Ninety Five - BF
The next day everyone, especially Virgil, had been greatly relieved when he'd awoken from the medically induced sleep feeling much healthier and happier. They were all sitting together enjoying breakfast.
Scott gave a laugh.
"Well, share the joke." Gordon demanded.
"I was just remembering." Scott told him. "You know how you're supposed to see your life flash before your eyes when you're going to die."
"I thought that was when you were drowning." Alan said.
"Maybe that explains it. It didn't happen to me, but I suddenly saw my epitaph..." he took a breath to say the words, and then sagged, "... and I've forgotten it." He finished forlornly.
"Do you want us to put you back so you can remember it?" Alan asked.
"No!"
"Your epitaph?" Gordon asked. "What something like..." he screwed up his face in thought. "...Ah! I know...
Scott Tracy
Was a hero
Fell down a cliff
And now he's zero."
"No it wasn't!" Scott protested indignantly.
"I like it!" Alan beamed delightedly. "How about... um...
Scott Tracy
Wasn't too bright
Didn't know he needed wings
When he wanted to take flight."
"I wish I hadn't mentioned it." Scott muttered.
Everyone started talking at once. Each trying to come up with their own epitaph for some other member of the family.
They stopped suddenly when there was a loud whistle.
"Well that worked!" Virgil said when he noticed them all looking at him. "You're all giving me a headache. The Comm-specs can't cope with you all talking at once and I'm just getting this fast moving jumble of letters. One at a time please!"
"Okay!" Alan reached into the fruit bowl. "Who ever has the orange can speak."
"You've got it." Gordon told him. "Your turn."
"Oh. Maybe this wasn't a good idea... Okay!
Here lies our oldest brother
Flown to pastures new
He didn't know where the edge was
When he stopped to enjoy the view."
"Oh bother!" Scott muttered. "Pick on someone else will you."
"I've got one!" his grandmother exclaimed. "Give me the orange!"
"Mother!" Jeff said in surprise.
She grinned impishly.
"S.T.
R.I.P.
F.A.B."
"Grandma!" Scott said in shock.
"I don't mind while they're in fun." She shook a finger at him. "But don't ever let ME see your epitaph for real. Now who wants the orange?"
"Me!" Gordon took the fruit. "Here lies the pilot of Thunderbird One,"
Scott groaned.
"He liked to keep control,
But couldn't keep his footing,
And slid off down a hole."
"I've got one." Tin-Tin had an angelic smile, but also a twinkle in her eye.
"Here lies Gordon,
Loved the sea to the end,
But couldn't quite believe,
The shark wouldn't be his friend."
"M-May I-I?"
"Brains?" Tin-Tin handed over the orange.
"I-I like the rhythm of r-rhyming poetry, there is a c-certain logic to it," he blushed. "I-I dabble occasionally."
"You do?" Jeff said.
"I-It's not very good."
"I'd like to hear some."
"Well... Th-This is a bit rushed..." Brains swallowed and then recited perfectly clearly...
"Here lie the Tracys
Never to wake
Their Grandma fed them
Too much cake"
Tin-Tin laughed and clapped her hands. "I love it!"
"N-Next?" Brains held out the orange.
"Here." Alan took it.
"Here lies Kyrano
His soul's not at peace
The angels wanted him
To prepare them a feast"
Kyrano smiled and bowed slightly.
"Who've we missed?" Gordon asked. His eyes fell on his father and an evil smile spread across his face. He took the orange.
"Oh no." Jeff moaned.
"Jeff Tracy had a plan,
To save the world from strife,
Till the day a paper cut,
Robbed him of his life."
His Grandmother laughed. "I told you all that office work wasn't good for you Jeff."
"My turn." Virgil was grinning as he took the orange.
"Here's the remains of Scott Tracy,
Our brother and our friend.
Lived life as if in a story,
With a cliff-hanger at the end."
"That was it!" Scott exclaimed. "Not phrased that way, but that bit about the cliff-hanger, that's what I came up with."
Gordon didn't worry about claiming the orange from Virgil...
"Here lies Virgil Tracy,
His requiem has been played,
He wrote the tune and lyrics,
But didn't hear the serenade..." He tailed off as he realised what he'd said. "Sorry, Virg."
There was an uncomfortable silence as Virgil stared at Gordon, before he began to recite...
"Gordon Tracy
Is no more
Thought Thunderbird Two
Was Thunderbird Four
He survived the crash
He was unscathed
Till his older brother
Saw the mess he'd made."
He quietly placed the orange on the table.
"Ah!" Gordon said sheepishly. "Point taken."
"Good."
"If I may," Kyrano said differentially, "I would like to try."
"Please do Kyrano." Virgil handed him the orange.
Kyrano reverentially took the orange.
"Jefferson Tracy
Philanthropist
By the peoples of the world
Sorely missed."
"That was good enough to be used as the real thing." Alan commented.
"Not during my lifetime." Jeff threatened.
"That's the idea isn't it?"
Kyrano returned the orange to the fruit bowl.
The family returned their attention to their meal. Alan lapsed into thought.
"Virgil?" he asked, and kicked his brother lightly under the table.
Virgil looked up. "Yes?"
"Gordon and I were wondering... Is it similar to being in Thunderbird Five?"
Virgil frowned in confusion. "Is what similar to being in Thunderbird Five?"
"Your deafness and the tinnitus?"
The dining room went silent as Virgil stared at his youngest brother. Then he slowly smiled. "You know, in some respects that's quite a good analogy."
"How?" Jeff asked.
"The isolation. You know there's people out there, but you can't quite communicate with them, except with technology..." he indicated his glasses. "And there's the continuous noise which is the only thing that disturbs the silence. On Thunderbird Five it's the radio, with me it's the tinnitus." He resumed his breakfast. Then he looked up again.
Everyone was staring at him.
"What?" he asked in exasperation. "Have I got marmalade on my face or something?" He rubbed at his nose.
To his brothers, Brains and Tin-Tin, all of whom had spent time alone on Thunderbird Five, it was an all too clear example of what life was now like for Virgil.
For the other members of the family group it was some inkling of what life must be like for the residents of the space station.
The lightness and laughter that had existed only moments earlier had evaporated.
Jeff stared at the piece of toast that lay on his plate. 'What have I asked my boys to do?' he wondered silently to himself. 'What kind of father am I to expect my sons to live in that isolated environment for weeks at a time.' He pictured John, alone in the galley, eating his unappetising breakfast of space food and suddenly lost his own appetite. 'It's a form of child abuse!' he reasoned. 'Sure my children are old enough to make up their own minds... but would they? Are they that frightened of me that even as grown men they are still subservient to my wishes?' He looked around the table his eyes resting on Gordon, then Alan and finally Scott. All were staring at Virgil with an expression of something close to horror. 'And what kind of father am I to expect them to go out and risk their lives, to sustain horrible injuries?' His eyes moved over to Virgil, who'd resumed his breakfast. 'To destroy their lives. All because of my dream... I'm lucky... we're all lucky that none of them have been killed... But is it only a matter of time before we compose an epitaph for real?'
***
The next day everyone, especially Virgil, had been greatly relieved when he'd awoken from the medically induced sleep feeling much healthier and happier. They were all sitting together enjoying breakfast.
Scott gave a laugh.
"Well, share the joke." Gordon demanded.
"I was just remembering." Scott told him. "You know how you're supposed to see your life flash before your eyes when you're going to die."
"I thought that was when you were drowning." Alan said.
"Maybe that explains it. It didn't happen to me, but I suddenly saw my epitaph..." he took a breath to say the words, and then sagged, "... and I've forgotten it." He finished forlornly.
"Do you want us to put you back so you can remember it?" Alan asked.
"No!"
"Your epitaph?" Gordon asked. "What something like..." he screwed up his face in thought. "...Ah! I know...
Scott Tracy
Was a hero
Fell down a cliff
And now he's zero."
"No it wasn't!" Scott protested indignantly.
"I like it!" Alan beamed delightedly. "How about... um...
Scott Tracy
Wasn't too bright
Didn't know he needed wings
When he wanted to take flight."
"I wish I hadn't mentioned it." Scott muttered.
Everyone started talking at once. Each trying to come up with their own epitaph for some other member of the family.
They stopped suddenly when there was a loud whistle.
"Well that worked!" Virgil said when he noticed them all looking at him. "You're all giving me a headache. The Comm-specs can't cope with you all talking at once and I'm just getting this fast moving jumble of letters. One at a time please!"
"Okay!" Alan reached into the fruit bowl. "Who ever has the orange can speak."
"You've got it." Gordon told him. "Your turn."
"Oh. Maybe this wasn't a good idea... Okay!
Here lies our oldest brother
Flown to pastures new
He didn't know where the edge was
When he stopped to enjoy the view."
"Oh bother!" Scott muttered. "Pick on someone else will you."
"I've got one!" his grandmother exclaimed. "Give me the orange!"
"Mother!" Jeff said in surprise.
She grinned impishly.
"S.T.
R.I.P.
F.A.B."
"Grandma!" Scott said in shock.
"I don't mind while they're in fun." She shook a finger at him. "But don't ever let ME see your epitaph for real. Now who wants the orange?"
"Me!" Gordon took the fruit. "Here lies the pilot of Thunderbird One,"
Scott groaned.
"He liked to keep control,
But couldn't keep his footing,
And slid off down a hole."
"I've got one." Tin-Tin had an angelic smile, but also a twinkle in her eye.
"Here lies Gordon,
Loved the sea to the end,
But couldn't quite believe,
The shark wouldn't be his friend."
"M-May I-I?"
"Brains?" Tin-Tin handed over the orange.
"I-I like the rhythm of r-rhyming poetry, there is a c-certain logic to it," he blushed. "I-I dabble occasionally."
"You do?" Jeff said.
"I-It's not very good."
"I'd like to hear some."
"Well... Th-This is a bit rushed..." Brains swallowed and then recited perfectly clearly...
"Here lie the Tracys
Never to wake
Their Grandma fed them
Too much cake"
Tin-Tin laughed and clapped her hands. "I love it!"
"N-Next?" Brains held out the orange.
"Here." Alan took it.
"Here lies Kyrano
His soul's not at peace
The angels wanted him
To prepare them a feast"
Kyrano smiled and bowed slightly.
"Who've we missed?" Gordon asked. His eyes fell on his father and an evil smile spread across his face. He took the orange.
"Oh no." Jeff moaned.
"Jeff Tracy had a plan,
To save the world from strife,
Till the day a paper cut,
Robbed him of his life."
His Grandmother laughed. "I told you all that office work wasn't good for you Jeff."
"My turn." Virgil was grinning as he took the orange.
"Here's the remains of Scott Tracy,
Our brother and our friend.
Lived life as if in a story,
With a cliff-hanger at the end."
"That was it!" Scott exclaimed. "Not phrased that way, but that bit about the cliff-hanger, that's what I came up with."
Gordon didn't worry about claiming the orange from Virgil...
"Here lies Virgil Tracy,
His requiem has been played,
He wrote the tune and lyrics,
But didn't hear the serenade..." He tailed off as he realised what he'd said. "Sorry, Virg."
There was an uncomfortable silence as Virgil stared at Gordon, before he began to recite...
"Gordon Tracy
Is no more
Thought Thunderbird Two
Was Thunderbird Four
He survived the crash
He was unscathed
Till his older brother
Saw the mess he'd made."
He quietly placed the orange on the table.
"Ah!" Gordon said sheepishly. "Point taken."
"Good."
"If I may," Kyrano said differentially, "I would like to try."
"Please do Kyrano." Virgil handed him the orange.
Kyrano reverentially took the orange.
"Jefferson Tracy
Philanthropist
By the peoples of the world
Sorely missed."
"That was good enough to be used as the real thing." Alan commented.
"Not during my lifetime." Jeff threatened.
"That's the idea isn't it?"
Kyrano returned the orange to the fruit bowl.
The family returned their attention to their meal. Alan lapsed into thought.
"Virgil?" he asked, and kicked his brother lightly under the table.
Virgil looked up. "Yes?"
"Gordon and I were wondering... Is it similar to being in Thunderbird Five?"
Virgil frowned in confusion. "Is what similar to being in Thunderbird Five?"
"Your deafness and the tinnitus?"
The dining room went silent as Virgil stared at his youngest brother. Then he slowly smiled. "You know, in some respects that's quite a good analogy."
"How?" Jeff asked.
"The isolation. You know there's people out there, but you can't quite communicate with them, except with technology..." he indicated his glasses. "And there's the continuous noise which is the only thing that disturbs the silence. On Thunderbird Five it's the radio, with me it's the tinnitus." He resumed his breakfast. Then he looked up again.
Everyone was staring at him.
"What?" he asked in exasperation. "Have I got marmalade on my face or something?" He rubbed at his nose.
To his brothers, Brains and Tin-Tin, all of whom had spent time alone on Thunderbird Five, it was an all too clear example of what life was now like for Virgil.
For the other members of the family group it was some inkling of what life must be like for the residents of the space station.
The lightness and laughter that had existed only moments earlier had evaporated.
Jeff stared at the piece of toast that lay on his plate. 'What have I asked my boys to do?' he wondered silently to himself. 'What kind of father am I to expect my sons to live in that isolated environment for weeks at a time.' He pictured John, alone in the galley, eating his unappetising breakfast of space food and suddenly lost his own appetite. 'It's a form of child abuse!' he reasoned. 'Sure my children are old enough to make up their own minds... but would they? Are they that frightened of me that even as grown men they are still subservient to my wishes?' He looked around the table his eyes resting on Gordon, then Alan and finally Scott. All were staring at Virgil with an expression of something close to horror. 'And what kind of father am I to expect them to go out and risk their lives, to sustain horrible injuries?' His eyes moved over to Virgil, who'd resumed his breakfast. 'To destroy their lives. All because of my dream... I'm lucky... we're all lucky that none of them have been killed... But is it only a matter of time before we compose an epitaph for real?'
***