THE LONDONERS: 3. The Shopping Mall World – Opening Chapters
1
THE ONE-MILLIONTH CUSTOMER
CATHERINE (12), SEAN (11), LIBBY (9) and their cousin Kevin (11), the highly adventurous Londoners, had decided to visit Harrods in London, one of the biggest and most famous department stores in all the world. They travelled on the London Underground from Ockendon station to Slone Square station and were now strolling leisurely down Hans Road, which would lead them to Brompton Road where Harrods lavishly lived.
“Are we nearly there yet?” asked Libby for the third time since getting off the tube at Sloane Square station, her eyebrows slightly knotted.
“Actually,” replied Catherine, “we are almost there. It’s just at the top of this road. There’s even a small section of Harrods on this road and a side entrance.”
“Shouldn’t we look at all the main shop window displays on the Brompton Road before we go into the shop?” asked Sean.
“Oh yes,” replied Catherine, “we’ll definitely do that, but we’ll get back to the side entrance on this road to avoid the crushing opening crowds. Harrods opens at 10”—Catherine lifted her wrist to look at her watch“—so I reckon that’ll give us just over half an hour to look at the window displays.”
A few minutes later …
“Ah, good,” said Catherine, “we’re approaching the Harrods Hans Road side entrance.”
“Hold up a minute!” cried Kevin, screeching to a halt.
“What is it?” asked Sean, quickly coming to a halt together with Catherine and Libby.
Kevin pointed to a small shop on the other side of the road …
“Bloomin’ Ada!” cried Sean. “It looks like a charity shop that was bought in a charity shop. It looks so old and decrepit. Peeling paint on misshapen wooden frames, and the shop sign is hardly readable.”
“Yeah,” added Libby, “and those shop windows are filthy with cobwebs all over the place. If Mum saw the state of that shop, she would do her nut.” Libby pulled at Catherine’s wrist. “What does the shop sign say, I can hardly read it?”
“It says: ‘Save The Elves: the world’s greatest charity shop!’” Catherine stroked her chin looking highly doubtful.
“Talk about overselling yourself,” added Kevin, gently shaking his head.
“Definitely,” added Sean. “See that poster at the bottom of the door? It says: ‘Prizes that no other shop on planet Earth could ever hope to match!’. Call me a plonker, but pull the other one, it’s got bells on!”
“I can’t imagine the rubbish they must have on sale inside the shop if this is what it looks like on the outside,” said Kevin.
“Oh look!” exclaimed Libby, pointing at the door. “I’m sure that’s a tiny man sitting on a chair just behind the door. Of course the filthy top-door window might be making me imagine things.”
“No,” said Catherine, “you’re right, Libby. It’s a tiny man, all right. He looks shorter than even you, and he’s dressed in green. I reckon he’s supposed to look like an elf.”
“Maybe it’s a boy,” suggested Sean.
“I don’t think so,” said Catherine. “His face looks pretty old, and he has a full beard.”
“Perhaps, it’s a boy wearing a mask,” suggested Kevin.
“Come on,” said Catherine, “let’s quickly check this out. Our best adventures always seem to start in an unexpected way. Let’s face it, we’ve come to shop in the biggest most expensive shop in London, and here we are possibly about to shop in the smallest most cheapest. That’s an unexpected start in my book.”
The Londoners crossed the road, their eyes a swirl of befuddlement and curiosity, and then cautiously pushed their way into the peculiar, decrepit charity shop …
Once inside they could see the tiny man much smaller than themselves sitting on a chair and seemingly taking notes the moment they popped into his view. He wore brown felt pointed boots, green tights and a rustic green tunic, looking every bit like a fairytale elf.
“What are you up to?” asked Kevin, protective of his three cousins. “You’re writing about us. I can just tell.”
“Fear not, young man,” said the tiny man in a peculiar melodious high-pitched voice, “I am merely taking details of each customer for the sake of customer relations in order to improve our shop’s service. And if a customer buys something, this has benefits.”
“Benefits for whom?” questioned Catherine, looking highly suspicious. “The shop or the customers?” The other Londoners looked just as suspicious and puzzled at what appeared to be the shop’s unusual method of salesmanship.
“Definitely for the paying customer. We are a non-profit making charity organisation.”
“We’ve never heard of ‘Save The Elves’,” said Kevin. “Is this shop some sort of scam? Nothing here makes any sense.”
Libby added ferociously, “We’re proper Londoners. We’re even called the Londoners, see. And we won’t fall for any con-job, mister.”
“Yeah,” said Sean. Then he added sarcastically, “Next, you’ll be telling us you’re a real elf.”
The Londoners laughed at this, but the tiny man simply returned a knowing smile.
“All right, sir,” said Catherine, “what sort of benefits can a ‘paying customer’ have?” She rolled her eyes, as if to prepare herself for an expected elaborate sales pitch of epic con-job proportions.
But the man just said, “Most of the benefits are just from the low prices of our donated and handmade goods. You’re lucky we’ve opened half an hour early today. This shop will be packed in less than an hour’s time.”
“That sounds like a run-of-the-mill sales pitch to get us interested in buying something,” said Sean. “That won’t work on us. You’ll have to do better than that to get our interest.”
“Well, there is the prize for the one-millionth paying customer.”
“Really?” asked Sean. “What sort of prize?”
“An incredible prize. Too expensive to store in this shop. The winner will be given a prize-winning ticket to take to Elevator F in Harrods. One of our men operates Elevator F, so he’ll take care of you. Just take the side entrance across the road and ask for Mr Bobblehead. I see you’ve all got backpacks, so you would have little problem storing the prize if you’re lucky enough to win it.”
“Will it fit in my backpack?” said Libby. “Mine’s smaller than the others’ backpacks.”
“I mean it will fit in all of your backpacks. I assume you will all be sharing the prize if one of you is the one-millionth buyer at the shop till.”
“What’s the prize?” asked a cynical Kevin, appearing to look flabbergasted that the others seemed to be taking the tiny man seriously.
“A small sack of gold coins. They’re heavy, mind. That’s why you’ll need to divide them up among your backpacks. They’re pure gold. Worth a fortune. I dare say you’ll have no problem getting a buyer for them.”
This was too much for Kevin. He collapsed into a fit of laughter. “I’ve heard of some crazy scams in my life, but this is the most outrageous and by far the silliest. Does Elevator F take us to an Internet Bank outlet where we have to leave a deposit before collecting our plane tickets to Timbuktu to collect our prize?” he managed to say between howls of laughter.
“Shut up, Kevin!” scolded Catherine, bashing Kevin’s arm. “He’s only doing his job. D’you think he enjoys saying nonsense like that? As if there could possibly be someone called Mr Bobblehead. If the government created proper jobs, he wouldn’t have to do the one he’s doing. He’s obviously on a government Jobcentre forced cheap labour job. Probably doesn’t even get a wage, just benefits that even a homeless man can’t possibly survive on.”
“Er, I suppose so,” said Kevin, recovering himself and straightening up. He avoided eye contact with the man.
“We’re sorry about our cousin,” said Catherine. “He didn’t mean any harm. We know you probably have a wife and kids and the government benefits are hardly enough to support you.”
“I’m not married,” said the man, which hardly surprised the Londoners. “But I am telling you the truth about the prize.”
“We’re hardly likely to be the one-millionth paying customer, in any case,” said a smiling Catherine, feeling sorry for the man.
“Well, you’ve got a chance, at least.” The man put down his notebook and picked up another book from underneath his chair. It was one of a pile of red-covered books.
Just then, the sound of the shop’s till rang as a customer had just made a purchase. Seemingly, in response, the tiny man opened up the red-covered book and wrote down the number 999,998. He then snapped the book shut, but not before Sean saw the number and half a page of steadily decreasing numbers beneath it. Sean looked down at the pile of red-covered books underneath the man’s chair and must have realised they were probably full of purchase numbers. Whether the man was mad or playing a scam or whatever, what was true was that the man might have been honest about one of the Londoners being in with a chance of being the one-millionth paying customer. According to the number he had just written down, there were just two sales to go!
“Quick!” shouted Sean. “We’ve got to buy something and get to the till!”
“What?” exclaimed Kevin. “How old are you! We’ll never be the one-millionth customer!” But his words fell on deaf ears, because not only did Sean sprint off with excited eyes into the narrow aisles of the shop, but so too did Catherine and Libby. Reluctantly, he chased after his cousins, mumbling, “The world has gone bonkers!”
“What is it, Sean?” asked Catherine as Sean screeched to a halt near to the exit till. “Was it something you saw the man writing in the red book?”
“The shop is just two sales away from reaching its millionth sale. The man wrote a number just two short of a million! Those red books were all full of the sales numbers, I’m sure of it.”
“Maybe the man always writes that number before rubbing it out just to fool people into buying something,” said Libby, who had joined them. “Think about it, Sean, they’ll rush into buying anything if they think they’ll be the one-millionth paying customer. Those books are just part of a scam. Even I can see that, and I’m only nine.”
“Libby’s right, Sean,” said Kevin, who finally caught up with his cousins. “It seems that tiny man has delivered a sophisticated swindle. I can’t believe you nearly fell for all that tosh.” Then Kevin gestured at the shelves all around them. “Just look at all this crap!” He picked up a pencil. “So much for benefits through low prices; this pencil doesn’t even have any lead in it. See? It’s just a tube of solid wood for 50 pence!” He pointed at the pencil’s shelf. “Look at the shelf’s label: ‘Magic Pencils: will write on anything!’. What a scam!”
“What about these keys?” said Libby. She held up an iron key. “These are labelled ‘Magic Keys: will open any lock!’. Surely, these are worthless too. And they’re 50 pence too.”
Sean stroked his chin, quickly coming to his senses. He smiled and then conceded, “Okay, okay, I almost fell for that one, I must admit.”
Just then, rounding the top of the aisle, appeared two 12-year-olds, Mary Knibbs and Ali Zaheed.
“Oh my god, what are they doing here?” said Catherine.
“They must have followed us from South Ockendon,” said Kevin. “Spying on us so they can tell everyone at school what we’ve got up to.”
Grabbing the pencil from Kevin, Sean said, “Look, I know you might think me nuts, but I’m going to buy this magic pencil. We know it’s worthless, but we can’t risk Knibbs or Zaheed winning the prize even if it is a scam. We’ll never live it down if they can go back to school and tell everyone they won a prize as a one-millionth customer while we stood by like lemons. So, Libby, can you please buy that magic key? It’s only 50 pence, after all.”
“But what if there’s no one-millionth buyer prize?” said Kevin.
“Then we’ll just quickly move on out of the shop and get as far away from Knibbs and Zaheed as fast as we can.”
“Don’t you think they’ll make fools of us at school when they tell everyone what we bought?” asked Kevin.
“Not if we take them to the counter now before they have time to see what we’ve bought.” Sean rushed towards the till. “Hurry, Libby!” he called back over his shoulder to his younger sister.
Libby shrugged her shoulders and rushed after Sean, grasping tightly her “magic” key.
Understanding that the Londoners’ hands were forced, Kevin and Catherine shrugged their shoulders resignedly, and positioned themselves behind Sean and Libby so that they could easily block off any possibility of Mary Knibbs and Ali Zaheed’s view of the sale.
The woman behind the counter was even tinier than the man who had been sitting on the chair. She was similarly dressed, standing on a well-worn wooden box so that she could reach the till and serve the customers.
Sean quickly pushed forward his pencil for the woman to see.
“Do a lot of writing do you?” she said, with a similarly peculiar melodious high-pitched voice to the man’s.
“Erm … ’suppose I do. Texts on my phone, sometimes.” Sean looked a touch embarrassed and just wanted the sale to be completed with the minimum of fuss.
“The pencil can write texts on your phone if you don’t wish to use your fingers.” The woman gave Sean a huge friendly smile.
“Er, okay, sure,” said Sean, doing his best to return a friendly smile, but thinking the shop was run by a couple of mad vertically challenged nutters. Perhaps the man and woman were brother and sister, he thought. They did have the same unusual look about them.
“That’ll be 50 pence,” said the woman as she slid open the till.
Sean quickly shoved over a one-pound coin, almost as an apology. The woman took a 50-pence piece out of the till and shoved it out to Sean in exchange.
“Thanks,” said Sean before pocketing the pencil and 50-pence piece.
The till’s bell rang out as the till’s tray slid closed.
Libby was next. And as she placed her magic key on the counter, the woman paused dramatically, and it suddenly dawned on the Londoners that there might actually be something to this one-millionth buying customer business.
“Ah, a magic key,” said the woman. “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about losing your keys anymore.”
Libby giggled at the woman, thinking she was joking.
Libby shoved over a one-pound key, just as her brother had done before her.
“I see you lot of humans only deal in one-pound coins,” said the woman, rather unusually. It was not often, if ever, that the Londoners were referred to as “humans”. The woman plucked out a 50-pence coin from the till and shoved it ever so slowly across the counter to Libby.
Waiting until Libby had pocketed her magic key and 50-pence, the woman said loudly, “That concludes this sale.” She hesitated, for maximum effect … then dramatically slammed closed the till’s tray.
And …
2
BOBBLEHEAD THE QUICK LEARNER
THE TILL’S BELL RANG …
Pandemonium gloriously erupted!
An army of bells and whistles rang out loudly. The noise was deafening. The Londoners held their ears. A bright green light pulsed through the shop.
Eventually, the noise and pulsing green light subsided.
“Congratulations!” cried the tiny woman. “You are the one-millionth paying customer.”
“I bought the magic key on behalf of my brother and sister and my cousin,” said Libby, her eyes wide open. “It’s shared money, see. So all us four are the one-millionth buyers. We’re called the Londoners, see.”
“I do see,” said the woman. “And, my dear Londoners, here is the ticket for your prize. Take it young lady.”
Libby plucked the hand-written ticket from the woman’s tiny outstretched hand.
“You have to go to—” started to explain the woman.
“Harrods, Elevator F,” interrupted Kevin.
“Yes, that’s right, young man. We just couldn’t keep such an expensive prize in a shop like this. Take the side entrance across the road and Bobblehead will take you up to Elevator F. He’s in charge of Elevator F, and you will be the first humans to ever use it. The elevator is located on the top floor in the Department of Magical Toys for Children. It’s a small department located above the side entrance, and Bobblehead is in charge of it. Of course the toys are not truly magical toys, unlike the pencil and key you Londoners have just bought.”
“Call me a plonker, but this is just nuts,” said Sean.
“How so?” asked the tiny woman.
“Well, calling us humans, for starters. And if the elevator is above the side entrance, surely Mr Bobblehead would use it to come down from the top floor, wouldn’t he?”
“No, he wouldn’t. The elevator only starts from the top floor.” The woman gave Sean a pleasant smile.
“Huh?” put in Kevin. “How can an elevator start from the top floor? It would have nowhere to go. As my cousin said, this is just nuts.”
To add further solidarity to Sean and Kevin’s claim, Catherine and Libby simply added, “Yeah.”
“No time to explain, Bobblehead is almost certainly rushing down the side entrance stairs as we speak. One of the winning prize bells will have alerted him to come down immediately from his top floor department to the side entrance. Have yourselves a wonderful adventure retrieving your prize. Hurry now, I have two customers waiting to be served.” The woman smiled.
“Come on,” said Catherine in an urgent undertone, “let’s get out of here before Knibbs and Zaheed ask us what this is all about.”
Once outside the shop, the Londoners looked back through the shop window and could see Knibbs and Zaheed eagerly engaging in a conversation with the woman.
“Run for it!” shouted Catherine. “No doubt Knibbs and Zaheed are trying to find out what the fuss is all about.”
The Londoners charged across the road heading directly for the Harrods Hans Road side entrance.
Even before they reached the side entrance door, it opened inwards to reveal yet another tiny person wearing familiar elf-like clothes.
“Do any of you have anything to do with winning a one-millionth customer prize?” asked the tiny man, and his head bobbled as he spoke.
“Er, we all won the prize,” said Libby. “We’re all for one and one for all. We’re the Londoners, see.”
“I certainly do see. Well, I am Bobblehead. Pleased to be at your service.” Bobblehead gave a polite bow and a few head bobbles to the Londoners. “Now, which of you has the winning ticket?” Bobblehead put his hand out expectantly.
“I do,” said Libby, handing Bobblehead the ticket.
“Ah, yes,” said Bobblehead, carefully examining the ticket. “Beautifully handwritten by my sister. Mostly in human English, but all the important words are in Maglish.”
“‘Maglish’?” Catherine stroked her chin. “What sort of language is that?”
“The language of the elves and such creatures.” Bobblehead gave an extra special bobble of his head, which the Londoners correctly took for a nod.
“You’re not trying to tell us you, your sister, and the other man in the charity shop are all real elves, are you?” asked Kevin.
“What else would we be?” answered Bobblehead. “Quickly now, follow me!”
The Londoners followed Bobblehead, who was charging up the stairs as fast as his tiny legs could carry him and leaving the Londoners in his wake.
After reaching the third floor …
“Ah, just three floors to go,” said Catherine drawing the four Londoners to a halt.
“How do you know that?” asked Libby, catching her breath.
“See that sign?” Catherine pointed up to a sign on the stairs wall beside a large number “3”. “That says among other things: ‘Floor 6: Department of Magical Toys for Children.’ See, right at the top of the sign. And we’ve just reached the third floor.”
“I get it,” said Libby.
“I’m still sure this is all a scam,” said Kevin. “There’s no way any of this can be true.”
“Of course it can’t,” agreed Catherine. “But what sort of scam tries to make just one pound in exchange for a pencil that can’t possibly work and an unusable key?”
“But the scam is probably ongoing, as we mentioned before, back in the charity shop,” put in Sean.
“We’ll just have to keep our wits about us,” said Catherine. “I can’t see anyone being able to get one over us.”
“Yeah,” added Kevin. “We’re the Londoners, after all.”
Just then, the crash of a slamming door sounded from below.
Catherine instinctively put her head over the stairs’ railing …
“Uh-oh!” she exclaimed. “It’s Knibbs and Zaheed. I can only see a pair of yellow trainers. And we all know who wears those.”
“Ali Zaheed,” said Sean.
“Yes,” said Catherine. “And I’m sure Mary Knibbs is with him.”
“I’ll break from the pack, as I’m the fastest,” suggested Kevin. “I best catch up with Bobblehead just in case he’s doing a runner or something like that.”
Kevin charged off up the stairs.
“Off you go, Libby,” said Catherine. “Hurry as fast as you can. Sean and I will be right behind you. We can easily handle Knibbs and Zaheed if they catch up.”
Up the stairs, the three remaining Londoners charged …
“They’re gaining on us!” cried Libby. “I can hear them getting closer.”
“Keep going!” encouraged Catherine. “Just one floor to go!”
Seconds later …
Catherine, Kevin and Libby found themselves pouring into the Department of Magical Toys for Children on the sixth floor.
“Quick,” cried Catherine, “there’s Kevin and Bobblehead up ahead!”
The Londoners were quickly reunited. Bobblehead was frantically searching for a key to a room that was simply labelled: “Elevator F.”
“Oh dear,” said Bobblehead. “I think I have lost my key.”
“Time to see if this is a scam or not,” said Catherine with her typical air of authority. “Libby, try to open that door with your magic key.”
Just then, Knibbs and Zaheed piled into the department.
“There they are!” roared Mary Knibbs, pointing accusingly at the Londoners.
“I can’t see how this key will work,” said Libby, keeping her concentration under pressure. “It looks far too small for the keyhole.”
“Quickly, Libby,” said Sean. “Try it anyway. You never know.”
As Libby pushed the key towards the keyhole, the key amazingly grew slightly larger and changed shape.
The Londoners gasped in disbelief.
Libby, encouraged by her past incredible Londoners’ adventures, ignored the fast approaching Knibbs and Zaheed and pushed the key into the keyhole and turned it clockwise …
A metallic click-clunk sounded, and Libby pressed down the door handle and pushed the door open.
“Quickly!” cried Bobblehead. “Let’s all get into the room, and I can lock it from the inside as the door has a locking latch.”
The Londoners and Bobblehead urgently scrambled into the room.
Bobblehead quickly turned around and pushed the door closed, before twisting a door latch just above the door handle …
“Locked!” he said triumphantly. “What a relief. I didn’t like the look of those two children. They looked far too nosy for my liking.”
“We can’t argue with that,” said Catherine.
“But, Mr Bobblehead, how did the key grow and change shape?” asked a bewildered Libby. “There’s no way it’s a magic key. Must be some sort of advanced technology. We Londoners are used to such things. We’ve seen aliens and everything in our adventures.”
“Well,” replied Bobblehead, “you have got me there. I have always simply thought of such impossible things as magic. But seeing how much technology is advancing even on this planet, I suppose it might be some sort of advanced technology. I have never thought of that before because I was brought up to simply believe in magic without once questioning what the nature of magic is.”
“Are you saying that not only are you an elf, but that you are from another planet?” asked Sean.
“Yes. Elves certainly do not come from this planet. I am well aware that there are many different types of intelligent aliens from other planets, but I have never had much to do with them. The only aliens I have had anything to do with are you humans. And that’s because my sister, my brother and I were sent here to your Earth on a mission.”
“Really,” put in Catherine. “What mission?”
“A mission to find someone who can free a special prisoner.”
“Oh my goodness,” said Kevin. “This adventure is going from nuts to bananas.”
“I think I get it,” said Catherine. “This ‘someone’ is us Londoners, isn’t it?”
“It is,” said Bobblehead with one of his classic head bobbles. “You are the one-millionth customers. Don’t tell me how it works, but the Master Wizard made it quite clear this was the best way to attempt to free the special prisoner. Of course, he said it was magic that told him why this was so. But I am a quick learner and I have now realised it was probably advanced technology, such as advanced intelligence database systems, that really told him what to do.”
“Maybe, Mr Bobblehead,” said Libby. “But you never know. Perhaps there really is magic. A magic that has nothing to do with advanced technology. I mean there wasn’t any technology that created the universe, was there? Maybe magic was behind that.”
“Wow,” said Sean. “That’s a very clever thing to have thought of, Libby.” He looked around at everybody, and added, “It’s almost as if super-intelligence and ultimate knowledge are simply products of super-stupidity and ultimate ignorance. A sort of paradox to beat all paradoxes. Puts meat on the bone of the something from nothing conundrum, don’t you think?”
“If you say so, Sean,” said Kevin with a shrug. “But shouldn’t we be getting on with this adventure?”
“Yes, you should,” put in Bobblehead. “Elevator F is in the far corner of this room just behind those large tea chests. I am sorry I lost the key to this room, but it’s been so many years since I last used it.”
“How many years?” asked Catherine.
“Oh, over a hundred.”
“What!” chorused the Londoners. Their wide-opened eyes and open mouths showed just how flabbergasted they were.
“The 11th of January 1906, to be precise,” said Bobblehead. “Not too many months after the current building was opened. The Master Wizard used magic to construct this special limited sixth floor and the magical Elevator F elevator room.”
“So are you saying you’ve worked in this building since 1906?” Catherine looked as if she could hardly believe she was asking such a question.
“Correct.” Bobblehead raised his bushy eyebrows and gave the Londoners a definitive nodding head bobble.
“But you only look about 40 years old at the most,” said Libby, her not so bushy eyebrows dancing this way and that on her crumpled forehead.
“But I am an elf, and you’re thinking of humans. We elves can live up to 1,000 of your human years. I am 324 human years old. And yes, before you even ask, the special prisoner has been imprisoned since 1906. Hopefully everything is beginning to make sense to you now.”
“Not really,” said Catherine. “I suppose the prisoner is also an elf. Probably your dad or something.”
“The prisoner is not an elf.” Bobblehead gave an affirming head bobble. “And my dad lives on a moon all by himself in a distant universe. And if you’re further wondering, my mom lives on the planet that my dad’s moon is orbiting.”
“So the prisoner, this he, or she, or whatever the correct pronoun is—there’re just too many ways someone can be a person these days—can’t be human, presumably,”
“That is correct. It’s a she. And she’s definitely not a human—well, not in the flesh and blood sense.”
“Huh?” exclaimed Sean.
“You will understand eventually.”
“That would be great.” Sean shrugged his shoulders, as if not knowing what to think.
“Well,” said Kevin, “it wasn’t a scam, but there was a catch. We get a huge prize. But it’s really some sort of payment to encourage us to somehow free this special prisoner.”
“You Londoners pick things up quite quickly, I must say.” Bobblehead bobbled his head approvingly. Whatever this magic is, the Master Wizard has definitely used it to select the right humans for the job.”
“Who is this Master Wizard you keep referring to?” asked Catherine.
“Oh, he’s just the most powerful person in the Maglish realm. He’s behind this whole peculiar business.”
“Well, anyway,” said Catherine, “let’s get to the elevator and get this show well and truly underway. We can’t turn down an adventure like this!”
Bobblehead smiled. “Londoners, follow me!”
3
THE IMPOSSIBLE ELEVATOR
BOBBLEHEAD ROUNDED the sprawling collection of large wooden tea chests with the Londoners hot on his tail …
“As promised, Elevator F,” said Bobblehead, gesturing at the elevator with a graceful sweep of his tiny hand.
“And it only goes upwards from here, even though we’re on the top floor?” questioned Kevin, stroking his chin and knotting his eyebrows.
“Naturally, or should I say unnaturally.” Bobblehead gave the Londoners yet another emphatic bobble of his head.
“Or should you say magically,” suggested Catherine.
“Or perhaps even advanced technologically,” suggested Sean.
“Whatever the case may be,” said Bobblehead, “this elevator will definitely take you up to the ground floor above.”
“I get it,” said Libby, who was good at getting things. “It obviously goes to the ground floor of a building in another place, perhaps on a different planet, perhaps even in a different universe. We Londoners know about such things, see.”
“Correct. You are good at getting things for one so young.”
“I know. Even though I’m only nine, Sean has told me that people, that is to say humans, are more or less fully formed in terms of thinking abilities by the age of seven. So I suppose, I’m just good at thinking.”
“Yes,” said Sean. “My science teacher told me all that, and I saw some internet videos on the subject. The only thing that Libby lacks that older people lack less of is knowledge.”
“Seeing is believing,” said Catherine. “So let’s just get on with things.”
“As you humans would say, ‘Suck it and see!’” Bobblehead walked up to Elevator F’s door and fed the winning ticket through a slot by a big circular button labelled “UP”.
The winning ticket disappeared and the UP button responded by glowing with a golden light.
Bobblehead pressed the button and the elevator’s door silkily swished open.
“In we go,” said Bobblehead, gesturing for the Londoners to enter the elevator cab before him.
“All silver on the outside,” said Catherine, “all gold on the inside.”
“Well, the elevator cab might be solid gold,” said Sean, “but the only thing we saw on the outside was the elevator outside door.”
“So, as you can see,” interrupted Bobblehead, pointing at the elevator buttons, “the top button is labelled ‘GROUND’, and the bottom button is labelled ‘TOP’. That’s right, Elevator F has only two buttons.”
“Does that really makes sense?” questioned Kevin.
“I think, Kevin,” put in Sean, “what it means is that we are now at the position TOP of this Harrods building, and if we press the GROUND button, the elevator goes up to a ground floor of another building, as Libby suggested.”
“Your brother is correct,” said Bobblehead. “Now let us be on our way …”
He pressed the GROUND button.
The elevator cab door swished closed, and the elevator started to rise serenely accompanied by a steady hum.
Just seconds later …
A pleasant ding sounded and the cab gently shuddered to a halt. And once more, the elevator door swished open—revealing …
“And as you can see we are on the ground floor of a shopping mall.” Bobblehead gestured with a graceful sweep of his tiny hand at the view outside the door of the elevator.
There were colourful, highly ornate shops as far as the Londoners’ eyes could see.
“Blimey, strike a light!” exclaimed Sean. “I’ve never seen a shopping mall like this. It’s humongous. And this is just the part we can see. Just look how high the ceiling is. And the decorative architecture. I’m pretty sure we’re not on the Earth.”
“And now I will give you some one-millionth prize winner instructions as provided by the Master Wizard.”
Bobblehead took out a folded sheet of paper from his rustic green tunic. He carefully unfolded it and started to read:
Dear one-millionth customer prize winner:
Congratulations on winning your prize, a small sack of gold coins worth a fortune. Bobblehead will bring you, via elevator F, to a multi-floored shopping mall where your prize resides.
All the shops on the shopping mall’s many floors are maintained by robots and are devoid of people. The robots keep the shops fully stocked and maintain their pristine condition. These robots have their own individual character and will ignore any flesh and blood sentient lifeforms, such as humans, unless spoken to. You are free to take anything from any of the shops on any of the floors free of charge, although I advise you in addition to taking your prize to only take goods that you think would help you on an exploration.
The ground floor, also called the first floor, has only human styled shops with human styled goods in them.
The second floor above has shops with goods styled from a slightly more advanced race of beings than humans, a race from another planet than the Earth.
As you ascend the floors, the shops and their goods are styled from more and more advanced races of beings successively. Thus, the top floor shops and their goods are styled from the most advanced race of beings of all those represented in the shopping mall.
Your small sack of gold coins is located on the ground floor along the shopping mall hallway a mile in front of Elevator F in a shop titled “Locke and Smith Ltd.” Look for a particular gold safe. You’ll know it when you see it.
On the second floor, you will find a prisoner in a toy shop titled in an alien language that translates in English to “Dolls Parade”, which is positioned directly above Locke and Smith Ltd. It is your choice whether or not to release the prisoner.
After exiting you simply have to return home, but you will not be able to use elevator F. Therein lies your challenge.
Good luck,
Master Wizard.
“I’ll read these instructions once more,” said Bobblehead, looking up at the Londoners, “so I’ll know that you have all heard them together. Then I will hand the instructions over to one of you so that any of you can reread them to your hearts content.”
Bobblehead carefully read out the instructions for a second time.
“So who should I give these instructions to?” Bobblehead held out the sheet of instructions.
“I’m in charge of things like that,” said Catherine calmly, as she plucked the sheet of instructions from Bobblehead’s tiny hand. She carefully folded it and put it securely in her zippable jean pocket.
“So we just walk forward out of the elevator for a mile and seek Locke and Smith Ltd to get going,” said Kevin.
“That’s about it,” said Bobblehead. “And then you find your way home, freeing the prisoner if you wish.”
“But we’re probably on a different planet now, at the least,” said Sean, “so how would we find our way home?”
“That is not my problem, as it is out of my hands,” insisted Bobblehead. “The Master Wizard has seen to that.”
“So we can’t back out and go back down to the top floor of Harrods?” asked Libby, a flash of fear filling her eyes.
“No. Because …” Bobblehead tapped his left brown felt shoe expectantly.
Just then, an unseen force gently lifted the Londoners off their feet and pushed them out of the elevator before releasing them to the floor.
“I’m stuck!” cried Libby.
“Yes, you are all stuck until the elevator door closes. So good luck to you, my dear human Londoners. My brother, my sister and I are now free to return home to our magical world. We’ll probably be given a holiday moon residence for our service. Moons are special places for elves—just ask my dad!”
Bobblehead laughed merrily as he pressed the TOP button.
The Londoners watched intently as the elevator door swished closed and the elevator started to descend with a descending hum.
The unseen force released them and they slowly turned to face one another.
“Gosh,” said Libby, looking as if she was about to burst into tears. “This is worse than when I went on that school skiing trip to Italy. I feel so homesick, all of a sudden.”
“Don’t sweat it, Libby,” said Sean with a smile on his face. “It’s just the sudden shock of being so cut off from not just London but our entire world, if not our entire universe. But when you think of the adventure ahead, it will wash away such feelings.”
“True,” said Catherine, “so long as we believe we will succeed and find our way home. This Master Wizard character must know that there is at least a way to get home. And all the elves were friendly. So I reckon as long as we keep our heads, we’ve got every chance of going home. So let’s just get on with it and enjoy our adventure on the way.”
“And if the worst comes to the worst,” added Sean, “we can always live in the shopping mall. It seems to be warm and there must be plenty of food and drink in the shops.”
“And in the furniture shops, even some beds to sleep in,” added Kevin.
“What about toilets?” asked Libby.
“What shopping mall doesn’t have toilets?” said Sean with a smile.
“Well, we better just find a way home,” said Libby, angrily stamping her foot down. “I’m not living in the shopping mall for the rest of my life.”
“Of course we’ll find a way home,” said Catherine with her best air of authority. “None of us wants to live in a shopping mall for the rest of our lives. That’s just the worst-case scenario, which as the Londoners we must always take into account, because that way everything we achieve better than the worst-case scenario is a joyous bonus. So come on, Londoners; let’s be having you! Our prize awaits just one mile ahead!”
