5. The Wabbit and the Rabbit Foot Cult

Under the church lay a labyrinth of corridors that smelled of damp and danger. The Wabbit and Lapinette groped their way with caution. They were just following their noses when they came upon a strange room. They looked around. The walls and ceiling were peppered with gloomy artifacts and all the time they could hear the chanting of the rabbit foot cult. They poked here and there but found little that looked like a clue. There were mouse droppings, a bottle opener, three cigarette stubs, and an out-of-date ticket for Black Sabbath. The Wabbit was examining the latter closely when they heard the sound of cloven hooves on the cold stone floors. There was nowhere to hide so the Wabbit gestured for Lapinette to take a vantage point. Then he stood stock still and waited. When the cultists came into the room he waved his arms. "Kneel before me!" he cried, "Kneel before the daemon rabbit." One of them made to kneel, but the other was smarter. "You don't look much like a daemon to me." The Wabbit jeered. "You'll know soon I'm the chosen one. Turn round fast and start to run." "Oh no!" said a cult member and he made for the door. The other shook his head and gestured to Lapinette. "Who's that?" Lapinette hissed through her teeth. "Je suis le reine lézard." The Wabbit nodded. "She's my familiar. She can turn you into a toad." The cultists backed away and out the door. They heard the sound of cloven hooves - running. "J'aime pas les cultistes," hissed Lapinette.

4. The Wabbit and the Secret Order

The church gates were shut and the Wabbit and Lapinette thought that was strange. They'd never known them closed. So the Wabbit picked the lock and together they dragged them apart. They were heavy and stiff. Hinges creaked like an old galleon and the sounds echoed from the roof. Lapinette's ears pricked up. She could hear something else. It was like Gregorian chanting but malevolent. The Wabbit heard it too. It made his fur crawl and he started to itch all over. "I can't make it out," said Lapinette. The Wabbit strained. Then he repeated the words. "Come rabbit with teeth of iron and claws of bronze." Lapinette grimaced. Now she could hear voices cry, "Trample all before you." The Wabbit felt in his fur for his bible. "They're summoning a daemon." The sacristy door opened and a figure swept out. The Wabbit and Lapinette flattened against the gate. "Agents of Rabbit," muttered Lapinette. But this was no ordinary agent. Its ears were Mephistophelean horns, curving and brutal. Its eyes flashed with a ghastly green glow. And as it walked across the nave its cloven feet tapped a merciless devil's jig on the church floor. It seemed to walk towards them but it turned to grasp the metal framework of the gate. There was a flickering and a flash as its cruel shape merged with wrought iron and vanished. The chanting died away. "What do we do now?" grunted the Wabbit. "Pray?" said Lapinette.

3. The Wabbit and the Rabbits' Whispers

Followed closely by Lapinette, the Wabbit hopped through the castle. He was deep in thought and so he didn't hear the whispers. Lapinette did and she stopped and pointed. "The rabbits spoke." The Wabbit turned and looked up at the frieze. The rabbits were moving and their whispers were musical and tender. "Start with a coffee," sang one, "Coffee on the hill." "Make ours frothy," sang another, "Frothy if you will." The rabbits became silent and still. The Wabbit waved the priest's bible at the rabbits. "Is it in here?" Lapinette sighed. "Wabbit, there's no mention of coffee in the Bible." The Wabbit stared at the rabbits for a while as if they might come to life. "Then it must be a cryptic clue. Think crosswords." "Coffee on the hill," suggested Lapinette, "frothy coffee on the hill maybe?" Now the Wabbit was getting into gear. "Frothy coffee on the mountain?" Lapinette thought very hard. "Cappuccino on the mountain?" The Wabbit threw the bible in the air, caught it and slapped it with his paw." "Monte die Cappuccini!" Lapinette gasped. "That's where I first met the priest. He was coming down the hill. I gave him a lift." The Wabbit roared with laughter. "That's what coffee does." "Well, let's go," said Lapinette. They set off down the steps, but the rabbits whispered again. "Beware of the Foot Cult, beware, beware." The Wabbit raised a paw in farewell. "Got time for a coffee, Lapinette?" Lapinette bounded down to the courtyard. "There's always time for coffee, Wabbit."

2. The Wabbit and the Hidden Sign

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."

1. The Wabbit and the Dynamic Reflection

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 ...

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

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.

8. The Wabbit and the Disorderly Exit

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.