The Sentence

The Thread, past and present, drew them towards the fashioning of a sentence. Most appropriate, neither under lenient nor over punitive.

The sentence should be very long and have far too many subclauses, said the Blue Knight, Leave this to me.

All yours, said Sheba, cradling her teacup with one hand and reaching for a biscuit with the spare, Take it away.

The sentence should be long and unpleasant, restarted the Blue Knight, no TV or video games, always use a capital letter at the outset and remember to include a noun and a verb. Proverbs are useful and entertaining but not essential.

Choices on the possible sentence list include; Sending to Coventry or other suitable city, standing in the corner, a spell on the naughty step, exile, exile to the colonies, hanging by a body part, chaining in dungeon with only bread and water, chaining to a post, like a goat with a shackle around the ankle, working on the chain gang, firing squad (that’s where you lose your job without severance pay), incarceration, cabbage throw in the stocks, laughing in the town square, payroll, parole, under arrest, house arrest, bungalow arrest or jail without passing Go. Detention, stay after school and write out one hundred times ‘I must not pull Jennifer’s hair in the playground’, electric chair, electric toothbrush, manacles, follicles and fossils? Oubliette, Iron maiden, listening to heavy metal whether you like it or not.

We will give the accused a choice, he can either be exiled to Iran or hung drawn and quantified, his insanity and mendacity exposed for all to see and his fundamentalist crew chained to the rails of public scrutiny. Then of course eternal incarceration in a hell of our choosing.

Sounds fair, said Sheba, brushing the biscuit crumbs from her embroidered smock, I don’t believe in any hells of the religious kind, but I’m sure that we can find one here on earth.

I think we are now ready to move forwards. The Women’s netball team has taken charge of the Scales of Justice and will tour the provinces meeting out fair play, whistleblowing when necessary, calling out foul play and handing down fines and detentions where they deem appropriate. Sending off or sin bin is the last holiday resort.

I think that the levels of injustice will be tilted back to normal in due course and we are then free to follow the Thread of our Quest. Where has it gone by be the bye?

I think that I saw it curled in a corner of the court room looking perplexed, said the Blue Knight, It got spooked by your mention of  Free Will during the other episode and now doesn’t know whether it’s coming, going or has already been there and come back.

They found the thread, quivering with indecision, in a quiet corner.

Sheba talked to it softly and straightened it out so that it could relax,  muttering quiet endearments and encouragements as she straightened. The Thread slowly took on some colour in its fibres and eventually sat up looking positively enthusiastic.

The Blue Knight, drawing Sheba aside, enquired, What did you say that turned its demeanour about so swiftly. It is a sensitive creature, it is known.

Well, said Sheba, I might have mentioned that the Thread is the only method we have of tying the past to the future, we rely on it to learn the lessons and narrative fragments of the past, that we might tread a rightful path and solve the conundrums of the future as they assault us. I may have whispered that the Thread alone can tell us of the future, as it has one foot in the past and one in the unknowable.

Wow, said the Blue Knight, Can we use it to make our fortunes on the stick market and gather a winning bet upon the races of horses, camels and other excitingly swift creatures?

That would be unscrupulous in the extreme, said Sheba, But I think that at least we should discover how it is done, so that we can prevent interventions of this kind, literally in the future.

Fine, said the Blue Knight, But I would like to put on record that I am not a great fan of time travel narrative as they always end up eating their tails. I would not like to see the Thread thus engaged.

They laid the thread out upon a salt flat and, encouraging it to compress all the lessons and grainy detail of the past, project into the future, along its length, all the winners at the camel races which were scheduled for the next.

The Thread started to writhe and spin itself into small pieces of fluff, as if in a trance or fugue state, before finally printing out a betting slip defining.

We’ve done it, said Sheba, quick, lets away to the book-makers and other crafts people.

In the betting shop, between a Nail bar and a charity outlet, the two Questing questers studied the runners and rider and compared names and dates of birth with the predictions of the Thread.

Our winners are to be Juno at one hundred to one in the 3.45, and Pinto at 20 to 1 in the 5.00pm sand dune canter, read Sheba, Let’s put everything we own and the embroidered smocks off our backs on these two races.

Ill pawn my armour, said the Blue Knight, searching his pockets for loose change.

They placed their bets upon the green baize cloth and the computer spat out a ticket whilst they watched the runners and riders for the 3.45 camel sprint parading around the sandy paddock.

Juno looks a bit peaky, said The Blue Knight under his breath, 100 to one seems a bit optimistic.

The Oracle Thread has spoken, said Sheba quietly, hold your nerve.

The camels lined up in a dry wadi by the public terraces and the starting motor raised her flag.