Public
Transport
or
If I May Begin At The Begining...
Herr Mullen sat happily in his chair, his pudgy and fat fingers steepled. He grinned madly at Jyou
over his desk, which was littered with telegrams.
"Jyou," he announced, "I am going to write a
series."
Jyou blinked a few times. Then, he said "Are you sure?
So far, you've only written short stories, and you haven't even seen all of the
Digimon Adventures. The longest thing you ever wrote was the Christmas
Special."
"Yes Jyou, I know, I know. But, these just came through."
He picked up a telegram and waved it at him. "These are from a Mr. Cireus, a Mr. C. Burke, and Mr. Unknown H. They are
information, my dear boy!"
"Information?"
"Yes! For a
long while, now, I have had an idea, a concept, bubbling in the hollow iron pot
that is my head. However, I never had the information to carry it out. But,
now, I have everything I need."
"I don't understand,
Herr Mullen. What is this idea?"
Herr Mullen
grinned. "The BDD."
"What?"
"The
British Digidestined."
Jyou looked at Herr Mullen. "Surely, you aren't
serious? That is the stupidest idea you've ever had. Original
characters from a country no-one cares about?"
Herr Mullen glared
at Jyou. "Lord Archive did it."
"Yes! But
that is Lord Archive! You are not Lord Archive, Herr Mullen. And it looks like
you're just copying his ideas."
Herr Mullen
slammed his hands down on the table. "I am not copying his ideas!" he
yelled, a steely glare behind his pince de nez, standing, sweat on his brow.
Jyou stepped back. A moment of tension.
Herr Mullen relaxed, and slowly lowered himself again, exhausted. The chair
creaked under his weight.
"Jyou," he said, "I am not a bad writer. I am not
a plagiarist. All of these characters, aside from the Digimon, are my own. I
simply want to have something relevant to me. Lord Archive, I am certain, has
never visited
"Then why
don't you just sign up to the Dairies project?"
"Jyou, I enjoy the Diaries series. It's Lord Archive, not
Herr Mullen. I am a different entity with a very different style. No, this
fiction will be mine."
"Very
well. Would you like to do the disclaimer?"
Herr Mullen
nodded, and pulled the type writer toward him.
"The
following fiction is property of Herr Mullen. Digimon is the property of Toei
and Fox Kids, apparently."
Jyou waited a second or two. Then he lifted his eyebrow.
"Is that all?"
"That's
right."
"...No sex in
this one?"
"No. That
comes later. Much later. Onto the
story, Jyou."
An aeroplane passed overhead, as Muawiya
stepped out of the corner shop with the bin bags. The sky was blue, no clouds.
The sun glinted off the cars parked up and down the road. The million points of
light moved to follow Muawiya when he went to the
wheelie bin; he set one liner down, lifted the lid, and threw the other bag
over his shoulder. Dust rose from within the bin, along with the warm, slightly
moist, musty smell of bins. Then, he bent down, and picked up the other bag. He
moved the lid up again, and then threw it straight over; the lid sailed up, the
down until finally making a clattering sound on the back as it swung
pathetically, momentum unable to shift the light plastic weight. The bag went
on top of the other one. Muawiya reached 'round, and
lifted the lid again. Tried to. He moved around the
bin, grabbed one of the handles, and swung it back to the top again. He went
back inside, the bell giving a little tinkle.
"Muawiya," shouted his mother from the store room,
"Did you take out the rubbish?"
"Yes, mum!"
"Good! There's two
pounds in the kitchen on the counter for a bus fare!!
"Thanks mum!"
Muawiya
ducked under the shop counter, parted the bead curtain that led to the back
hallway, went through, and then into the kitchen. He grabbed the new two pound
coin, which his mother usually saved for what she would call "a rainy
day". and left through the back door, grabbing
his bag as he went by. He walked over the concrete patio, for want of a better
word, looking at the unkempt grass that stretched for a short distance until
the fence. He walked down the ally beside the shop, opened the gate, closed it,
and came out on the other side of the bin. He made his way to the bus stop.
Chris shot. Sarah saved. She rolled the ball back to him.
"Now give me a real
shot!" shouted Sarah. "You kick like a girl!"
Chris frowned, and put
the ball down in front of him. He took a step back, and then delivered a fast
punt. It circled 'round, and into the goal. Sarah couldn't have saved it in a
million years.
"Woah! That was like Beckham, that
was! Okay, now I want a shot. get in here!"
Chris stepped in goal.
Sarah steeled herself to beat him. She took a step back, ran up, and pelted the
ball past Chris and into the net.
"Goal!"
Stephanie, laden with her bags of new clothes, left the Grafton centre. The sun
didn't bother her, now, she'd bought some sunglasses.
She looked over the square, like the Footlights, behind her. She could go back
in, sit down, get a coffee, or a muffin, but she'd miss the bus if she did. She
wanted to go to
She used her
"Thanks!" Steph said, sitting down. "It's so hard carrying all
these things around. Usually, Daddy would be with me, but he's in a meeting so
he couldn't come shopping with me today. I'm Stephanie,
by the way, what's your name?"
Muawiya was sitting comfortably. The bus was just
turning onto
It was a girl, wearing a
pink summer top with the Disney logo on it, some blue jeans, pink-rimmed
sunglasses, also with the Disney logo on the side. She had long, brown hair,
platted in a ponytail. She muddled about with her bags, trying not to drop them
whilst reaching into the tight jean pockets for her Dayrider.
Muawiya looked around. No-one seemed to be willing to
give up their seat for her, so Muawiya stood up.
"Here," he said, "Have my seat." She looked a little
surprised, either because he was so well-mannered or because she expected him
to sound Pakistani, and not speak with an English accent. Lots of people seemed
surprised by that. She thanked him, sat down, complained about how hard it was
to carry all those bags, and then introduced herself. "My name is Muawiya," he replied. "Pleased
to meet you."
"Call me Steph," she told him. "Everyone does."
Sarah and Chris stood on Parkside, at the stop
opposite the police and fire stations. The streets we paved with grey stone,
with black tarmac making the road, painted white dotted strips down the centre,
double yellow lines outside of the short drives that led to the fire engine and
panda cars' stations. On their side of the road, a red bus lane, with "
Daniel looked out the window.
It was the only thing to
do on bus rides.
Unless
you counted talking to the people next to you. Daniel didn't see the
point. An Asian boy was next to him. Probably from Kosovo; there were lots of
refugees coming from Kosovo. Of course, that war was over, now. A few short
weeks ago, actually. There was that whole thing with the Russians turning up in
the Capital when really we were the ones who did all the work. The Russians
kept out of it, right up until the end, of course. Then they just storm in to
take the credit. Gits.
It didn't sound like the
boy, who was next to him a few seconds ago, and was now giving up his seat to a
daddy's rich-girl, was from Kosovo, after all, judging by his accent. He was
very much British, then.
The girl now next to
him- Stephanie- was explaining to the Muslim boy- Muawiya-
why Winnie The Pooh was so good. Daniel didn't really
like Disney. It was a big, child-exploiting cooperation, like McDonalds. Then,
two more people got on board. Muawiya looked around, then told Daniel he should give up his seat to the girl
who'd just boarded. Daniel floundered, looking for a lifering
out of the stream of social situation.
Two new people got on. A boy and a girl. Muawiya looked around. Was anyone going to let the girl
have a seat? It didn't seem like it. Muawiya thought
that was quite rude; he'd always been taught to give up his seat for a women, like Muhammad (pbuh)
had. He turned to the quiet, greesy haired boy next
to Steph. "Excuse me, but I think you should
give up your seat for this young lady."
The boy jerked to life,
looked around, tryed to say several things at once,
failed, and eventualy stood up and said "Would
you like my seat?"
The new girl laughed. "How proper of you! No, thanks, you can keep it, I like
to stand." she grasped one of the bands hanging from the bar overhead.
"I'm Sarah, and this is my friend Chris. What's you're name?"
"I'm Daniel."
"Are these you're
friends?"
"No," said Muawiya. "We've all just met. This is Steph; I'm Muawiya. Pleased to meet you."
They all got off the bus at St. Andrew's Street, all actually headed for the
market. Daniel seemed to have been dragged into the group, whilst the others
just seemed to have got along. Chris hadn't said much, Sarah and Steph dominated the conversation, and Muawiya
just talking quite politely to both of them, to their great pleasure. The group
was just headed to Petty Cury, to get to the Market
Place, when Sarah called out "Hey! Jessica! Michel!" The group all
turn to see who she was shouting at. Chris waved his hand "Hey,
guys."
A girl, carrying an MVC
bag, containing one or two CDs, as well as a backpack, came over with a lad who
was carrying a laptop case, which was probably holding a laptop.
"Hey, Chris,
Sarah!" said Michel. Michel's voice was one of those effiminate
voices that boys like Boy George and Paul O'Grady probably had when they were
younger.
"Who's
are these, then?" asked Jessica.
"Jessica,
Michel," said Sarah, "These are Muawiya, Steph and Daniel. We all just met on the bus, and were all
headed the same way."
"Hey, Steph, Muawiya, Daniel."
said Michel. "Hey, come through Lion's Yard; the worker's are off today,
because it's Saturday. It's almost complete, it looks great!"
Daniel started "But
it's a construction site!"
"It's nearly
finished, just needs painting," said Jessicca,
"It's perfectly safe."
And that's how they ended up inside Lion's Yard Shopping Centre. They scaled
the wall (they made Daniel go first) and Michel opened it up with the key he'd
pinched from his dad, who apparently owned the thing. They went inside.
"Oh," started Steph, "A new Disney Shop!" she pointed to the
sign. "Yay!"
"An MVC, too!"
said Michel. "Better than that, there's a liberary,
too!"
"You read?"
asked Muawiya?"
"Oh, yeah, I love
books. Can't get enough of them."
"It's
true," said Chris, "I can never get him to come and play
football," he motioned to his backpack, where his ball currently resided,
"because he's either always playing something on his computer or
reading."
"Hey! I don't play!
I code."
"You and your
internet, I don't understand it."
Smash.
Michel and Muawiya got off of Sarah and Steph, and helped them up. Jessica lowered her arm, which
was shielding her eyes, and the rest got off of the floor.
Seven balls
of light floated in front of them, amiss the broken glass on the floor.
"My dad
is going to kill me!" moaned Michel.
The balls of
light had arched through the glass ceiling, showering everyone with shards.
"That
doesn't matter; is everyone all right?" asked Muawiya.
"We're
fine," said Jessica. "But what're these lights?" She grasped
one, then held it out in her palm. "Hey,
cool."
"It
looks like a calculator," said Muawiya.
"It's a
computer!" said Michel, taking another ball of light. Everyone took one.
There seemed to be one each.
Then, all
they could hear was rushing water.
Author's Notes.
I use that "Break a line, "Then," simple sentence here"
thing far too much. I think I'm being dramatic. Anyway, that was my Tenth Tale.
If you're wondering "What was so special about that?" then I shall
have to tell you now. I've been waiting to write this ever since I signed up as
an author on the DaD and DHZ, that's what's so
special. I just never seemed to know enough to do it. So, I posted a thread on
the DaD asking for help with this stuff. Thanks to Cirecus and UnknownH. Also thanks
to Chris Burke for thedigiport.com and its Digidex.
Most of the places I've made reference to exist. I bet you can discover what
city I'm writing about. Look out for more from this series.