The harmonica woman is sitting in the corner of a dark damp tunnel. She still has the white face paint on and bright red lipstick, though it’s running somewhat, giving her a monstrous appearance. She is stitching something together, slowly. carefully, in the candlelight. Her thoughts are of Abel. How she first saw him at Barons Court Station, as we saw him, horror on his face, blood on his hands, in the near future. How he loves Elsie then, oh yes, how he will love her then as he never loved her when she was alive.
Time will go slowly then, so slowly. He will live every second since his very first Spletzer-Martin tablet as detailed pictures in his head. But all that is yet to happen for him. This horror he knows only as confused drug inspired dreams, along with his own death. Currently he lies semi-conscious at the harmonica woman’s feet, registering nothing but the flicker of the candle flame.
Finally the next part of The Spletzer-Martin 5. This is a fictional story set in London in the not so distant future. If you are interested in reading the story so far it starts with What YOU Need! It is very much a work in progress. This bit follows on from Red Wine and Revolution 1 and Red Wine and Revolution 2, unsurprisingly.
Elsie was on her third class of wine by the time Jackie turned up. With skin a deep brown contrasting her white hair Jackie was one of those people who age suit. She had just got back from a trip to Africa where she’d had an exhibition in Cape Town. She sat down on a rather flimsy chair and ordered another bottle of red wine for the three of them.
Glad to escape Louise’s dark conversation Elsie started the usual polite questions required when a friend returns from a long trip. However, to Elsie’s dismay the light tone didn’t last long.
“Water is the problem” said Jackie “Or rather the lack of access to clean drinking water. Hundreds of people are dying out there since N got the contract to own the water. The company pump it out direct from the springs, bottle it and sell it to those who can afford it. Those in the villages and the squatters towns can’t afford to buy the bottles so they drink what they can get hold of, which is dirty contaminated water, and of course die they from it. Hundreds are dying monthly, its like a silent slaughter of the poor. ”
“But we don’t see this on the news!” exclaimed Elsie
“Do you see much about all those living under London on the news?” sneered Louise “come on! Think about it, who is the media owned by?”
“Big companies like N” whispered Elsie, barely audible as she shrank into the large sofa. Now she felt stupid and guilty. Jackie’s words reminded her of those distressing thoughts she’d been having earlier that evening: Douglas’ cheerful statements on how the poor must be killed to save the planets resources. It was all too similar. It was already happening! And Elsie worked for an arts organisation that got its sponsorship from the big companies, including N. She was supporting the killing of hundreds, if not thousands of people! The thought was so preposterous Elsie couldn’t continue thinking it, she gulped down the rest of her wine.
“What we need is a revolution!” she said with drunken enthusiasm.