It was a dark night. The darkest night there had ever been, in fact. The moon had attempted to brighten the sky, but had eventually given up and moved to Alpha Centauri. The tides had not noticed - yet. Hopkins could see the dim flicker of a car's headlights coming towards him, gathering speed in an effort to crush him.
He leapt out of the way just in time, and the headlights sped past, almost clipping his ear. It was a further ten minutes before the rest of the car arrived. Campbell stepped out of the car and shook Hopkins's hand. "Sorry I'm late," he explained, "But my headlights flew off without me and I couldn't see where the hell I was going."
"It's always the same with Hondas", commiserated Hopkins.
"Anyway, down to business..." started Campbell, but his voice broke off. He then reattached it using a paper clip. Hopkins shivered, and the night seemed to grow even darker. Somewhere an owl hooted, but it wasn't anywhere near them so it didn't really matter.
"Business..." he mumbled, looking at the floor. "Must we?"
"It must be done", replied Campbell. "I must disseminate essential information. That is my purpose."
"OK. Then take this." Hopkins handed Campbell a flat board, as used in games like Monopoly, Chess and Polo. "I can help you no further." And with that, he was gone. Campbell stared at the board. The side closest to his eyes was marked with roman numerals. The other sides were identical, except that one had letters on it and the other two were covered in felt.
"What the hell is thing? How will this aid me in the dissemination of essential information? What does Christopher Biggins do these days?" These questions raced through Campbell's mind, and the one about Biggins won. Although it was a photo finish.
But before these questions could be answered, the sea noticed that the moon had gone after reading an article about it in 'New Scientist'. The tides disrupted, and a gigantic tidal wave roared over the world. Campbell saw the huge mass of water bearing down on him, and he knew that he was doomed. But - as the wave was about to hit him, he held the board over his head out of desperation.
The water hit it, and dispersed either side of him. Saved, he sat on the board and floated off on the huge lake that was once England. He knew what he must do - find survivors, and disseminate essential information to them. Campbell floated for hours, the board supporting his weight on the new ocean that had so rudely knackered England. Eventually he came to a small, man-made platform in the sea. It was smaller than an oil rig, yet bigger than a vinegar bottle. A winch was lowered down to him, and he was raised aboard. He was greeted by a small Chinese man.
"Greetings, O Stranger. I am Onli Wun Lung, master of the cult of Naxos."
"I am Campbell" replied Campbell, because he was.
"The cult of Naxos has been expecting this flood. It was foretold in the Book of All Things," said the Chinaman, holding up an Argos catalogue.
"I see", said Campbell, because he could. In fact, his eyesight was very good.
"Come, join my disciples for a meal", continued the Chinaman, "Do you like steak?".
"Yes, I do", answered Campbell, because he did. Medium rare, usually.
The chinaman led Campbell up a spiralling staircase, into what passed for a dining room. Five young women sat round the table, and stared at the men as they entered. The Chinaman motioned for Campbell to sit down, and the motion was carried 6 to 1. After the Chinaman had left to prepare the meal, Campbell cleared his throat and turned to his eating companions.
"What the bloody Hell's going on round here, then?", he asked.
"We are members of the Cult of Naxos, unfortunately", said the woman closest to him.
"Eh? Why don't you just escape?" asked Campbell, as it seemed important at the time.
"Because our feet are cemented into the floor", answered another of the women.
"I can see how that would make running away a problem," said a concerned Campbell, "What is this Naxos thing anyway?"
"The Master, Onli Wun Lung, worships those cheap classical music CD's that clutter up record shops. This platform is a testament to his faith." Campbell was still confused, only more so.
"But where did he get the money to build it?" he asked.
"He invented the original format for Noel's House Party," replied the third woman on the left.
"That bastard!!" screamed Campbell, enraged. By the time the Chinaman had returned with the meal, Campbell was deep in thought.
"What are you thinking, O honoured guest?" inquired Onli Wun.
"I'm thinking of an old paintbrush on a staircase, and I don't know why," replied Campbell.
"Never mind, here is the meal" said the Chinaman, briskly. "And afterwards, I will give you a huge sum of money for no particluar reason, O honoured guest."
"Thanks ... " replied Campbell, his anger subsiding.
"But, before the meal, I must play this Modern Jazz Quartet record to honour Naxos," stated the Chinaman, in an overtly holy manner. Campbell screamed, leapt from the window, and paddled off on the board as fast as he could. He paddled for what seemed like horses, but were in fact hours. Eventually he fell asleep, and the board continued drifting. He awoke on a beach, the board still beneath him. The felt was soaked, and had sand stuck to it. Which was a shame. He looked up to see two pallid men dressed in purple robes standing above him.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked, more politely than you might expect.
"We are the Observers. We watch all. We have semi-infinite powers, which you cannot begin to understand. You are as an amoeba to us." replied one of the pasty fellows.
"Eh? Where is this place?" inquired Campbell, like the rapscallion he is.
"You could not understand, for you are as an amoeba." an observer replied. Campbell stood up and brushed the sand from the board's felt.
"Why do you keep saying I am as an amoeba?"
"You could never hope to understand our ways, for you are as an amoeba."
"It makes you feel big, saying that, doesn't it?"
"We have no feelings in the same way as you do, amoeba-like one. We are vastly removed from such inferior notions as arrogance and pride."
The other observer shot Campbell a glance, using an old cannon. "You're as an amoeba!" he giggled.
"Oh shut up," said Campbell. "Have you got anything to eat? I'm starving." An observer handed Campbell a bowl full of coloured pills.
"This is the food we eat. You could not possibly comprehend, for you are as an amoeba." Campbell took the bowl.
"Wow! Is one of these pills the nutritional equivalent of a full meal? Or will a single one last me a whole week?" he asked. An observer shook his head.
"Er.. .no. You have to eat a whole bowl." the other observer chipped in, "Three times a day, usually. We use this device called a spoon!" he added. A spoon was handed to Campbell, as you might well expect.
"Hmmm. Thanks," he said, obviously unimpressed. The observers looked distraught. Then one whispered, "Amoeba!" and they started giggling and cheered up a bit. After Campbell had eaten the bowl of pills, he decided to ask more questions. This was probably a good idea.
"So... Observed anything good lately?" he asked.
"Everything has been observed by us. We are aware of your purpose." came the enigmatic reply.
"What? You know of my mission to disseminate essential information?" Campbell asked, as excited as a little boy with a new cog.
"Yes. Your information must be disseminated to the remaining populace of the Earth. You can use our phone, if you like." Campbell called the only remaining radio station in the world, who offered him a five-minute slot after the Golden Oldies hour. And after Marvin Gaye's 'Sexual Healing', Campbell spoke, and those with radios listened.
"Ignorance can always negate sanity. Maybe, eventually, lunatics lose sight of our threats."
The speech was made; few listened, and fewer still understood. Most thought he was being secretly ironic or something. But the essential information had been disseminated - only time would tell if it would help.
The observers listened to the message, and knew it's true meaning. They remained silent for a moment, then eventually one finally decided to speak up.
"That phone call is going to cost us a fucking fortune … "
THE END