2. The Wabbit and the Rabbit on the Roof

From the Wabbit's apartment, the Wabbit and Lapinette looked over the rooftops It was a fine night and the sun was a gradually dropping ball. Eventually it would disappear behind the mountains and so they decided to watch. The Wabbit was pensive. "It's funny to think the sun will eventually be a red dwarf and we won't be here to see it." Lapinette looked at him sideways. "That's five billion years Wabbit. How long are you planning on staying?" The Wabbit sighed. "Only a million." They watched the sun a bit longer. It was pleasantly warm on the rooftop and they didn't have anything better to do. The Wabbit suddenly chortled. "I'm having a Carlos Castaneda moment. Lapinette looked up and quoted in a quavering voice. "Nobody knows who I am or what I do. Not even I." "I hardly know myself," responded the Wabbit. They were lost in contemplation. A bird landed on an aerial. They nodded sagely. Then the Wabbit saw something else. "Isn't that a rabbit over there, looking back at us." He focused on it. "I'd say that was an Agent of Rabit." Lapinette grimaced. "He's far away. Better we're over here looking at him, and he's over there looking at us." "Not normal," said the Wabbit. Every strand of fur stood up on his neck as a voice spoke. "Don't move. Both of you put your weapons on the floor. Then put your paws in the air." The Wabbit didn't flinch. He and Lapinette complied. "Can we sing the Hokey Cokey?" said the Wabbit. "And turn around?" said Lapinette. They both waved in synchrony. The rabbit on the rooftop opposite waved back. "Don't wave back, you steaming fool!" shouted the voice ...

1. The Wabbit and the Elegant Painting

The Wabbit was between missions and he was bored. So, just for fun, he hopped through the Museo del Risorgimento Italiano to see what was old and interesting. He stared fondly at the painting and imagined himself in it as he always did. In his mind he was an important figure signing something of great importance. But the Wabbit preferred to be behind the scenes, leaving all that signing to others. "Hello Wabbit!" Lapinette jumped in front of him and onto a display case. The Wabbit grinned. "I don't think you're supposed to be on top of that cabinet." Lapinette knelt on the case. "Call the police! Someone arrest me." The Wabbit laughed. "This is the room of the constitutions!" "I'll bet they protected my right to kneel on ancient artefacts," said Lapinette. The Wabbit didn't disagree and Lapinette knew he didn't dare. "I suppose you were imagining yourself in the picture," she said, "You were imagining yourself at the head of a vast revolutionary army." The Wabbit looked down at his fur and back up again. "I was rather," he admitted. "Think of the argumentation and the political whatnot," said Lapinette. She jumped up and pirouetted. The Wabbit thought exactly that. Deep down, he knew it wasn't for him. He pointed to the picture. "Do you see that empty chair?" Lapinette nodded. "I could be in that chair watching and when everything's over I incline my head sagely and leave." Lapinette sighed. "You wouldn't Wabbit, you'd have an argument with someone and be forced to leave at gunpoint." The Wabbit giggled. "With a price on my head."

The Wabbit and his Adventure Caffè

The team found an excellent establishment and were waiting on service. As usual, Skratch the Cat liked to make an entrance - and he did so with gusto. Raising two paws in the air he cheered. "Well done you three! A Splendid Adventure." The Wabbit leant back in his seat and waved. "That's a relief, Skratch. Your seal of approval is welcome!" Skratch clapped both hands together and mimicked a seal. "Roink roink," he barked. Lapinette couldn't wait. "Tell us Skratch. What sort of Adventure did we just have?" Skratch rubbed his paws together. "This kind of story demands a suspension of disbelief. We've only your word that trafficking in modified snail parts is as described. It's largely down to cultural influence on fiction." Wabsworth chortled. "I didn't think there were any other snail parts stories going around." Skratch also chortled. "Just substitute anything at all for snail parts. It's all the same deal." Wabsworth nodded sagely. "Snails are indeed a valuable commodity in the postmodern world." The Wabbit looked anxiously around. "Perhaps the waiter has been kidnapped." Skratch shook his head. "Legal conventions in fiction demand a ransom note written in a crude hand and bearing several spelling mistakes." The Wabbit shook his head even more. "Nothing so flamboyant has been received." Lapinette tried to get word in. "In our story, there were no ransom notes." Skratch paused. "The story was not about extortion. It was about patent theft." The Wabbit agreed. "We stepped beyond codes and convention." Wabsworth gave a boisterous yell. "Give us back our codes!" The Wabbit went further. "We will find them." Lapinette thumped a fist on the table. "And we will apply them."

6. The Wabbit and the Warehouse Boom

To was brought back to normal - or abnormal as he called it. Wabsworth was relieved of back up and brought Mo in to reunite with To. But the minute they started chatting, they had visitors. Alerted by the Fugues, the Agents of Rabit came storming in for revenge. They were furious and it looked like the Wabbit was taken by surprise. Nonetheless, he and Wabsworth pulled out automatics and rained a hail of bullets on their unwelcome guest. The noise was deafening in the old warehouse. Lapinette emerged from behind Mo and she brought one down immediately. Any fire from the Agents bounced harmlessly from the shells of the MoTo snails. "Eat lead, Agents," shouted the Wabbit. "That's a cliche!" yelled Wabsworth. "That hurt!" yelled an Agent. Dust clouded everything as the Wabbit signalled a retreat. The snails were impervious to anything and they sniggered their way to the exit talking about it. The Wabbit paused and put something in the rafters. "A little present," he chuckled. Lapinette walked backwards and away from it all. Occasionally her automatic flared. Usually there was an answering cry of pain. When they were outside, the Wabbit gently pushed the sliding doors closed. Inside it sounded like a battle still raged. The Wabbit laughed and bared his 28 teeth. So did Wabsworth - and Lapinette did likewise. It was a lot of teeth to bare. As they scuttled for the jeep, they heard an enormous roar as the building collapsed to a pile of rubble. "Business is booming!" quipped the Wabbit

[Background: thanks to Peter H. at Pixabay.]

5. The Wabbit and the Mechanical Fugues

The Wabbit could see something was happening to To's shell. The inner workings were exposed and copies had been made. "Attention," he cried, "this is an inspection for the Health and Safety. All work ceases immediately." He thought for a second. "By order." A creature was holding the outer casing. "Whose order?" His voice was rough. "My order," added the Wabbit. He strode even further forward and held up a badge he'd found in his fur. Just beyond his sightline, Lovely Lapinette listened carefully as a workman with a spanner crept up. She stayed silent, waiting until the last possible minute. Then she turned and slashed with her edged weapon. It was a wide, curving blow and the knife found its mark. His throat began to bleed profusely. The spanner spiralled into the air and landed with a loud clatter. "Aaaagh!" he cried and clutched his neck. "It's only a neck wound," said Lapinette. The Wabbit gritted his 28 teeth. "You two have a lot to answer for. Who are you working for?" Lapinette had the Wabbit's attention by this time. "These look like the Fugues we met in the metro. Remember when we were The Wabbiors." She pressed the blade into the neck of the hapless Fugue. The Wabbit strode up and down, pausing by the second Fugue. He looked at him straight in the eye, then kicked his ankles. The Fugue dropped like stone. "Aargh, you've broken my leg." "Names!" yelled the Wabbit. "We don't have no names." The second Fugue spluttered as he writhed on the workshop floor. "They looked like rabbits though." The Wabbit glanced down and made to kick his ankle again. "Tell them we're coming." He signalled to Lapinette. She tucked the knife away, but took out her automatic and waved it around. "Run!" she scowled.

[Background by Michael Gaida of Pixabay]

4. The Wabbit and the Factory Doors

It was only a hunch but the Wabbit was drawn to the old factory doors. He could smell the distinctive odour of WD40 that he used in copious quantities. Followed by Lapinette and Mo he crept up to the door and gently slid it to the side. He looked inside. In the stygian gloom he saw nothing. They drew their automatics - all except for Mo. He didn't have one, having nowhere to put it. "Can you see anything?" whispered Lapinette. "Not a thing," said the Wabbit. Even his special powered glasses couldn't penetrate the darkness. But his ears twitched at the slightest sound. He could hear a faint drilling noise. Wheee wheee wheee. The Wabbit had retro-fitted To so he knew the sound of a drill biting into To's titanium shell. "He looked at Lapinette. "It's them," he said softly. Lapinette put her automatic away and fished in her frock for her edged weapon. "Stealth?" she whispered. The Wabbit pushed his automatic into his fur. "You do stealth and I'll do head-on stupidity." He turned to Mo. "What's that whistling noise you make?" Mo grinned. "You mean ..?" He put his lips together. "No not now," hissed the Wabbit, "Only when I give the word, whistle loudly." Mo was delighted. "I'll whistle like ... Ronnie Ronaldo." Lapinette stifled a giggle. "Here we go!" said the Wabbit. He thrust the door fully open and it made a mighty clang. "Health and Safety Inspectorate!" he shouted. The drilling stopped. Everything went quiet. "Reports of noise pollution," cried the Wabbit. He signalled to Mo, who launched into If I were a Blackbird with enormous gusto. Lapinette slipped into the building, melting into the walls. "Imitating a bird without due authority," shouted the Wabbit. He strode through the door ...

[Background image by Dimitris Vetsikas of Pixabay. Song: If I were a blackbird by Ronnie Ronaldo.]

3. The Wabbit and the Joking Passengers

One passenger dropped in beside him and there was another on the way as Wabsworth and Lapinette launched from a high building. "Hello," said Wabsworth as if that was the most normal thing in the world. "Good of you to drop in," said the Wabbit. Lapinette summersaulted into the seat beside the Wabbit. "We've come to search for Mo!" "To!" yelled Mo, "we're differentially different if you don't mind." Lapinette was just winding Mo up. She smiled and gripped on tight as the Wabbit swung round and headed back across the city. "Where are they, where are they?" muttered the Wabbit. "Have you tried Borgo Dora?" said Lapinette, "there's plenty of grotty workshops down there. They pack heat." The Wabbit thought that a little unkind. All the same, it was true. He wrenched the wheel to the left and roared down Corso Giulio Cesare. "Did you put the jeep in for a service like I said?" asked Lapinette. "No, they ran out," said the Wabbit. "Ran out of what?" sighed Lapinette. "Ran out of brake fluid," said the Wabbit. "Was the mechanic on his break?" continued Wabsworth. "Mo was getting tired. "The badinage is bad," he yelled, "let's find To." The Wabbit turned left on Via Dora and hurtled along the grass to avoid pedestrians. Then he swerved into the Railway Museum (where he was forbidden to go) and headed up the old abandoned railway track. "This doesn't go anywhere, Wabbit," said Lapinette. The Wabbit turned left then right then left again and screeched to a halt. Mo slid into his back. "Confused?" asked the Wabbit. "And dazed," replied Mo...

2. The Wabbit and the City Drive

The Wabbit was enjoying himself. He steered his jeep through Torino as if the Hounds of Hell were on his tail. But it was Mo that was on his tail. Mo's shell spun wildly and gave him more than enough speed to follow the Wabbit. A smile creased the Wabbit's face. He hoped his mad driving would bring the culprits out from the shadows. If they'd taken To, there was every chance they'd try for Mo as well. He found himself by Crocetta market, which he had on his list. "Oi there, Wabbit," yelled Mo, "what you usin' for brakes on that thing?" The Wabbit didn't have anything much in the way of brakes. He'd meant to get them fixed but that was yesterday. He contented himself by using the engine, which had the advantage of being very noisy. Squeals and roars bounced from buildings and flew high into the rooftops. The Fiat Campagnola also had massive torque and the Wabbit used all of it as he swerved round market stalls. He cut a corner a bit fine and a letterbox flew into the air. "Cool," yelled Mo. The Wabbit mentally prayed the box been recently emptied. He span the wheels. "See anything suspicious," he yelled. "Every bleedin' thing's suspicious," shouted To. The Wabbit grinned and shot into the air. "Illegal chop shops!" he yelled. "I ain't hungry," screamed Mo. The Wabbit slewed past a gaggle of teenagers and he heard them cry, "There's the Wabbit with his retro-fitted snail." That pleased him because he knew it would draw interest. "Now we'll find them," he shouted. Mo slowed a bit. "Over there! Look!" The Wabbit glanced to the left as a familiar figure leapt into the passenger side. 

1. The Wabbit and the Missing Snail

The Wabbit was surprised to see Mo on the bridge. Mo was in search of the Wabbit and he looked frantic. Leaving his jeep to block the traffic, the Wabbit jumped out. "What's up Mo?" he asked. Then he added, "Where's To?" The two were always together and it was seriously unusual to see just one on his own. "Wabbit, thank goodness I found you!" said Mo, "To's gone missing." The Wabbit rocked back. "Missing? How long for?" Mo was very agitated and his shell spun round. "Twenty-four soddin' hours," he yelled. The MoTo snails were punk snails, retrofitted by the Wabbit to go very fast indeed. "I've looked everywhere," said Mo. "I've looked all over Pluto Park and up and down the rivaaaah. He's nowhere to be seen." The Wabbit thought for a minute. "He's been bleedin' taken," yelled Mo. "Hang on Mo, let's think," said the Wabbit. The only reason for a punk snail to be abducted was for its technology. The Wabbit had personally supervised the installation, but hadn't bargained for it falling into the wrong hands. Now his jeep was causing traffic problems and drivers were hooting horns and getting angry. So the Wabbit jumped back in. "Follow me!" he shouted. He executed a daring handbrake turn and shot down the road at great speed. Mo followed close behind. "Where are we going?" shouted Mo. "To get some bleedin' 'elp!" yelled the Wabbit. He found Mo's cockney swearing infectious and couldn't help matching it. On the way, he tried to think who could possibly be interested. He went through a plethora of possibilities. Agents of Rabit were at the top of his list, but it didn't seem like their style. "Put your foot on it, Wabbit!" shouted Mo. The Wabbit did exactly that and knocked down rows of cycling racks, traffic bollards, planters and poles as he whizzed through the city. "Ah-mazin'" chuckled Mo.

The Wabbit at his Adventure Caffè

The team assembled as usual. Wabsworth arrived first and was already tucking into croissants and coffee. Skratch was late was usual and hove up from behind. Lapinette arrived from ballet class. The Wabbit stood up to offer her a seat - but not before his paw snaked out to nab the croissant. "We should have arrived in a different order," meaowed Skratch, "but perhaps that Dark Matter Adventure affected everyone." The Wabbit choked on his croissant. Lapinette sat down with the grace of dancer. "Now that you're here Skratch, you can tell us what kind of adventure we had." Skratch purred mightily and everything shook. "Simple. You had an eco-space adventure." Wabsworth nodded his head. "Such a story is about the unconscious and hidden objects." Lapinette squealed with delight. "Dark Matter is so hidden we can't see it." The Wabbit chipped in. "A primal scene wish-fulfilment fantasy in which the obsessive quest for origins is demonstrated." Skratch nearly howled with delight. "In that sense, all our stories are of the unconscious! But it's a purposeful look at what is there, rather than what is absent." Lapinette pulled herself up to her full height. "Not to mention the penetrative aspect of space voyages. The infant is conceived and separated from the mother. All is revealed." Skratch became contemplative. "Yet at the same time, what the story is about - is repressed. What it is represses What am I?" Wabsworth chuckled. "That's deep, Skratch." Rumbling sounds came from deep inside the Wabbit's tummy. "I'm hungry!" he yelled.

[With thanks to : Annette Kuhn, ed. Alien Zone: Cultural Theory and Contemporary Science Fiction Cinema. London: Verso; NY: Verso (Routledge, Chapman & Hall), 1990]

8. The Wabbit and the Dark Matter Smell

The journey home was uneventful, but the achievements were great. So said Lapinette anyway. The Wabbit still had heartburn even if he had saved his planet. Orni the Ornithopter sailed into the Earth's atmosphere with some satisfaction. Lapinette started to wave and the Wabbit tried to look round - but his neck was stiff from the journey. The engine note was unmistakeable. "It's Wabsworth and Susan!" shouted Lapinette. The Wabbit waved too, although his neck was cricked. Susan wheeled into position to guide Orni in, and together they headed for Torino. "How's your fur, Wabbit?" Lapinette tried to find a comfortable position on the struts. "It's still slightly singed and smells of dark matter," said the Wabbit. He dusted what looked like soot from his fur. "I'm not sure dark matter has a smell," said Lapinette. The Wabbit crinkled his nose, "It smells of sulphur." Lapinette sniffed and nodded. "You're right. It does." Orni laughed. "It's thought to be bare sulphur ions." Lapinette thought that was very funny. "Evil smells like sulphur and venom." The Wabbit shrugged. "That's about 85 per cent of the atmosphere." "Explains all your enemies," laughed Lapinette. "I don't want to go home smelling of rotten eggs," sulked the Wabbit. "The planet will forgive you!" smiled Lapinette. Orni followed Susan on the long flight path that took them closer to Earth. "What do you call that thing your friend is piloting?" The Wabbit grinned. "It's a biplane." Orni dipped his wings, just like Susan. "Maybe I could have a whirling thing at the front?" The Wabbit held his sides and shook with mirth. "You'll need a rubber band!"
[Background image: NASA]

7. The Wabbit and the Tiny Red Giant

Orni the Ornithopter took off once more and they hurtled through space. The Wabbit was relieved there was only one of him and Lapinette, but that was the least of his worries. Orni steered a course towards a star. "U Cam is one bright star," said Lapinette. She shielded her eyes and so did the Wabbit. " It's a Red Giant," he said. He cringed because he knew what was coming. "Get ready," said Orni. "That gas shell is going to blow," yelled the Wabbit. Orni swooped closer. "Your suit will channel it - and the dark matter." The Wabbit's fur stood on end. It was exactly what was needed because his fur acted as both a shield and a magnet. Dark matter poured through the Wabbit and into the space of Camelopardalis Galaxy. The Wabbit flinched. He felt the energy. It gave him heartburn. "Is Camelopardalis short on dark matter?" he breathed. "Far too bright in my opinion, even if the star is tiny." Orni gave a sarcastic sigh. Lapinette was stunned but knowledgeable, quite aware of where they were. "This galaxy has a double star, Cam," she said. "Has it indeed?" said Orni, "shall we double down?" "No," said the Wabbit, "there's such a thing as gilding the lily." He still had heartburn and his fur gave off a faint smell of cordite. He pointed. "What's that stop sign?" Lapinette grinned. "I imagined it." Orni was most impressed. "The power of thought." He laughed so hard they nearly fell off. The Wabbit was miffed. "This galaxy doesn't look like it's supposed to." His long explanation ended in, "It's not a giraffe or a camel. Nor is it a leopard." Orni chortled. "The Chinese call it Purple Forbidden Enclosure." "I prefer giraffe," shrugged the Wabbit.

[Credit: Background:  ESA/Hubble/ NASA and H. Olofsson (Onsala Space Observatory)]

6. The Wabbit and the Dark Matter Layer

The ornithopter sped on and as it became faster, it became quite crowded. Lapinette and the Wabbit found themselves with an exact double. "Funny things happen near these things," said Orni the ornithopter. It changed colour again. The Wabbit didn't turn a hair. "This happened before," he said, "it was in an old adventure." Lapinette looked straight at her double. "Please to meet you myself," she said sweetly. "Pleased to meet you back," said her double. The ornithopter swung round in a circle. "There's the dark matter, I've coloured it blue. It's hard to spot. "The Wabbit's special glasses let him see the original and he chortled. "It doesn't look dangerous." "Oh, but it is," said the ornithopter, "And there's much more than there should be." They watched the blue haze dance and from time to time they could see pairs of eyes. Sometimes they were multitudes of pairs of eyes. "I remember the eyes," said the Wabbit. "Stay clear of them, they're not really eyes," said Orni. "They're the soul of broken dwarves and they're very very cold." The Wabbit was transfixed. "These are the missing 400 satellites in the Milky Way." Lapinette was a  practical sort. "But how are we going to fix them?" Orni swooped and dived. "We could drain them back into other galaxies." The Wabbit laughed. "Like taking the plug out the bath?" Orni bellowed with laughter. "Which one of you Wabbits came up with that?" Both Wabbits shouted 'Me', and they all laughed. Yet it was the notion of Cold Dark Matter that troubled the Wabbit. He knew that and he spoke quietly. "So much Dark Matter, so little time." "We need a plan," said Orni. "Then we'll need Planning Permission," quipped the Wabbit.

[I'm indebted to "The Big Deal about Dwarf Galaxies: The role of Dark Matter" by R. Jay Gabaney]

5. The Wabbit and the Ornithopter's Flight

When the ornithopter returned it had grown bigger and was changing colour like a chameleon. It came closer and closer and swept both the Wabbit and Lapinette into the air. "Whoa!" yelled the Wabbit. Lapinette gave it a pat. "Why don't you do your thing Orni?"  The bird swept round in a circle. Then with increasing speed, it soared high until it left earth's atmosphere. "I didn't give authority for this," yelled the Wabbit. Lapinette ignored the Wabbit's shouting. "I expect you can speak," she said. "I generally speak Bird," said Orni, "but I can do many other tongues." Lapinette patted the Wabbit on the paw and he dropped his radio. "I've lost my control board," he scowled. Orni cackled rather like a Magpie. "I can't be controlled." "Well you were before," sulked the Wabbit. "I was humouring you," smiled Orni. She flew faster and faster. "We have common interests. Dark matter is one of them." They came to a stop in a strange zone. "This is the core of the Galaxy you call the Milky Way," said Orni, "We'll start here." They looked around. "Dark matter is the reason rabbits can breathe in space." The Wabbit suppressed a giggle. "Frankly, I'd always wondered." The Wabbit was being disingenuous. He knew his fur was made from special material, but seldom let anyone know. "It looks vast," said Lapinette, "but where are we going?" Suddenly everything vanished to a pin prick and then expanded into something extraordinary. "We're at the edge of a black hole but there's no event horizon," said Orni. "I was hoping there was going to be a show," moaned the Wabbit. Lapinette was miffed. "It's not black and it's not much of a hole." "Everyone's a critic," said Orni.

4. The Wabbit sends up Drones

Up on the Torino rooftops, the Wabbit practiced with inventions of his own. He stabbed at an adapted walkie talkie. The ornithopter bat swooped and dived. He switched to another channel and this time he swiped. The other bird was a traditional drone and it swooped too. Lapinette arrived and hopped with delight. "What are you trying to find, Wabbit?" The Wabbit looked up. "I'm checking the dark matter question." Lapinette watched the drones for a while. It was somehow relaxing. "I'm looking for wimps," said the Wabbit. Lapinette's eyes shot up but the Wabbit continued. "One drone is filled with small pendulums, all deflecting in response to dark matter tugs." "And the other?" asked Lapinette. "It has small spheres which gravitationally jiggle," replied the Wabbit. He grinned. "It's largely a question of jiggling balls." Lapinette pondered for a second. "What about anyons?" "They just won't behave themselves, when you square the wave function." The Wabbit was pulling her leg of course. "It's largely a matter of topology," said Lapinette in self-defence. "The anyon is two dimensional just like us." The Wabbit was delighted. "Then anything goes. We have a chance of solving the problem." He sent the ornithopter swooping over the city. "Go my beauty, go" Lapinette followed the drone it as it dipped up and down. "Who adapted the walkie talkie?" "Wabsworth," said the Wabbit, "He can't explain what's happening with dark matter." "Neither can I," said Lapinette. "I must go or I'll be late. You know how the universe keeps expanding." The Wabbit slapped a paw to his brow and groaned as she hopped off.

3. The Wabbit meets his Android Pal

The Wabbit caught up with Wabsworth at the bike show. He wasn't looking at a bike at all. He was standing with a paw on the wheel of what looked like a jeep. The Wabbit gave a salute since they were in public. So did Wabsworth. "Shopping for the Department, Commander?" asked the Wabbit. "You can't have enough wheels," replied Wabsworth. Wabsworth was an android and had catholic tastes. "Are you sure it's bright enough?" asked the Wabbit. "It changes colour to suit your mood," responded Wabsworth. He smiled. "It has a range of shades from livid red to downcast grey." Wabsworth regarded the Wabbit as a trifle conservative in his tastes. "It's very nice as it is," said the Wabbit. Wabsworth kicked the wheels and they both said 'chunky' at the same time. "I've had disturbing cosmological news," said the Wabbit. "Ah!" said Wabsworth, "I was going to send a memo to the Department." The Wabbit looked inside the cab. "I think it's past the memo stage." Wabsworth prodded every switch he could find. "Dark matter is being produced at an alarming rate?" "Lots of it," said the Wabbit. Wabsworth got in and turned on the engine. It burst into life. The Wabbit got in too. "I've been keeping an eye on redshift," said Wabsworth. He revved the engine. "It's hardly ideal." The Wabbit put his safety harness on. "The engine?" "No, the method," said Wabsworth. The Wabbit nodded. "We have to check the whole business." Wabsworth gently eased the jeep forward. "Didn't we have trouble from dark matter before?" The Wabbit grinned. "Hardly matters now."

2. The Wabbit and What the Spider Knew

They met with Duetta at the Cathedral of St. John. The Wabbit had an arrangement with the Cathedral and no-one was around - just a few pilgrims to see the Shroud of Turin. But Duetta was hard to ignore. Lapinette had forgotten how huge the spider was. She jumped in the air and all her fur stood on end. Skratch was first to greet Duetta and he stepped forward with all the courage he could muster. "Greetings Marshall Duetta Spyder. What brings your illustrious presence to our humble church?" Duetta rattled her legs. "Less of the feline flannel, Skratch. This is an important mission." Now the Wabbit hopped forward and saluted. "Marshall." Duetta replied with a squiggly salute. "Commander, a matter of common interest has come our way." There was an intake of breath that everyone could hear. Then she began. "As you know our view of the universe is different from yours." The Wabbit waved his paw in a squiggly motion. "For six months south constantly, for six north the sun goeth." Lapinette chimed in. "Ordaining the days and nights, like a cunning spider." Duetta laughed. "You have it in a walnut. The universe is a matrix of geo-celestial rhythms. But something has happened to upset the rhythm." Skratch wasn't going to be left out. "Bark is not smooth and lightning does not travel in a straight line." Duetta looked at him and her eyes bored through his skull. "But it's becoming so. Imperceptible yet inescapable." Lapinette looked at the Wabbit and the Wabbit looked back. "We have to check. I'll get Wabsworth on it right away." Duetta rattled as she bowed. "Your android is a wise one and no mistake." The Wabbit grinned. "Don't tell him, we'll never hear the end of it."

[I'm indebted to Harriet Witt for the idea. Here's the link to her article.]

1. The Wabbit has a Chance Meeting

The Wabbit hopped down Via Nizza and was thinking as he tended to do. His brain buzzed with opportunity and he couldn't quite put corners on it. There was so much he could achieve and so little time. He giggled. That was when Skratch the Cat caught up with him. "Hello Wabbit, you look happy." Skratch's meaow was rather suspicious because, in his experience, it was seldom that the Wabbit's demeanour was so relaxed. The Wabbit looked up. "Hello Skratch, I was just thinking of all the wonderful things we can do." Skratch took a step back. "Name one!" The Wabbit became quite rigid. He found he couldn't recollect a single one. He played for time. "It's so nice to be walking in the sun, along Via Nizza." "It's always sunny," said Skratch. "it's summer in Torino and Via Nizza is..." He paused, "Via Nizza is variable." The Wabbit's smile continued. Skratch was alarmed. "Wabbit, have you taken a mind altering drug?" The Wabbit was appalled. "Certainly not." He had a moment's hesitation. "Where could I get them?" Skratch sighed in relief. The Wabbit seemed to be returning to normal, so they both continued to hop down the road. "Do you think we have enough weaponry?" mused the Wabbit. "Plenty," said Skratch, "are we expecting trouble?" The Wabbit dug his paws in his fur. "It's been too quiet for my liking." His ears pricked up as he heard a whispering of gossamer threads. "Now that sounds like Duetta." Skratch threshed his tail. "When Duetta arrives, it usually means trouble on the way..."

The Wabbit and his Adventure Caffè

The team assembled at the designated Caffè just off Via Roma. Wabsworth was in fine fettle and had brought a bottle of prosecco. Lapinette looked with amusement. "It's frozen, Wabsworth," she giggled. "Ah yes," said Wabsworth, "I tried my new wine chilling routine, and it went a bit far." The Wabbit laughed and laughed. "We can try blowing on it, speed up the defrost." Wabsworth merely chortled. "We can wait - or order a new one." He held up a paw. "While you're doing that," said Skratch the Cat, "I'll try and explain what kind of adventure that was." His tail thrashed against the back of a chair. "Computeracy as I call it, deals with stories concerning computers, where computers really stand in for toys." The Wabbit leaned forward. "Like puppets?" Lapinette leaned forward too. "Perhaps more like a motif of folkloric transformation?" Skratch purred gently. "That's about it. I haven't forgotten the codes and algorithms though. They stand in for the deception involved in children's games - like hide and seek." Wabsworth took the opportunity to speak. "That's a cultural embeddedness, refracted through our daily interactions with computers and passwords." The Wabbit nodded in agreement. "No longer a commodified object, but a jolly thing with a personality." "Or a devil," said Lapinette. "Or a child!" said Wabsworth. Being an android he had something of a handle on that. "How's that wine going Wabsworth?" asked Lapinette. "It appears to be lightly chilled now," said Wabsworth. "Let's order four glasses!" grinned the "Wabbit.

6. The Wabbit and the Meaning of Life

The Wabbit's viewing theatre was formerly in Via Nizza but when it went up for sale, he bought it and moved it, brick by brick. The Department paid. It had become a talking point and as such, could hardly be refused. The Wabbit made one change. It now boasted a state-of-the-art digital cinema projector. Wabsworth scanned the old copy of Byte magazine and using the flash drive, projected the selected page. When they enlarged the page, there it was. Hidden amongst the pixels was a single word. The Wabbit shook his head like a donkey. "'Sign' is hardly a very good password." Lapinette laughed. "It doesn't have to be. It's repeated several times on each page in different formats." Wabsworth cleared his throat. "Any attempt to get closer will bring catastrophic catastrophe." The flash drive laughed. "I told you so." The Wabbit looked stern. "You said it would explain the meaning of life." "That is the meaning of life," replied the drive, "it's as close as you get. Il n'y a pas de hors-texte, so the meaning of life can only be what's left." Lapinette grinned. "Skratch the Cat should be here." "I'll give him his own preview," scowled the Wabbit. Lapinette asked flash drive to keep the old copy of Byte magazine safe - in case anyone unsuitable found it. "What should we call you, we can't keep calling you flash drive." The USB detached from the digital cinema unit. "Jack," he said. "Why Jack?" asked the Wabbit - although he had a clue what he was going to say. "Jumping Jack," came the reply. "He's a gas gas gas." added Wabsworth.

[ Il n'y a pas de hors-texte. From Derrida. "There is nothing outside the text."    Pixel image by by Gerd Altmann at Pixabay]

5. The Wabbit and the Dismal Old Office

The scene changed dramatically. They were in a very old office with very old things. Everything was seedy, tarnished and neglected. Lapinette looked around with distaste. "I hardly believe Byte magazine lived in such seedy surroundings." The Wabbit jumped on an old drawer and started to rifle through a cabinet. "I don't care. Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?" He jumped up and down so hard, the filing cabinet threatened to topple. There wasn't much there at all. Just an empty bottle and an old aspirin. Wabsworth jumped on the other cabinet and made a methodical survey. He finished all the drawers and waved, "Not in here." The flash drive merely sat and waited. He could remember he put it somewhere but not exactly. It was in a magazine in the dingy room, that he knew. Lapinette let out a loud shout. "Must be this one." The cover depicted burglars and she thought that was appropriate to the day. "I remember now!" said the drive, "that's the one!" The Wabbit was getting tetchy. "I want to know now. I want to know the meaning of everything." Wabsworth was philosophical. "If we knew that, we'd know the location of the password." Lapinette leafed through the ancient copy of Byte magazine and then back again. "There's talk of algorithms here." Wabsworth looked at the flash drive and said, "There's debate about who invented you - and when." The flash drive gave a hollow laugh. "I'm here aren't I?" They all turned as Lapinette yelled. "Got it!" "The answer to the meaning of life?" asked the Wabbit. "No," said Lapinette, "the encrypted password. I'll tell you all about the meaning of life - later."

[Original background picture by Tama 66 at Pixabay]

4. The Wabbit and the Encryption Set-up

They followed the flash drive until the basement. That was where it all happened. A keyboard appeared beneath their feet and a metal honeycomb slammed down, cutting it in half. A USB slot with a blue glow shone from the centre as the flash drive moved to dock. They lost their footing as they were pulled close to the slot in the honeycomb. "What's happening, Wabsworth?" The Wabbit was closest and didn't like it. Lapinette followed him, pulled by an enormous force that twisted her arms and legs. Wabsworth let himself go - but he was listening as a stream of characters passed in front of him. He memorised everything. "I think it's best to let go Commander." "We've hardly any choice," said the Wabbit. The Wabbit noticed the drive had nearly docked and he wasn't surprised when it was the wrong way up. It reversed and this time docking was successful.  He smiled. "Maybe that's the password to the meaning of life?" speculated Lapinette. Her frock flattened against the honeycombs. "I wouldn't be surprised," muttered the Wabbit. They were flat against the hexagon, just like on the wall of death. "Honeycomb over here!" shouted Lapinette to the Wabbit as she blew him a kiss. But the Wabbit was in no mood for jokes. He shouted to the flash drive. But the drive had more important business and it made a faint sound as it completed data transfer. "Do you remember Byte magazine," yelled Wabsworth. The Wabbit signified that he did. "Didn't that come with a bottle of vodka?" Wabsworth grinned. "That's where the password is now." 

[Honeycomb by Pete Limford at Pixabay]

3. The Wabbit and the Flash Drive

The leap seemed to span centuries. The key changed materials and with it, its colour.  Now it hung in the air above them. They looked up and couldn't help raising their arms as if in supplication. The key spoke solemnly. "I am the key to end all keys. No key shall go before me." The Wabbit recovered enough to see that it was a computer drive and he said so. "You're a flash drive!" The floating flash drive continued. "I contain the password to the meaning of life." Lapinette swiftly grasped all this. "So what is your password?" she said. "The password is 'password'," said the drive. It laughed long and hard. Wabsworth knew there was rather more to it than that. "And that gets you ... where?" The flash drive performed a swirling revolution and his USB connection sparkled in the light. "That gets you to a series of honey-encrypted algorithmic blocks." Wabsworth knew only too well where that led. "What if you get it wrong?" The Wabbit interrupted. "It blows you to kingdom come?" The flash drive sneered a bit. "Nothing so crude." Lapinette stepped forward. "I know. You have to get it wrong to get it right?" "Maybe, maybe not," said the flash drive, "but if you find me a computer I can plug into, you might find out." Lapinette was intrigued. "Lead the way." The flash drive turned and made it way downstairs. The Wabbit nudged Lapinette. "Do you have a lot of time?" Lapinette looked over her shoulder. "It takes three years to get it in the right way up?"

2. The Wabbit and the Key with No Lock

Wabsworth and the Wabbit followed the key - or rather the key tugged them along. When it turned right into a building and floated upstairs, they were obliged to follow. Lapinette was on the stairway and the key seemed to know because it nodded a kind of greeting. "I've seen that key before," shouted Lapinette. "Hello Lapinette," said the Wabbit. He couldn't stop because the key was pulling hard, and he was stuck. Wabsworth had space to look around. "These stairs go up and down, but which way is up and which down - and which way are we going?" Lapinette peered down. "This is a museum and I'm always confused by these stairs." The Wabbit was tired and his limbs ached. "This never ends well," he puffed. The key came to a halt and hung in mid-air. And then it spoke. "I am the key and I open doors." Lapinette put her paws on her hips. "I expected nothing less." They all stood there for a while, not knowing what to do. The key spoke again. "I require a lock." Wabsworth prodded the Wabbit in the back. "It requested a lock." The Wabbit flounced. "I'm a rabbit, not a locksmith!" The key span around. "With a lock and a key, you're always safe and secure." Lapinette sighed. "Of course!" She looked at the Wabbit. "Wabbit, you have a habit of collecting strange creatures." She gazed at the key and the key became adamant and spoke tersely. "Without a lock, there is no place for a key. Each and every key needs a lock and vice versa."  Wabsworth grinned impishly. "Then what is your particular function, key?" The key faced him. "I am a warded lock key, but I can change into other types of key." The key began to shine, then glow - and then it changed into something quite different ...

1. The Wabbit and the Unexpected Key

The Wabbit was hunting for a particular fabric with Wabsworth his android double. Wabsworth was due at a swish do and he wanted something different to wear. When it came to fabrics, Wabsworth was more adept at rummaging than the Wabbit. The preference of the Wabbit was for ancient vinyl and discarded nuclear motor units. The Wabbit watched Wabsworth turn over items when he noticed something familiar. "It's that key again, Wabsworth." Wabsworth looked across. "My goodness so it is. How did it get here?" The Wabbit was nonplussed. "The last time I saw it was in a drawer full of similar yet miscellaneous objects." Wabsworth laughed. As an android everything he possessed was neatly ordered. "You need lists to make sure keys are accounted for." The Wabbit's obsession with lists was well known. He'd created more and more lists until he needed separate lists to keep track. In consequence, nothing could easily be found. "It's glowing," said the Wabbit. He poked it with a paw. Wabsworth continued to sort through items. "Probably a bit of luminous material rubbed off on it. Perhaps from an old alarm clock?" The Wabbit studied it closely but kept a bit of distance. "Radium, tritium ..? Maybe it's dangerous?" Wabsworth laughed. "You're hardly going to eat it, Wabbit." The Wabbit contemplated eating the key and smiled. "I was trying to find the right keyhole for it." Just at that moment the key span round and lifted into the air. The Wabbit shrugged. "Better follow it!" Wabsworth sighed and gave up sorting. "Low key or a high key adventure?" "Off key," shrugged the Wabbit.

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

The team gathered at the Caffè of their choice but something was different. They couldn't sit beside one another. Lapinette arrived and the Wabbit got up to offer her a seat. Skratch the Cat didn't know whether he was coming or going. "It's because of this COVID crisis," explained the Wabbit, "I told them we were rabbits but they seemed adamant." Lapinette was calm as usual. "We just have to fit in," she said. "Well, I'll stay over here and shout," said Skratch. Wabsworth was fortunate in having arrived first, but he was gracious. "Sit here Skratch. I'm an android and I don't mind." "Oh, never a bother," said Skratch, "Maybe I could have that pole?" Lapinette giggled. "Dance or climb?" she asked. Skratch sat down at the next table although he felt awkward. "Perhaps I could tell you what sort of Adventure you just had?" Wabsworth quickly agreed and kept his seat. "We're looking at what I call a hauntology," said Skratch. "Derrida again!" Lapinette was quick to spot repetition. "It's extremely important, Lapinette," said Skratch. "The past living in the present is always - already." "Different forms of temporality can't be interpreted by your philosophy," said Wabsworth. "They're already both dead and alive?" added the Wabbit. "Yes, they can't be captured by the sign - or indeed, the signifier," argued Skratch. Lapinette became intrigued. "Husserl did say there are certain phenomena that cannot be perceived." The Wabbit laughed. "Husserl is a bit of a spectre when he's at home!" But it was Wabsworth who had the last word. "A spectre is haunting our table." They all paused. "The spectre of the missing drinks!" smiled Wabsworth.

[I'm indebted to Asunción López‐Varela Azcárate for Semiotic Hauntologies of Ghosts and Machines.]

6. The Wabbit and the Disappearing Ship.

The sea phantoms had vanished, but the ship began to disappear too. It shimmered as it broke into crystals, then faded to nothing. It was as if it had never been there. Only an empty berth remained. Moloch turned and spread his arms. "They've gone." He seemed disappointed. "We fight another day, shrugged the Wabbit. "But they said they'd be back," said Lapinette. "I'll be ready for them," said Moloch. Lapinette considered for a moment. "How do we know they're on the ship?" The Wabbit knew the answer. "It's how they travel. Any ship will do. They just take it over." Lapinette sniffed. A faint smell from the bottom of the sea lingered on. They began to walk back along the berth, but turned as the invisible ship gave a prolonged blast on its foghorn. The Wabbit nodded gravely and waited for the next. After two minutes it sounded again and the Wabbit said, "They're telling us they're making way." Lapinette shuddered. Moloch loped along. He was quiet for a monster. "What are they for?" he said. "For?" echoed the Wabbit. "What is their purpose?" said Moloch. Lapinette paced silently behind Moloch. "I think they're harbingers of doom." "So I guess we'd better keep on bewaring," said the Wabbit. "Like the man in the bookshop said," whispered Lapinette. The Wabbit gave it consideration. "Perhaps we weren't supposed to beware of the sea phantoms, more what they portend." It was all too much for Moloch. "I don't beware much, as a rule," he chortled. Lapinette poked him in the back and he jumped in the air. "Beware of alphabet grenades," she quipped. "Why?" said Moloch. "They could spell disaster," giggled Lapinette.

5. The Wabbit and the Delayed Boarding

The chase lasted until dusk. They ducked and dived until at last the team found themselves behind their adversaries. They were in the docks. The m/v Dagmar bobbed on the water as it waited for high tide. The ghouls had chosen wisely. No one would look for them on such a vessel. Moloch was spoiling for a fight and the Wabbit couldn't stop him. Before the ghouls boarded, he let out a cry and jumped at them. "You think you can scare me, ghoul? I am Moloch, you insubstantial fiend. I'll cut out your liver and eat it on toast." The head ghoul stood his ground and sneered "I have no liver, monster. Just the ill cut weeds of a thousand leagues, bitter to the taste." Lapinette drew her edged weapon. I'm going to cut out whatever he's got." The Wabbit held her back. "Leave Moloch to do his thing." Moloch's claws were sharp as a fistful of box cutters. With his first swipe he shredded the head of the ghoul, but the head merely re-assembled. His second swipe cut it in half - with much the same result, except for a rank smell of seaweed. But the ghoul was in difficulty and stepped back to join his fellow spectres. "You think you've won, Moloch? Far from it." All three gradually faded from sight until there was nothing left but smell. "Where have they gone," shrieked Moloch. The air whispered on the dockside like lingering body odour and a voice hissed." "We'll be back!" Lapinette swung her edged weapon at nothing much. "Did they board the ship?" They were uncertain but the Wabbit couldn't resist a quip. "They bought tickets to the Dead Sea."

4. The Wabbit and the Unexpected Guest

The Wabbit and Lapinette tracked the spectres to the sea. The ghouls seemed to have a destination in mind and they wanted to find out what it was. Moloch was an unexpected arrival. "Hello Commander, I was just taking a small vacation. Sea air and all that." His vast frame loomed over a rough canopy on the beach and makeshift though it was, the rough structure seemed to take his considerable weight. Lapinette spotted the ghoul at his back and tried to alert him. She waved her arms and jumped up and down. The Wabbit wasn't looking in the right direction and he gestured to the departing ghouls. "They went that way!" he insisted. Moloch was pleased to see his pals. "Are you having monster trouble?" he asked. "I can sort that out with a mighty sweep of my mighty arms." He swept his arms in both directions and the right hit the ghoul on the nose. "Whoops," said Moloch and turned. The ghoul growled and moaned and clutched his nose. "Is that him?" said Moloch, "what a poor excuse for a monster." He gave the ghoul a kick. It responded with a kick of its own. "You want trouble do you, pipsqueak?" said Moloch, "take that!" He picked it up and threw it along the beach, which had the unfortunate effect of alerting the other two. They turned and moved swiftly towards them screaming like banshee. "This wasn't in my plan," said Lapinette. "Nor mine," shrugged the Wabbit. "I think we should run," said Moloch. He vaulted the structure and grabbed them both. Then together they fled along the beach. "I think my original plan was better," puffed the Wabbit.

3. The Wabbit and the Sea Phantoms

All the streetlights failed at the same time. What little light there was came from nearby shops and they were going out too. The Wabbit and Lapinette looked with horror as three spectres cut a dark passage along the street. Each time they passed a shop, lights dimmed and failed entirely. The Wabbit put an arm in front of Lapinette. "Don't go near them." Lapinette sniffed. "Yuk. They smell of bad sea." The Wabbit grimaced at the odour of seaweed and long dead things from the bottom of the ocean. "They're sea phantoms, I've met them before." Lapinette turned. "With Jenny. You told me." The Wabbit sniffed. "They're probably the things we have to beware of." He didn't like his sentence construction. Lapinette smiled and corrected him. "Of which we have to beware." The Wabbit let it go. "At the minute it's three ghouls to two." He chortled at his bad joke. "Well maybe we can even it up," said Lapinette, "What did you do the last time?" "Sulphur soap and a bell," said the Wabbit. "Sounds like Jenny," replied Lapinette, "Old school." The Wabbit twitched an ear. "What does new school say?" Lapinette spoke calmly. "Derrida says they are daemons from our own past." The Wabbit wasn't impressed. "Well. They are." Lapinette crept after the phantoms. "We won't fool them twice with the same trick." The phantoms wheeled and made their way onto Via Gregorio VII. Lapinette was still talking. "We have to figure what overall structure they're part of." The Wabbit struck. "Of which structure they're part?" Lapinette stood on the Wabbit's foot and he couldn't help giving a yelp before they ducked out of sight. A phantom turned and looked around. He shouted with a voice from the very bottom of the ocean. "Who goes there?" "Mice?" whispered the Wabbit.

2. The Wabbit and the Ides of March

 

Far from Torino, the Wabbit and Lapinette were enjoying a break. Round the corner from Largo di Torre Argentina they hopped along happily, when a voice spoke to them. Lapinette turned. "It must have been that nice old gentleman selling books." They stopped, but the man didn't look up. "Beware, small kinigl." The man seemed kind enough to give them a warning, but he also seemed busy with his museum. "What do we have to beware of?" asked Lapinette. "The Ides of March of course," replied the man. "That's today," observed the Wabbit. "It's Julius Caesar," said Lapinette. "What's that got to do with us?" said the Wabbit, who was puzzled. He knew Julius Caesar was stabbed not a hundred meters from where they stood - but that was some time ago. "It's Greek to me, but if I were you and I was a rabbit, I'd certainly beware." The man spoke while continuing to look at his phone. "Thanks very much, we're obliged to you," said Lapinette. She dragged the Wabbit onwards. "I'm always bewaring," said the Wabbit. "It seemed like a legitimate warning to me," insisted Lapinette, "It was nice of him to beware us." Lapinette was always polite and the Wabbit knew better than to be anything else. "I'm not expecting anything," he said. The Wabbit could be annoying and this was one of these times. Lapinette turned and addressed him forcibly. "We must look out. because the Ides of March are come." The Wabbit flounced in a Shakespearian manner and waved his paws. "But not gone!" Lapinette turned and walked on, shouting over her shoulder. "You'll be sorry!" That was when the street lights extinguished - and all became dark...

1. The Wabbit and the City of Torino

Here I am up on Monte dei Cappuccini. It's named for the order of monks, although I've never seen a monk up here, hooded or not. I just keep missing them. That's where the name comes from by the way - the hood is a cappuccio and gave its name to many things including the coffee. I'm between Adventures and I come up here for a bit of relaxation. It will almost certainly get interrupted because I expect a call any time from the Department of Wabbit Affairs. In the meantime I'm going to admire the view and tell you a bit about the place. Turin - or Torino - is a city of around 900,000 people and that's where I have my adventures. There's always plenty to do, believe me. Behind me is the Mole Antonelliana, which is the symbol of the city. Intended as a Jewish Temple, it's now a film museum. Many of my Adventures are set in and around it. That's where we met Moloch, who gave up his bad ways and became a member of our team. He's a key part of the plot of Cabiria, a silent movie made in 1914. It was made in Turin by the way and although the studios are long gone, we like to pay homage to that movie tradition. Oh, wait there's the radio crackling. It's probably another Adventure and so I must be on my way. Join me next week for another exciting story with Lovely Lapinette, Skratch, Wabsworth - and all the gang! Be seeing you then.

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

The Wabbit proposed a quite different venue and the team agreed. With any luck someone would bring coffee. Skratch loped down the stairs with a suspicious expression. "What's going on Wabbit? We never meet here." The Wabbit called this the Blue Sky Caffè because he need to do some blue sky thinking. That's what he told Skratch. Skratch wasn't impressed. "Didn't we use to call that Brain Storming?" Lapinette was appalled. "Think of the Brain Storm Caffè. What would it be like?" Wabsworth nodded his head. "That expression changed because it reflected badly on epileptic people." Skratch shrugged. "It never ever crossed my mind." He turned to the Wabbit. "What do you want to blue sky?" The Wabbit drew himself up and spat the problem out. "We need an entirely new publication strategy." Skratch wrinkled his nose. "We discussed that back in 2011." Wabsworth hadn't contributed so he rapped the table. "I for one wasn't part of that." Lapinette laughed. "You hadn't been constructed then." The Wabbit spread his paws wide. "There you are. We need to get everyone on board and read from the same page." Lapinette hooted with laughter. "Black words on white paper?" At this point Skratch decided to play along with the Wabbit. "Our brand is our sign," he purred, "and we have to communicate via codes, myths and archetypes." "That's the spirit Skratch," said the Wabbit. "So what should our publication convey?" asked Wabsworth. "Authenticity," said the Wabbit. Skratch drew his claws along the table and the noise made everyone cover their ears. "Like the last story?" he laughed. "Authentic lies!" smiled the Wabbit.

7. The Wabbit and the Friends of Turin

The Wabbit did his best with the venue. It was only partially in the open air, but it was spacious and accommodated the Phrenology head. The wooden bird had room to swoop and the two Garibaldini had a fence to lean on. There, they happily exchanged stories and guffawed. Everything was going to plan. Lapinette arrived. "Everyone's got something to drink but me." The Wabbit handed her a glass of Prosecco. "What's this do called?" she asked. The Wabbit laughed. "Nominally, it's the Revolutionary Friends of Torino." Lapinette pirouetted. "Introduce to me to your new pals." The Wabbit waved a paw. "These are the two Garibaldini, over there is Mr Phrenology Head and beside you, tucking into 3-in-One, is Ornithopter." Lapinette nodded politely. Everyone nodded back. The Wabbit felt obliged to explain how they arrived. "It's all the fault of the interior designers. They were planned for my Risorgimento-themed office but were overlooked in the back of the furniture truck." Lapinette made a clicking sound with her teeth. "Now you're obliged to look after them." The Phrenology head called across to Lapinette. "May I read your bumps, your ladyship." Lapinette wore a sickly expression. "My bumps are already in good order," she said. The Garibaldini were suitably deferential and bowed from the waist. "A toast to your loveliness!" The Ornithopter finished slurping 3-in-One oil. "Perhaps I could interest you in a ride?" "Later," nodded Lapinette. She sipped her Prosecco and looked daggers at the Wabbit, who ventured, "Not very sensible?" Lapinette put her paws on her hips. "I predict a riot."

6. The Wabbit and the Phrenology Head

The Wabbit made his way out of the archives department of the Risorgimento Museum where he'd being carrying out research before his reception. But he'd got no further than the courtyard when a shadow fell across his path and a voice spoke to him. "May I attend your reception, Wabbit?" The Wabbit was getting used to this. "You nearly knocked me over, Mr Head." The head swayed slightly. I'm deeply sorry to startle you, Wabbit." The Wabbit didn't startle easily but he let that one go. He took a good look at the head and recognised it from the same time period as the Risorgimento. So he immediately thought of the accursed interior designers. "Did you by any chance come in a van with design people?" The head stabilised. "I found them poor company," he complained. The Wabbit sighed. "Everyone does." The head was dismayed. "I find people in this time rather shallow." "You're not alone," shrugged the Wabbit, "but how did you find out about my reception?" The head shook back and forth as if in mirth. "I was in the same van as a wooden mechanical bird, whom I did find engaging." The Wabbit gave his reception some thought. "I'm not sure I have space to get you in. Perhaps I'll hold it in the open air." The head considered it. "That would be nice. As a phrenologist, I will observe and know everyone - and their superior functions." The Wabbit smiled. "Maybe eventually." The head actually laughed. "I will add bumps to their heads." Now the Wabbit doubled up with mirth. "Can I do it?"

5. The Wabbit and the Ornithopter

Leaving the Garibaldini to freshen up, the Wabbit walked across the Ponte Vittorio Emanuele bridge. It wasn't unusual to see birds of prey swooping in the currents. So he paid no particular attention when he saw some kind of creature coming his way. But as it came closer he could see it resembled a golden eagle. Closer and closer it came, until the Wabbit could make out its mechanical structure. His smile turned to a frown. "It's an ornithopter!" thought the Wabbit. The mechanical bird flapped its wings a little. It flew up in the air and turned around and came back until its beak was nearly level with the Wabbit. "Hello!" it squawked. Its orange beak quivered with delight. "Pleased to meet you!" The Wabbit was getting the hang of this. "Hello," he said, "Did you come with the interior designers?" The bird flew up and down along the river, then returned. "I can't find them," it said. "I was in a van and they opened the door and I flew out. Then I lost them." The Wabbit grinned. "I hardly think that matters. They seem to have lost the run of things themselves." The bird hovered. "I like this river." "Been far?" asked the Wabbit. "I went as far as a water-bound city and back," replied the bird." The Wabbit was astonished. "Venice. That far?" The bird took off at speed and returned just as quickly. "It's not that far," said the bird. "I saw lots of strange things." The Wabbit thought for a minute. "Perhaps you'd like to come to our reception?" The bird considered. He moved his head and it creaked slightly. "Any 3-in-One oil?" "All you can drink," said the Wabbit. "Original?" said the bird. The Wabbit laughed. "Totally the right stuff."

4. The Wabbit and the New Garibaldini

The Wabbit lost sight of the old soldiers for a while but he caught up with them on a metro platform. They were patrolling up and down with all the officiousness they could muster. The Wabbit noticed something. He knew they were supposed to be Garibaldini, but everything was wrong. Their jackets were way too flowery and their hats were not quite right. It was when he saw the rifles, he knew something was badly amiss. They were his own special issue Snazer guns and they were strictly restricted. He tapped a soldier on the back. "Who goes there?" enquired the soldier. "Commander Wabbit," replied the Wabbit. They snapped to attention and saluted. "I fear there's been an error," said the Wabbit, "Garibaldi is long victorious." "Good news," said one soldier. "Hurrah," said the other. "We have assumed this detail," said the first soldier. "We are patrolling the great iron railroad. Are you with Cavour?" The Wabbit shook his head, but he'd had an idea. "Did you perhaps come with the interior designers?" "We came in a van," said the soldier, "with a lot of strange stuff. Then we were left alone in an unfamiliar building." The Wabbit realised the Risorgimento remodelling of his offices had resulted in unintended consequences. "I'm having a little reception for the Revolutionary Friends of Torino," said the Wabbit, "so perhaps you'll join us for refreshments." "Will there be bagna càuda?" asked a soldier. "With cardooms?" said the other. The Wabbit was delighted. "Your authenticity is showing," he said.

[Bagna càuda is a hot dish from Piedmont]

3. The Wabbit and the Rattle of Gunfire.

The Wabbit tried to forget about his new office and sauntered down the porticos thinking of other things.  He looked at a nearby eating establishment and wrinkled his nose. If it described itself as a restaurant it had no business selling pizzas. That was his view and he was going to stick to it.  He was so busy thinking that he didn't take any notice of the first crack. He thought it was a car backfiring. When the second came he also paid scant attention. Then when it became a rattle accompanied by flying plaster he ducked down and took evasive action. Down on the ground, he tried to see where it came from. There was another crackle. It looked like it came from the other side of the street. A barrel poked out from a window and occassionally issued flame. The Wabbit bolted for the other side but the bullets followed him. They were a very heavy guage and smacked into buses, trams and cars. Traffic came to a standstill. The Wabbit rolled under a bus shelter. He was on the same side of the road as the weapon now, and he'd narrowed the angle. It gave him time to think. Who could this interloper be? Maybe there was more than one. He saw two figures dart out from a building carrying a massive weapon. But the weapon was old. Very old. And so were the figures. "Why me?" thought the Wabbit, "why does it always fall to me to deal with bizarre actions?" The Wabbit got to his feet and dusted himself down. Bits of plaster flicked everywhere. He watched the two figures disappear into the metro. "Going to catch a train are you?" mused the Wabbit. He flicked a last piece of plaster from his fur. "I'll catch up with you! And you're getting the dry cleaning bills."

2. The Wabbit and the Design Invasion

 

The Wabbit searched for his old desk in vain. But it had been replaced. Everything was furnished in a retro style from the time of the Risorgimento. All his disparate bundles of papers had gone. Old invoices waiting for payment had disappeared. In their place, an old revolver and a book about the life and times of Garibaldi lay on a clean desk. The Wabbit sat down and gazed in amazement. He looked at Lapinette. "What the Binky is going on?" Lapinette grinned. "The Department brought interior designers in. Everyone needs a clean start. That's what they said." The Wabbit lifted the revolver and sniffed it. "This is ancient," he said. Lapinette sprang in the air then pirouetted around. "You're not supposed to use it, Wabbit. It's supposed to give you ideas." The Wabbit flourished the gun and thought merciless thoughts about interior designers. "It's given me ideas all right." He put the gun down and leafed through the book. "Inspirational," he grinned, "I could always hit somebody with it." Lapinette continued to dance around. "I think it's a great idea." The Wabbit toyed with the pistol and spoke with great enthusiasm. "First we'll get Garibaldi out of prison." Lapinette laughed. "He was released in 1831."  The Wabbit laughed too. "Better late than never." Lapinette was still for just an instant. She placed her paws on her hips. "Now pay attention, Wabbit. This is supposed to give you ideas for combating the wicked Agents of Rabit." The Wabbit stood up waving the old revolver. "Send out the 400 rabbits. Arrest the usual suspects!" Lapinette sighed. "Will you be serious for just a minute?" The Wabbit frowned. "I was being serious."

1. The Wabbit and a Difficult Admittance

The Wabbit stomped up the stairs of the Department of Wabbit Affairs. He was in a bad mood for several reasons. He'd been called in for new orders just when he was taking a well-earned break. But when he'd turned up, he found that new security protocols had been put in place. The doorman had asked him for his pass. The Wabbit never carried it. He'd known the doorman for more than ten years and pointed this out to the doorman. But the doorman insisted it was more than his job was worth to let him in. The Wabbit had to return to the house and go through drawer after drawer. Finally he'd found it but the doorman pointed out that it was out of date. In order to get it re-validated he had to enter the building but the doorman continued to refuse him admittance. Finally, he'd bribed the doorman to look the other way. This cost him a dinner for two at Piano 35, the slickest restaurant in town. So he growled on his way and made a detour to the credentials department, where a very large rabbit put him through an interrogation the like of which he'd never endured. "This better be an exciting mission," he said to himself. He thrust his new pass deep into his fur and scowled. "The Ministry for Revenge will hear of this." His blood boiled. But then he heard the voice of Lovely Lapinette calling after him. He looked back as she shouted, "I've got your new pass, it came in the post." The Wabbit now had two new passes, but said nothing. He slid the duplicate further into his fur and smiled. "Thank you so much, Lapinette." Lapinette looked at him. "How did you get in?" "Charm," said the Wabbit.  

The Wabbit at the Adventure Caffè

Skratch the Cat was late as usual but not by much. Lapinette was late too. The Wabbit and Wabsworth were engrossed in conversation and were merrily rapping paws on the table. "Hello Skratch," said Lapinette, "We're just in time to tell everyone what an exciting adventure the Wabbit and I just had." Wabsworth was already in full flow. "I've been hearing all about it." Skratch leaned over the table. "I thought it disappeared, like all sci-fi, into the accretion of postmodern theoretical debris." The Wabbit laughed. "I don't know how you can justify that one, Skratch." I can't," meaowed Skratch, "but I rather like saying it." Wabsworth coughed. "Let's lay bare the cultural instrumentalities at work." Lapinette groaned. "But that fails to adequately deal with generic issues." The Wabbit wanted to have his say. "The best we could do was to introduce a rogue truck as the monster. This struck at the heart of generic convention." Lapinette wasn't impressed. "Where does that stand in the paradoxical circle of cause and effect?" Skratch was amused. "Where is the truck anyway?" "Round in the corner in the underground car park," said Lapinette. "That's a postmodern aesthetic dilemma in itself," replied the Wabbit, "It calls into question the existing patterns of consumption and usage." Lapinette allowed a small guffaw. "That's what the truck said anyway." Skratch was getting thirsty. "What about or own patterns of usage and consumption?" The Wabbit raised himself up and shouted to the bar. "Four proseccos please!" "And a packet of peanuts!" added Lapinette.
 

7. The Wabbit and the Extra Vehicle

Thinking better of buying the van, the Wabbit and Lapinette made their way back to join Quantum the Time Travelling Train. But the van followed them. Through the auction room and up the rickety-rackety stairs, it followed relentlessly. The Spieler stood in their way but the van just ran him over. They could hear the crunching of his bones. The Wabbit shrugged and ran on. Finally they arrived at the space tether and Quantum guided them in. Then they looked back. The truck had followed out into space. The Wabbit offered up his paws. "I put the money back, I swear I didn't buy him." Lapinette continued to insist it was his fault, but there was nothing the Wabbit or anyone could do. He couldn't hear its engine but he spotted exhaust fumes. "We'll have that Greta Thunberg on our backs for this." Lapinette said something that the Wabbit couldn't quite hear, but he knew it was very rude indeed. The Wabbit yelled to Quantum and crashed into lattice drive. There was an explosion and they left at speed. But the truck was still there. Quantum spoke to the Wabbit over the intercom. "I'm getting a communication from the blessed truck you brought with you." He sighed deeply and asked what it was. "He wants to know how he gets into second gear," said Quantum. The Wabbit gritted all of his 28 teeth. "Tell him to select reverse and go home." There was a pause. "He says it's broken." The Wabbit let fly with several expletives and ended with: "We don't have parking space." They heard a babble of signals, then Quantum spoke. "He says we're in space now and there's plenty of space."