Almost Perfect

THE PERFECTION DANCES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS

‘You were right,’ whispered Jon in his ear. As they moved across the dance floor, people just stepped out of their way. ‘You said Gods were just conmen with good technology.’

‘And you were.’

Brendan pressed up against Jack’s back, laughing. ‘Oh we were good. So good. But the machine made us BETTER.’

‘Oh,’ sighed Jack. Partly cos he was understanding, partly because Brendan was gently kissing the back of his neck.

‘We didn’t need the machine, but we built it anyway. It made our life easier. Just as you don’t need a dishwasher, but once you’ve got one…’ explained Jon.

‘Dishwashers? Jeez,’ sighed Brendan in Jack’s ear. ‘Can you believe him?’

‘What did your machine do?’ asked Jack, trying to concentrate. The music, the lights – the feeling of the Perfection, wrapping themselves around him. The way they were all starting to move together, the way the music was getting louder, and yet further away, was somehow slowing down… were they even moving at all?

‘It’s a belief system. It made it easier for us to give our believers what they wanted. God created Man, and Man created God… you know…’

‘You know,’ repeated Brendan, mockingly in Jack’s ear.

‘It let us answer their prayers. It kept us perfect,’ continued Jon. ‘At the moment, for example, it lets me avoid wrinkles, and it keeps Brendan from losing his hair. Plus those love handles.’

‘Shut up!’ hissed Brendan.

‘Oh, it’s true. Ahhh, I love this bit!’ Jon shouted as the music built up and hit them like a wave.

And, like a wave, suddenly everything for Jack was down, not up, then up, not down, then he gasped for breath. ‘What’s happening to me?’ he asked. ‘What’s happening to me?’ he shouted.

Was he alone on the dance floor? Could he even open his eyes? He shouted and shouted again and then-

‘It’s OK, sssh!’ breathed Jon, kissing him. ‘The music’s just really good tonight. What is that kid DJ’s name?’

‘Eric,’ replied Brendan.

‘Oh, we’re keeping him!’ laughed Jon. ‘Anyway, to business. Which is you, Captain.’

‘So you had your machine,’ said Jack. Was he slurring? Anyway. ‘And you come to Cardiff and…’

‘We just settled for a little bar, a nice flat, and for making everyone happy. That’s all we did. Is that such a crime?’ Brendan’s voice took on a begging tone. And was he starting to glow slightly?

Jack blinked a bit, and tried to focus. Focus on making the-

‘And then we lost it. It was stolen.’

‘I know,’ said Jack. God, he was sweating. ‘They’re right,’ he thought. ‘It’s this coat. I’m wearing too many clothes. Giggle. Oh that’s funny. Always wearing too many clothes.’

‘Have you got it with you?’ asked Brendan. ‘No? OK. So we needed the device back. It was still being used, but at a long distance from us – the power it’s been demanding has spiralled. We’ve done everything we could to feed it… but it’s not been enough.’

‘You should have asked me,’ said Jack. ‘We could have helped.’

‘Maybe it’s not too late,’ said Jon.

‘It is,’ said Brendan. ‘Gods have their pride.’ Jon leaned close.

‘He’s got really good arms,’ thought Jack. ‘He’s so strong, and his hair’s so good and I love the way his eyes are so blue and there’s all that stubble and the troubled look in his face and the chest hair and cheekbones and-’

‘Jack. Listen to me, Jack,’ said Jon. ‘We had to feed it. Using the old way.’

Brendan leaned in, his long blond hair sweeping back, his perfect teeth smiling in a feral way. His arms wrapped round Jack, so strong, almost crushing the life out of him.

‘We’ve had to make sacrifices,’ someone said.

And then it was white.