The Wabbit met Lapinette at the safe house to discuss the matter in paw. "Let me get this right," said Lapinette. "The priest came to you in a vision and asked for help?" The Wabbit nodded his head. "He wants me to find something." Lapinette sat down at the only table available. "It must be to do with his murder. He wants you to find who pushed him over the parapet." The Wabbit sighed. "I have no clue." Now Lapinette shook her head. "There is a clue. He gave you his bible." The Wabbit fished in his fur and took it out. It was well worn before - but now it looked battered and tattered. He made a face and shrugged while Lapinette leafed through it. It was a major job. It had many pages and a clue could be anywhere. "Stop there," said the Wabbit. Lapinette stopped but she couldn't see anything. "Which book are you at?" asked the Wabbit. "Judges," replied Lapinette. "Had to be," said the Wabbit. Lapinette peered closely. She saw a drawing of a skeletal rabbit's foot in the margins and she pointed at it. The Wabbit yelped and shook his paw. "Wow that was sore!" He looked down at the desk. On the tatty piece of blotting paper where his paw had rested, the drawing reappeared - and just as quickly faded. It vanished from the bible margins too. They looked at each other. "What's afoot?" grinned the Wabbit. Lapinette groaned. "This has all the signs of a cult." "What kind of a cult?" said the Wabbit. Lapinette snorted. "A secret one of course."
The Wabbit was out for a hop on a fine Sunday morning. He'd got as far as the hospital strip at Lingotto and was thinking about lunch - when he spotted a particularly nice reflection. He paused for a while and tried to perform a calculation concerning optics. He looked behind him. Somehow the actual scene looked much better reflected in the mirrored glass of the hospital window. He turned back but something wasn't right. "Where am I in the window?" The Wabbit appeared to have no reflection. He waved a paw, but still there was nothing. He scrutinised the glass panels to no avail. Then he spotted something that wasn't there before. A familiar figure looked out at him and it whispered. "Wabbit!" The Wabbit shook his head. He turned his back on the window and looked once more at the other side of the street, but there was no corresponding figure. "Must be a cognitive illusion" he thought. "Something from my unconscious perhaps." He turned back. The figure appeared closer - and now he recognised the ghostly priest he'd encountered at Superga. "Find out, Wabbit," whispered the priest, "Find out, I implore you." The priest looked the Wabbit in the eyes and for an instant the Wabbit held his gaze. But the priest blinked three times and his image began to fade. "Don't go, Father!" shouted the Wabbit, "What do I have to do?" But the priest was gone. Only the bushes on the far side of the street remained ...
Skratch was really late and everyone was waiting. But a tram clattered to a halt and the doors hissed open. "What was that for a sort of Adventure?" shouted Skratch. He loped from the tram and into the portico - then sat down and flaunted his new t-shirt. "I know we had a computer adventure but what kind?" Wabsworth raised a paw. "Speaking as an android .." The Wabbit groaned. Wabsworth ignored him and continued. ".. I question its dominant specularity. A dreamlike state within a digital world undercuts that kind of traditional indexality." Lapinette smiled. "Perhaps. The interactive potential of spectators as potential digital producers ... suggests control." Skratch purred quietly. "You're saying it challenges the fingerprint of the real?" The Wabbit sniffed and leaned on the table. "Quoting Bazin will get you nowhere. The spectator continues to be a third party. Interactivity is an illusion - yet another set of conventions closely allied to realism." Wabsworth leaned back. "That's all very well, but the adventure blurs subjectivity and renders the world unclear. Is it created from the inside or the outside? We cannot tell." Now Skratch sat up with a start. "In the Adventure, I was outside, then I dreamed myself inside." Wabsworth grinned. "This is the digital age. The dream becomes real and haunts the image like a ghost." The Wabbit rapped a paw on the table. "Then maybe someone could startle us up some drinks." "Mine's an Il Signor Diavolo," breathed Lapinette. "The devil it is!" shouted the Wabbit.
The Wabbit and Lapinette emerged from the super computer. It was hardly an elegant exit but they were glad to get out. The two pink pigs emerged too and they snuffled the corridor with piggy grunts. "Where's Skratch?" asked the Wabbit, "I'm sure I was speaking with Skratch." He heard scratching from the floor and looked down. "I dreamed you out," purred Skratch. And there he was, coiled up on the floor. He was flat as a pancake and stretching. Gradually he fleshed out. First his head, then his tail, and then all his limbs. Finally there was a body. "I've got your notifications," said a voice. It was Flotsy, holding messages in his claws. Lapinette twitched her ears. "I didn't see you." Flotsy laughed. "No-one ever sees me, I'm the Fake Vote, remember?" A violent rapping at the door made them all turn. "I'm locked out!" It was Hardhack Rat. Now the Wabbit's frown turned to an enormous grin and he hopped down the corridor and unlocked the door. "Where's our money?" asked one of the pigs as he passed. "Yeah, where's the dosh?" grunted the other. Flotsy hovered above them. "I took it for services rendered." "Hand it over!" shouted the pigs. "Impounded," fluttered Flotsy, "But I'll write you a promissory note." His ball point pen fluttered back and a forth and a notification floated down. The pigs rolled along the corridor and then they rolled back. They honked, grunted, snorted and squealed. But Flotsy banked and turned. "I'll be back," he shouted. Then in a trice he was gone. "Is a promissory note enforceable?" asked the Wabbit. "It has tax advantages," shrugged Lapinette.
Outside the computer, Skratch the Cat curled up and dreamed a strange dream. He was prowling along a tunnel. At first, everything in the tunnel was dim - as if he was in a mist. Then the mist cleared. He saw glimmers of light and colour. He heard voices and hissing of snakes. He saw the back of two pigs. "What the devil?" he thought. Presently, the Wabbit came into view with Lapinette beside him. They seemed to be obstructed by something like a wall, but Skratch could see no wall. He watched the Wabbit lift a paw and smash it in the air. Now he saw their reflections as if they were gazing in a frosty mirror. Their eyes grew bigger and bigger. Lapinette pointed. The two pigs nuzzled and grunted. The Wabbit's mouth moved but Skratch could hear nothing. "I'm over here!" yelled Skratch. He couldn't hear his own voice but he shouted anyway. "Watch out for the snakes!" he croaked. Two snakes flicked the Wabbit and Lapinette with venomous red tongues and Skratch got angry. He was close now and he tapped the Wabbit on the shoulder. The Wabbit brushed him away and and his touch felt like an electric shock. Skratch jumped and his fur stood on end. "Skratch?" said the Wabbit. He looked from right to left. "You can't see me," said Skratch. "No I can't," replied the Wabbit. "Who are you talking to?" asked Lapinette. The snakes hissed. Skratch hissed louder. The snakes recoiled and Skratch watched them slither down the tunnel with enormous speed. The mirror vanished. Everyone moved forward. Except for Skratch. He woke up outside, then stretched, yawned and looked up ...
The two pink pigs wanted to lead the way and the Wabbit let them. They grumbled in metallic voices that came straight from an electronics factory in Shanghai. Mostly they grumbled about whose idea it had been in the first place and when they got tired of that, they grumbled about the Wabbit and Lapinette. The tunnel that led from the door was longer than they anticipated and the Wabbit speculated it was some kind of quantum thing. Every time they saw the end of the tunnel it was the start of another tunnel. "It's like a pipeline," said Lapinette. The Wabbit froze and Lapinette noticed. "Another of your stolen script ideas?" "Yes," agreed the Wabbit. He wrinkled his nose. "So we'd better watch out for snakes." Lapinette thought she heard a hiss. "What kind of snakes?" "Fast moving, quantum tunnel snakes," said the Wabbit. "Multi-coloured?" asked Lapinette. "Yes," said the Wabbit. He thought it prudent to offer further explanation. "They snake along pipelines taking everything with them at high speed." The multi-coloured snake wound round and round, hissing. "Keeps still, everyone!" shouted Lapinette. The pigs froze. "I hate snakes," muttered one. "And keep quiet," yelled Lapinette. The snake dropped ahead of them and slithered up the tunnel. The Wabbit, Lapinette and the pigs all picked up speed. The tunnel walls seemed to flash by. "Where do they go?" sighed Lapinette. "They're like lubricant," said the Wabbit. "They'll go anywhere they want." The sides of the tunnel blurred. "Who's they?" asked Lapinette. "A powerful, evil corporation," shrugged the Wabbit.
Inside the quantum duvet computer was more than cosy. The Wabbit prodded a duvet with both paws. "What's this supposed to be?" Lapinette poked one too and shrugged. "Software?" Lights flickered to the rear and that seemed normal to the Wabbit. Underneath didn't seem normal. He looked down and pointed. "The cloud," said Lapinette. Only at that point did she see two pink pigs tugging at the duvets. "Who are you?" The first pig made a face and snarled. "Paws up!" "Stand and deliver," said the other. The Wabbit yelled. "You're another stolen idea!" Lapinette's eyes shot into the roof of her head. "Explain." The Wabbit was really annoyed. "It's one of my film script ideas. Two electronic toy pigs rob a bank!" He was shouting. Lapinette made a face. "How does it end?" "Badly," grimaced the Wabbit. The pigs didn't seem to care. "Answer!" they shouted. The Wabbit huffed and puffed. "I have nothing to deliver. Would a speech do?" "No," said the first pig. But the other pig considered the matter. "Would it be a revolutionary speech, full of fire and brimstone and threats and promises?" "If you want," said the Wabbit. So he began. He quoted Shelley. He quoted Thomas Jefferson. By the time he reached Che Guevara he was running out of steam. "That's enough," said the first pig, "We've already got the money anyway." "So now get us out of here!" said the other. Lapinette waved both paws. "I can see a door up ahead there." "Follow me," snapped the Wabbit as he hopped towards the door.