Is There A Doctor In The House of Lords?

Kage Baker was a big fan of conspiracy theories. She thought they were hilarious, just as a general class of data, and as insight into the way people’s mind connect random dots and create patterns out of junk.

However, she thought most of them showed a certain naivete and lack of true creativity. It’s so easy to blame the Vatican or the Freemasons or the Nobel Prize Committee or the French for scary crap; groups like that just carry psychic “Kick Me” signs taped to their backs. I mean, who has not wondered if the black light ink they stamp on you at Disneyland is not re-arranging your precious chromosomes in some way?

To amuse herself, and to explain certain anomalies in the world to her own satisfaction, and to make a little money: Kage invented The Company. Dr. Zeus, Inc. – as wide as the world; as long as the ages; as deep and layered as the mantle of the Earth, and just as prone to spew hot shit at irregular intervals. She gave them, if not superhuman powers, at least access to the classic preternatural ones – immortality, wisdom, strength – and then she gave control of their administration over to morons. She thought it would be interesting to see what happened …

Kage could be kind of a one-woman conspiracy all on her own.

She also based The Company in Britain. Why? “Why not?” she always answered. Some British fans have asked anxiously if she had a mad on at Brits or something, but she actually did it for quite the opposite reason. She loved Britain. She was an Anglophile. And she already knew the language and the geography and the history, so that was a free throw …

Over the years since Kage invented Dr. Zeus to account for apports, ooparts, UFO’s and re-discovered plants, animals and art, a lot of peculiar things have happened. Lots more things have been found or come strolling out of the woods. Neanderthals have been admitted to the Homo sapiens family reunion. Britain has lost its collective governmental mind and installed CCTV everywhere. Mars has water. Chocolate really is a drug. Dogs and cats are living together and mass hysteria has become a registered political party.

And now, a life-member of the House of Lords – one Lord James of Blackheath – has risen to convey to Her Majesty’s Government an offer from an anonymous corporation to more or less purchase England. For 17 billion pounds. In gold. To be used for all manner of splendid social improvements, out of the sheer anonymous goodness of their unknown hearts.

Read this:

Maybe Lord James of Blackheath is totally nuts; it would be in the very highest traditions of the English aristocracy. Perhaps it is an elaborate joke: ditto. Or maybe Dr. Zeus has just arrived, doffed his hat and made a particular suggestion to the Queen.

Maybe Kage was right.

Tomorrow: the birds, I promise

About Kate

I am Kage Baker's sister. Kage was/is a well-known science fiction writer, who died on January 31, 2010. She told me to keep her work going - I'm doing that. This blog will document the process.
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2 Responses to Is There A Doctor In The House of Lords?

  1. Tom says:

    Tangent bubble-universes. Gotta be.

  2. Katie says:

    All I can still seem to say about any of this, about all of it, about the shotgun blast it’s put through our lives is that it’s not sad, or painful, it’s just the strangest goddamn thing there is. As it happened, I don’t think any of us knew how deeply this was going to actually effect us, and really how to cope with it other than to keep moving and scratching our heads in confusion without stumbling and hitting them hard. WTF do we do without Aunt Kate? Who do you call when you need to what genus a racoon is? It’s strange knowing that there is no parrot singing and eating cherries in that apartment, there is no knitting amidst piles of interesting books, Invader Zoom squealing as the computer shut down, no apple kitchen or half burnt, sea scented Yankee candles, no penstemmon and nasturtium along the walk, no astutely smart ass but dead on comments about life. It is strange that there is none. None is what gets me, and has gotten me every day since January. None. An entire part of our lives folded up like a box and shipped off to God knows where in a matter of hours. Who are we now? I often catch myself during the day wondering that again and again when I hear her in my head.

    As Aunt Kate was passing that weekend, I noticed a lithe young man in his early 20s pacing up and down the block. He seemed to be with a group of boys staying across the street for surf trip. He wore a top hat the entire weekend, and a pair of aviator sunglasses missing one lense. On the morning we left Pismo, there was no trace of him or the other boys. My mother nor my sister said to have seen him at all, strange since he hovered about the motel lot the block like a moth and was unavoidable. It is the last I have seen of one of “them” since. I guess they only show up when they mean business.

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