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Page 3
A Scramble In Time
Chapter 3: Sorting Through The Future
By Feldmarshall Edwin Rommel
Rommel kicks open the door to Hut 2. All the staff jump to their feet and come to attention. Rommel's eye catches a furtive movement in the corner of the room. A record is slowly spinning to a stop on the record player. He walks over to the turntable- and reads the label- It says "Schmoke on ze water und ozzer hits - Deep Purple"-
"Und juzt vhot ze hell ist zhis schmoke on ze wasser und ozzer hits"-
"Herr General- If I may- we record all ze messages zhat we get, and schtore zhem in ze archive database, und records are all ve have. Ve know zhat ein thing called ein Seadee ist coming zometime in ze future, but we do not underschtand how zhis vorks. Has zomevhot to do mit ze infra-red light und schpinning disks und it all belongs to a man called Bill Gates"
"Ja- und vhy ist zhis disk not in ze archive- It is marked mit a date from four months ago?"
"Ve vhere checking up on ein thing called pop muzik- und heard ein broadcast to ze effect zhat pop muzik voz ein contributing factor to juvenile delinquency- ve wanted to check out ze possibility to use zhis as ein geheimes waffen"
"Ja- Zo?- Let's hear zhis weapon"
The section leader of Hut 2 steps over to the record player- for the first time Rommel notes how long his hair is, and was that a golden ornament dangling from his ear?
"Take zhat Scheiss out of dein ear immediately- und go und have ein haircut!- But first get zhat machine going"
The obviously embarrassed man tears the stud from his ear and starts winding the record player. He turns the volume all the way down- Rommel notices this and leans over- turning the dial to full volume. Heavy base sounds rock the building in it's foundations. Several files drop from overhead racks, and snow starts sliding from the roof.
Rommel grins- "JA ZHIS IST EIN GOOD WEAPON- HAVE IT TRANSFERRED TO MEIN OFFICE IMMEDIATELY- I WILL MAKE ZURE ZHAT IT DOES NOT FALL INTO ENEMY HANDZ"
The young man turns off the record player- Rommel can see his lips moving, but cannot hear a word he is saying.
"WOZ- WOZ ARE YOU SAYING- SCHPEAK UP MAN!"
The young man writes on a nearby blackboard
"Mein General- you are shouting- your ears must have been damaged by the loud noises- it will wear off in a couple of hours- Everybody working in here wears these- " digging a wax earplug from his ear and showing it to Rommel- "when we listen to the recordings"
"OHH- MAYBE YOU KEEP ZE MACHINE HERE ZHEN, BUT MAKE SURE ZE WEAPONS ARE SCHTORED IN EIN SAFE PLACE! GOOD- ANYTHING ELSE ZHAT I NEED TO SEE?"
The young man starts writing on the board again
" Ve have intercepted ein message from England zhis morning about ein invasion of America- ve vill let you know more as soon as ve know more-"
"GOOD- CARRY ON!"
Rommel walks out of Hut 2. As the door closes behind him the careful observer would have noticed his cheeks puffing in and out rhythmically, and would have heard the heavy bass guitar noises that he tried to imitate.- Maybe he could learn to like this job after all.
He walks over to Hut 1, wondering what marvellous things he might find there.
Hut 1 is a bit of a disappointment. It is a drab office like building filled with paper of all descriptions. Small notes are stuck all over the desks, and everywhere there is a bustle of activity as reports are filed and checked and cross checked- On a black board at the back of a room a large notice is written- "CHECK ALL REFERENZES ON OPERATION SCHPICE GIRLS- URGENT"
Rommel decides that he has seen enough to understand how the operation works, and starts walking towards his office, in the hope that something solid would turn up that can be used to further the war effort.
He is not sure because of his temporary loss of hearing, but there seems to be multi-coloured lights flashing in Hut 2, and judged by the amount of snow sliding from the roof, the team in Hut 2 must be doing some serious research.
Rommel enters his office, and notices the recording that he had confiscated this morning lying on his desk- It is marked "Macarena". He winds up the record player, and after drawing the blinds, and locking the door- he shrugs off his uniform jacket.
Soon the snow starts dropping from the roof of his building as well as he turns up the volume in a vain attempt to hear the annoying fascinating tune with his busted ears ….
In the building across the road, most of the workers have given up on trying to concentrate, and had formed up into rows. Hands started slapping gyrating bodies - and for the moment operation Spice Girls have been forgotten.
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Go to: Chapter 4: Operation Schpice Girls