevate himself from the role of two…dimensional character with hardly a sub…plot to call his own to that of major protagonist； paced the war…room floor unaided。 The Hubbards never got wherever they got by thinking small。
'Ma many great times granpappy would have known how to kick ass with these no…count low…lifes；' he drawled southernly。 'All fair game to great times grampah。' The sharp young men with the far…away stares bent low over their instrument panels and said nothing。 One didn't take liberties with the mighty L。 Ron。 Not any liberties。 Not nohow。
'All this bin a long time ing；' quoth the great man； as his personal stenographers keyed up their shorthand puters； eager to take down his each and every holy word。 'In a world gone all to hell with avarice and greed and never a hint of a takeaway tandoori or a Colonel Sanders（tm） Chicken Nugget ； a world of heartache and gloom； where few other than me ever glimpse the higher truths； such a world as this； my friends； and such a time as this； and did I ever tell you about the time my great times granpapa once sailed a ship halfway around the world and stopped off at this little island where the natives prepare a special brand of lobster which they take in a sauce of。。。' And it went on much in the same fashion； as it always did and no doubt always would； which gives the reader a fair idea why L。 Ron really didn't merit a more prominent part。 And why his forthing assassination at the hands of a jealous drug…crazed continuity girl over a love…triangle incident； which had nothing whatever to do with the controlling theme of this book； would go for the most part unrecorded； but； that is； for a brief mention of the sickening squelch made by his lifeless body as it struck the floor。
Pope Joan had always envisaged her role in the film version being played by Meryl Streep。 Or if Meryl wasn't available； then at the very least by that fine character actor Mr Michael O'Hagan。 Now she knelt in silent prayer。 Joan hadn't had much to say as yet； and sadly for her she wouldn't have much more； as it happened。 But； as she had always believed； it was in the way that lines were spoken that turned the words into an artform。 In the connotation rather than the denotation。 She considered language a means to convey； rather than an end in itself。 And though the song is ended； the melody lingers on。 And so forth。
'Although I have the body of a weak and frail woman；' she began。
Back in Aunty Norma's bunker imponderables were being pondered。 Four men were huddled in the furthest corner from the bomb…bunged door。 They prised possibly the most unlikely quartet in literary history。 Being： a risen…from…the…ranks bunker…boy； whose promotional prospects had never looked grimmer； a visitor from another star； who really wished he wasn't； his divine unholiness the Dalai Lama； now unemployed； and a time…travelling Elvis Presley with a sprout in his head。
And they say nothing is new。 Bah； humbug！
'The way I see it； Barry；' said Elvis； addressing the Time Sprout。 'This could be a very dynamite show。' Inside the King's cerebellum Barry the sprout （he had chosen the name himself） nodded thoughtfully。
'This is； I think； chief； where Rex really es into his own。'
'Oh yes？' Rex； who had been silently fulminating upon life in general； and his own in particular； turned sulkily at the mention of his name。 'And how might that be？'
'Deductive reasoning；' said friend sprout。 'You surely don't think that sheer chance led us here？'
'Cruel fate； more like。'
'Lighten up； chief。 There is a purpose behind everything。 Once one has divined the purpose； crystallized one's ideas； weighed up the pros and cons； taken the bull by the horns； surmounted the seemingly insurmountable； maximized one's options。。。'
Rex shook his head so violently that it made his eyes pop。 'My role so far in this has been one of exemplary stoicism。 I'm now resigned to the conclusion that life makes no sense whatsoever。 I shall now； I think； go it alone。'
'And which way might you go； chief？'
Rex glanced over at the Sneaky Reekie； which was now making determined tick tock noises。 'I am cogitating；' he replied。
'Rex is probably cogitating upon the secret trapdoor；' said Fergus Shaman； casually。 Three pairs of eyes turned simultaneously upon him。
'Trapdoor；' Fergus reiterated； pre…empting the obvious joint response。 'It's definitely on file； I recall it from when we first set up the Rex scenari。。。 oh。' His glance met that of Rex。
'Rex scenario；' said that man； very slowly。
'A star must always have options； as long as they are logical of course。 A star。。。' But unfortunately the word star was already suffering from the law of diminishing returns。 Rex