SlenderWolf

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Conning is better connected, works part time with her parents’ shipbroking business, and at the moment she’s trying harder than Kayt to find a first proper gig for the duo.

“It’s not full of men,” says KristalClear, “according to CandiCrush it has a near perfect fifty fifty split, it’s just that she’s never met anybody suitable.”

Softening the tone of her voice she says, “tell me about grandad’s apples!”

Conning tries to remember the precise Manx fable. And tries hard to recite it all in English.

The Good Apples

Where can you find,
An apple tree?
In an orchard,
Where you sowed the seeds.
The best seeds,
From the best apples.

Selecting the best soil,
Watering the seeds,
Caring for the saplings,
Carefully cultivating them,
Responsibly and compassionately,
Keeping the pests at bay.

Using your wits to give them,
The best start in life,
Protecting them,
Until fully they grow,
And blossom,
And deliver their first fruits.

Done properly,
It’s a joy.

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Chapter 12
The Good Apples

“Where do you find good men?” asks KristalClear.

“Where do you find good apples?” replies Conning.

“Not apples! Men!”

“Where do you find good apples is something my grandad says,” explains Conning, “he’s a good man! Every year we go back to Mannin to visit family, and grandad has some brilliant ways of explaining things.”

Kayt joins in, “but I thought you’d found a good man? Haven’t you told NutJob yet? It’s obvious to everyone. When are you two going to start going out together?”

“Not me!” says KristalClear, “I’m talking about CandiCrush, she’s 33 years old and she’s still single. But what’s this thing with the apples?”

Before Conning can answer, Kayt butts in again.

“She’s in the Garisson,” says Kayt bluntly, “it’s full of men!”

Kayt likes to dominate love life conversations like this one. If she’s given half a chance, Kayt dominates all conversations, but especially ones about dreamy relationships.

Kayt and Conning are the best of friends. They’re Manx descendants and they’ve made a point of keeping up with their own native language. They’re also a singing partnership known as The Space Girls, because each of them repeatedly uses the catch phrase “don’t invade my personal space”.

Especially where boys are involved!

They claim that they don’t want to seek out romance just yet, but they’re excited to learn all they can from KristalClear. If any of the girls was going to find a proper, stable boyfriend, they wouldn’t have imagined that KristalClear would be first! She’s normal, unassuming, polite, and intelligent.

How she clicked with NutJob they just don’t know!

And anyway, they think NutJob’s not quite normal.

In The Space Girls it’s quietly acknowledged that Kayt is the better singer and dancer and that Conning is the brainy one.

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are hard to change. And you have only one chance to make a first impression.”

CandiCrush sighs, “it’s all about education!”

“Oh my word! You’re so wise! Why haven’t you found a man?”

In a half hearted shrug CandiCrush raises both her hands a little.

Then she raises her eyebrows, looks KristalClear directly in the eye, and says nothing. She’s trying to deliver the message, “the man conversation has ended,” and she feels that the most diplomatic way to do that is to lower her hands now, just sit still, do nothing, and say nothing.

Astonished, that at this moment she apparently has a better prospect of romance than CandiCrush, KristalClear wants to work out where people can find responsible, compassionate, and understanding men!

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awful little tribes. And even if some of the migrants weren’t Scousers, they were labelled ‘lowlifes’, they were farmers, construction workers, and factory labourers. Some of the people here in Wolfland detested them.”

“But you said ordinary police officers and soldiers too? Good people! There must have been teachers, and doctors, and engineers?”

“There were! And with our engineering heritage Wolfland is a stable place. Always has been. We have clean water too! You might describe us as solid, down to earth, honest, reliable people.”

“In Wolfland, and elsewhere, there were pressure groups that were worried that these migrants, all bringing their small family tribes with them, as part of a big alien culture, would change our way of life. There were protests calling on us to reject the ‘peasants’. They weren’t peasants though, they were ordinarily people like you and me, escaping a brutal, toxic regime.”

“But it all settled eventually?” asks KristalClear.

“It took more than a hundred years for the animosities to settle down. People had to be re-educated. It all comes down to education in the end. If you have blinkered people in charge of the education system you get a lop sided approach to learning. Repeating a misguided message simply reinforces it. Over time it amplifies it. People come to believe some things which have absolutely no basis in fact. And then they refuse to listen to reason. Because they’d been brainwashed.”

“Wolfland had its share of propaganda in education. Maybe it still does. You’ll need to ask the Provost why schools don’t teach you history properly. And Civics. Civics in school is too much about society’s structure and organisation, and not enough about society’s people! The curriculum needs to cover more, to cover responsibility, compassion, family life, duty and obligation. Maybe that’s not history, nor Civics, maybe that’s a new subject with a new name? It’s in the original Penrith Chronicles if you read them, I don’t remember it being in the school text book. Opinions and habits formed at an early age

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“Around 2200AD a new order was emerging.”

“In Wor and the other big cities, the senior officers in the security services noticed that people were no longer showing up for work. Then some of the senior officers left too. Police and army! Obviously some senior officers didn’t leave. They wouldn’t go, or they couldn’t go.”

“City halls and town halls had emptied. There was simply no local government. And central government ended up with rogue police and rogue army officers in charge. They had some really toxic people at all levels.”

“Across Worringfolk, local government evolved into a hammer. It’s useful for hitting a nail, and little else. If you really want a screwdriver or a spanner or a saw, your hammer is going to make a real mess of the job.”

“Once one rogue boss cemented his control over one town, it all snowballed. It seemed like a last chance for the good ones to escape. So more left. Leaving behind an even worse crowd of scoundrels. The people who didn’t get out were swallowed up by a corrupt regime.”

KristalClear is totally gobsmacked, and looks on in complete astonishment, “you mean there were literally thousands and thousands of people coming into Wolfland, and Meirionydd?”

“Anywhere that had high ground, anywhere with abundant fresh water. Quality streams and rivers. The favourite destinations were the Lake District and Eryri. Welsh was already coming back into favour back then, although English speakers were able to fit in OK. It caused a bit of local animosity, but what could they do? The Cedyrn and the Wolfies accepted a lot of refugees.”

“They’d have to!” exclaims KristalClear, “you can’t just send people back to a wicked and corrupt regime.”

“Oh, some people tried!”

“Even in Lancaster there was resistance to the newcomers. Big demonstrations, protest marches! The migrants were Scouse speakers, different people, different customs, coming to steal our jobs they said. They were a wicked big tribe full of

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police and the army for example.”

“Now think of Worringfolk. All the good people in Worringfolk were moving out, and of course the police and army contained a lot of good people.”

“Some ordinary police officers decided to move. And ordinary soldiers. They crossed the nearest border. The new internal borders of the British Isles were becoming obvious. Some police and soldiers moved because their entire local communities were moving … to join the Peakies towards Derby, or the Pennites in what was once Yorkshire. Or they moved south to join the Potters around Stoke. Many of the people who lived in Worringfolk came here to Wolfland, and some went to Meirionydd.”

KristalClear listens intently and says, “this was never taught at school in history lessons! Nor in Civics! This is mass migration! This is a refugee crisis, right here, in the British Isles!”

“Yes!” says CandiCrush, “and do you know what a bunch of refugees looks like?”

“No!”

“The Garrison does. The Garrison is usually their first point of contact, and because there is nobody else doing refugee management, the Garrison is left to figure out how to care for them. Food, water, bedding and shelter.”

CandiCrush continues, “if the total refugee population was just 1,000 people, then 333 would be children. Each of them in need of protection! Sending them back where they came from would be inhumane.”

“What did the government do?”

“The central government in London was already collapsing. The Thames was flooding the city more often. Clean drinking water had become an expensive luxury. Like everybody else, government workers simply walked out of their jobs, literally walked, and they carried on walking in search of safe land, and safe drinking water.”

“I know more about Wolfland and Worringfolk than I do about London, so let’s focus on the local geography.”

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territories, and more than most people, she has learnt what she can about Worringfolk. The Wor government is quasi Roman. All the others are quasi Greek.

However, she wants to steer the conversation back towards equality, and try to minimise the discussion of governments.

“Even Worringfolk has female pirates!”

“They do?” says KristalClear, briefly clasping her hand over her mouth, before asking, “have you met any?”

“One or two! There’re not many of them, but they do exist. The Wor definitely evolved differently. Maybe there are other autocratic rulers in Europe, we don’t know, we don’t have the same lines of communication that we once had.”

Pausing briefly, CandiCrush continues, and delivers a long monologue.

“However, the Wor, the people, they’re still human! We’re all the same. Basically, we’re all like cavemen with a bunch of weird hormones that weren’t designed for modern life. We’re trying to manage a complex society with brains that were originally designed to eat berries and live in a cave! It’s in our nature to protect the tribe. To defend the things and the people we love. Some of us might be misguided, but we still protect our tribe. The average Wor family is just like us at heart. But they’ve had one or two deranged leaders who haven’t helped things!”

“How did that happen?” asks KristalClear, “where do bad leaders come from?”

“Ooh, now you’re asking!” CandiCrush looks at the sky, looking for inspiration, and says, “let me see!”

After another moment’s pause she says, “OK, London, we’ll start with London. Originally, the government was run from London. But, go back to the years just after The Decimation and people were packing up and moving out. London disintegrated. Loads of cities disintegrated. Literally! The internal fabric of public sector bodies just began to fall apart. It all started with the low paid, the bin collectors, the shop assistants, and the nurses. Initially, those with slightly better income stayed loyal to their own local leadership, the

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Chapter 11
Uncivilised Society

KristalClear and CandiCrush are still deep in conversation, discussing life, civic society, career opportunities, money, and men.

“There are plenty of men in the Garrison, aren’t there?” asks KristalClear innocently.

“There are two ways to answer that,” observes CandiCrush, “and I’ll assume you don’t mean husband hunting! So we’re talking about equality?”

KristalClear doesn’t mean to generate any anguish, and she had genuinely intended to explore both angles.

“It’s complicated,” says CandiCrush, “yes, we’ve had equality for more than 400 years. Though it wasn’t like that at first. It wasn’t until after The Decimation in 2162AD when men finally got the message. Until then, there was still a latent sexism.”

“Then men realised that we can actually be just as good as them. Even better sometimes, especially in a crisis, organising things after a catastrophic disaster!”

“The Garrison has an almost perfect fifty fifty ratio. We have some non binaries too. Nobody cares anymore.”

“There are plenty of opportunities to find a romantic partner, for the ones that want to. I’ve not really been looking, and I’ve not stumbled into any ‘love at first sight’ scenarios either. From what I can see, you’re one step ahead of me on the man front.”

“You mean Dash?”

“Who’s Dash?”

“Oh! Dave! NutJob! It’s my new pet name for him. But don’t tell him I told you. You must always call him NutJob, please!”

“Yes, NutJob. He knows his world history too! Have you read the actual book The Penrith Chronicles?”

“No! At school our textbook is The Penrith Moral Compass. It covers the same stuff I think.”

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boy? Looking at her closely MickeyWarr is trying to see if there is any trace of stubble on her face.

No. And it looks like she actually has long, soft, hazel brown hair brushed up and concealed inside her bicorn hat. Her outfit is equally as neat as the captain’s, but less extravagant, and she too wears a belt carrying a narrow scabbard and a rapier. MickeyWarr tries not to stare.

But she notices, and she looks at him inquisitively.

It crosses his mind momentarily, but it’s dismissed instantly. This girl is not Angel. This girl is prettier. She has gorgeous eyes, and an intensity of gaze that is simply stunning.

BlackDog continues his uninspiring motivational speech as SpudGunn jams his hands into his pockets. His chin begins to quiver and he’s on the verge of blubbering when he notices the Captain’s lieutenant.

“It’s a girl!” he exclaims loudly, and steps backwards.

“Mr Buffoon,” howls BlackCloud in his high pitched falsetto voice, “this is not a maternity ward!”

SpudGunn stumbles backwards and falls over. Unable to break his fall because his hands are still in his pockets, he lands awkwardly, striking the back of his head on the concrete. But not badly enough to become unconscious, just semi conscious, which after all is the normal frame of mind for SpudGunn.

He lifts his head a little, groans, and lies back again. Slowly, he closes his eyes.

“You’re as useless as a chocolate teapot!” squeaks BlackCloud.

SpudGunn’s eyes open, wide and bright.

“Chocolate’s good!” he says, “you can eat chocolate!”

That infuriates BlackCloud even more.

“Put him back in the Asylum!”

Almost everybody on the quayside, and on the ship, has erupted in laughter. But one of them hasn’t.

MickeyWarr is already plotting his escape.

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