protesting in the only way open to them against the stifling injustices of a male-dominated social hierarchy,” said Pepper.
Pepper’s mother lectured at Norton Polytechnic.30
“Yes, but your mother’s always saying things like that,” said Adam, after a while.
Pepper nodded amiably. “And she said, at worst they were just free-thinking worshipers of the progenerative principle.”
“Who’s the progenratty principle?” said Wensleydale.
“Dunno. Something to do with maypoles, I think,” said Pepper vaguely.
“Well, I thought they worshipped the Devil,” said Brian, but without automatic condemnation. The Them had an open mind on the whole subject of devil worship. The Them had an open mind about everything. “Anyway, the Devil’d be better than a stupid maypole.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Adam. “It’s not the Devil. It’s another god, or something. With horns.”
“The Devil,” said Brian.
“No,” said Adam patiently. “People just got ’em mixed up. He’s just got horns similar. He’s called Pan. He’s half a goat.”
“Which half?” said Wensleydale.
Adam thought about it.
“The bottom half,” he said at length. “Fancy you not knowin’ that. I should of thought everyone knew that.”
“Goats haven’t got a bottom half,” said Wensleydale. “They’ve got a front half and a back half. Just like cows.”
They watched Dog some more, drumming their heels on the gate. It was too hot to think.
Then Pepper said, “If he’s got goat legs, he shouldn’t have horns. They belong to the front half.”
“I didn’t make him up, did I?” said Adam, aggrieved. “I was just telling you. It’s news to me I made him up. No need to go on at me.”
“Anyway,” said Pepper. “This stupid Pot can’t go around complaining if people think he’s the Devil. Not with having horns on. People are bound to say, oh, here comes the Devil.”
Dog started to dig up a rabbit hole.
Adam, who seemed to have a weight on his mind, took a deep breath.
“You don’t have to be so lit’ral about everything,” he said. “That’s the trouble these days. Grass materialism. ’S people like you who go round choppin’ down rain forests and makin’ holes in the ozone layer. There’s a great big hole in the ozone layer ’cos of grass materialism people like you.”
“I can’t do anythin’ about it,” said Brian automatically. “I’m still paying off on a stupid cucumber frame.”
“It’s in the magazine,” said Adam. “It takes millions of acres of rain forest to make one beefburger. And all this ozone is leakin’ away because of … ” he hesitated, “people sprayin’ the enviroment.”
“And there’s whales,” said Wensleydale. “We’ve got to save ’em.”
Adam looked blank. His plunder of New Aquarian’s back issues hadn’t included anything about whales. Its editors had assumed that the readers were all for saving whales in the same way they assumed that those readers breathed and walked upright.
“There was this program about them,” explained Wensleydale.
“What’ve we got to save ’em for?” said Adam. He had confused visions of saving up whales until you had enough for a badge.
Wensleydale paused and racked his memory. “Because they can sing. And they’ve got big brains. There’s hardly any of them left. And we don’t need to kill them anyway ’cos they only make pet food and stuff.”
“If they’re so clever,” said Brian, slowly, “what are they doin’ in the sea?”
“Oh, I dunno,” said Adam, looking thoughtful. “Swimmin’ around all day, just openin’ their mouths and eating stuff … sounds pretty clever to me—”
A squeal of brakes and a long drawn-out crunch interrupted him. They scrambled off the gate and ran up the lane to the crossroads, where a small car lay on its roof at the end of a long skidmark.
A little further down the road was a hole. It looked as though the car had tried to avoid it. As they looked at it, a small Oriental-looking head darted out of sight.
The Them dragged the door open and pulled out the unconscious Newt. Visions of medals for heroic rescue thronged Adam’s head. Practical considerations of first aid thronged around that of Wensleydale.
“We shouldn’t move him,” he said. “Because of broken bones. We ought to get someone.”
Adam cast around. There was a rooftop just visible in the trees down the road. It was Jasmine Cottage.
And in Jasmine Cottage Anathema Device was sitting in front of a table on which some bandages, aspirins, and assorted first-aid items had been laid out for the past hour.
ANATHEMA HAD BEEN looking at the clock. He’ll be coming around any moment now, she’d thought.
And then, when he got there, he wasn’t what she’d been expecting. More precisely, he wasn’t what she’d