Thus Spoke Chorkie Walker - Prologue (third part)

Thus Spoke Chorkie Walker - Prologue (third part)

 

8

 

Chorkie rose with the dawn, as was ches custom. Che checked on the still-sleeping invalid and, satisfied he was still alive, went to search for berries. The rucksack was still in use as a sleeping bag, so che ate as che went, and carried some back to ches companion a few at a time.

 

On ches third return, the rider was awake. ‘Good morning, Inquadable Conkers,’ said Chorkie. ‘Are you hungry? I have brought berries. And there’s running water beside you.’

 

‘Yes please,’ he said, ‘but please, call me Conkers. And can you help me? I cannot move.’

 

Chorkie made him more comfortable and Conkers had his fill, which perked him up a little. He claimed to have some feeling back in his front legs. 

 

To take his mind off the discomfort, Chorkie recounted how che had come to be at the show and what had occurred.

 

During ches telling, Conkers revived some more and he was quick to suggest a possible remedy for Chorkie’s doubts. ‘You need followers, not crowds,’ he said. ‘You can talk to the masses by social media and never have to repeat yourself, for your words will always be available to any that want to read them. Or you can record videos and make it even easier for them. You can gather a huge following that way, though they may be many kilometres away, or even in another country. If you want to engage in real conversation with real people, then you need to talk to them one by one, for they are more prone to listen. A crowd is only as willing to listen as its loudest objector.’

 

The suggestion resonated in Chorkie’s ears, and che thanked him for it. 

 

They talked all morning, and Chorkie learned more about Conkers. He had been used as a punch bag of sorts for several years, until his string snapped and was able to escape on a quad bike. His back was broken but he could still operate its controls. Travelling from town to town, he had built up a reputation as a novelty daredevil rider. It was the only thing anyone would pay a crippled bear to do, for dancing was out of the question.

 

Chorkie wanted to be of use helping Conkers find a new set of wheels, but che knew nothing about vehicles. 

 

‘There’s no need,’ assured Conkers. ‘As a condition of my doing yesterday’s jump, it was agreed, in case of any damage, that all the repairs will be taken care of. All I need to do is go back to the town hall to collect my fee and find out when I can have it back - if they think I’m dead they might not bother to fix it - and it might take a few days before it’s finished. Perhaps you could go on my behalf and make sure they honour the contract?’

 

‘I would be only too pleased to do that Conkers. I will go now, but first I need my rucksack – I am naked without it and I can carry more food within it.’

 

‘Yes, I see you wear no ribbon, unlike other bears,’ said Conkers.

 

‘No,’ said Chorkie, ‘The teddy ribbon is a sign of slavery, and I will be slave to no one. Now, I should go. When I return you can tell me more about this social media.’

 

9

 

Chorkie made sure that Conkers was comfortable, confirmed where che needed to go to enquire about the bike, and hastened back along the track.

 

At the town hall, che asked for the name of the contact che had been given. Che was directed to an office where a woman of middle-age was speaking to another citizen. Che waited patiently to be attended to before explaining why che was there.

 

The woman said that she could not release any information about the bike to Chorkie without written authorisation from its owner. ‘Data Protection Act’, she said, as if that explained everything. ‘And he, or his authorised representative, will need to go to the cashier’s office for enquiries regarding money.’

 

Chorkie insisted: ‘I am not asking for any personal details. The Inquadable Conkers is alive, but in no fit state to come here. He has asked me to tell you that he still lives, and to ask you only to confirm when his bike will be repaired, for he is disabled and it is his only means of getting about.’

 

The woman looked at the bear suspiciously, and said: ‘I cannot confirm that, as it may contravene the terms of any contract made, but I can confirm that the town hall always honours its agreements with citizens or businesses.’

 

‘Can you tell me where it will be repaired?’ asked Chorkie.

 

‘I cannot tell you that without written authorisation from the owner of the vehicle.’

 

‘Hmm,’ grunted Chorkie. And then a thought occurred, which che did not share. Che thanked the woman for her hindrance and left.

 

At the main reception area Chorkie pretended to be new in town, which was no lie. Che said che needed to make some repairs to ches quad motorcycle and wondered if the council could provide a list of approved motorcycle repair shops in the town.

 

The receptionist said this was really a question for the tourist information office, but he had a bike of his own, so he could answer. He pulled out a map: ‘There’s a bike showroom here,’ he said, marking a cross, ‘and next door is a repair shop. Otherwise, the Ford garage, on Wilder Street, might help you depending what’s wrong with the bike.’ He marked another cross.

 

Chorkie asked, ‘So, where are we now?’

 

‘Here.’

 

Chorkie thanked the man and left.

 

Outside, Chorkie studied the map. The Ford garage was nearer, but che fancied the town hall would give work to the motorcycle repair shop first. 

 

A young girl approached and said: ‘Hey, you were at the quad jump yesterday, weren’t you.’ An accusation, not a question.

 

‘Yes,’ said Chorkie. Che didn’t recognise her from the crowd. ‘Were you there?’ che asked.

 

‘No,’ she said, ‘but someone posted your photo on Instagram, and you, well you got a lot of coverage.’

 

Chorkie was intrigued. ‘Oh, really? What is Instagram?’

 

‘Here, let me show you,’ she offered, and took out her phone.

 

Chorkie’s photo came up on her screen. Underneath it read: 

 

‘235 likes, jackieg93 Sideshow attraction at the #inquadableconkers #quadjump #norto … more’ 

 

‘What language is this?’ asked Chorkie.

 

‘English,’ she replied. And when Chorkie showed no signs of comprehension, she added: ‘You’re famous. Can I get a selfie?’

 

‘A selfie? What’s that?’

 

‘Oh wow, are you for real? Here, look at the camera.’ She leaned down to get her face close and Chorkie looked up to see a mirror image of them together. She smiled and snapped the photo. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

 

‘Chorkie, Chorkie Walker.’ 

 

Che waited, a little puzzled whilst she fiddled with the phone. It pinged a few times and she showed it to Chorkie. Che was surprised to see the photo, and underneath it read ‘3 likes, bubblibuns Hanging out with Chalky Walker, so cute! … more.’ 

 

Her phone pinged some more, and she took it away again, saying: ‘6 likes already – you’re popular!’

 

‘That’s nice to know,’ said Chorkie. ‘But why? I didn’t say anything, just now. And you spelt my name wrong, it’s Chorkie, spelt C-H-O-R-K-I-E, not Chalky.’

 

‘Oh, but you’re whitish, so I thought—'

 

‘That’s a coincidence. So if you can change that, please do.’

 

‘No probs. You don’t need to say anything anyway: you’re cute, the camera loves you. Have a great day!’ And with that she walked away.

 

Chorkie was out of touch with modern technology. Che’d heard of MySpace, Friends Reunited and even Facebook, where people shared photos, so che guessed this was something similar. Che couldn’t understand how she’d shared the photo so quickly, however, and had 6 likes, not to mention the 235 from yesterday, when five minutes earlier che’d never heard of Instagram.

 

This must be the social media Conkers mentioned, che mused. In ches excitement che went straight back to the forest where che’d left the Inquadable Conkers.

 

10

 

Conkers was pleased to see Chorkie, and he looked a lot better. Before sitting down, Chorkie said: ‘I’m popular on Instagram, apparently.’

 

‘Oh really?’ said Conkers. ‘What have you been doing? And what news of my quad?’

 

‘Oh dear,’ said Chorkie, sitting down dejectedly. ‘I put down the map I had for the selfie and forgot to go to the garage. But the lady in the town hall wouldn’t tell me anything without your written authorisation, except to say that they would honour your contract if you had one. And I forgot to gather food too. I’m sorry, but I have to know more about this Instagram.’

 

Conkers told Chorkie what he could. He had an account, but he wasn’t very popular, at least, he’d never had 235 likes. He had to let Chorkie down gently, that 235 likes probably wasn’t because of what che had said yesterday. From his own experience, it was more likely they were having fun at the sight of this talking bear, particularly an intelligent one.

 

‘But,’ he went on, ‘if you had your own account and you can keep your comments brief, you could probably get quite a following. I left my phone with the road crew yesterday, so I can’t check, but if you can help me back to the town hall to sort out the quad, we can go get my phone too.’

 

‘What, now?’ asked Chorkie, still excited.

 

‘Maybe tomorrow. I’m still quite sore. I need more rest before I go back in the pack again.’

 

Chorkie tried to contain ches excitement and went to look for berries. 

 

It took three days before Conkers felt strong enough to cope with any more travel in the rucksack. In that time they talked a lot more about Instagram, its benefits and its drawbacks, as well as other recent developments since Chorkie’s isolation. Conkers hadn’t broken through on social media, but he knew the basics. He suggested they team up, as Conkers could take Chorkie wherever che wanted without having to walk everywhere, and Chorkie could help raise Conkers’s profile as well as ches own.

 

Chorkie wanted to practice ches wisdom on Conkers and he was willing to listen. Thus was formed a friendship between them. 

 

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