Part 11
Mr Matthews turned his head to look down at the little figure of Blossom standing by his side. He pulled the heavy scarf down from around his mouth, revealing the grinning, saturnine face of Him.
'You knew it was me, didn't you?' he said.
'It just came to me, a few minutes ago,' replied Blossom.
'You're very clever.'
'Hopkin I. Matthews. H.I.M. Very cute! You were taking a chance, weren't you?'
'Just my little game. There has to be some risk, otherwise it's not worth playing.'
Him looked across the river again and Blossom followed his gaze. For a few moments, they stood in silence. Finally, Him turned to the little girl again.
'It's cold today,' he said, 'shall we go somewhere warmer?'
Blossom continued to look at the frigid water that seemed now almost to be mocking her with its swirls and bubbles. She thought of the Professor, of Pokey Oaks and Ms Keane, of her sisters. For second or two the many fights that she had had with Mojo, Princess, Fuzzy, the Gangreen Gang, the whole rotten lot of them, flitted through her mind, along with the battles she had had with the terrible monsters that had attacked Townsville. Funny how that all seemed so long ago now. Funny how something that had seemed so important, so all-consuming, could cease so abruptly to have any hold on her.
Where did feelings go, she wondered? Of what value were they, if one so overwhelmingly significant could vanish like the ace in a cheap card trick?
'All right,' she replied, at length.
Him muttered something under his breath and at once Blossom became conscious of a strange sensation overtaking her. Her head started to swim slightly and she began to feel curiously detached from her surroundings, as if she were watching them on TV. For a moment, everything around her seemed unnaturally bright and clear, vivid in a peculiar, artificial way that she had never experienced before, and then, slowly, a terrible tiredness seemed to creep in behind her eyes, making her struggle to focus. She tried to blink the feeling away, but the buildings and the river became progressively hazier and greyer until she could see no more, and it seemed as if she were standing in the midst of a dense, impenetrable fog. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, the fog began to clear and some shapes began to be visible, formless at first, but gradually defining themselves. A great, grey rectangle looming over her gradually took on the shape of a house. Windows and a huge, black door became visible. After just a few moments the mist cleared, and Blossom found herself standing before the steps that led up to Him's enormous, bleak house.
Him was himself still standing by Blossom's side.
'Shall we go in?' he asked, gesturing to the front door. As Blossom watched, a tiny, vertical sliver of light appeared along one side of the door, widening as the door opened. It was soft and cosily warm, beckoning them in from the grey day and the pervasive, damp smell of decaying vegetation.
Him led the way up the steps and Blossom floated after him. The huge front door was fully open now, and revealed a great, wide hallway, its floor of green marble and lit by the rays from innumerable lamps gently reflecting from dark green walls. Blossom paused on the threshold. There was something inviting about the space framed in that doorway, yet the act of entering the house was more than merely crossing a line, it was a statement. She hovered at the entrance, looking in, her eyes sparkling at the wonders within, and Him stood just inside the door, waiting patiently with a slight smile on his face.
The great passageway was filled with treasures. Spaced at regular intervals along the length of it were white marble statues, possibly Greek or Roman originals, whilst from the walls hung innumerable paintings. The vaulted ceiling was painted with an expertise that would have done justice to the Sistine Chapel. At the far end, a huge, dark staircase carpeted in blood red ascended, pausing half way on its journey to the next floor to form a wide landing, from which two separate stairways split off, one to the left and one to the right. Everything was so clean, so ordered, so rational. The mind that had created this space was clearly sophisticated, detached, and cool.
Blossom entered the house, and the great front door, seemingly of its own volition, closed behind her.
Him took off his heavy overcoat and scarf and hung them on a carved wooden coat stand that stood just inside the door. He turned to the little girl and with a wave of his claw invited her to follow him.
Between some of the statues, there were display cases containing a tantalising array of objects and curios, scrolls and ancient parchments. Him glanced back with a wry smile at the fascination in Blossom's darting eyes as she passed each of these cases, straining to catch a glimpse of the treasures they contained, but he did not slow down to permit her a closer look.
'All these things…' was all Blossom could say.
'There are some things here that would upset more than a few people, were they ever to see light of day,' laughed Him, 'People will kill one another for the sake of history, or what they think is history, yet History resides in such fragile, ephemeral, easily mislaid objects as these.'
He continued to lead the way along the lengthy hallway, but as they approached the bottom of the great staircase, he beckoned Blossom over to a large panelled door in the left-hand wall. This he opened and gestured for the little girl to enter.
Blossom let out a gasp of awe. The room that she had entered was decorated in a stunning daffodil yellow. The walls, the ceiling, the stained glass at the window, all radiated a gorgeous summer light that banished all thought of the cold winter's day outside. On a table in the centre of the room, a spray of white lilies complemented the effect.
'It's beautiful,' she said, 'I never thought that...'
She stopped, in a confusion of thoughts.
'Go on. You were saying?' replied Him.
'I don't know... I didn't mean to offend you...'
'You cannot offend me, Blossom. Say what you mean.'
'I was going to say... I didn't think that anyone so evil could live in such a beautiful room.'
Him laughed.
'Evil, Blossom?'
Him paused and directed a piercing stare at the little girl.
'What is Evil?' he asked.
Blossom did not reply.
'You don't know, do you, my child? That's why you're here, isn't it, to find out? Except that there's nothing to find out. You see, you've been blinded all your life by people you trusted, people you've believed. They want you to see things their way, Blossom, but now, for the first time, you're looking away from them and opening your eyes to the world. I am opening your eyes, Blossom. Because that is all that the thing they label "Evil" is. It is opening your eyes to the reality of the world. Don't be afraid of a name. Don't close your eyes because someone tells you something is "evil". Look at it, see it for what it is. Look beyond the label. That's all I ask of my followers. Look about you. See the world as it really is. Live in the real world.'
'Your followers? Is that what you want me to be?'
'I never ask anyone to follow me, Blossom. My followers come to me. I never go to them. All I do is open their eyes.'
Blossom considered. She certainly did feel that her eyes had been opened. Over the last few days she had seen things more clearly than ever before. She had seen details that she had previously overlooked, questioned things that she had always taken for granted.
'Blossom, don't do this,' said the Professor.
Go Away, thought Blossom. What do you know about good and evil? Go tell it to Simon. Go tell Buttercup she murdered her brother. Go experiment on someone else for a change.
Him stared at her. She was confused. She felt she was on the spot, that there was a roomful of eyes watching her and she couldn't answer.
'But… there are good things,' she said, frowning, 'There can't be evil things without good ones.'
'What have I told you?' asked Him, softly, settling himself comfortably in a plush, gold-upholstered armchair, 'Look beyond labels. Tell me something that is "good". If you show me something that is Good, then I will show you Evil.'
Blossom was silent.
'Saving Townsville?' asked Him, 'Is that good?'
Blossom hardly needed to consider that question: it had been on her mind now for days. Good for whom? There were two sides to every story. She'd never stopped to think about the monsters she'd destroyed, about their side. Not until Simon. She'd been too interested in lapping up the adulation of the people of Townsville to notice.
'It is good...' she replied, frowning, trying to think, 'but...'
'It's also bad? You see, it's not really good, it's not really evil. These are illusions. Cast them aside.'
'But it can't be good, to destroy the city, to kill people?'
'In the world of labels, just because something isn't bad, it's not necessarily good, is it? And so if something isn't good that doesn't make it bad, does it? Blossom, you are a very clever little girl. Free your mind from these outdated ideas. They are for children and the simple only.'
'I am a child,' replied Blossom. She realised with a start what a shocking thing that simple truth was. All her life she had tried to be something else, tried to live up to some confused image of what she thought other people – the Professor – wanted her to be. "Little Miss Bossy Boots" as Buttercup often put it.
'You are much more,' said Him, 'You have a keen mind. Cast aside these ridiculous concepts of Good and Evil and a universe of knowledge can be yours.'
Him smiled beguilingly.
'You know, you're not alone in wondering about these things. The whole world wants answers to these questions. Right and Wrong, Good and Bad: people desperately want answers, want guidance in their lives. But the real truth is, that the questions they ask are meaningless. You're beginning to see that now, aren't you? You're beginning to feel it. Professor Utonium knows it, too, in a superficial, childish sort of way. He knows that you cannot understand the world unless you throw away these pointless notions. That's so, isn't it?'
It was true. The Professor was prepared to risk anything in the pursuit of knowledge. That was clear.
'The Professor knows that in order to truly understand, you must relinquish all ideas of Right and Wrong. A true scientist, a true seeker after enlightenment, cannot allow his vision to be distorted by such preconceived ideas. And, remember, knowledge is always regarded with suspicion by the "moral" and "righteous", because it destroys. You see, knowledge necessarily destroys what came before.'
Him paused momentarily.
'You want to know, don't you, Blossom?' he continued, with a rather crafty smile playing around his lips.
'Didn't one of the ancient Greeks think that knowledge itself was good?' asked Blossom, remembering a half-understood entry in her encyclopaedia.
'Are you thinking perhaps of Socrates? If you have all of the facts at your disposal, know all that there is to know about a particular situation or circumstance, then you will necessarily do the "right thing". That was, in essence, his argument, I believe. Yes, his was what we might call a sophisticated argument, in the fullest sense of the term. He was redefining "good" to mean what he wanted it to mean.'
'So... Is knowledge good or bad?'
'Tut! You're not listening, are you? It's neither. You can only truly have it if you dispense with such concepts.'
'But if it's not good, or even bad, what's the use of having it?'
'Come, come, Blossom. Let's have no beating about the bush. Open your eyes! You think I haven't seen you at school, showing off your spelling, your arithmetic, your reading and writing? And you ask, what use is it?'
Blossom suddenly felt very ashamed. She looked down at the floor and floated rather sadly to one of the opulent armchairs, where she sat perched on the edge, her little legs far from the floor.
'I do show off,' she said.
'Come with me and you can show off to the world, not just to a class of stupid kids,' said Him, 'Come with me and the glories of mathematics and science and nature can be revealed to you. Stay as you are, with childish ideas of Morality, and you can never experience these things, not and remain true to your ideals. For no knowledge can be guaranteed not to be misused, for so-called good or evil.'
Blossom could not deny that what Him said was true. How many horrors had been perpetrated in the pursuit of knowledge? How many ways had knowledge been perverted? As she had heard so many times from the Professor, once something is learnt it cannot be un-learnt, once invented it cannot be un-invented. If something can be done, you may be sure that it will be done.
'You're right,' she said.
'You see, that is Reality,' said Him, 'Now you see it.'
'I do show off,' continued Blossom, slowly, 'But if you can't use your knowledge to help people, because you might hurt them, then there's nothing else to do with it, other than show it off.'
'That's right!' exclaimed Him, with a broad grin, 'Now you've got it!'
'Buttercup hates it,' said Blossom, thinking of the times she had argued with her sister.
'Buttercup!' laughed Him, 'What's she doing now?'
He looked towards the corner of the room, where there stood a TV set that Blossom had not previously noticed. As Him glanced at it, the TV turned on. A news bulletin was being broadcast. Stanley Whitfield, front man for the local station, was reading a news flash.
'This just in,' he said in his usual, earnest manner, 'It seems that Townsville may be about to experience its worst ever disaster. The Powerpuff Girls, who we've relied on so many times to save us from destruction, seem to have split. Only Buttercup and Bubbles were on hand this afternoon when Mojo Jojo unleashed his latest diabolical scheme. Fighting is still underway, but so far every attempt by the two remaining Powerpuff Girls to defeat the evil monkey has resulted in failure. Two Puffs, it seems, aren't enough. Already, Mojo has faxed a list of demands to the Mayor, and it seems almost inevitable that we will have to resign ourselves to rule by Townsville's most celebrated villain. Blossom, if you're out there and can hear us, please come back, we need you!'
The picture vanished. The set had turned itself off.
'Poor Buttercup,' grinned Him, 'She and Bubbles can't get by without you.'
Blossom held her head in despair.
'Buttercup…' she said, 'I should be… helping her.'
'Well,' replied Him, still grinning, 'She needs you. Why don't you go to her. I'm not stopping you.'
Tears welled up in Blossom's eyes.
'I don't know what to do,' she sobbed.
'You want to help Buttercup, don't you, but Buttercup wants to destroy Mojo. You don't want to destroy Mojo, do you? Not any more.'
'I don't know!' wailed Blossom.
'But you can answer this question rationally, can't you? What will happen if Mojo loses this fight?'
'He'll be put in jail,' replied Blossom, wiping her eyes.
'And if Mojo wins?'
'I… I don't really know. Everyone will have to do what he tells them.'
'So, you might say that, in a way, Townsville will be put in jail, mightn't you?'
'I suppose,' said Blossom, uncertainly.
'So what we have here is just a question of whether Mojo goes to jail or Townsville goes to jail. Not really much to choose between them, is there? Certainly not worth you getting into a fight about, surely?'
'But…'
'Yes?'
'But Mojo's cruel and horrible and will do horrible things to people.'
'And won't horrible things happen to him, if he's put in jail?'
'Yes. Well, I mean, maybe. But I don't… want them to…'
'Oh, now, Blossom,' interrupted Him, waving his finger mockingly at the little girl, his face one broad smile, 'Surely this isn't all just about what you want?'
Blossom looked at Him.
'But it is, isn't it?' he continued, seemingly fighting to contain a smile that threatened to burst out of his face entirely, 'It's about what you want, what Mojo wants, what Buttercup wants, what the Mayor wants, the Professor… Who's to say which of you should get your way? Maybe everyone should. No, that's not really possible is it? Perhaps no-one, then? Well, that's difficult too.'
Him leant forward conspiratorially, captivating Blossom's enormous pink eyes with his own sly yellow ones.
'There is a way of resolving all this, clearing up this silly problem of who's right and who's wrong, giving everyone the spiritual and moral guidance that they crave. You know what it's like to feel that yearning, don't you, Blossom? Well then, someone who's beyond right and wrong can decide what's right and what's wrong.'
'Meaning you, I suppose,' said Blossom.
Him put his claw to his chest in a gesture of shock.
'Me, Blossom,' he said, in a tone of outrage, 'What do you take me for?'
He relaxed back comfortably into his chair, and looked at Blossom with a rather cool, appraising glance.
'How old are you, Blossom?' he asked.
'Seven,' she replied.
'You have been alive for seven years. And have you changed in those seven years? Have you grown any older?'
Blossom thought about it. Him was right. She and Bubbles and Buttercup were the same now as at the moment they had blasted into existence in the Professor's underground lab.
'Seven years,' continued Him, 'and you've not changed. Physically, mentally… or emotionally. You've been held back, Blossom. You're never going to grow old physically, but your mind – that's a different thing. Some things can change there. The Professor, your sisters, this pathetic little backwater you live in, they've all conspired to keep you in the dark. But now you're beginning to see the light. I'm beginning to show you the light. Remember – just open your eyes. Shake off these little people. Only when you've done that can you reach your true potential. The world needs "moral" leadership, it needs spiritual guidance: you know that now. Who better than you, with your powers, your brain and the limitless potential unleashed by the unshackling of your mind, to provide that leadership? Nothing will be beyond you. The world is at your feet Blossom. You need no longer be constrained by Townsville and its puny denizens. The scale of your life will be global. What pathetic figures like Mojo Jojo can only dream about can be yours with scarcely an effort.'
Him's eyes glowed red.
'I could say, you could be a god, Blossom. But that is a laughable idea. In a few human generations, you will be GOD!'