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'You jest； surely？'
Professor Slobe shook his head once more。 'Believe in what I say；' said he。 'We are facing the greatest threat mankind has faced since the deluge。 We are facing the final conflict。 The apocalypse。 Even now the curtains are closing。'
'No。' Jim shook his head violently and not a little painfully。 'All the stuff in that old book is most depressing。 Look at me now。 I experienced a slight setback； but it was the result of pure spite on Bob's part。 Just because I won and he's banged up in hospital a bit scorched。 I am battered but wealthy。 The gods are smiling upon me。'
'No；' said Professor Slobe。 'Money will not buy you out of this one； especially money which was never intended for your use。'
Pooley scratched at his head； raising a fine cloud of dust。 'You wouldn't care to enlarge a little on this would you Professor？' he asked。 'You see such news catches me at a rather inopportune moment。 John and I are planning a bit of a holiday。 Armageddon might interfere with our traveller's cheques。'
Professor Slobe shook his head once more。 Jim was beginning to find the habit mildly annoying。 He had millions of pounds knocking about in the bank and was now really looking forward to spending them before they caught the moth。 'Do you really believe yourself to be one favoured of the gods？'
Jim nodded noisily。 'At this time definitely yes。'
'All right then； I will make this short； but by no means sweet。 We will speak of these matters again。 For now let me read you a verse or two from the Revelation； possibly it will convince you； possibly not。' Definitely not； thought Jim Pooley。 The Professor took himself over to his desk where he sat before the large and outspread family Bible。 'I will spare you the preliminaries as it is obvious that you consider your time valuable。 I will simply give you the relevant part and allow you to muse upon it。'
'Thanks；' said Jim doubtfully。
'Revelation； Chapter Thirteen；' said Professor Slobe。 'This speaks of the beast that has risen from the Earth。 We will address our attention to verses sixteen； seventeen； and eighteen。' He spoke the final number with a deadly intensity。
'Go ahead then。'
The Professor adjusted his ivory pince…nez and read aloud from the open book：
'16。 And he causeth all； both small and great； rich and poor； free and bond to receive a mark in their right hand or in their foreheads。
17。 And that no man might buy or sell save that he had the mark or the name of the beast or the number of his name。
18。 Here is wisdom。 Let he that hath understanding count the number of the beast； for it is the number of a man； and his number is six hundred； three score and six。'
The Professor gently closed the Holy Book and looked up towards Jim Pooley。 The millionaire sat bolt upright in his chair。 His eyes were unblinking and stared ever downward towards the open palm of his right hand； where the puter bar code was indelibly printed。 Eighteen puter lines。 Three rows of six。 The number of a man； six hundred； three score and six。
666
The number of the Beast。 Things were suddenly beginning to sink in。
'Oh dear；' said John Omally； who was not a man unacquainted with the Scriptures。 'Why did I just know you were going to choose those very verses to be today's text？'
15
At a little after five of the clock； Pooley and Omally left Professor Slobe's house behind and trudged up the long crescent bound for the Swan。 Although the old man had served a fine tea； neither could raise much of an appetite； finding to it more than a hint of the Messianic feast。 With rumbling guts and grumbling tongues they mooched along； ignoring the gaily…coloured bunting which fluttered between the great Horse Chestnuts； raised in preparation for the forthing Festival of Brentford。 Pooley was in full slouch； his chin upon his chest； and his hands thrust deeply into his tweedy trouser pockets。 His last suit was in exquisite ruin and lacked a right sleeve； which an over…zealous hospital intern who watched too many Aldo Ray films had cut away from his grazed elbow with a pair of surgical scissors。 The thought that he could buy a thousand suits and all of them of the hand…tailored； Saville Row variety； did little to raise his spirits。 Jim's right thumbnail worried at his hidden palm。
Omally worried at Marchant's pitted handlebars； the old boy seemed to have developed an irritating pull to the left； which was either something to do with its political leanings or something even more sinister。 'Give it a rest；' growled John as the thing had him in the gutter once more。
After what seemed an age they arrived at the Swan's weling portal。 And found to their increased horror that it was no longer weling。 A large plastic sign fastened to the front window announced to the world that THE BUYING OF 'ROUNDS' is HENCEFORTH FORBIDDEN BY ORDEF THE BREWERY。 ANY CUSTOMER ATTEMPTING TO VIOLATE THIS PRINCIPLE WILL BE BARRED FOR AN INDEFINITE PERIOD。
'By the Saints；' said Omally； turning wobbly at the knees。 'Would you look at that？'
Pooley curled his lip。 'This is too much。 I am even to be denied spending my money as I please。' He thrust Omally aside and entered the bar。
The Swan was empty of customers。 The only folk present were a pale young man in headphones who stood behind the jump； and two brewery henchmen in drab…coloured overalls； who appeared to be screwing a gleaming contrivance of advanced design on to the bar counter。
'What is the meaning of that notice？' Pooley stormed up to the bar。
The strange young barman watched his furious approach with an untroubled expression。 His head moved to and fro to a rhythm only he heard。
'I demand an explanation；' foamed the red…faced Jim。
The young man pushed back his headphones。 'What will it be then； sir？' he asked。
Jim raised his fist。 'That； that bloody notice in the window。 What's your game； eh？'
'Oh； that。' The young man was all bland posure。 'Rules and regulations； what can we do？'
'We can tear the bloody thing down for a kick off。'
The young man waggled a finger。 'Naughty； naughty；' said he。
Jim clenched and unclenched his fists。 'Has the world gone mad？' he asked。 'Has the brewery lost its bloody marbles？'
The young man shrugged。 'Since the takeover everything seems to have changed。'
'Takeover； what takeover？'
'Hadn't you heard？ Lateinos and Romiith bought the brewery out。 An offer too good to refuse I suppose。'
Jim began to flap his hands wildly and spin about in small circles。 Omally； who had followed him in； knew this to be a bad sign。 Pooley sought men to kill。 Two of such were now tinkering at the counter's end。 'Who are they？' Jim ceased his foolish gyrations。 'What are they up to？'
The pale young man smiled wanly。 'Installing a terminal； of course。 Under the new system every establishment must have its own terminal； you know。'
'John；' said Jim； 'John； hold me back。' Omally did as he was bidden。 'What； if one might make so bold； is a terminal？' he asked。
'My goodness me；' the pale young man tittered to himself； 'we do live in the dark ages around here； don't we？' He grinned towards the two henchmen； who exchanged knowing glances and sniggered。 'This terminal；' he explained； 'is modular in concept； with a net…working capability that is virtually plug…in。 It has a one hundred and twenty…eight bit multitasking operation； super…advanced WP forms and spread sheet planner； wide area network configuration； multi…key ISAM on shared data bases； L and R six…six…six Asynch emulations； soft fort and bitmapped graphics。'
'Bit…mapped graphics； eh？'
The young man cleared his throat with a curiously mechanical coughing sound。 'Bit…mapped；' he said slowly。 Above his left eyebrow the short row of eighteen vertical lines gave his face a permanently quizzical expression。 'Now； perhaps； sir； you would care to order？'
'Two pints of Large；' said Omally。
'As you wish； sir。 Will your irate panion be thinking to order two for himself also； do you think？ Once he recovers his senses？'
'We are only just outnumbered；' quoth Pooley。 'Shall we make a fight of it？'
'All in good time； Jim。 Now please calm yourself and lend me a couple of quid。' The pale barman raised a tattooed eyebrow。 'Usury is strictly forbidden upon the premises； by order of the brewery。'
'A pox on the brewery；' said John。 'Jim is minding some money for me。 Can I have it back please； Jim？'
'Certainly。' Pooley thrust a couple of hundred smackers into Omally's outstretched palm and outstretched his own towards the nearest pint。
The new barman deftly reached across the counter…top and caught up Jim's wrist in a vice…like grip。
Turning Jim's palm towards the ceiling he drew out a light…wand and ran it across。 'Your credit rating is triple A；' he said。 'Two pints for yourself is it？'
'Make it three；' said Jim bitterly。 'I feel a bit of a thirst ing on。'
'As you please； sir。' The pale young barman replaced his headphones and； nodding to himself； drew off the business。
Bearing their pints away； John and Jim stalked off to a side…table where they dropped into a brace of chairs and sat staring into one another's eyes。
After a somewhat pregnant pause； Jim said； 'I've had enough of all this； John。'
Omally n