Part 4
Ms. Sara Bellum had excelled herself. She was well known in Townsville as a superlative organiser, a woman whose calm composure and clear thinking had averted many a crisis, and it was common knowledge that the Mayor, whom many had begun to talk of as incipiently senile, would be incapable of holding his office without her constant assistance. To have called her an éminence grise would be an understatement, for there was nothing grise about it, she accompanied and overtly advised the Mayor on every official occasion. But this time she had outdone herself. With only a few days notice she had managed to put together a spectacle in Townsville Park such as that town had not seen in many a year. A travelling fair had been booked and had set up its rides and side-shows; a firework display had been laid on for the evening; and a great podium had been constructed for the presentation, with seats aplenty laid on for Townsville's great and good. Ice cream vans and hot dog stalls had a field day as, from mid-day onwards, the park filled up with the grateful residents of the city. Rainbow the clown, recently released from prison on parole, put on a funny show for the smaller children, and both kids and adults were amused by a variety of fire-eaters, jugglers, unicyclists and other entertainers who, at other times, would be regarded as at best eccentric, at worst deviant, by the rather staid population of Townsville.
Professor Utonium was a bag of nerves all morning, pacing back and forth in his living room and making frequent trips to the lavatory. As the girls' 'father', it was incumbent upon him to make a formal speech thanking the Mayor and the City for the award, and that was precisely the sort of thing that he most hated, as it was precisely the sort of task that he felt most useless and incompetent at performing. Give him some differential equations to solve and he was a genius; ask him to string more than two words together into a coherent sentence in front of strangers and he was a bumbling simpleton. He had had a restless night, and had got up and dressed in his best suit far too soon, so that he now felt all the more uncomfortable, nervously fiddling with his shirt collar and trying to adjust his trousers, which had recently become, he noticed, just a little too tight. Of course, he was immensely proud that his girls, his creation, were to receive this great honour, but there was something that nagged away at him and spoiled his happiness somewhat, something other than his natural nervousness and the fit of his suit. The truth was, he was jealous. He tried to put this insidious, nasty little emotion to one side, but it wouldn't go away. The fact was that he was piqued that he was not receiving an award too. He, after all, had created the girls, even if that creation had been largely accidental. He should have been happy for his girls, but instead this omission, this snub, merely resurrected old and painful memories.
Professor Utonium had paid a high price for doing controversial work in a controversial field. At university, his experiments had caused more than a few raised eyebrows amongst his peers and colleagues, and had even been the subject of student protest. Pressure from the university authorities – mere unwarranted interference to the angry young post-doc – had caused him in the end to throw up his academic career altogether and strike out on his own. The death of both his parents within a few months of one another had provided him with sufficient money to pursue his researches alone, but the earnest and ardent Utonium soon discovered that Science was not the cool, objective subject he had imagined it to be from his early youth. Science, he had learned to his cost, was a social enterprise undertaken by human beings, and, as in any social context, those who refused to fit in and play the game were quickly ostracised and ridiculed. He began to find his papers rejected by learned journals on what he considered to be the flimsiest and most easily-refutable grounds; invitations to seminars and conferences dried up; and when he made the error of attempting to bypass the usual channels and appeal directly to the populist media, he found himself lambasted as a fool, a showman and a charlatan by a dozen respected academics. Naturally, there were any number of fringe groups who would listen to him and applaud his words, but no sooner had he talked to them than he found his statements taken out of context and used to justify crackpot theories and views, all of which had merely served to sully his reputation still further. It was a harsh, excoriating experience, and Utonium's reaction had been to run away, to leave it all behind. In the relatively isolated, insular community of Townsville he found that his reputation had not preceded him, and he was even able to get away with the small conceit of styling himself 'professor'. Determined that he would not put himself again through the pain of rejection and the even more unbearable slandering of his work, he had gradually begun to cut himself off, retreating more and more into his work, until weeks would go by without his speaking to another human being. He even went so far as to train a chimpanzee, Jojo, to act as his lab assistant, an assistant who could be guaranteed never to question his work.
The creation of the Powerpuff Girls had overturned Professor Utonium's life. During the first months of his new life in Townsville, he had slowly and imperceptibly begun to despise the people that he met in his everyday activities, visiting the shops, going to the theatre or cinema, even just walking in the street. They went about their lives ignorant of the world about them. They would rather watch tawdry soap operas than documentaries that would open their eyes to the wonders of the universe. They would rather save a few cents and stuff their already bulging bellies with hamburgers than invest in education and in projects that would improve the lives of everyone on the planet. To the few that had any interest in it at all, scientific research was just a trade secret to be hoarded for their own greed, a means for the rich to become richer. As he brooded in his laboratory, Utonium's bitterness and frustration with his own treatment had broadened and deepened into a hatred of the world in general, and his response was to shut himself off from it. He would have no further truck with the filth and ignorance of so-called civilisation. He had thrown his TV and radio into the trash, so disgusted had he become with the vile images of the society they projected, and instead turned for companionship and comfort to his books and his experiments. His house became permeated with an abiding silence. It might have gone on thus indefinitely: the days spent in the airless, windowless lab; the solitary, quiet evenings spent studying books and journals; the writing of countless reports and theses that no-one ever read; the fantasies of speeches and presentations that no-one ever heard. It might have gone on indefinitely, but for a second's carelessness from an improperly-trained lab assistant. An accidental spillage of chemicals; a violent explosion that threw Utonium across the room; and the self-styled professor's lonely world had crumbled to nothing. When the dust had settled and he had opened his eyes, they had been there: three little girls, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, hovering above the blackened workbench, highlighted in the fading glow of the chemical blast. He had looked at them for a second, and they had looked back, smiling, their enormous eyes not like his, dazed, shocked and frightened, but beaming with unconcealed devotion upon the man who had brought them into being. And, before he had even realised what was happening to him, the professor had found himself crying, great gulping sobs that left him short of breath, tears rolling unrestrained down his face and dampening his clothes.
Professor Utonium finished straightening his tie for the fourteenth time and smiled a wry, slightly self-conscious smile at himself in the mirror. How different he had been then, how gauche, how desperately unhappy. The girls had changed that forever. Back in those dark days, if you had told him that the world could, within the blink of an eye, appear physically brighter, the sky bluer, the rain warmer, the wind fresher, he would have scoffed and made a mental note that you were an ignorant simpleton unaware of the laws of physics. Yet that was what had happened. He had emerged from his laboratory into a world of sunshine, with a new understanding that the ignorance that he had seen all around him and had tried so desperately to escape had been within himself all along. Climbing the stairs to see if they were ready, Utonium felt the prickle of tears in his eyes again. Jealous of the girls? He owed them everything! If they had a thousand awards and he none, he would still be over-valued and they under-rewarded. The girls must have wondered at the strange catch in his voice as he told them, as sternly as he could muster, to hurry up and get in the car, they were late.
It was a beautiful day for a party, cold but bright, and when the Utonium family arrived at Townsville Park they found it thronged with what appeared to be the whole population of the city. They were directed to a special VIP parking area which was supposed to allow them to enter the park unnoticed, but of course the reporters had sussed this out with ease and they were subject to a barrage of questions and requests for photographs. It was a relief to reach the relative sanctuary of the podium, where the Mayor, the Chief of Police and Ms. Bellum, together with a number of other civic dignitaries, were waiting behind the scenes.
Just after two, the local high school band started up with an elaborate performance of music and marching more notable for its energy than its technical competence, and this was a signal for the girls and the others involved in the actual ceremony to take their seats on the platform, and for the audience to begin to assemble. The Mayor, who had discreetly been provided with a box to stand on so that he could see over the lectern that had been set up at the front of the stage, opened proceedings with a long, rambling and disjointed speech that quickly departed from Sara Bellum's carefully prepared text and wandered off into a never-never land that left his audience utterly baffled. This went on for some time, with the audience becoming increasingly restive and noisy, but, fortunately, before people started leaving it petered out into an embarrassing few moments of silence, as his speeches were wont to do, and the people of Townsville clapped and cheered more in relief than appreciation.
A few more boring speeches ensued, with various worthy residents extolling the virtues of the Girls, and then the presentation itself took place. A large, solid gold medal (a key had not been available in time) mounted on velvet in a beautiful presentation case was handed over by the Mayor to Bubbles, and the three little girls floated forward to the lectern for Blossom to make a short 'thank you' response. The Professor shifted nervously in his seat as his big moment approached. A hush came over the audience.
'You think you're something special, don't you?'
These words were said in a loud and clear voice, but they were not shouted, and only the people on stage and at the front of the audience could hear them.
'Do you think you're clever, putting innocent people in hospital?'
A murmuring came from the back of the audience, where people were beginning to think that Blossom had had an attack of nerves, whereas in fact Blossom and the other girls, and the Professor and the VIPs on the platform, were looking, startled, at the person who had interrupted the show.
'You think you're so high and mighty, don't you? What gives you the right to go around busting up people's lives when you feel like it?'
The woman who was saying these things forced her way through the astonished people at the front of the crowd, not an easy process as she was pushing a buggy containing a small child, fast asleep.
'Er… Madam, I think there's been some mistake…' piped up the Mayor.
'You keep out of this, Shorty,' snapped the woman, 'There's no mistake. These brats put my husband in hospital, and you think it's something they should get a medal for. He's lost all his front teeth, his arm's broken in three places and they say he's lucky he's going to be able to walk. What is it with you kids,' she sneered, looking directly at the Powerpuff Girls, 'you like inflicting pain, do you? You get a thrill out of it?'
'No,' whispered a wobbly-voiced Bubbles.
'No, of course not. It's just playtime for you, isn't it? "What shall we do today? I know, let's go and cripple a baby's father!"'
'No it isn't!' said Blossom, her tone a mixture of astonishment and indignation, 'He was robbing the bank!'
'You think I don't know that?' replied the woman, her voice still loud but steady, 'You think I don't know what he was doing? You think I'm not ashamed? But you didn't ask why, did you? You didn't stop to ask what drives a decent man to do something like that. You just thought "beat him up, throw him in jail, kick him when he's down." Just like everybody else.'
'Look, we didn't have time for all that,' said Blossom, who did rather feel sorry for this woman, 'He was holding up the bank. He had a gun. There were a lot of frightened people. Someone could have been killed.'
'There's never any time, is there, for people like us?' said the woman, 'Not with people like you. We're just in the way. There wasn't any time for my Terry down at the Mill, not when they found they could get a robot to do his job. There wasn't any time when he went begging for a job - even the filthiest, crappiest ones, cos' they're the only ones he's fit for. There's never any time with you people because you're all to busy crapping on people like my husband on your way to the "top". What was your last slogan, Mayor?' she continued, turning to the Mayor, who smiled a vacuous smile in return, ' "The Best People come to Townsville." Well, what if you're not the best? What's Townsville got to offer then? A kick in the teeth, that's what!'
'What the hell!' shouted Buttercup, who had had enough of this.
'Buttercup!' exclaimed a shocked Professor.
'You creep!' cried Buttercup, still addressing the woman in the crowd, 'You think you can come here with your stupid sob stories and we'll forget he threatened to shoot people? There's plenty of other people in this town who're worse off than you are, but they don't go around robbing banks. I don't care if he never walks again! "If you can't do the Time, don't do the Crime!"'
There was a murmur of approval from the people in the crowd.
'Get outta here!' said Buttercup, with a dismissive wave of her arm.
The Chief of Police nodded to two officers, who stepped forward to escort the woman away.
'The truth's too much for you, isn't it?' shouted the woman as the two policemen gently but firmly took her by the arms. 'You don't care about people like us,' she yelled, fighting off the officers to point with an outstretched arm at Blossom, 'You don't even care about the bank. That's right. You didn't care whether the bank was robbed or not. You didn't care about the people in there. What did you know about them? You didn't know or care any more about them than my Terry did. You went in there and put my husband in hospital for yourselves, for your own selfish reasons, so people'll clap you and give you medals. You think you're so much better than everybody else. Well you're not! You're scum! That's right, scum like me, scum like my Terry…'
'Get that woman out of here!' roared the Chief of Police.
With considerably more force, the two policemen dragged the woman away, but in truth their effort was not needed, since she put up no resistance and merely continued to look at the little girls with a satisfied smile on her face until she was pulled around the side of the podium, out of sight.
'Are you all right, girls?' asked a shaky Professor, hugging his three precious creations to his breast.
'Yes,' replied an equally shaky Blossom.
'I want to go home,' said a miserable and tearful Bubbles.
'I think that would be a good idea, Professor.' It was the ever calm Sara Bellum who said these words. She put her hand on the Professor's shoulder. 'You take them home. There's no point in staying here now. I'll get the band to play again and you can slip away.'
The sudden wailing of the band distracted most of the crowd, and the Professor and the girls headed back to their car, but not before receiving many supportive comments from the people they passed.
'Well done, girls, keep up the good work!'
'They should lock people like that up!'
'Disgraceful, talking to children like that!'
Most of the journey home was conducted in a sombre silence, quite unlike the excited chatter that had filled their earlier trip to the park.
'Are you all right, Bubbles?' asked the Professor, as he pulled off the main highway and began navigating the myriad of small roads that led to their home.
'I'm all right, Professor,' replied Bubbles, who was sitting in the passenger seat by the Professor, 'I was just thinking. It is sad about that man in hospital. Maybe Blossom shouldn't have hit him so hard.'
'Now, it's not Blossom's fault,' said the Professor.
'No, I know,' said Bubbles, quickly, 'it's no-one's fault. It's just sad, with that little baby…'
'Oh, you didn't fall for that, did you?' exclaimed Buttercup, 'It's probably not her kid at all.'
'That's very cynical,' said the Professor.
'It's probably just a neighbour's kid that she's babysitting,' replied Buttercup, who did not know what 'cynical' meant but guessed that it implied that the Professor didn't believe her, 'It just adds to the effect, so we feel sorry for her.'
'Oh,' said Bubbles, who now knew what 'cynical' meant.
'Well, I don't feel sorry for her,' said Buttercup, pugnaciously. 'Well, all right, I do, sort of,' she added, less aggressively, after catching the Professor's eye in the rear-view mirror.
'She was very upset and she said some hurtful things,' said the Professor, 'People do say things they don't mean when they're angry.'
'She meant it,' muttered Buttercup, folding her arms.
'Maybe we should just be more careful in future,' piped up Bubbles again, 'If we just catch the criminals and don't beat them up…'
'Bubbles!' exclaimed Buttercup, 'What if he'd killed someone? How would you feel then? We can't go pussy-footing around because we might hurt some criminal. It's them hurting innocent people that's important, not us hurting them. We haven't got anything to be sorry about, we did the right thing. What do you say, Blossom?'
'Yes,' replied Blossom, quietly, looking out of the window, 'I think we did the right thing.'