The Conduit

Jeremy Truscott was seated on the lavatory, doing what you do when seated on the lavatory (the Guardian Sudoku) when there was a knock on the toilet door.

 

Jeremy was to put it mildly, most surprised. He lived alone, there was nobody else in the house, and the front door (the only door) was locked, bolted and chained. The windows too were secure-locked.

 

“Who the hell is that?” he asked, his voice betraying a mixture of fear, surprise and general confusion.

 

There was no answer, only a pause, followed by a second knock, after which the handle turned and the door opened. 

 

Jeremy never locked the toilet door when he was alone in the house. There was some logic to this, he was alone, so there was nothing to be gained in locking the door, though that doesn’t explained why he closed the door in the first place. Just force of habit perhaps?

 

The door opened and before him stood a man he had never seen before, unusually tall (about seven foot three) and dressed in a tuxedo, complete with black bow-tie and carefully quaffed black hair, and carrying a large cuddly toy penguin, approximately five foot from under-paw to beret (the penguin was wearing a red beret, I neglected to mention that).

 

“It’s only me,” he said, brightly, passing the penguin to Jeremy as he did so.

 

Jeremy gaped helplessly. “Who the hell are you?” he said, first to the penguin, then to the man.”

 

“It’s me, The Conduit,” the man said, “I’ve brought you a penguin.”

 

“I don’t want a penguin,” Jeremy started to say, but then realised that the penguin would at least cover his genitalia, so he consented and sat the penguin on his knee, covering his modesty.

 

“His name’s Tony,” the Conduit said.

 

“Is it?”

 

“Yes. It’s a present from your mother. She’s here to see you. She sent me in first to, you know, clear the way. And give you the penguin.”

 

“Look, I don’t know who you are, what sort of joke you think this is, but it’s not funny. My mother died three years ago and if her last bequest was for me to be given a penguin while I was sitting on the toilet …”

 

The man finished the sentence for him. “You’d have been given the penguin ages ago. And, more importantly, your mother wouldn’t be standing here waiting to see you.”

 

“Er, yes, exactly,” Jeremy said, his thunder stolen from him.

 

“So I’m clearly not talking about THAT mother am I,” the man said snappily.

 

“Not ‘that’ mother,” Jeremy repeated.

 

“No, clearly not.”

 

A silence unfolded. Jeremy could think of nothing to say and moving was restricted by the need to pull up his trousers, the handicap of having a large penguin seated on his knee and the general lack of room in the toilet.

 

Eventually the man spoke.

 

“You don’t recognise me, do you? You don’t remember?”

 

“Er, no. Who are you exactly? The Conduit, what is that?”

 

“I am simply the conduit between your world and this world. Like a gatekeeper, I suppose, but also like a lift operator, like a pilot in some respects, or like a god, a deity. I also provide entertainment during the journey, so in some ways I’m like a singer on a cruise ship, or a juggler, or a dancer, that sort of thing.”

 

“Okay, you’re part juggler, part god. To be honest you lost me at the conduit. The conduit between this world and my world?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But this world IS my world.”

 

“You really don’t remember do you? You are not of this world.”

 

“But I was born here. I have a birth certificate, a mother, my entire life.”

 

“Ah, yes, but those are just things. Easily arranged. You see …”

 

The conversation was interrupted by a third voice, that of a woman.

 

“Hello darling, it’s me.”

 

“I must go,” the Conduit said, “I’t your mother.”

 

The Conduit left the toilet, only for his place to be taken by a middle-aged woman, again unusually tall, well over six foot, dressed smartly in a cocktail dress and carrying a bunch of flowers and a six-pack of lager.

 

“Hello darling,” she said, “I didn’t know what to bring you, I don’t really understand this planet, so I got you flowers, the penguin, and some beer, I understand that’s what you drink,” she handed over the flowers and the lager, , “I also brought you a secret gypsy remedy for dullness,” (she handed him a sheet of paper) and a set of stoat hover boots,” (she handed him a set of four stoat-sized boots with miniature jet-packs attached to each boot. “I didn’t know whether you had stoats.”

 

“I …” Jeremey struggled with the words, not to mention the hands to gifts ration that caused him to drop/place the flowers and beer on the floor.

 

“It doesn’t’ matter if not, you can always give the boots to a stoat orphanage.”

 

“Stoat orphanage,” Jeremy repeated, further disconcerted by the way the woman is looking at him, a full body scan, as if deciding whether or not to buy him.

 

“I just wanted to see you, you know, in your new life. To see how you were getting on.”

 

“I, er …”

 

“Oh it’s not use,” the woman said, suddenly bursting into tears, “I can’t bear to see you like this.”

 

“Well, why didn’t you wait ‘til I’d finished in the toilet?”

 

“I mean I can’t bear to see you in this life.”

 

“I’m quite successful if you must know, I’m a doctor, on a good salary.”

 

“Yes, yes, but you’re an Earth doctor. You’re not married, don’t run a company, let alone a country, you don’t even own a stoat.”

 

“Well, I could get a stoat, I suppose, if that would please you.” But it was not use. The woman stomped out of the toilet, still in tears.

 

The man re-entered.

 

“I’m afraid your mother has left. The sight of you in this life was too much for her I’m afraid.”

 

“I don’t understand. What do you mean the sight of me in this life?”

 

The Conduit sighed.

“Ah, you really are slow on the uptake aren’t you. You are not of this world, you are from, well, the other world, the better world, your mother’s world. But you, well, you’re one of those small minority of people that fell short, you know, you weren’t the brightest, the most skilled, you, well, you were so stupid you could barely function. Years ago of course you’d have been bashed by a rock and left in an out-of-the-way place to die, but then we discovered Earth, populated by humans, a life-form like us but unbelievably stupid, and we started sending people like you here instead, where you’d blend in.”

“So, I’m not human?”

 

“Well, frankly I wonder. You blend in so well it’s hard to image you’re not, but no, you are your mother’s son, which is why she wanted to see you. Why she brought you gifts.”

 

“And are you from my world?”

 

“No, I told you, I am The Conduit, I simply enable your kind to travel to this world, I am like a people-trafficker, a guide, a hot beverage maker, even the narrator when I need to be.”

 

“So what happens now?”

 

“Now I must go. I am needed elsewhere. You can get on with your life, do your Sudoku, do your toilet, live out the rest of your sad Earth life.”

 

With this words the Conduit left the toilet, shutting the door behind him, and Jeremy was left alone, with just the penguin for company.