IRIS 1
First thing upon arising, I add peat to the fire. The kettle has sat on the stove all night, peat being such a slow burn.
After an hour of weeding the garden, I switch to town clothes. It's Tuesday, only day the banker is in town, so I set out on the 6 mile walk to Ballyvaghan, County Clare.
I withdraw 50 then head for the grocery.
Along with my food purchase, I buy a ten-pack of cigarettes and pick up the free weekly, the Clare Champion. Don't bother with those national papers done up in Dublin, too much political nonsense.
As my food came to a bit less that I thought, I decide to celebrate, go to Murphy's Chipper, order fish and chips. I pay at the counter, take a chair to wait. Only two other customers, Professor Hartfield, the Englishman who owns a cottage, and Johnny O'Day, the local bootlegger.
The professor leaves his starch at home in England, enjoys conversing with colorful characters like Johnny here.
"I tell you, Professor," Johnny says earnestly, "it's me those eejits trying to put out of business. That new Gardai patrol, me they're after."
The professor smiles soberly, "my friend, ever done a hitch in the army?"
"No."
"Ever heard of HK's, Hochler and Koch, the submachine guns?"
"No."
"Nobody in the army or police gets HK's unless it's a really special unit, like say anti-terr."
"So I can relax?"
"Not really, if they trip over you by accident, they'll run you in. But they aren't looking for people like you, selling one bottle at a time. Nor are they looking for the likes of the big fish over in Galway, selling a case at a time."
"So Professor, if I took a little holiday, went to Ennis a bit, played the horses, chances are they'd be gone when I get back?"
Professor laughs, "sounds like a plan. I like the horses too, want to go together?"
One thing you gotta say about Ireland, it's democratic.
I've barely returned from town, when 2 jeeps full of cops show. Yep, those are HK's.
The sergeant in charge consults a list, "you Iris Ryley?"
"Yes."
"Inspecting TV licenses. Why don't you have one?"
Oh sure, they are, with HK's. Cover story of course, want to see your house.
"That would be because I don't have a TV."
Insolent look, "care to show us? Or maybe we'll just get a warrant?"
Read you five-by-five, sarge. Show them and it's a polite search. Insist on a warrant, and they'll track dirt, manage to do some "accidental" damage.
The sarge scratches his head, "uh huh, now I see why no TV. No electricity either."
He blushes just a bit as he leaves.
I'm sitting on my doorstep reading the paper. The item only shows in one place, letter to the editor. Thundering denunciation of Gestapo-style cops masquerading as TV licence inspectors. But looking at who wrote it, we all know his political aspirations. Gonna run for the opposition, gotta embarrass the government as much as possible.
Now outside of a movie, I haven't seen a circa 1950 Willys jeep in ages. One pulls up. Two women, looking vaguely Arabic, a Lieutenant and a Corporal driver. AK47's in back, but handy.
In an arrogant tone the Sun King himself would approve of, Lt asks for directions to Ennis.
My first impulse is to send her astray. What changes my mind? Corp rolls her eyes. Read you loud and clear, corp, disliked even by her own.
Taking a pen and paper, I do a mini-drawing.
As they leave, I get a feeling of foreboding, haven't seen the last of them.
Next morning I'm working in the garden when the jeep pulls up, this time only with Corp.
Polite smile, "ma'am, mind if I park out back?"
Well yes I do, but all the same, better not to be shot.
Corp comes back after parking.
May as well keep it friendly. I invite her for tea. Once I pour, I offer her a cigarette. I see her eyes light up.
"Thank you, ma'am, last payday was delayed a bit."
We sip and puff in silence a few minutes.
"Tell me ma'am, you are a little surprised I'm here? Curious maybe?"
Not actually. It's like I'm an electro-magnet drawing the wierdos to me. Gotta read up on aura and such, find out what I'm doing wrong.
"I'm Nilofar, what's your name ma'am?"
"Iris."
"Well Iris, our Lt is no longer with us. Gone to dear dirty Dublin to make her way as an illegal immigrant. Me, just trying to get back safely."
"To where, Nilofar?"
She smiles, "best if I get the map." Returns in a minute. The realization hits, she left her piece in the jeep, so presumably this isn't a hostage-taking. Unfolds the map, "now you see, this here is Kerguelen Island, Southern Ocean. Belongs to France, we patrol it for them, aid agreement."
I nod.
"See, here's where we have our main operation. Residential school. But part of getting the aid money from France is regular patrols. So they know no one else in encroaching on their territory."
I nod.
"Iris, ever read sci fi?"
I look at her aghast, "surely, you're joking. Only men do that."
"I see. So this is gonna take some explaining. Ever heard talk of wormholes or timewarps?"
"No."
"Iris, gonna tell you a story so ridiculous, you'll say I'm nuts. Now see, I'm the driver. Always go on patrol. Officers, it's a rotation. Now any other officer, never a problem. That crazy, been on 6 trips with her. Every time we hit some warp or other, end up here in Ireland."
I study her face. She may be crazy, but she's not lying. This is the truth as she sees it.
So I ask the obvious, "why her?"
"Iris, if I knew that I'd be a world-famous physics prof or sci fi writer."
"Just a minute. How do you get back between those 6 trips?"
"Long as I'm in the jeep exact 48 hours later, just happens. Look Iris, if I were gonna lie to you, wouldn't I choose a more believable story? NATO exercise or such?"
I nod.
"So here's what I'm asking you for. Let me sleep her tonight. Be gone noon tomorrow."
"Only have the one bed. No sofa. Still, big enough, if you don't mind sharing."
Just before noon, she's sitting at the wheel and I'm sitting on a rock, watching.
"Iris, thank you so much for your hospitality. Never forget you."
I laugh, "you won't hafta come back."
Quizzical look.
"Well in future you drive the other officers, right?'
She laughs and I feel dizzy. When it clears, I'm in the passenger seat, staring at a moonscape.
She sees me, groans, "sor-ry, guess the warp was looking for 2 bodies, mine and the Lt. Didn't check your ID."
"So what happens now?"
"What else? Take you to our CO."
Nilofar and I enter the CO's office. Few minutes of rapid talk in their language and the helpless look on the CO says it all.
Switching to English, upper-crust Brit accent, "Nilofar assures me you probably saved her life. What's your name?"
"Iris Ryley."
"Right Iris, here's what we do. Next plane to our HQ in Pakistan in 2 weeks. You can hitch a ride on it. We can't afford an airticket onward. Can you?"
"No."
"I don't think the Irish have an Embassy in Pakistan. Meaning you'd have to deal with the British High Commission. First thing they'll want is ID. So let's see what you have."
All I have is the bankbook. CO groans, "when did you last visit this bank?"
"Tuesday."
"Let me see that newspaper."
I hand it over.
"I'm afraid I have bad news. You didn't just displace through space, but time as well. You're now some 2 years in what is the past to you. Making this bankbook worthless as ID."
She switches to their language, talks with Nilofar.
Switching back to English, "now Iris, I'm told the Irish are very literary, have an extraordinary sense of humor and of justice. Is this so?"
"Any Irish person would agree. Few Brits might not."
She chuckles, "very well, we now test your sense of humor. As of now, you are a Lieutenant with us. You and Nilofar can go on patrol every week. Plus other duties I'll assign."
"Is that wise? Could shoot myself in the foot. Shoot Nilofar in the foot. Maybe somewhere worse."
"Not funny, Lt Ryley. Remove your jacket. Good, now roll up that left sleeve all the way to the shoulder."
CO and Nilofar stare at the colorful tattoo of the Argyll and Sutherland Armored Car Squadron.
Drily the CO says, "if you can wear that, you know enough not to shoot yourself in the foot. I'll write a uniform chit and Nilofar can take you for it."
Supply sgt stares at the chit in disbelief. Several minutes of rapid talk with Nilofar.
Switches to English, "left you in the wash, you shrunk." Laughs at her joke, "come on, we'll measure that scrawny little body. Probably girls size, not adult."
Nilofar walks me to BOQ where I stow my gear, then we head for the mess, all-ranks one.
As it turns out, CO is in the food line behind us. "Ah Lt Ryley, I've had a chance to ponder you duties. 3 days of patrol, 2 days of English tutorial."
"I'm not really very good at that sort of thing."
"Nonsense, we have a saying her. Your weakness becomes your strength. Practise enough and you get good at it.
After an hour of weeding the garden, I switch to town clothes. It's Tuesday, only day the banker is in town, so I set out on the 6 mile walk to Ballyvaghan, County Clare.
I withdraw 50 then head for the grocery.
Along with my food purchase, I buy a ten-pack of cigarettes and pick up the free weekly, the Clare Champion. Don't bother with those national papers done up in Dublin, too much political nonsense.
As my food came to a bit less that I thought, I decide to celebrate, go to Murphy's Chipper, order fish and chips. I pay at the counter, take a chair to wait. Only two other customers, Professor Hartfield, the Englishman who owns a cottage, and Johnny O'Day, the local bootlegger.
The professor leaves his starch at home in England, enjoys conversing with colorful characters like Johnny here.
"I tell you, Professor," Johnny says earnestly, "it's me those eejits trying to put out of business. That new Gardai patrol, me they're after."
The professor smiles soberly, "my friend, ever done a hitch in the army?"
"No."
"Ever heard of HK's, Hochler and Koch, the submachine guns?"
"No."
"Nobody in the army or police gets HK's unless it's a really special unit, like say anti-terr."
"So I can relax?"
"Not really, if they trip over you by accident, they'll run you in. But they aren't looking for people like you, selling one bottle at a time. Nor are they looking for the likes of the big fish over in Galway, selling a case at a time."
"So Professor, if I took a little holiday, went to Ennis a bit, played the horses, chances are they'd be gone when I get back?"
Professor laughs, "sounds like a plan. I like the horses too, want to go together?"
One thing you gotta say about Ireland, it's democratic.
I've barely returned from town, when 2 jeeps full of cops show. Yep, those are HK's.
The sergeant in charge consults a list, "you Iris Ryley?"
"Yes."
"Inspecting TV licenses. Why don't you have one?"
Oh sure, they are, with HK's. Cover story of course, want to see your house.
"That would be because I don't have a TV."
Insolent look, "care to show us? Or maybe we'll just get a warrant?"
Read you five-by-five, sarge. Show them and it's a polite search. Insist on a warrant, and they'll track dirt, manage to do some "accidental" damage.
The sarge scratches his head, "uh huh, now I see why no TV. No electricity either."
He blushes just a bit as he leaves.
I'm sitting on my doorstep reading the paper. The item only shows in one place, letter to the editor. Thundering denunciation of Gestapo-style cops masquerading as TV licence inspectors. But looking at who wrote it, we all know his political aspirations. Gonna run for the opposition, gotta embarrass the government as much as possible.
Now outside of a movie, I haven't seen a circa 1950 Willys jeep in ages. One pulls up. Two women, looking vaguely Arabic, a Lieutenant and a Corporal driver. AK47's in back, but handy.
In an arrogant tone the Sun King himself would approve of, Lt asks for directions to Ennis.
My first impulse is to send her astray. What changes my mind? Corp rolls her eyes. Read you loud and clear, corp, disliked even by her own.
Taking a pen and paper, I do a mini-drawing.
As they leave, I get a feeling of foreboding, haven't seen the last of them.
Next morning I'm working in the garden when the jeep pulls up, this time only with Corp.
Polite smile, "ma'am, mind if I park out back?"
Well yes I do, but all the same, better not to be shot.
Corp comes back after parking.
May as well keep it friendly. I invite her for tea. Once I pour, I offer her a cigarette. I see her eyes light up.
"Thank you, ma'am, last payday was delayed a bit."
We sip and puff in silence a few minutes.
"Tell me ma'am, you are a little surprised I'm here? Curious maybe?"
Not actually. It's like I'm an electro-magnet drawing the wierdos to me. Gotta read up on aura and such, find out what I'm doing wrong.
"I'm Nilofar, what's your name ma'am?"
"Iris."
"Well Iris, our Lt is no longer with us. Gone to dear dirty Dublin to make her way as an illegal immigrant. Me, just trying to get back safely."
"To where, Nilofar?"
She smiles, "best if I get the map." Returns in a minute. The realization hits, she left her piece in the jeep, so presumably this isn't a hostage-taking. Unfolds the map, "now you see, this here is Kerguelen Island, Southern Ocean. Belongs to France, we patrol it for them, aid agreement."
I nod.
"See, here's where we have our main operation. Residential school. But part of getting the aid money from France is regular patrols. So they know no one else in encroaching on their territory."
I nod.
"Iris, ever read sci fi?"
I look at her aghast, "surely, you're joking. Only men do that."
"I see. So this is gonna take some explaining. Ever heard talk of wormholes or timewarps?"
"No."
"Iris, gonna tell you a story so ridiculous, you'll say I'm nuts. Now see, I'm the driver. Always go on patrol. Officers, it's a rotation. Now any other officer, never a problem. That crazy, been on 6 trips with her. Every time we hit some warp or other, end up here in Ireland."
I study her face. She may be crazy, but she's not lying. This is the truth as she sees it.
So I ask the obvious, "why her?"
"Iris, if I knew that I'd be a world-famous physics prof or sci fi writer."
"Just a minute. How do you get back between those 6 trips?"
"Long as I'm in the jeep exact 48 hours later, just happens. Look Iris, if I were gonna lie to you, wouldn't I choose a more believable story? NATO exercise or such?"
I nod.
"So here's what I'm asking you for. Let me sleep her tonight. Be gone noon tomorrow."
"Only have the one bed. No sofa. Still, big enough, if you don't mind sharing."
Just before noon, she's sitting at the wheel and I'm sitting on a rock, watching.
"Iris, thank you so much for your hospitality. Never forget you."
I laugh, "you won't hafta come back."
Quizzical look.
"Well in future you drive the other officers, right?'
She laughs and I feel dizzy. When it clears, I'm in the passenger seat, staring at a moonscape.
She sees me, groans, "sor-ry, guess the warp was looking for 2 bodies, mine and the Lt. Didn't check your ID."
"So what happens now?"
"What else? Take you to our CO."
Nilofar and I enter the CO's office. Few minutes of rapid talk in their language and the helpless look on the CO says it all.
Switching to English, upper-crust Brit accent, "Nilofar assures me you probably saved her life. What's your name?"
"Iris Ryley."
"Right Iris, here's what we do. Next plane to our HQ in Pakistan in 2 weeks. You can hitch a ride on it. We can't afford an airticket onward. Can you?"
"No."
"I don't think the Irish have an Embassy in Pakistan. Meaning you'd have to deal with the British High Commission. First thing they'll want is ID. So let's see what you have."
All I have is the bankbook. CO groans, "when did you last visit this bank?"
"Tuesday."
"Let me see that newspaper."
I hand it over.
"I'm afraid I have bad news. You didn't just displace through space, but time as well. You're now some 2 years in what is the past to you. Making this bankbook worthless as ID."
She switches to their language, talks with Nilofar.
Switching back to English, "now Iris, I'm told the Irish are very literary, have an extraordinary sense of humor and of justice. Is this so?"
"Any Irish person would agree. Few Brits might not."
She chuckles, "very well, we now test your sense of humor. As of now, you are a Lieutenant with us. You and Nilofar can go on patrol every week. Plus other duties I'll assign."
"Is that wise? Could shoot myself in the foot. Shoot Nilofar in the foot. Maybe somewhere worse."
"Not funny, Lt Ryley. Remove your jacket. Good, now roll up that left sleeve all the way to the shoulder."
CO and Nilofar stare at the colorful tattoo of the Argyll and Sutherland Armored Car Squadron.
Drily the CO says, "if you can wear that, you know enough not to shoot yourself in the foot. I'll write a uniform chit and Nilofar can take you for it."
Supply sgt stares at the chit in disbelief. Several minutes of rapid talk with Nilofar.
Switches to English, "left you in the wash, you shrunk." Laughs at her joke, "come on, we'll measure that scrawny little body. Probably girls size, not adult."
Nilofar walks me to BOQ where I stow my gear, then we head for the mess, all-ranks one.
As it turns out, CO is in the food line behind us. "Ah Lt Ryley, I've had a chance to ponder you duties. 3 days of patrol, 2 days of English tutorial."
"I'm not really very good at that sort of thing."
"Nonsense, we have a saying her. Your weakness becomes your strength. Practise enough and you get good at it.
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