6. The Wabbit and the Ghost Train

The power failed to return. So Wabsworth, posing as Conductor, led them through the Tunnel. The Shaman's eyes became searchlights and the Wabbit pulled an old torch from his fur. "Everything is locked down," said Wabsworth, "but we should get out along the tracks." They made good headway for a while, then without warning the Shaman began to vibrate and he chanted. "By the prickling of my nose, some kind of current this way flows." The Wabbit could smell it too and he looked back. "It's a train." Wabsworth looked at his watch. "It can't possibly be a train, it's not on the timetable." "And there's a power outage," said the Wabbit. "So it must be a ghost train," said the Shaman. "Do ghosts have a timetable?" asked the Wabbit. "No," said Wabsworth, "they only run a skeleton service." At that moment, the Wabbit realised Wabsworth was making everything up as he went along, just like the old game they used to play on lengthy stakeouts. But the train was real enough. He could hear metal on metal and he shivered as it rounded the curve and headed towards them. "Make for the emergency stairs," yelled the Wabbit. It was too late. They were rooted to the spot, all except for the Shaman. He wheeled and danced and made strange sounds that were the screech and squeal of brakes with a hiss on the end. With a tungsten blur the ghost train passed straight though them ...  

5. The Wabbit and the Rail Conductor

"Attention passengers! Attention passengers!" Wabsworth strode along the platform with all the authority of a rabbit with an official hat. "We're getting that power back for you now." The Wabbit smiled to himself. "What happened, Conductor?" "Nothing much," said Wabsworth. "The train in front of the train in the middle caused an overload on the train at the back." Will we be long?" asked the Shaman. "Indefinite I'm afraid," said Wabsworth. "But whatever you do, don't leave the train." "We're not on the train," said the Shaman. "The train must have left you then," scowled Wabsworth, "but perhaps I can offer you a light refreshment while you wait?" The Shaman showed the first signs of amiability. "I'll have an aperitiv ..." He changed his mind with lightning speed. "Ayahuasca Bitters." Wabsworth turned to the Wabbit. "And you, Sir?" "Ginger and Carrot Cocktail," replied the Wabbit. "I'll fix them now," said Wabsworth. "Wait here, passengers. But whatever you do - don't get on the first train." "Why?" asked the Shaman. "Because it's late," said Wabsworth. "The train you require is the train that follows - that's the Antimatter Flier, change at Lepton for Quantum Spin." "Quantum Spin?" queried the Shaman. The Wabbit grinned. "It's the site of the Large Shed Collider!" Now the Shaman became impatient. "Conductor. The Antimatter Flier. How long?" "Oh, it's about 70 metres," shrugged Wabsworth.
[Ayahuasca: Amazonian psychoactive brew consumed for revelatory and divinitory purposes.]

4. The Wabbit and the Moonlit Subway

The Wabbit turned on his heel, then closely followed by the Shaman, he hopped down to the Metro. Wabsworth waited, then followed too. Something was afoot, because the Metro lamps owed more to moonlight than electricity. "The Wabbit appears unconcerned," thought Wabsworth, "so what would I do in his place?" His thoughts were interrupted as the Shaman's voice boomed through the station. "Is this your shed?" "This is my subway to my shed," replied the Wabbit. "Ah," said the Shaman, "the words of the Wabbit are written in the subway halls." "They almost certainly are," smiled the Wabbit,  "no one dare remove them." "Take me to your shed!" yelled the Shaman. "Get me the antimatter!" "What colour would like?" chirped the Wabbit. The Shaman was dangerously angry. "What colours have you got?" "I have black, white or no colour at all," said the Wabbit. Now Wabsworth grinned since he knew the Wabbit was making things up as he went along. It was a game they played on long surveillance shifts, the winner being the one who could first anticipate a likely ending. So he knew what to do. Wabsworth quickly dismantled a power access cover and as the Wabbit lifted a paw, all the lights dimmed. "Was that you?" asked the Shaman. The Wabbit shook his head. "Just a bit of dirty power. We'd better grab a conductor ..."

3. The Wabbit & the Shaman's Desire

Night kicked in like a hammer, but the Shaman stayed behind the Wabbit and Wabsworth tucked behind the Shaman. In the light of the Metro entrance, Wabsworth saw the Wabbit wheel and gesture to the Shaman. He heard the Wabbit speak in a stern voice he had never heard before. "Please, after you." Flashes of blue lightning connected the Shaman with the Metro sign. "You are the Wabbit that knows everything!" The Wabbit grinned and 28 teeth flashed menacingly. "Aw shucks." The Shaman started backwards. "No-one ever says that." "I heard it in a film," shrugged the Wabbit. They stared at each other but the Shaman broke the silence. "An animal guide appeared to me in a Vision Quest. It implied that you were the one." "The one what?" asked the Wabbit. "The one," breathed the Shaman, "who keeps antimatter in his fur." The Wabbit rocked on his hind legs. "For what purpose do you want this antimatter?" "Special effects," said the Shaman. The Wabbit smiled. " You're clearly a Shaman. Can't you do special effects on your own?" The Shaman shook his head. "I used to, but I quit." "Oh, everyone wants to be legit," said the Wabbit in a most sorrowful voice that Wabsworth knew was fake. The Shaman sighed. "I was legit, too legit. People want more." "But what if I can't help you?" mused the Wabbit. "Then I'll vapourise you," said the Shaman. "But you quit," said the Wabbit. "Maybe I quit too early," snarled the Shaman ...

2. The Wabbit & the Electric Shaman

All day long, Wabsworth trailed the Wabbit through the city. But just as he'd thought about giving up, something happened. A curious creature emerged from a side road and it was clear that he too was following the Wabbit. He wore an elaborate cloak of many colours and from it came blue flashes that lit the damp air. "A Shaman!" breathed Wabsworth. The Shaman mumbled something - and thinking it might be an incantation, Wabsworth drew close and listened. But this was no incantation; it was a list of technical equipment. "A Pulse Detonation Engine is essential," muttered the Shaman. "Without a Pulse Detonation Engine, I cannot proceed." The Wabbit strolled on and the Shaman set off again. "There he is," muttered the Shaman. "He has antimatter hidden in his fur and knows where to find the correct detonator." The Shaman's voice dropped and Wabsworth struggled to hear. "He knows everything," breathed the Shaman. Wabsworth paused. He knew that the Wabbit could find most things but he didn't have a source of antimatter to paw. "Maybe he has some in his shed," said Wabsworth to himself, but it came out too loud. The Shaman stopped dead because he was a real shaman and still had confidence in his powers. "My Inner Spirit Guide speaks of a shed." Now the Shaman pursued the Wabbit with vigour and Wabsworth scampered after them both. "I'd better look out for the Wabbit," he thought. "He might be in over his shed."

1. The Wabbit and the Smell of the Arc

The Department of Wabbit Affairs was under reconstruction and the Wabbit couldn't complain. It was he who had suggested the idea, after his fur became trapped between a filing cabinet and a crack in the plaster. When he met his android copy at the corner, he exhaled with force. "Wabsworth. Things aren't quite right." Wabsworth paused because he seldom thought anything was right. The fact that buildings were still present on a second visit was, for Wabsworth, a source of never ending amazement. "It will all be finished soon," he said, "and your office will be synergistically sustainable." The Wabbit frowned. He had requested a stained glass window - and although it would double as a solar panel that charged his walkie talkie, it had been the first budget cut. "I don't mean the building isn't right." He sniffed the air. "I keep smelling electricity." Wabsworth sniffed too. His circuits hummed a little and he could feel something blue. "Like arcing?" The Wabbit nodded and spoke on a whim. "Maybe it's magic." Wabsworth mused. "Arcing of the magical kind." "I'll track it down," grunted the Wabbit and he turned. "Need any assistance?" asked Wabsworth. The Wabbit smiled and shook his head. "I'll be fine thanks." Wabsworth watched him stroll away until he was almost out of sight. Then he followed him ...

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

Lapinette and the Wabbit were about to order, when Skratch appeared from around the corner. "Ask me the question!" yelled Skratch in a theatrical manner. "I am not afraid!" Lapinette seemed nonplussed. "Hello Skratch," she murmured vaguely "What kind of Adventure did we just have?" Skratch purred. "It was free-wheeling road movie kind of Trek, with a Scottish flavour and a Cold War vibe." The Wabbit was looking at something else. "Someone left a book behind." "What's it called?" asked Lapinette. The Stolen Life of a Cheerful Man, said the Wabbit. "Oh," said Lapinette. "That is intriguing." "I'd better take it to Lost Property," said the Wabbit. He grasped the book but suddenly Lapinette was reading it. "I'll take it myself," she said. The Wabbit took it back. "I'm afraid I spilled wine on it and it must go to the cleaners." Lapinette screwed up her eyes. "What if I'm in it?" The Wabbit smiled. "Then you'll be cleaned too." They tried to out stare each other for some time without success. A red paw grasped the volume away. "There's my book," said Skratch. "I knew it was here somewhere." The Wabbit was suspicious. "Who wrote it?" Skratch straightened to his full height. "It's signed to me by the author, Dimitris Politis himself." Lapinette turned. "How would you describe it then?" "Distinguished," shrugged Skratch.

13. The Wabbit and the Holy Snail

Flying overhead, the Fake Vote led them to the Holy Snail - and it was exactly where they started. The MoTo Snails thought themselves very punk indeed, but for once they were lost for words. "Your Holiness," stammered Mo. The Holy Snail shimmered in the strange light. "Did you bring me any cardboard?" he murmured. "Please approach and I will bless it and eat it." The Wabbit knew Mo and To had eaten all the cardboard. But secretly he had stashed a small piece in his fur because it had a strange shape. He passed it to To then called up to the Fake Vote. "Can you explain something?" The Vote shook his wings and swooped round the Old Abandoned Tower. "What about the Warplane?" yelled the Wabbit. The Vote shook his nose. "What plane?" The Wabbit sighed because he knew what was coming and he shouted, "It dropped the ballot boxes on the railroad and you were in one." "I'm afraid I was in the dark at the time," said the Vote. "Then we're both in the dark about that one," said the Wabbit, "but was it an enemy or a friend?" "Hard to tell sometimes," said Lapinette for the second time that trip. The Holy Snail interrupted. "When something sinister means to be your enemy, it starts by being your friend." Silence fell and the hum of the nearby underpass seemed to get louder. Mo and To spoke sadly. "Our Quest is over." The Wabbit shook his head thoughtfully. "No Quest is ever over."

12. The Wabbit's Ballot Denouement

They watched the last butterfly head out, but when they turned back, the Spieler and his stall had vanished. In its place was a tower and a generous supply of cardboard. "Yummety yum," said Mo as they feasted. "We will take some of the Cardboard City back," said To with a burp and he tried to eat it all. "When you're quite finished," said a voice. The Fake Vote had changed too. He stared directly at the Wabbit and rocked his stylish wings. The Wabbit narrowed his eyes. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" The Fake Vote lifted its nose. "Did you ever fly AeroFlotsy?" "I recall the sandwiches," nodded the Wabbit gravely. His nose twitched at the thought of food and he was about to mention he could smell chocolate - but the Fake Vote sounded slightly irritable. "I had the devil's own job getting you here." Lapinette waved from Mo's back. "You weren't chasing us?" The Wabbit laughed carefully. "You were directing us, not pursuing us." "It was my job," said the Fake Vote. "I was supposed to make sure the vote was fair, but I got sealed in a box of fake votes and put in a Jeep with the real ones." "Go on," said the Wabbit. "The ballot boxes were to be substituted and the fake votes taken to the count," said the Fake Vote. "But the jeep went over a cliff and all the votes with it." "And you," said the Wabbit. "And me," smiled the Fake Vote ruefully. "Anyway you rescued me, so perhaps there's some way I can help you." The Wabbit glanced at Mo and To. "We seek the Holy Snail."

11. The Wabbit and the Blue Butterflies

The Wabbit scattered the ballot boxes and they burst open. For an instant he was lost in the beating of gossamer-thin wings - but it was only for the smallest fraction of time and space. Butterflies poured from the ballot boxes, surrounded him and soared into the sky. The Wabbit's eyes glistened. He raised a paw and murmured something as he waved to the butterflies. "Stay with me, do not take thy flight." Lapinette could just hear his words and completed the verse. "A little longer stay in sight." The MoTo Snails let out a cheer that could be heard for miles. Even the Fake Vote briefly abandoned savaging his captive to watch the astonishing display. One of the butterflies settled between the Wabbit's ears and its grip was just as sharp as the Fake Vote's talons. "Thank you, Commander. "We're in your debt." The Wabbit shook his head. " No, it is I who is indebted to you." "Call it mutual?" suggested the Butterfly. The Wabbit nodded and gestured towards the Fake Vote. "What about him?" The Butterfly made a strange shrugging motion with its wings. "I've never seen him before. Is he with you?" The Wabbit shook his head but suddenly changed his mind and shook it the other way. He stared at the Spieler, who's skeleton frame was rather the worse for wear. Then he stared at the Fake Vote. "I suppose," frowned the Wabbit, "that he must be."
[To a Butterfly: William Wordsworth]

10. The Wabbit and the Sale of Votes

The Wabbit and Lapinette took cover inside the Cardboard City and for a while they seemed to lose the Fake Vote. But barking cries drew their attention, so they dismounted and approached with caution. The MoTo Snails nudged each other. "It's a spieler," said Mo. "and he's hammering the stock," agreed To.  Mo looked around carefully. "I don't see no lurkers." To nodded and spoke quietly to Lapinette. "He's a fast guy, hang onto your cash." The Trader was getting into his stride and he threw his arms wide.  "Special price for a special lady!" Lapinette's eyes moved imperceptibly. "Can the lip and tell me what you got." At this point, the Wabbit took his cue and slid round the back to look at the merchandise. The Spieler picked up a box. "I got votes, any kind you like," Lapinette looked unimpressed. "They're all transferable." Lapinette narrowed her eyes and the Spieler continued. "I transfer votes to you. You transfer cash to me." The Wabbit poked around everywhere and heard something odd from inside a box. "Help, get us out." The Spieler turned. "Don't talk to the goods." The Wabbit spoke sharply. "The goods are hot." "They don't call me Honesty Bones for nothing," said the Spieler sharply. "My votes are as good as new, used once only." The Wabbit looked up. "You're nailed, buster - and your goods are seized." "Naw, naw, naw. " The Fake Vote swooped down from the rooftop and gripped the Spieler's neckbone ...
[Spieler: fast talking trader who attracts customers with "patter". Lurker: A trader that hangs on the edges of a market stall.]

9. The Wabbit in the Cardboard City

The Wabbit gasped. He remembered the MoTo Snails speaking of a Cardboard City and what a Cardboard City this was! All the same, this was a Quest and anything could occur. So he drew a Snazer gun from the secret compartment he'd designed specially for To. "Expecting to find trouble Commander?" asked Mo. The Wabbit grinned and every one of his 28 teeth gleamed in the light. "No. I expect trouble to find me." To glanced across the entirety of the city. "I don't like coloured cardboard." "It tastes of toxic," said Mo, "but I see plain cardboard over there." "Yum yum," said To. The Wabbit shook his head. "It may be an enemy playing a trick." "I hate enemies," said Mo. To snarled. "And the enemies of our enemies are dumpling heads." Lapinette nodded in agreement. "Let's look over there." "What for?" asked Mo. "I don't know," smiled Lapinette, "it's your Quest." Mo and To looked at each other and shook their antennae. "We seek the Holy Snail." Lapinette tried not to laugh, but the Wabbit simply said "There is none." Mo and To drew back. "What? No Holy Snail, you say?" The Wabbit held up a paw. "I mean the Quest is more important than the objective." The conversation stopped as staccato calls shattered the air. "Listen!" whispered the Wabbit. There it was again. "Naw, Naw, Naw." "Take cover in the cardboard!" yelled the Wabbit.

8. The Wabbit & the Thinness of Space

"Goin' up" yelled Mo. "Second floor, third floor, fourth floor," shouted To. "Perfumery, stationery, wigs and haberdashery," yelled Mo. "Rooftop restaurant and restrooms," shouted Mo. The Wabbit made a wry face. His snail modifications were no longer secret and he knew very well his project was far from complete. Lapinette sighed because she knew the Wabbit always programmed jokes into a retrofit. "Wabbit!" Her voice didn't carry in the rarefied atmosphere and the Wabbit only hear "bit". So he made a guess. "Good bit of work, don't you think?" Lapinette grimaced. "Get us down Wabbit, before we freeze." "Your knees will be fine," shouted the Wabbit. "Just cling closer to Mo." "Can you hear flapping?" shouted Lapinette. The Wabbit looked pleased. "I'll leave the applause until later." "Flapping!" yelled Lapinette. This time the Wabbit turned. Talons extended, the Fake Vote hurtled from a corner of space with a banshee wail that cut through everything in its path. "It brought pals!" cried the Wabbit as he ducked. "Which floor, Sir?" asked Mo. "Basement!" yelled the Wabbit. "Goin' down!" yelled Mo. "DIY, key cutting and barbers' shop," shouted To. The fake votes hovered, swooped and lunged but the MoTo Snails were too fast. The Wabbit watched the curve of the earth flatten as they plummeted in free fall. "How do we stop?" shouted Lapinette. "Shop?" asked the Wabbit, "we can do that later."

7. The Wabbit flouts Track Rules

Mo and To shot round the track and quickly broke records for the next hundred years. The gale made the Wabbit's fur stick to his skin and Lapinette's ears were numb. But Mo and To were pitted in a test of endurance and a hundred laps passed in so many minutes. On Lap 150, the Wabbit leaned into a bend and felt a tickle in his ear. Lapinette did too and ignored it but the Wabbit couldn't. He fidgeted and glanced behind. Nothing. Yet there it was again. This time it wasn't a tickle - it was more like a bite. The Wabbit tried to look up but fierce talons raked his fur and sliced at his head. The Wabbit let fly a stream of expletives that would have frightened wrestling champions, had any been in a position to hear. To heard though, so he laughed and stored up the words for future use. In that instant, Mo and Lapinette drew ahead and now it was Lapinette's turn to suffer razor claws swiping her ears. "Faster!" yelled the Wabbit. "It's the Fake Vote." He gritted his teeth as Mo and To throttled up but the Vote was in their slipstream and it swooped and raked and sliced. The Wabbit had no option. "Mach 20!" The wind caught his words and passed them to Lapinette. "It's against the rules!" she yelled. The Wabbit clung to To and yelled back. "It's an exception!" "We hate rules," said To.  High up in the Tower, the race marshal saw the MoTo snails turn into two blue balls of energy and vanish. He flicked through his rule book. "Stop and Go Penalty," he muttered.

6. The Wabbit and the Standing Start

Mo and To whizzed round the track on a warm up lap and slithered to a halt on the grid. The Wabbit bent down. "To. Remember to deliver power to the track at all times." "No flying" murmured Lapinette to Mo. "No traction, no speed," said the Wabbit. "Stupid rules," grumbled Mo and To and they grinned at each other. Lapinette and the Wabbit felt Mo and To vibrate like tuning forks and heard a whine as the MoTo Snails powered up. The Wabbit's teeth rattled and he gripped To tightly. The wind from the sea was icy. He glanced at the sky for any sign of sun and suddenly pointed. "What's that?" "Oh," said Lapinette, "you always get birds at a race track. They're defending their territory." "Silly winged things," said To. The Wabbit was a little tense. "Well I wish they wouldn't swoop today, they have all week." That's not a bird," said Mo. "Its the fake vote from the ballot box." "The one that scratched me with its claws," growled the Wabbit. They were so busy watching the flying vote, they nearly missed the start. The Marshal with the red flag walked between them and was gone. They all stared at the lights. For a moment the flying vote landed on the gantry, fluttered and flew high into the air. At that instant the red lights went out. With two sonic booms. Mo and To vanished round the first corner. The wind tore at the Wabbit's fur, but from the corner of his eye he could still see the fake vote hanging like a bird of prey. "Why don't you fly south for the winter?" hissed the Wabbit.