Comedy Open Mic Round 17 : THE VILLAGE - Part 15 - The Concept of Emirc

For those of a nervous disposition I suggest that if you try reading this piece you treat it as literary Tourettes. Do not go in search of a plot. There is one but it's intended to only be revealed completely at the end. There are various clues littered throughout and numerous red herrings. Much to my own amazement, I won a prize for the last part I entered into Comedy Open Mic Round 16. This fluke will not be repeated here. This is awful but it's been rolling around inside my brain, along with a dozen other stories, for so long I have to get it out. Before I open up a fresh can of my own special brand of crazy here's a picture of Goonhilly Downs Satellite Earth Station. Goonhilly means moorland hunt/chase.

(The copyright for this image is the property of Space News)

Darcy's training continued apace, although as far as she could tell it was mostly about running and dangling off tall things. She was becoming a budget version of Tom Cruise in a sense. This morning she'd dropped Emma off at the small local school and met the headmaster. A man who'd instantly leapfrogged over Michael Penrose to become her number one enemy. He was an oily bastard that was for sure. Oozing smugness everywhere he slithered. He wasn't from around these parts, so she hadn't expected much. Then been very disappointed. It was that near permanent half smile he had stenciled to his face. The feeling that nothing he said was without an ulterior motive. Troubling currents ran beneath his fake surface. To the local observer, who was from around these parts, Darcy was only going through the experience of becoming Cornish in outlook. More importantly she was starting to fit in to St Erile. Very rapidly as well. Generally it took months to adapt to the slow pace then another fifty years to become accepted. This custom led to strange dichotomies. Any children you had while living there were instantly accepted. Meanwhile their poor parents who had lived there for ten years and more were universally mistrusted.

Money was a continuous problem for Darcy. She had no income and had only survived thanks to a slow drip of accidental earnings. The insurance fraud income was perilously low. Despite the need she'd sort of forgotten about it by immersing herself into their gang and her peculiar training. Monday to Friday between the hours of nine and three she'd been trained across the length and breadth of St Erile. Inquiries about the gang, she was a probationary member of, elicited no meaningful response. It was very like a book club, Darcy thought. That was an excuse to meet up once a week with the girls and drink wine while pretending you'd read the book. Thanks to the, as yet untitled, gang she'd lost herself. Forgotten all the worries besieging her. Then the principal had greasily slithered over to her that very morning. Was Emma going on the school trip? What school trip, was all that Darcy could say? The one that cost £10 to go on. The one Emma was going to miss, because her guardian hadn't sent the money.

Sometimes children do the most awful things to you. They submerge you in guilt. Emma, at the tender age of five, had independently reached the decision not to inform Darcy of the need for £10. Now there was a tiny bit of anger there, from Darcy. Not at Emma as such. More at having to hunt through her purse for the necessary remuneration. While that prick stood over her. His fake, I know far more than you do, smile. Superior, condescending and ever so slightly rapey. In an online grooming sense. This man would be far too sly to get caught. The situation, which was already intolerable, had been made worse. Despite her best efforts she'd only found £9.87. The slimy bastard had patronizingly accepted this amount as full payment. He'd donate the rest. That was so big of him, making her feel so small. On the walk back, Darcy imagined at least 8 ways she'd avenge herself. One of the other teachers had kindly suggested doing this. Because that's what she did every day she was forced to work with Mr Goodman.

Blood still boiling Darcy headed back to Rose Cottage where she very nearly took her anger out on an innocent party. The front door was open. There was a long ladder leaning against the guttering. What the frig was going on? Then someone came down the ladder from her roof. Sliding down it with ease. He alighted at the bottom. It was awful to say but the only thing that prevented her from ripping him a new asshole was his stature. Four and a half feet tall he smiled at her, wiping his hands on his overalls, then offering one for a shake.

"I know you're Darcy, seen you around the village. I'm Big Jeff. Pleased to meet you."
They shook. Darcy tried, and failed, to work out what was going on.
"I'm fairly new here." She commenced. "So I haven't yet gained a full understanding of how things work. What are you doing on my roof?"
Jeff scratched his head grinning ruefully. It was something he'd always wanted to do and now he'd done it. Scratch that one off the bucket list.
"I assumed you knew. Steph said she'd told you."
Darcy dimly recollected something about Big Jeff. That was almost a week ago though.
"Okay." She replied hesitantly. "Now since I've been here I've noticed a lot of nothing happening, happens a lot. Then everything happens at the same time. I know something was said to me and I had no idea what it meant."
"That's par for the course in St Erile." Big Jeff advised. "I'm hooking you up to the broadband as per Steph's instructions."
"Oh sorry." Not panic, merely poverty induced fear. " I can't afford to pay for it. You're wasting your time I'm afraid. Besides I haven't got anything that will connect to it. Apart from my smartphone, which doesn't matter. Please stop what your doing. You aren't getting paid for this."
He leaned back against his ladder.
"It's free. There's nothing to pay. No deposit and zero rental. I'm piggy backing on the fiber optics system the military used. I've got your kit in my car. One laptop, one personal computer and a tablet. Steph had the insurance company deliver them to me, so I could install the encryption software and hardware. Your smartphone will not work though. It's incompatible. I'm working on a solution. It takes time though."
It struck the dumbstruck woman that this could only go badly.
"You're saying I've graduated from insurance fraud to treason. You are saying it calmly. I am not hearing it calmly. This is the military. They'll do things to me in far flung places. If they find out I'm going to end up water boarded."
"No worries. They know already."
It was difficult to swallow past the lump in her throat.
"How is that supposed to leave me with no worries? You've just led them to my door. Helicopters with teams of special forces soldiers are possibly scrambling right now. Why should this not worry me."
"They think it's the Russians tapping into the submarine cables. They know it's there. So they send harmless stuff and a few semi important files. Even if the military found out we were using their infrastructure they wouldn't do anything about it. That would only reveal what they think they're doing to the Russian's."
"How do you know all this to be true?"
"I work for them. The military I mean. Not the Russians. If it's alright with you I'll get on. I'm on nights this week."
Big Jeff picked up a couple of tools then climbed back up the ladder while Darcy completely failed to digest more surrealism than is good for one.

Still, she'd be gaining internet access. Potentially at the expense of her freedom. What could possibly go wrong with this? Apart from everything. Holy shit. Now more than ever she wished she was a smoker. This would be the perfect moment for a cigarette to calm her nerves. Goodman, Big Jeff, insurance fraud, high treason. All tumbling around inside her skull. Fighting to be the one that pushed her over the edge into multiple layers of the brown smelly stuff. Steph and Sophie arrived in the nick of time. Darcy went outside as soon as she heard their voices. Too many questions. Nothing she'd ever encountered or experienced before. Steph was handing up some tool that despite all her instincts Darcy wanted to know about. What did it do? I need firm foundations. Knowledge of what the hell was happening from one moment to the next. Jeff mentioned something about a Gripple Torq Tool. Darcy really should have learned to let her instinct have its way in these matters. Her friends virtually dragged her back inside. There she was handed some clothes. With the instruction to change into them as quickly as possible. It was time for her first experience of Emirc.

Having caught their sense of urgency, which as we all know is highly infectious like enthusiasm, Darcy rushed up to her bedroom and started to strip off. There was a knock at her bedroom window. Big Jeff advised her that to protect her modesty she might try closing the curtains. He was going to be up and down that ladder quite a bit today. However he, unlike Doogie and Doidge would be more than happy to accept payment in kind. That joke, the one Darcy completely failed to find amusing, was actually hilarious. Evidence for which was provided by Jeff and the others splitting their sides with laughter. She gained the impression the true tale had been added to in the telling. There were doubtless at least three different versions going round the village at this point. It was only when she'd changed that Darcy noticed what she was wearing. An all black body suit with a face covering hood. Instead of the excitement she'd imagined she'd feel all that arose was trepidation. She turned this way and that in the mirror. A check for nipple revealed none. Thank God she had her only good bra on today.

Back downstairs Soph and Stephanie were already in theirs. Having worn their outfits under their ordinary clothes. It was at this point Darcy was introduced to the concept of Emirc. It was a very complex thing which could be very easily summed up in very few words. Simply speaking, it was the exact opposite of crime. Instead of stealing things they would be installing them. All of these activities presenting an even greater risk of actually being caught. That was the nature of the work. Emirc's were harder, stealing was much easier. If they were ever caught they'd still be guilty of a criminal offence. It turned out that there was no difference between the wholly different motives. Wishing to return property ended up being as criminal as stealing it. To Stephanie and Sophie that was the fun part. If there was zero chance of ever being captured it would hardly be worth attempting.

Today was pretty straightforward, very low risk. Maggie Southern was convalescing at her sister's in Brighton, having fallen in the shower. The house was a complete mess. They'd be tidying up. Doing the dishes and any other work they could turn their hands to. Under cover of broad daylight, the trio made their way across the fields to Maggie's. There Darcy boosted Sophie up to a window ledge from where she entered the premises. When she opened the door Steph was holding the key to it which had been under a gnome in the front garden. As Sophie pointed out where would the fun be in that? All the way through, what was essentially light spring cleaning, Darcy marveled at how much fun it was. How was this possible. Something so mundane had suddenly become exciting. Especially the last fifteen minutes of madness as they removed all trace of their own presence. Washing up done. Floors scrubbed. Beds made, laundry done. They even had time to clean the refrigerator.

The next day they creosoted a wooden fence and wall papered a living room. The day after that they assembled flat pack furniture. Only exiting the house through the back door as the front door opened. Boring, often repetitive, tasks that became adventures. Not in the least bit imaginary. More a role playing game that was more real than reality. Or at least a lot more exciting. During her introduction to Emirc her comrades schooled her in other aspects of their craft. No details yet but there were other projects that became available. Ones that required fast thinking and a flair for free style bullshit. On the Friday Darcy was thrown into the deep end of this insanity. It must be insanity. Sanity didn't make your heart race and your brain operate in overdrive. This would be Darcy's final exam before becoming a full member of the gang. A gang which didn't have a name. Names were lame. The night before her test Darcy swung between elation and fear. Every now and then spending a few minutes pretending not to care. There was no plan here. They'd make it up as they went along. Knowing what they were going to do was their greatest enemy apparently. Darcy bowed to superior knowledge. In the knowledge they must be wrong. Maybe if she told them she was sick they'd postpone.

Friday 9:25 AM, an out of town business park. The town it was out of being Plymouth. Darcy still had very little idea what was going on. The only advice being to stick with her friends. There she was in a power suit. Black professional skirt and jacket. Black heels and a white blouse. She even had a lanyard. Darcy also had on some thick rimmed glasses and carried a briefcase. They looked impressive. They looked barely recognizable. The secret at this point was confidence, they assured her. At the first hint of an obstacle they'd bulldoze the fuck out of it. There was security at the door. Three lanyards were flashed. Three women had the door opened to them. First obstacle overcome. From this point on it would be very interesting. Sophie, blonde hair streaming behind her confidently approached the reception desk. Here she introduced herself and her companions. Hespasia Flangepole, Sarsaparilla Candycock and Cinderella Spatchbatch were here from head office. It was a surprise inspection. Hespasia Flangepole cast a critical eye at all around her. Tapping her right foot impatiently and checking her watch. They'd need to see the manager. He was coming down to meet them.

Shit this couldn't work. Fuck there was absolutely no way this could work. Purely based on their silly made up names there was no way anyone would swallow this deception. Darcy's palms began to sweat. Cinderella Spatchbatch consulted her iPad. Showed the blank screen to Sarsaparilla Candycock who studied it minutely before nodding then shaking her head. Cinderella whispered into Hespasia's ear. She nodded tersely and strode over to the reception desk again. Quietly inside her head Darcy began to pray that whatever charges they would face she'd be out in time to go to Emma's wedding. Why am I here? She asked herself. This wasn't an existential nightmare this was her throwing herself in front of a truck based on tidying up a few houses. Darcy was so far out of her depth there was every chance the Titanic would hove into view any second. Oh fuck. Who was going to pick Emma up from school?

I would like to nominate @shenoy and @africaunited for the next round.