‘Alex is becoming ever more resolved to act on our behalf,’ South replied, still frowning.
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Of course, but it is never easy with the omegas.’
‘Dai causing trouble?’ I asked.
South remained silent.
I shook my head. ‘Of all the people! How come Dai is the one to provide you with your twelfth omega?’
‘You’ve never studied Dai, have you?’
‘Studied him? No, I can’t say that I have.’
‘No, to you he is just “the quantum boozer”. Describe him.’
‘What?’
South prodded me in the chest with an unlit cigar. ‘What are the characteristics that define Dai Evans?’
‘Okay, he’s Welsh.’
‘Is that all?’
‘He’s drunk most of the time.’
‘And!’
‘Err, he’s loud.’
‘More! there is more!’ demanded South.
‘Err, he’s... erm.. well... umm... dunno really.’
‘Ah, such penetrating insights. Maybe I should give you a helping hand, let’s see... Where would you typically find Dai?’
‘In the pub.’
‘Which pub?’
‘Every pub.’
‘At last, you’ve got it!’
‘I have?’
‘He is a social creature! Dai’s penchant for alcohol and his boorish demeanour point, perhaps, to a certain character weakness, but this, if it has a source, lies within the realm of the cortex. It disguises his base qualities, qualities that flow from his thalamus: He mixes easily with a wide range of people; he is an adroit judge of both character and event; he is intuitive to the point of prescient; he senses the relationships that bond disparate individuals. If not for the destructive drinking, which itself might be a reaction against these qualities, Dai Evans would be a formidable individual, destined for power even. He is an omega.’
Hmm, this did make some sense, now that I thought about it. That fateful night, two weeks ago: although Dai had appeared to be talking through me, he’d actually been listening most of the time. I had been the one making the longwinded and fatuous points, and no doubt revealing too much about myself in the process. But I’d never quite cottoned on. All the time he had skilfully goaded me, played me like a fish! He was a funny one alright. Maybe he was just lonely, or maybe he was evaluating the inner workings of my mind – for future reference... bloody omegas.
‘Do you really think Alex can pull this off?’ I asked.
South shrugged noncommittally. ‘I must admit, I am beginning to have my doubts. If we’d only had more time...’
‘Is there nothing more we can do from here?’
‘Such as?’ South lit her cigar and blew smoke over my head.
I turned and leaned against a battlement and restudied SWISH. I looked down towards the general’s location.
‘This ceasefire,’ I began, ‘does it extend to the computer room?’
South scoffed. ‘Ceasefire means: cession of hostile activities. From SWISH’s point of view there can be nothing more hostile than trying to take control of a conscious human mind.’
‘Supposing I got in touch with the general down there, and asked for a one-off, and brief, intervention?’
South shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t sanction that. Anyway, SWISH’s right hand tends not to know what the left is doing. Remind the general about the computer room and he would have some questions about why you were using it earlier.’
‘Hmm, I suppose–
‘Woof.’
‘The first musical performance is drawing to a conclusion; the moment of truth may at last be at hand.’
‘And if Alex fails?’
‘Then we must consider our negotiating stance with regard to SWISH. Both of us must emerge out of this with something. Yes?’