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'It certainly is；' Rex agreed。 'Now； about the job？'
'You will concern yourself with fringe factions。'
'Fringe factions？'
The ugly woman looked at him thoughtfully。 'Fringe factions。 Divine enlightenment is the preserve of but a happy few。 Most grope in the darkness； blindfolded by misunderstanding and misinterpretation。 They wander along paths which lead towards fragmentation and chaos。'
'You want me to go out and spread the good word then？'
'Hardly。 We are not expecting you to act in a missionary capacity。 After all； what do you know of the higher truths；'
As that was a statement rather than a question； Rex said； 'I'm perplexed。'
'Subversive religious elements exist。 Underground organizations practising all manner of unsavoury rites and damnable heresies。 We wish merely to learn names； details； locations of chapters； meeting houses and so forth。 You will furnish us with such information； so that the Dalai can remember these unfortunates in his prayers and meditations。 In the hope that salvation might ultimately be theirs。 Are you following all this？'
Rex removed the finger which was ruminating in a blocked nostril； and nodded enthusiastically。 'Bringing the lost sheep back into the fold。'
'Sheep？ What has this to do with sheep？'
'I was speaking metaphorically。'
'Indeed。 Well； if metaphor is your forte； then just let me say that the station does not require any dead wood。'
'You can rely on me。' Rex straightened his shoulders。 'Just lead me to my office。'
'Office？' The ghastly noise which came from the woman's throat bore a vague resemblance to laughter。 A very vague resemblance。 'Do you have your own transport？'
Rex shook his head。
'Then we will issue you with some。 You will report in from the in…car terminal hourly。 Hourly； do you understand？'
'What if I have nothing to report？'
'You will nevertheless report in。 pany vehicles are very expensive。 Should an operative fail to report in； it will be assumed that he has absconded with the vehicle。 The mother puter will therefore immobilize the vehicle and reverse the environmental controls。 Simply a precaution which in your case； I trust； will never be applied。'
'Indeed not。'
'Do you have any questions？'
'We haven't discussed salary； hours or expenses； as yet。 Perhaps these matters should be thrashed out now； to save you any inconvenience at a later date。'
Ms Vrillium held up a small transparent cube。 'This will furnish you with all the information you should require regarding your first assignment。' She tossed the thing to Rex。 'You will be paid on results； legitimate expenses will be covered。'
Rex turned the cube upon his palm； he was not altogether convinced。 'Is my sister Gloria about？'
'Gloria is far too busy to speak to you now。 But if it's anything important I might mention it to her tonight。 We live together； you know。'
'How charming；' said Rex。 'Do you think I might use your lavatory？'
Everything for the state； nothing outside the state。 Mussolini
Careful with that axe； Eugene。 P。 Floyd
Half an hour later； Rex Mundi sat at the controls of pany vehicle 801。 It was a Spartan little craft； two speed； closed environment； single seater； automatic guidance。 Powered by a nuclear reactor the size of a matchbox。 'A child could fly it；' he had been unreliably informed。 The dashboard housed a puter console； but to Rex's chagrin； lacked a TV terminal。
Rex delved into the breast pocket of his radiation suit and drew out the small transparent cube。 He slotted it into its housing and the narrow console screen sprang into life。 It formed the station logo； three tiny tadpoles chasing each other's tails； then crackled uncertainly with the outspeak of its selective memory。 'Rex Mundi； religious affairs correspondent seven； please identify。' Rex pressed close to the screen。 'Identification confirmed。 Work schedule one。 Proceed to section four； north quarter。 Investigate recent unconfirmed reports of cannibal cult Devianti。'
'Cannibal？' Rex punched the co…ordinates into the directional guidance system and the knackered craft lurched aloft。
'Hourly reportage to be strictly observed；' the voice from the console continued。 'Credits allotted for this assignment as follows： informer twenty…seven； acolyte thirty…five； high priest one hundred。 Have another day。'
'High priest； one hundred credits。' Rex's eyebrows rose to meet his spirits。 'Further rehousing； with access to the state nympharium thrown in。' A big bonus indeed。
The car swung up and Rex peered down at the blasted landscape。 He could make out the Nemesis Bunker； which wasn't difficult as it covered about thirty acres； the subway terminal； the ranks of hardly…built rehousing； the rubble…strewn roads。 A grim enough vista。 He hit the clouds at about 500 feet and travelled a while in darkness。 Rex considered circling Odeon Towers； just to see what it looked like from above； but the thought of one hundred credits kept his mind firmly on the job。 He had definitely fallen on his feet here。 A job with prospects； firm's car； expense account。 This was the big time。 Good old Gloria； and he had thought she didn't like him much。 It was； of course； all far too good to be true。
A series of diminishing circles appeared upon the blued screen of the console。 The voice said； 'Descent locked。 In case of malfunction please remember that we are all part of a cosmic masterplan and that even in the moment of your extinction you are following your Karma and that the Dalai's thoughts are with you。 Let's both sing together； Om…mani…padme…hum。。。 Om…mani…padme…hum。。。' 'Thanks a lot。' Rex switched off the console as the car fell heavily towards the overgrown car park at the back of the Tomorrowman Tavern。 Here it struck the ground with a sickening thud。 Rex felt at his teeth； none seemed any more loose than usual。 He screwed on his weather…dome； released the canopy and stepped out to view the hostile landscape。
The pub looked about as wretched as any he had encountered before。 A jumble of corrugated…iron sheets； welded together and sealed against nature beneath a plasticized acid…proof shell。 A neon sign winked on and off； lamely advertising the establishment as 'The morroma Tav'。
Rex wandered across the car park。 Two other vehicles were parked。 One； a rather snappy Rigel Charger； probably the perk of some TV bigwig； the other； a clapped…out Morris Minor converted into a half…track； anyone's guess。
The airlock and decontamination systems at the Tomorrowman seemed to be largely symbolic in nature。 A double plastic entrance…flap； between which crouched a lounge boy； who tossed tubs of anti…bacteriant at the visitor as he passed through。 The grim expression upon the lad's face informed Rex that job satisfaction wasn't part and parcel of the post。 Inside； the bar was everything that might reasonably be regretted。 It was low and long and loathsome。 Rex sought a mat to wipe his feet on； but there was none； so dripping profusely； he cradled his weatherdome and put on a brave face。
Several patrons hunched before the bar…counter； sipping dubious…looking cocktails and staring into TV terminals； Rex fou