Doughnut - By Tom Holt Page 0,22

Chen’s Macrodimensional Field Inversion Dynamics; ten times more effective than Nembutal, safe and reusable. He read five pages and fell asleep.

He sat up. It was pitch dark. Someone was sitting on the end of the bed.

“Who’s there?” he said.

A light flared, and lit up a head. It had bright red skin, pointed Spock ears, a flat stub of a nose, shrunken cheeks, yellow eyes and no hair at all. It grinned, revealing a mouthful of needle-sharp cats’ teeth.

“Max?”

He had no idea why he’d said that. The head sighed. “Do I look even remotely like your dear departed brother?” it said wearily.

“No.”

“Well, then.” The light grew brighter, and under the head he saw a squat, short body with long arms, sitting cross-legged an inch or so from his feet. It was wearing some kind of body armour made of overlapping steel scales, and its huge feet were bare, revealing claws instead of toenails. “Looks like I’m not him, then.”

It was also holding a brown manila envelope. Theo felt an urge to grab at it, but the presence of the whatever-it-was appeared to have paralysed him, so he mumbled, “Give me that,” in a high, squeaky voice instead.

“In a minute,” the goblin replied. It looked at him, as though expecting something of him; then it sighed. “You were reading,” it said. “Yes?”

Theo could feel the corner of Greenidge and Chen’s Macrodimensional Field Inversion Dynamics digging into his side. “Yes. Yes, I was.”

“And you fell asleep.”

“Yes?”

The goblin clicked its tongue, which was brown and forked at the tip. “You had the bedside light on.”

“I suppose so.”

The goblin pulled an oh-for-crying-out-loud face. “The bedside light is off,” he said, with exaggerated patience. “What does this tell you?”

Theo stared at him. “You turned it off?”

The goblin held up one hand. Claws, an inch long and twisted into spirals, in place of fingernails. “You seriously think I can manipulate a fiddly little switch with these? Oh come on.”

A tiny scrap of scientific method, left behind from his previous existence, supplied the answer. “This is a dream. I’m dreaming.”

The goblin put down the envelope and clapped its hands slowly four times. “Like British Airways,” he said. “It was long and traumatic, but we got there in the end. Yes, this is a dream. I am not real. All right?”

Theo nodded. He could move again. “Hold on,” he said. “If I’m dreaming, how come I know I’m—?”

The goblin scowled at him. “You just do, all right?” He picked up the manila envelope and tapped it with a claw. “This is good stuff, you know? Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, you’ve forgotten to compensate for Heisenberg,” it went on, “and here” – it stabbed at the paper with a claw – “you’ve written a three, but your writing’s so bad you subsequently read it as an eight, so your calculations from that point on are garbage; a careless mistake, and quite typical, I might add, you really must do something about your slapdash attitude to details. Apart from that, though,” it concluded with a nod, “not bad at all.”

Theo blinked. Heisenberg, of course. And the misread 3 would explain why the last few lines had felt a little strained. “You’re my subconscious,” he said. “Really it’s me figuring out what I did wrong.”

The goblin shrugged. “If you say so,” it said. “You’re the doctor, as the expression goes.” It put the envelope down on the bed and crossed its arms. “What are we going to do with you, I wonder?”

“You sound like my mother.”

For some reason, that made the goblin grin broadly. “A word of warning. From,” it added with a snicker, “your subconscious. Watch yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

The goblin bent forward a little. “These people,” it said, “are not what they seem.”

Theo laughed. “You don’t say.”

He’d offended the goblin. It gave him a cold look. “All right, Mister Know-It-All, since you’re so very clever, I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions from your extensive and accurate observations. Just don’t come whinneting to me if it all ends in tears.”

“Sorry,” Theo said, and then he stopped dead. “Whinneting?”

“Whining,” the goblin explained. “Complaining in a pitiful manner.”

“Yes, I know. It was one of Max’s words.”

“Ah yes, so it was.” The goblin shrugged. “Let’s see. The embodiment of your subconscious mind seeks to give you sage advice, such as a caring elder brother might—”

“Max never gave a damn about me. Or anyone except himself.”

The goblin nodded. “True. Anyway, we’re drifting off topic. You want to be on your guard around these people. They’re up