7. The Wabbit and the Dead Bell Jazz

The Wabbit and Jenny commandeered a small craft. The gentle swell made it bob gently in the water and for a while the Wabbit thought nothing was happening. Jenny took out a packet of Sulphur Soap. "Where did you find it?" murmured the Wabbit. "In a shop," shrugged Jenny. They waited. There was nothing, merely the vague sound of an outboard motor. It was all too quiet and the Wabbit said so. "Maybe it's time, Commander," said Jenny, "Ring the bell." The Wabbit had given little thought to ringing the bell and had brought nothing to hit it with. But he tried to think of the loudest drumming he'd ever heard and came up with Max Roach. He whacked the drum with both paws. It boinged across the water. He hit it again in a series of broken rhythms that echoed from every building on the dock. Jenny gazed across the water. "Here they come." The Wabbit's drumming became frantic. Jenny took out sulphur soap and sprinkled it over the side like goldfish food. She waited and listened then  sprinkled some more. A green glow lit the depths. Three heads emerged from the water, nodding as if entranced. They came close but not too close, swaying from side to side. The Wabbit heard hoarse whispering and he continued to hit the bell. But he was getting tired. "What do we do now?"  Jenny started the motor and the craft crept forward. The spectres wheeled and followed. Jenny grinned an unpleasant grin. "Keep playing, we're going to the Lepus."

6. The Wabbit and the Big Ship's Bell

The Wabbit didn't think he'd have much bother getting a bell. The docks were full of ships and most of them had large brass affairs, heavily polished by the ship's cook. He snuck aboard the bow of the handiest ship and located the bell with ease. But he hadn't reckoned with the weight. He tried to ease it down but when it came loose, it nearly pinned him to the deck. The Wabbit swore quietly with all the seafaring curses he could remember. He reached for a rag on the deck and wound it round the clapper. Then he heaved the bell on his shoulder. "Phew!" groaned the Wabbit, "this must weigh twenty kilos." He lurched onto the pier and the bell swung onto his other shoulder. The rag unwound and the clapper hit the inside of the bell, which duly pealed out across the length and breadth of the docks. He heard a stirring from the bridge and some angry shouts, so he hopped along the wharf at enormous speed. But the faster he went, the more the bell rang. It dropped on his foot and he kicked it in retaliation but that made even more noise. He ducked into an alleyway and pulled the bell behind him. A mob of furious sailors ran past. "He went that way," one of them shouted. "Get him!" shouted another." The Wabbit fished in his fur for a nylon tie and secured the clapper. Then with as much silence as he could muster and a using a minimum of oaths, he rolled the bell towards the city ...

5. The Wabbit, Jenny and the City Spooks

Pirate Jenny and the Wabbit followed them through the city. The spectres paid visits to a series of financial buildings and each time they emerged they appeared to have changed. Now they wore cloaks. Facial features emerged. Eyes started to glow - dimly at first but brightening after each visit. The leader waved vestigial arms and beckoned. They called on more buildings, floating through marbled halls. They met no resistance. Nothing was an obstacle. The leader turned green and he seemed to slither on slime. The Wabbit grimaced and his nose twitched. He could smell an awful stench of seaweed and algae and rotting wood. Jenny touched him on the shoulder and drew her weapons. "They be collecting the unsuccessful souls for transport. They be paralyzed and absorbed into these creatures." "How many?" gasped the Wabbit. "Could be hundreds, maybe thousands," replied Jenny. The figures grew bigger and swept their cloaks wide as they gathered more souls. "Can they be vanquished?" asked the Wabbit. "There's only one way," said Jenny, "But we need a deid bell and sulphur soap." The Wabbit watched the cloaked figures melting in and out of doorways. Now they were all completely green and stank like a thousand hulks. He nodded. "I'll get the bell, you get the soap."

4. The Wabbit and the Container Ghosts

Pirate Jenny and the Wabbit crept onto the quiet dock and between the makeshift container village. The dock wasn't quiet for long. Container doors started to open and figures emerged. At first they were insubstantial but they quickly solidified and moved towards the city. They had little in the way of limbs or features. They appeared simply as cloaked shapes and like their ship, they could move through solid objects. The Wabbit expected them to make some ghost-like sound but they were almost silent. He could hear only the rustling of cloaks and whispering. Jenny tapped the Wabbit lightly on the shoulder. "They are creatures our pirate legends tell of. They live between land and sea, constantly shuttling back and forth." The Wabbit shivered. Jenny continued. "They protect the treasure of criminals who are long dead and whose booty continues to circulate as free trade." The figures suddenly wheeled around as if discovered. Jenny and the Wabbit ducked behind the sign. The Wabbit murmured. "Are they as pleasant as they look?" Jenny stifled a pirate guffaw. "They are the shadow of the stock markets and a million times as vicious." The Wabbit shrugged. "Just the usual then. What are they doing?" Jenny grimaced. "The legend says they visit investors to punish failure and reward success." "What happens to failures?" asked the Wabbit. Jenny shook her head. "They are taken. Then they too must shuttle between land and sea forever." It was the Wabbit's turn to shake his head. "What do they do with the rest of their time?"

3. The Wabbit and the Phantom Quay

The Lepus pursued the ghost ferry a long way, through the English Channel and down the Thames Estuary. No one noticed either ship steal into Canary Wharf and if they had, they would have paid scant attention. Vessels came and went. Visitors gawped and took photographs. The Lepus tucked in at Heron Quay and watched. The Wabbit was puzzled. "Where can they land the ghosts?" Captain Jenny strode up and down the bridge and laughed. "I think I know. They'll go to 'Arbour Quay."  "There's nothing there," said the Wabbit. "Exactly," said Jenny, "But it looks good on paper." "I saw the illustrations," grinned the Wabbit. A train passed overhead. Metal screeched and the bridge rumbled. Jenny spoke to the engine room. "Slow ahead." Quietly they followed. The ghost ferry ignored all obstacles. It simply shimmered and passed through them. The Wabbit squinted and made out a vast plain of mud bordered by a provisional quay, just wood and tyres. The ghostly ferry shuddered to a halt. The Wabbit heard it bump against wood. The quay groaned. The tyres squealed. Mist rose from the ferry's deck. Then - one by one - containers materialised, lifted and settled on the quay, stacking up like a block of apartments. Now they heard the ferry's engines. Its propellor threshed. The bow swung out and it started to turn. "What do we do now?" murmured the Wabbit. "We wait," said Jenny ...

2. The Wabbit and the Ghost Ferry

"Thar she blows," said Pirate Jenny. The Wabbit peered into binoculars. He could barely make out the ghostly ship. "One ugly ferry," said the Wabbit. He peered again and nudged Jenny. "These be containers." Jenny strode up and down the bridge, then swayed. "Ghost containers. All accounted for on the bill of lading." The Wabbit murmured to himself. "All ghosts have been loaded." The Lepus plunged and shot up from the waves. The sea washed over the bow and spray spattered the window. "Is the bill of lading clean and straight?" asked the Wabbit. Jenny spoke to the engine room. "Slow ahead. Engage Stealthicator." The Lepus vanished - all except for a skull and crossbones flag that snapped and fluttered in the wind. The ghost ferry was almost transparent and they watched its progress with difficulty. Jenny turned to the Wabbit. "They use a spookchain lading that indemnifies all parties." The Wabbit considered. "Ah, no paper record. So what about the ghosts?" Jenny smiled. "Independent ghost contractors. No connection with carrier or ghost company." The Wabbit watched the ferry. "But who pays the company? Who foots the bill?" "The powers that be," shrugged Jenny. The Wabbit slapped the bulkhead with a paw. "So what's the point?" Jenny grinned her broadest grin yet. "The company is paid for invisible services."

1. The Wabbit and the No Ferry Company

The Wabbit waited in the same place by the river every day for a week. He was quite tenacious, because he knew something was afoot. Despite an advertisement for a new ferry company - complete with timetable - the quay where ferries were due to dock was overgrown and dilapidated. Quayside windows were boarded over and signs hung broken and untidy. The company's advertisement also presented a mystery. It featured in a famous puzzle magazine, and was deeply concealed within conundrums and crosswords over the course of several weeks. Fervent readers dedicated their lives to solving that magazine's puzzles. The Wabbit was one of that stalwart band and knew the magazine generally featured no advertising. So when he first came across the brain teaser, he'd thought it an innovative kind of publicity. With puzzle magazine in paw, he checked it out. He wasn't the only one. Several people approached him. "Are you waiting for the new ferry?" With each enquiry, the Wabbit became more determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. He called Pirate Jenny for information. His walkie talkie crackled with Jenny's pirate voice. "Aharr, I think ye be looking for the Spookborne Packet Company." "That's the One," said the Wabbit. "It be a ghost company," said Jenny. "What do they transport?" asked the Wabbit. "Ghosts," said Jenny.

The Wabbit at his Adventure Caffè

Lapinette had located a new caffè and was urgently ushering the team inside. "Come on now, it's very popular and it gets busy now." The caffè lay at the top of one of Rome's seven hills, just beside the Big Observatory. The Wabbit sneaked a glance inside. It was nearly empty, but lunchtime approached. He nodded. "Where's Skratch?" A figure peered round the edge of the building. "Meaow!" said Skratch. "You're just in time to tell us about the Wabbit's adventure," murmured Wabsworth. "Aha," said Skratch. "Aha what?" said Wabsworth. "I refer to an 'aha' moment," purred Skratch. He turned to the Wabbit. "Wabbit. Have you considered your onieric sequence and come up with anything?" "I did not consider the story a dream," complained the Wabbit. "It was all rather real." Skratch shook his head. "Think deeply of the associations." The Wabbit winked at Wabsworth. "I was in a bar and I associate that with having a drink." Lapinette grinned and cleared her throat. "Wabbit you said everything was blue, which is deep and impenetrable. Can you fathom it?" The Wabbit shrugged and pointed inside the bar and waved. Everyone ignored him. "Truth?" offered Wabsworth. The Wabbit bounced up and down. "There's people coming up the hill, we'd best be quick!" No one paid the slightest attention. "Of course, the blue signifies the feminine," meaowed Skratch. The Wabbit's eyes lit up. He offered Lapinette a paw and bowed. Lapinette took his paw. "That's me," she smiled.

6. The Wabbit at the Exit to the Beach.

The Wabbit found himself blinking at the exit from the beach. The winter sun beamed down from an azure sky. "Wabbit!" shouted Lapinette, "Where were you?" Skratch meowed from behind the fence. "You were supposed to meet us at the caffè." The Wabbit blinked again. "I was under the beach, you were both there." Lapinette looked at Skratch and Skratch looked back. Skratch and Lapinette shook their heads. "You were!" said the Wabbit. He waved a paw at Skratch. "You were running the Underneath the Beach Bar." "Well, I hope I got paid," shrugged Skratch. He meowed a disbelieving meaow. The Wabbit pointed at Lapinette. "You came down the ceremonial staircase." "Where?" sighed Lapinette. "Under the beach," said the Wabbit, "you danced down and you got an award." His voice trailed off to a whisper. "There was an Escher staircase and that's how we got back here." "I came in the Jeep," said Lapinette. "Perhaps you were in the sun too long," suggested Skratch. "Maybe you lingered longly in the caffè," smiled Lapinette. The Wabbit thought for a minute. "No, no. A crowd of people came on the beach and pointed everywhere and then a piece of driftwood turned to ice." Skratch nodded in agreement. "That would have been the ice men." He winked at Lapinette. Lapinette winked back, but the Wabbit saw it and he shrugged and grinned. "Do they cometh often?"

5. The Wabbit and the Double Stairs

"This way," shouted Lapinette and she scampered up the stairs. The Wabbit tried to follow, and he scampered up too - but he found himself on a different set of stairs. The two stairways weaved in and out. No matter what he did, he couldn't find the other stairs. He thought he would jump but things changed quickly to thwart his efforts. Lapinette looked over the banister. "Come on Wabbit, this way to the beach." The Wabbit grinned in spite of himself and he called to Lapinette. "Who designed this stairway? Was it Escher?" Lapinette danced merrily on because both sets of stairs were ascending rapidly and the steps started to fold like an express escalator. The Wabbit hopped up and down as treads snatched at his fur. His stairway took him higher than Lapinette and he seemed to look down from a dizzying height - but then it dropped with astonishing speed. He leaned out to touch Lapinette's paw on the way past, but now the staircase turned upside down. Lapinette looked down at him from a startling height. She shouted. "You just have to think your way up. Think high, think tall." So the Wabbit thought tall, thought high. Both stairs lifted. Escalator steps shuffled like packs of cards and propelled the Wabbit and Lapinette higher and higher. He could smell sea and salty air - and fish. "I'm thinking of lunch," said the Wabbit.

4. The Wabbit and the Ceremonial Stairs

The Wabbit tried again. As he traced his way along the corridor it gave way to a staircase that shimmered in a blue light. The steps appeared to dance. The banisters shook to the rhythm of a Bossa Nova. The Wabbit felt his paws tap to the music, he just couldn't help it. He leaned against the wall but the wall shook too. Everything moved. He heard a voice. "Wabbit!"  Down the stairs danced Lapinette with her paws outstretched. He stretched out his own to greet her. "Lapinette, what is this place?" "This is the ceremonial under the beach staircase," sang Lapinette. She pirouetted twice and sailed into the Wabbits paws. The Wabbit hugged her and grinned. "Ceremony? What ceremony?" Lapinette continued to gyrate. "The Under the Beach Awards." "Oh," said the Wabbit, "who won?" "I won," laughed Lapinette, "I always win." The Wabbit shrugged. "Did I win anything?" "Everyone wins something," laughed Lapinette. She continued to dance. The Wabbit raised an eye. Lapinette paused. "Best original screenplay set on a beach award." The Wabbit's eyes lit up and he gave a little bow. "Then I'd like to thank Lapinette for dancing down the ceremonial staircase." "Why don't we dance up it," suggested Lapinette. "Where does it go?" asked the Wabbit. Lapinette laughed. "To the top of course."

3. The Wabbit in the Under the Beach Bar

Behind the wall was a bar and behind the bar was Skratch the Cat. The Wabbit put a paw into the blue. It merged with the blue and tingled. "What will you have?" asked Skratch. "What have you got?" replied the Wabbit. "You can anything you want as long as it's blue," said Skratch. His voice sounded blue. "I'll have a Curaçao," shrugged the Wabbit. "Just as well," said Skratch, "that's all we have." He offered the Wabbit a blue glass with a blue liquid. "What is this place? Why are we here?" asked the Wabbit. Skratch polished a glass. "This is the Blue Bar, where everything is safe and secure. Do you feel safe and secure?" The Wabbit grimaced. "Not particularly. I find it dreary." "Do you?" asked Skratch. He paused. "This is where I go in recurring dreams. I'm running a beach bar. People come in and go out. In between I serve them blue drinks." The Wabbit thought about it, because there seemed to be nothing else to do. "If this is your recurring dream, Skratch - do I visit?" "Never seen you in here before," smiled Skratch, He began to hum a blues tune. The Wabbit backed away slowly and dragged his paw out of the blue. It stopped tingling. He blinked. There was nothing there. No bar, no Skratch, no blue glass. He was back in the corridor...

2. The Wabbit Under the Beach

The sands shifted and the Wabbit found himself sinking. Time passed and the sand went on and on. Then things went blue. He was in a corridor surrounded by a torpid, azure atmosphere. He put up a paw and pressed. The blue gave way. He pushed forward but it was like heavy oil. He inhaled with a normal breath. "Tastes of blue," he muttered. He tried to spit it out, but it lingered in this mouth. "Phwag!" he scowled. He pushed forward along the corridor but no matter what he did, it was always the same. He tried going the other way. There was no difference. He dropped to the floor and wriggled along on his tummy but nothing changed. He plucked a hair from his fur, made it wet and stuck it on the wall. Then he tried the corridor again. Within a few seconds he was back where he'd started. The Wabbit made a joke to himself. "Hair today, here tomorrow." There was no-one around to laugh so he did it himself. His laughter echoed down the corridor and came up behind him. He turned round and quickly back as if he could catch the corridor out - all to no avail. It was infuriating. The Wabbit was running out of ideas. He kicked the wall in fury. Something rattled. He tried again. There was a vicious crack. He gripped the rail and pulled. It came away in his paw, leaving a crevice in the wall. He took several hops back and with a mighty lunge, he kicked it with all his might. The wall crumbled into blue fragments...

1. The Wabbit and things on the Beach

The Wabbit was between missions and that was always a boring time. So he decided he'd walk along the beach from Fregene to the airport. It was further than he thought and he became impatient with the beach and complained to it. Nothing happened and he continued. But after a while, he heard the sound of voices. Without warning, groups of people appeared and assembled themselves by the sea. This wasn't what the Wabbit had in mind. The people pointed in many different directions. But there was certainly no plane in the air and not a vessel could be seen in the water. The Wabbit ignored them. "I expect better," he murmured. A post sticking from the sand caught his eye. The Wabbit shrugged, because there had been the usual storms and it was the time of year when the beach was always different. Then he heard a crackle. He stared at the post. Ice formed on the top. The Wabbit shivered although it was warm in the sun. It was as if he had opened a freezer door. He heard voices fade as the people walked into the distance. He could feel sun on his fur and warmth as the temperature rose. The ice melted into water and became mere moisture. Then that too vanished. He touched the post. It was a dry as a bone and wood flaked off on the sand. But the sand seemed to shift. "What occurs?" asked the Wabbit ...

The Wabbit at his Adventure Caffè

The team gathered at a new Adventure Caffè. The Wabbit headed off to locate a suitable table while the others chattered, but he turned when Skratch appeared. "Well Skratch. What was that for a sort of Adventure we just had?" Skratch raised a paw in greeting. "Wabbit, there are many types of adventures involving doubles, all quite different." Lapinette pirouetted and waved. "That doesn't answer the question."  Wabsworth had been reading. "It could be said to be a reflection double rather than a narrative double." "Where did you find that argument, Wabsworth?" asked the Wabbit. "On the Internet," smiled Wabsworth. Everyone groaned long and hard, including Wabsworth. "The mythic twin is as old as Zoroaster," said Lapinette. "Good and evil locked in endless battle," agreed Skratch. "So how old is Zoroaster?" asked the Wabbit. "No one can agree," grinned Lapinette. Skratch ignored this distraction and meowed. "The mythic twin is normally predicated upon a basic antinomy, but in this case we must look - not to Zoroaster - but to Lacan." The Wabbit was relieved because now he was on familiar territory. "In relations between the imaginary and symbolic, the double hollows out the real." "The absence of the other," added Lapinette with a nod. "Unspoken and unseen," shrugged Wabsworth.
[The double as the unseen of culture. Towards a definition of the Doppelganger. Milica Zivkovic.]