Part 3

Her companion was Galatea Gaia, a solo Rainbow Warrior. Like a left over from the hippie days, product of an Earth child mother and surfie father, with a certain mystic quality not entirely due to her hybrid breeding, carried on by her own momentum... and sheer adrenaline, she was caught up with the new age. She was dressed in rags multi-coloured and beautiful. Though she was neither vain or worldly. She was small and scruffy and down to earth and easy going.
She wore only one shoe, either because she lost the other one, or just found this one. There was a certain vague innocence about her. She was a person of indeterminate age and no particular beauty, that is, the beauty that goes only skin deep had passed her by, leaving her with the glow of inner beauty. She was a person who took things very much as they came.
 

Francis hobbled along the beach. Her heels weren't designed for this kind of terrain. Still, Galatea didn't move quickly, she was distracted by the  surroundings and her one shoe made her gait somewhat unsteady. "Well," said Francis, "I knew if I came here often enough I'd finally get to see you."

Galatea stooped to pick up a lump of seaweed which she stashed in a discarded plastic bag. "Why waste time? You could have just made an appointment with my secretary."

"I prefer to rely on serendipity...or fate," said Francis.

"A woman after my own heart. I suppose you want to photo of the weirdo, do you?"

"You really don't know who I am, do you?"

"Nope."

"Francis Dolittle. Senator."

Galatea turned and saluted her, "Galatea Gaia; Greenie, bird rescuer and retired hippie. No votes for sale."

"I don't need your vote, I'm already in office. I've come to talk to you. You see, things are going to be changing around here, and I want you to know about it."

"Look, if you've come to warn me about the pollution, then you might as well save your breath. I live here and I'm not going to move away. If you let them pollute more, then, yes, it will probably kill me. I'd rather be dead than live in a dirty world. Think about that next time you're on the hustings selling yourself."

"Don't bury yourself yet, Ms Gaia, I'm talking about legislating for stronger punishment for the polluters."

Galatea stopped short, almost tripping Dolittle. She stared appraisingly at the senator. "Get off the grass!"

"No kidding. I run the bill through next week. It's all tied in with the new underground complex we're making at the moment; low environmental impact cities is where we're headed. The new city will provide a place where we can start rejuvenating the whole of Manhattan Island."

"You just had dinner at one of those big places in town and smoked the garnish, didn't you? These notions are straight out of the 60's. Flower power and war is not healthy, man. For a person of political persuasions, you are nearly as seriously out of touch with reality as I am."

"Ms Gaia, this is the 1990's-you can recycle anything. Even old ideas from thirty years ago. When the new city gets underway, we're going to need people like you to teach us how to take care of things. Don't think this is the last you'll see of me, Ms Gaia, because you have a lot to teach us. We need people like you to get us back in touch with the alternatives."

"Francis, if you can find one person who's interested in learning what I've got to teach, I'll be more than happy to play along with this gag, but don't expect me to stand here and wait for you, because I think I'll be a very old lady."

***

Deep in the bowels of the sewer system below New York, silent and invisible worked the Ninjas of the Foot Clan. They vented shafts designed to move pockets of methane and other gasses from the sewer. Other vents and pipes they blocked and sealed.

Side channels designed to take away excess flood waters were barricaded. Electric cables  isolated. Their task done, the Foot Ninjas left, silently as shadows, and from the very shadows
in which the Foot were working, Michelangelo and Leonardo materialised, Michelangelo carrying several supermarket bags, Leonardo just one. They checked what the Foot warriors were doing.

"I don't get it," said Leonardo.

"What did they do?"

"Sealed up a couple of gaps in pipes, I think."

"Doesn't sound too dangerous."

"But why did they do that?"

Michelangelo shrugged, "I dunno. To stop draughts?"

"I just don't get it. "

"Hey, maybe they're changing their technique from Ninjutsu to Ninjanitor."

"Just carry the shopping, Michelangelo."

"Hey Leo how come I have to carry all these bags and you just get one?"

"We went to get stuff for a pizza, Mike."

"So?"

"Look, I'm happy to carry the stuff for the pizza, but I don't see why I should carry fudge sauce, lettuce, and five packets of peanut butter cups."

"That stuff goes great on pizza."

"Yeuch."

***

Wherever there's a politician there's sure to be a news crew. Somehow Dolittle's heartfelt beachside chat with Galatea Gaia had become the property of the media by way of April O'Neil and the channel 3 news. Galatea had watched the setup of cameras and cables with increasing alarm. Finally, when the bright lights came on and April began her sound tests, Galatea began to slide back into the shadows. "Oh, I guess I'd better clear out of your way."

"Well, actually, I was hoping you'd let me talk to you about your work here rescuing sick and injured birds and animals," said April.

"Me? Oh, no. You don't want to talk to me. News reporters and politicians go together. Talk to St. Francis of Dolittle here."

"Do yourself a favour, Ms Gaia, an interview with Ms O'Neil would mean a lot of people would be seeing you work. A lot of people would learn what you're doing here, and I bet they'd be interested in helping you."

"Talk is cheap, Francis," said Galatea. "When the two of you are ready to get your hands dirty rescuing birds, come see me." She walked off down the beach, leaving Francis and April and the news team.

***

Bill the labourer stood before Oroku the Shredder and Hideo. He felt rather self conscious, as though he'd been invited to a costume party, and instead of fancy dress, come wearing a suit and tie. Shredder looked impressive and dangerous but undeniably silly. Hideo just looked like a bad joke. Bill said nothing. The strangely dressed Ninjas on either side of him had given him plenty of reason to see that this was no joke. Hideo placed a small computer terminal in front of Bill.

"A simple request, Mr constructioner. Type in your worksite ID."

It seemed a harmless enough request, still, Bill glanced anxiously at Hideo before reaching for the keyboard. It didn't seem to be wired for explosives. He began punching in the ID code, using only his two index fingers. As he hit the enter key a certain blankness came into his eyes. His hands began to tremble a little, and he developed a brief facial tic. A moment later it stopped and his hands dropped down to his sides.

"And now he is yours," said Hideo. "No coersive activity needed, for once the pathway has been opened, the carrier wave blankets his own thought patterns, creating a blank page for you to draw upon."

"But what exactly is this carrier wave?" said Shredder. "How does it work?"

"It is an elemental power. It is the cosmic wavelength of negation and destruction, it is the concept and embodiment of delusion, depression and dismay. It is Evil, and I have harnessed it."

***

Back with the turtles' place Raphael was fast approaching Donatello's record high score on the Nintendo and the pizza was just about done.

"Face it, man," said Donatello still desperately trying to distract Raphael, "Eight hundred and seventy nine million, four hundred thousand and twelve is a high score. You're not going to beat it."

"Stop trying to faze me," said Raphael, who was sitting on top of his brother,  "I'm going to beat you and you know it."

Michelangelo distracted them both, removing his creation from the oven. "That pizza smells really excellent, Mike," said Donatello. "What's in it?"

"This is my greatest achievement yet. A piece a pizza poetry in pepperoni, with sate sauce,
garlic, tabasco, red hot chilis, licorice, and just a touch of oregano."

"Oregano?" said Donatello. "On a pizza? Yuck!"

Michelangelo shrugged, refusing to take the blame. "It was Leo's idea."

Suddenly the lights went out. There was silence for a moment and then the loud thump of fist on shell. "Donatello! You did this!" yelled Raphael.  "You rigged a circuit breaker to cut the power so I couldn't beat your score."

There was a retaliatory thump. "I did not! I didn't! Why should I cheat to beat you when it's so much fun beating you fair and square?"

"Gee, guys, this pizza's getting cold in the dark, maybe I better eat it before it goes off!"  The unmistakable noise of Michelangelo eating filled the darkness. "...ooooh! Good chili sauce!"

"Hey!" yelled Leonardo, "stop him before we all miss out!"

"It's ok," said Raphael.  "I've got the light."

There was the brief scrape of a match being struck and then the flare of light, a flame that grew for an instant before it became an uncontrollable light and sound; an almighty explosion that sent the turtles flying and left them, once again, in total darkness.