Sci-Fi Fun: Aliens And Robots And Space Ships, Oh My!

I was watching a programme on BBC something last night about aliens. I LOVE all things sci-fi and fantasy and eagerly soaked up the nostalgic trip down memory lane. It began with the notion of sci-fi as social mirror, then ended up at our relationship with aliens, as it were. They were either there to invade and exterminate, arrive as immigrants, or wow and teach us. I can't help thinking how cool it'd be if aliens landed here in England, knocked on my door, and asked if they could borrow a cupful of sugar, kind of thing. I can see it now...

Darkplace: Mogrophobia

I just had to do it. I'll probably be sued, but if that happens, the judge might well just throw the case out for being too ridiculous. To cover myself as best I can, I'd better start out by announcing that I don't own Darkplace and am making no money from imagining what would happen if Garth Marenghi persuaded MI8, the powers that be, Dean Learner, Todd Rivers, and at least three demons to approve the production of

Darkplace: Mogrophobia*

Photo from garthmarenghi.com gallery
with alterations by me.

In 1976, shortly after I'd invented the internet with my novel, Mindgrid, I met with my publisher and best friend Dean Learner to discuss the ground-breaking new horror idea that had come to me shortly after drinking a cup of Ovaltine prior to retiring for the night. Which I need because my mind is such a fetid quagmire of terrifying visions that I need a milky drink to settle myself before I go to bed. And yes, there are nights when I sleep with the light on just in case some demon from another dimension puts in an appearance, like the one in my novel Creeptor: Hidden From The Light, the story of a demon that's afraid of bedside lamps and terrorizes West Ham until footballer and psychic warrior Max Pele defeats it with... well, that would be telling, then you wouldn't buy the book, and I'd be doing myself out of royalties.

Anyway, Dean and I agreed that this idea was so  brain-bendingly insane that Channel 4 would crap their pants at the mere thought of committing such a dark vision of Hell-spawned horror to television. Nonetheless, Dean insisted that something be done to  bring my story to the screen, so I borrowed my sister's video camera, made this myself and posted it on YouTube.

In the middle of the night shift, something stirs in the dark basement of Darkplace hospital, where Barry Renwick, who looks exactly like his brother Larry (because they are identical twins -- well, they were. Long story.) is furtively going through some records by torchlight.

"There's got to be some record here of what happened to my twin brother Larry," says Barry to himself. He is startled by the loud bang of a shotgun from behind him. A pile of records disintegrates near his head, but he is unharmed. He turns around to see hospital administrator Thornton Reed, who is pointing the shotgun at him in a threatening manner.

Reed: "What are you doing here in the secret records room? These records are top secret, which means that you can't just walk in here willy-nilly in the middle of the night and go rifling through them."

Barry picks up the torch he has dropped and steps towards Reed, who then aims directly at him. "Don't shoot!"

"Why not? You're Larry Renwick, aren't you? You're supposed to be dead, but not even shooting and flamethrowers can end your existence."

"No, I'm his twin brother Barry. I was told he had exploded. Then you and your colleagues shot him at the funeral and Dagless doused him in napalm, but I never got a satisfactory explanation for it."

"How do I know you're not a conduit to the deepest pits of Hell?"

"I can wear a cross without being burnt by it."

"Prove it," says Dagless, popping out from behind Reed, brandishing a crucifix. "This one has been triple-blessed by the Pope for extra added holiness."

"Not one of the Borgias, I hope," says Renwick. "They were responsible for a lot of murders and wars."

"You know your Popes," says Dagless, impressed.

"I should hope so, I'm a priest," says Barry. He takes the crucifix in his hand.

"You're not burned," says Dagless.

"I'm not Larry," says Barry. "Why are you so convinced that I was him?"

"It's a long story," says Reed. "Come to my office and I'll tell you all about it."

In Reed's office, the three men are seated and Rick Dagless explains what happened. "Your brother was intent on opening the gates of Hell, Barry. I pleaded with him not to, but he did it anyway, right in the canteen. I was just getting back from the kitchen with a coke float when I saw that he'd gone utterly insane and there was evil all over the floor and on one of the walls. A few weeks later, I was just going to check on him when he suddenly exploded. All that remained of my buddy was his head. Everything else was spattered all over the room. At that point he begged me to take his life. So I got a shovel and bashed his head in. Later on, at the funeral, he came back to life and we shot him. Even with all that lead in him, he kept on coming. That's when I went for the flamethrower and finished him off."

"You shot my mother," accuses Barry.

"She tried to stop me, to save her son," says Dagless, "so I capped her in the shoulder. I told her I was sorry. Why weren't you at the funeral?"

"I was in Papua New Guinea as a missionary. I'm one of six who have never been eaten by cannibals."

"That's impressive," says Reed. "Why aren't you wearing your vestments?"

"I'm off-duty."

The following day, Sanchez and Liz are called to the top secret records room. On the floor are the remains of a worker.

"What did you call us down here for?" asks Sanchez. "This man is dead. Look, there's only an ear and one of his arms."

Liz bends down to take a closer look and touches the arm. Then she looks up and screams.

"What is it, Liz?"

"I've had a vision," she explains. "There was something here. Something evil. It ate this poor man."

"This can only mean one thing: trouble," says Sanchez.

"Did someone call me?" asks Dagless.

They turn around and see Dagless, who surveys the scene, then draws their attention to some marks on the floor.

"Look," says Dagless, "there are marks on the floor. They look like the pawprints of a giant animal."

"The Hellbeast was here," says Liz, then faints into Sanchez's arms.

Later on, Barry Renwick returns with Reed to look at the room. Liz looks at him askance, but says nothing. "I'll bless the room," he offers, "to make it safe for the cleaners to return."

"I'll fill up a bottle of water for you to bless," says Reed. "Is a Coke bottle all right?"

"It'll do," says Barry. "I'll need some candles, some chalk, and a bit of privacy. I can't do it when everyone is watching."

Confused, the others get him the things he has asked for and leave him to get on with it.

"I'm suspicious of his motives," says Liz. "I'm convinced he's up to no good."

"Yeah," says Sanchez. "What kind of priest doesn't want an audience?"

"He says he's a missionary," says Reed. "They're attention-seekers."

Dean Learner: That scene meant a lot to Garth. He spent weeks with what's-his-name...

Off-screen: "Lawrence Michelowski."

Dean: Some Polish bloke, working on the nuances of his performance. Garth is a perfectionsist, if nothing else. Well, he's an actor, writer and a lot of other things, but you know what I mean. He had a nervous breakdown afterwards. Not Garth, the Polish bloke.

"Let's confront him," says Dagless. "Bring your shotgun, boss, this could get ugly, and I don't mean me first thing in the morning."

"That would be funny if this wasn't so serious," replies Reed. "Which it is because evil is involved."

Suddenly there's a loud scream. The four of them return to the secret records room to find the remains of another dead body lying on the floor.

"Renwick," says Sanchez, hunkering down beside what's left of the body. "He was a bit shy about performing in front of us, after all."

"Then why is there a Pentagram drawn on the floor, along with other occult symbols?" asks Dagless.

"I can feel evil closing in around us," says Liz.

Suddenly, a doctor races in. "Come quick," he says, "there's something in the canteen."

They run to the canteen and find more bodies there.

"These people have died in horrific circumstances," says Reed. "Won Ton will have my hide for this. The press will be all over it."

"And there's nothing the press like better than an occult scandal in a hospital," says Sanchez. 

"Unless there's a kiddy-fiddler in the mix," says Reed.

"The children's ward!" wails Liz.

They all run to the children's ward where some vile Hellbeast has evidently gone amok. Liz puts a hand to her temple and says, "There's something in that cupboard."

"Cover me, Sanchez," says Dagless, and bravely approaches the cupboard with his gun drawn. He opens it, and there he finds a cowering child. 

"I told them there was a monster under the bed," says the child, who is crying.

"Don't be afraid, son," says Dagless. "We'll get it for you."

"'Cause we've got guns," adds Sanchez. "And bullets."

"And lots of them," finishes Reed. "Come on."

"Where to?" asks Dagless.

"The secret records room," says Reed. "I've got a hunch."

Garth Marenghi: Even though the others had no idea where I was going with the plot, they trusted me completely. They knew that, whatever foul pestilence my tortured mind dredged up from its depths, I would protect them. They would be safe. 

Except for Madeleine Wool, but that's another story. I still don't know what happened to her. It wasn't during this episode, though.

The team return to the secret records room where they behold the terrifying sight of a huge Hellbeast feasting on the remains of a cleaner. A broken mop lies on the floor nearby.

"Look!" shouts Sanchez. "It's a Hellbeast that looks like a giant zombie cat!"

"Attack!" shouts Barry.

The team open fire with an assortment of weapons but the Hellbeast keeps coming. Dagless, out of bullets, pulls out a sword and hacks at the beast. Finally, he reaches into his shirt and pulls out the crucifix, which he throws right into the Hellbeast's gaping maw. It explodes.

"I should have killed you while I had the chance," snarls Reed.

"Why didn't you?" asks Barry, who is pinned against the back wall with Reed's shotgun against his throat.

"Because this is a hospital and the authorities frown upon that kind of thing," replies Reed. "Won Ton takes a particularly dim view of anything that might reflect badly on the hospital, particularly gun battles."

"Why did you do it?" asks Sanchez. "Those poor kids."

"That's why he did it," says Liz. "To discredit the hospital. To avenge his twin brother. Isn't it, Barry?"

"He was my buddy," says Dagless, in tears. "You've desecrated his memory."

"You shot him and set him on fire at his own funeral," retorts Barry.

"Yeah, but he was demon-possessed at the time," argues Reed.

"You shot my mother," shouts Barry.

"She was trying to stop me shooting your brother," says Dagless. "I had no choice."

"There's always a choice," says Barry.

"Yes, there is," says Dagless. "Like the choice you made to lie to us about being a priest so you could reopen the gates of Hell, and the choice you made to bring that Hellbeast here to eat doctors, patients and cleaning operatives."

"I thought they were called sanitation technicians," says Barry.

"Whatever," says Dagless.

"What was that thing?" asks Sanchez, picking through the remains of the Hellbeast. "It looked like a mutant zombie cat."

"It was," says Barry. "I ran over one on the way here and brought it back to life with a series of occult rituals, then let it loose to wreak havoc."

"Which it did," says Reed. "I'll never be able to keep this out of the press." There's a desperate gleam in his eye, and just when it looks as though he's going to shoot Barry, the police arrive.

"Stop!" shouts a policeman. "Put that gun down right now. Slowly."

Reluctantly, Reed complies.

"Hah!" says Barry. "Now I've got you. The reputation of Darkplace is ruined forever."

"Officer," says Liz in her sweetest voice, "this is an incident with occult overtones and the possibility of government involvement. Can you order a media blackout and have this classified as top secret?" She bats her eyelashes. "Please?"

"Oh, all right, then," says the policeman, "but just this once."

"No!" shouts Barry. 

The policemen drag him away.

Later on, Dagless stands on the roof of the hospital, a place he often goes to get away from the stresses of life as a doctor.

'I don't know what it was that drove Barry Renwick to madness, but it was clear to me then that whatever I did to keep a lid on the evil that infested the hospital, it would never be enough. There would always be a demon here or a zombie there, popping up to remind me of what a dick I'd been to go messing with the forces of evil that fateful night,' he muses in voiceover. 'I should have insisted on watching Match of the Day instead. It would have been safer. Much safer. But there was no point in crying over spilt milk, or in my case, a coke float.'

The End

Sources:

http://www.comedy.co.uk/guide/tv/garth_marenghis_darkplace/

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0397150/

http://www.channel4.com/assets/programmes/images/garth-marenghis-darkplace/series-1/episode-1/witchy-woman-wittering/garth-marenghis-darkplace-s1e1-witchy-woman-wittering_200x113.jpg

http://www.youtube.com/show/garthmarenghisdarkplace

http://sporedtodeathtome.blogspot.com/2008/01/garth-marenghis-darkplace.html

* I mean, it's not like I'm selling Darkplace: Mogrophobia tshirts and mugs or anything.

May Day and Mogrophobia

I had a look back over Mogrophobia and concluded that, to get Daniel Craig on board, we'll need to find something juicy to blackmail him with or find a lookalike to threaten in some way. No sane person would take this on. Wait a minute...  

Garth Marenghi's Darkplace

Yes, readers, if you can sit through two minutes (that feels like two months) of ads, then watch at least one minute of this without shaking your head till it falls off from sheer disbelief that anything so loopy could have been allowed to enter the airwaves, complete with bad acting, naff plots, naff dialogue and ridiculously cheap special effects.

Needless to say, I was a huge fan of the show and watched it religiously, to the consternation of my other half.

Still, I doubt that Mogrophobia has a chance of being made, except, perhaps, as an episode of Darkplace, and that just doesn't bear thinking about.

Memories

This is one of those things that are off the telly and shouldn't actually work in real life because it's that flippin' weird. I mean, seriously, it's controversial and has apparently been proved to be utter nonsense on many occasions. On that basis, it can't be actually real, right? Uh, no. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...

Mogrophobia*

What cats look like to Caroline.

This friend of mine -- let's call her Caroline, came to my house one day, and to be polite, I offered her a cup of tea. My favourite mug, the one with the kitten, I kept for myself, but when she saw me approach with it, she said, "That's not for me, is it?"

"No," I replied, and gave her the one with the comedy dinosaur. "Why?"

"Try not to laugh," said Caroline, "but I'm terrified of cats."

"That's not quite as weird as the woman who is terrified of Daleks," I reassured her. "Do you know why?"

She couldn't tell me. The first significant memory she has of freaking out at the sight of a cat was when she was on holiday and felt. Something. Strange. She looked beneath her deck chair. A cat! She screamed and ran back to her hotel room. Seriously. The weirdest thing for her was that she had always liked kitties before. It's just that something she could not explain had made her fear them so much she couldn't bear to be in the same room as one.

The theory

Naturally I thought there was probably a rational explanation such as weather balloons or counter-currents to explain this but gentle probing revealed nothing. Caroline had no idea why she was absolutely crap-your-knickers terrified of cats. Apparently it's better these days: she can bear to sit three feet away from a mug with a picture of a sleeping kitten printed on it. That's when I suggested that a repressed memory might be the cause of a fear that she couldn't explain.

We discussed it a few times with no light being shed on the subject and the more she told me, the more I was convinced that she was repressing something -- based on stuff I half-remembered from television shows. One episode of Law and Order or CSI Something-or-other (one without that prat who takes his shades off dramatically. I think it was the one with Jerry Orbach. You know, the dad from Dirty Dancing. Him.) came to mind, to wit, the one where some girlie shot and killed her own father because some deranged counselor told her he'd abused her and other members of her family (although he had done no such thing) and she had repressed the memories because it was all so vile and puke-worthy. It reminded me to not put ideas into Caroline's head and insist I was right, but to let her find out by herself by looking over the past few years and coming to her own conclusions.

The twist in the tail tale

I thought nothing of it for a while, and a few times when she came to my house again I hardly mentioned it. Then one day she came to see me and was excited to tell me that she'd worked out why she was so scared of cats that if you gave her a mug with a cat printed on it, she'd get all queasy and refuse to drink from it. Naturally, I was curious and eager to hear her story.

Caroline told me she had told her family and friends that I'd said she was probably suppressing a memory and one of them sat her down to tell her why I was right.

It seems that, a few years ago when Caroline was driving along a street near where she lived, a cat ran out in front of her and she couldn't brake in time. A considerate and law-abiding person, she stopped and went to check on the animal. It was twitching in its death throes and there was nothing she could do. She called the police to report the incident and went on her way. Then she blocked it so completely that she never even thought of it again. When her nephew confirmed this, memories of that day floated back and now she has full technicolour recall of the incident.

Confounded, I could think of nothing to say for a while, then I confessed that I was guessing about the whole suppressed memory thing and didn't actually take it seriously.

"But why am I afraid of them?" she asked, evidently seeing me as a fountain of knowledge.

"Guilt, I suppose," I replied, as the fountain of lucky guesses and half-remembered snippets of television programmes. "I suppose you're half expecting the Vengeful Cat From Beyond The Grave to appear one night and claim your soul or something."

She didn't think that was funny but conceded that I had a point.

Deep down, I think it would be rather cool if a Giant Zombie Cat came back from the grave to avenge its bretheren. Someone has got to make a film about that. But don't tell Caroline.

* Aw come on, it sounds better than Ailurophobia, doesn't it? No? But it's easier to say!