Read Online The Warlord of the Air by Michael Moorcock - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Moorcock
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damned sight better than today, eh?”
“I could answer that if I could remember anything about today.” I laughed in turn.
“Yes, of course.” His face became serious. “You mean you know everything that happened up until the year 1902— well before you were born—and remember nothing since. It’s certainly the funniest case of amnesia I’ve ever heard of. You must have been a pretty good scholar, if your ‘memory’ is that detailed. Is there anything I can do to help trigger your memory in some way?”
“You could give me a brief outline of history since 1902.” I thought I had been very clever in leading into this.
He shrugged. “Nothing much has happened really. Seventy years of glorious peace, all in all. Damned dull.”
“No wars at all?”
“Nothing you’d call wars, no. I suppose the last scrap was the Boer War.”
“A war in South Africa, eh?”
“Yes—in 1910. Boers made a bid for independence. Had some justice to it, I gather. But we calmed them down, fought them for six months then made a lot of concessions. It was a pretty bloody war while is lasted, from all I’ve read.” He took a cigarette case from his jacket pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Not at all.”
“Care for one?”
“Thanks.” I accepted.
He grinned crookedly as he lit my cigarette with something which resembled a tinder box but which hissed—a sort of portable gas-jet, I gathered. I tried not to goggle at it as I leant forward to receive the light. “I feel like a prep-school master,” he said, putting the portable gas-jet away. “Telling you all this, I mean. Still, if it helps...”
“It really does,” I assured him. “What about the other Great Powers—France, Italy, Russia, Germany...”
“... and Japan,” he said, almost disapprovingly.
“What sort of trouble have they had with their colonies?”
“Not much. They deserve trouble, some of them, mind you. The way the Russians and the Japanese administer their Chinese territories.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t say I like their methods. Still, they can be a pretty unruly lot, the Chinese.” He drew deeply on his cigarette. “The Americans can be a bit soft—particularly in their Indo-Chinese colonies—but I’d rather see it that way than the other.”
“The Americans have colonies?”
He laughed at this. “Seem strange, does it? Cuba, Panama, Hawaii, the Philippines, Viet Nam, Korea, Taiwan—oh, yes, they’ve a fair-sized Empire all right. Not that they call it that, of course. The Greater American Commonwealth. They’ve had a rather strained relationship with France and Russia, but luckily England’s got her fill of responsibilities. Let them get on with it, say I. Our Empire—and the Pax Britannica—will outlast them all, in my opinion.”
“There were some people,” I said cautiously, “in 1902 or thereabouts, who foresaw the British Empire crumbling...”
Major Powell laughed heartily. “Crumbling, eh? You mean pessimists like Rudyard Kipling, Lloyd George, people like that? I’m afraid Kipling’s rather been discredited these days. His heart was in the right place, of course, but it seems to me he lost faith at the last minute. If he hadn’t been killed in the Boer War, he might have changed his mind, I suppose. No, I think it’s fair to say that the old Empire’s brought a stability to the world it has never known before. It’s maintained the balance of power pretty successfully— and it hasn’t done that badly for the natives, after all.”
“Katmandu has certainly changed a great deal—since 1902...”
He gave me another of his odd, wary looks. “Ah,” he said. “You know, Bastable, if I didn’t know better I could almost believe you had been on that damned mountain for seventy years. It’s pretty strange, listening to a chap as young as you talking about the past in that way.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t apologize. Not your fault. You’ll be a joy for the brain-doctors to get
“I could answer that if I could remember anything about today.” I laughed in turn.
“Yes, of course.” His face became serious. “You mean you know everything that happened up until the year 1902— well before you were born—and remember nothing since. It’s certainly the funniest case of amnesia I’ve ever heard of. You must have been a pretty good scholar, if your ‘memory’ is that detailed. Is there anything I can do to help trigger your memory in some way?”
“You could give me a brief outline of history since 1902.” I thought I had been very clever in leading into this.
He shrugged. “Nothing much has happened really. Seventy years of glorious peace, all in all. Damned dull.”
“No wars at all?”
“Nothing you’d call wars, no. I suppose the last scrap was the Boer War.”
“A war in South Africa, eh?”
“Yes—in 1910. Boers made a bid for independence. Had some justice to it, I gather. But we calmed them down, fought them for six months then made a lot of concessions. It was a pretty bloody war while is lasted, from all I’ve read.” He took a cigarette case from his jacket pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Not at all.”
“Care for one?”
“Thanks.” I accepted.
He grinned crookedly as he lit my cigarette with something which resembled a tinder box but which hissed—a sort of portable gas-jet, I gathered. I tried not to goggle at it as I leant forward to receive the light. “I feel like a prep-school master,” he said, putting the portable gas-jet away. “Telling you all this, I mean. Still, if it helps...”
“It really does,” I assured him. “What about the other Great Powers—France, Italy, Russia, Germany...”
“... and Japan,” he said, almost disapprovingly.
“What sort of trouble have they had with their colonies?”
“Not much. They deserve trouble, some of them, mind you. The way the Russians and the Japanese administer their Chinese territories.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t say I like their methods. Still, they can be a pretty unruly lot, the Chinese.” He drew deeply on his cigarette. “The Americans can be a bit soft—particularly in their Indo-Chinese colonies—but I’d rather see it that way than the other.”
“The Americans have colonies?”
He laughed at this. “Seem strange, does it? Cuba, Panama, Hawaii, the Philippines, Viet Nam, Korea, Taiwan—oh, yes, they’ve a fair-sized Empire all right. Not that they call it that, of course. The Greater American Commonwealth. They’ve had a rather strained relationship with France and Russia, but luckily England’s got her fill of responsibilities. Let them get on with it, say I. Our Empire—and the Pax Britannica—will outlast them all, in my opinion.”
“There were some people,” I said cautiously, “in 1902 or thereabouts, who foresaw the British Empire crumbling...”
Major Powell laughed heartily. “Crumbling, eh? You mean pessimists like Rudyard Kipling, Lloyd George, people like that? I’m afraid Kipling’s rather been discredited these days. His heart was in the right place, of course, but it seems to me he lost faith at the last minute. If he hadn’t been killed in the Boer War, he might have changed his mind, I suppose. No, I think it’s fair to say that the old Empire’s brought a stability to the world it has never known before. It’s maintained the balance of power pretty successfully— and it hasn’t done that badly for the natives, after all.”
“Katmandu has certainly changed a great deal—since 1902...”
He gave me another of his odd, wary looks. “Ah,” he said. “You know, Bastable, if I didn’t know better I could almost believe you had been on that damned mountain for seventy years. It’s pretty strange, listening to a chap as young as you talking about the past in that way.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t apologize. Not your fault. You’ll be a joy for the brain-doctors to get
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