“We’re three drinks short here,” said Jack.

Tinto trundled away to make up the shortfall.

Eddie chuckled once more. “You fit in quite nicely here now though, don’t you, Jack?” he said.

“I still find it hard to believe. But I know it’s true.”

“Then maybe we’ll have you believing in spacemen before it’s too late.”

“Too late?” said Jack. “Too late for what?”

“Too late to stop them,” said Eddie. “Too late for us all.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“As I said to Bellis, ‘If you have a better explanation.’”

Jack tucked into his share of the beers. “Spacemen,” he said and he shook his head.

“There’s no telling what’s out there,” said Eddie, “Beyond The Second Big O.”

“I’ve heard that expression used before,” said Jack. “What exactly does it mean?”

Eddie shrugged. “It’s just an expression, I suppose. I don’t know where I heard it first. It means beyond, beyond what we know, someplace other that’s different. Really different.”

“But why The Second Big O? Why not The First Big O? Why an O at all?”

“I don’t know,” said Eddie, tasting beer. “I know most things, but I don’t know that.”

“Perhaps the Toymaker would know.”

“Perhaps, but I have no inclination to ask him.” Eddie regarded his paws. “Taking my hands away. That was really mean.”

“They were rather creepy,” said Jack.

“They were not creepy! They were wonderful, Jack. I loved those hands.”

“Perhaps if you save Toy City from the alien invasion he’ll fit you with another pair.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Anything’s possible.”

“You believe that, do you?”

“Absolutely,” said Jack, raising his glass to Eddie.

“Then let’s drink to the fact that anything’s possible,” said Eddie, raising his glass between his paws. “Let’s have a toast to that anything.”

“Let’s have,” said Jack, raising his glass, too.

“To spacemen,” said Eddie. “As possible as.”

“Did I hear someone say ‘spacemen’?” said Tinto.

“Jack’s a big believer,” said Eddie.

“There was one in here earlier,” said Tinto.

“Really?” said Eddie. “How interesting.”

“Well, he wasn’t that interesting. He spent most of his time cadging drinks. But he did leave something for you.”

Eddie shook his head sadly. “You didn’t think to mention this before?” he said. “It might be important.”

“You said it was,” said Tinto.

“I just said it might be,” said Eddie.

“No,” said Tinto, “you said it might be important. And then you said it was and then you left with it.”

“Curiously,” said Eddie, “you aren’t making any sense at all.”

“When I gave it to you,” said Tinto, “you thanked me for it and you tipped me for giving it to you.”

Eddie shook his head once more. “And when did I do this?” he said.

“A few minutes ago, when you came in here before.”

“What?” said Eddie.

And Jack looked at Eddie. “A few minutes ago?” said Jack, now looking at Tinto.

“Yes,” said Tinto, now looking at Eddie. “You took the message he left for you, then you left. Then you came back in again, and here you are.”

“Message?” said Jack. “The spaceman gave Eddie a message?”

“No, he left it with me and I gave it to Eddie. Do try to pay attention.”

“What did this message say?” Eddie asked.

“Well, you read it,” said Tinto. “You must know what it said.”

“I did not read it,” said Eddie, “because I was not in here a few minutes ago.”

“It was you,” said Tinto. “I’d know a scruffbag like you anywhere.”

“Tinto,” said Jack, “Tinto, this is very important. What did this message say?”

Tinto fluttered his fingers about. “As if I would look at the contents of a secret message,” he said.

“Secret message?” said Eddie.

“That’s what it said,” said Tinto. “Top-secret message for your mismatched eyes only.”

“What did it say?” asked Jack.

“I have customers to serve,” said Tinto. “Posh customers. I have no time to shilly-shally with hobbledehoys like you.”

“What did it say, Tinto? This is very, very important.”

“It didn’t say much,” said Tinto. “Just the location, that’s all.”

Eddie threw up his paws and shouted, “What location, Tinto?”

“No need to shout,” said the barman. “Just the location of where the spaceship had landed, that’s all.”

8

“Toy Town?” said Jack as he drove along with Eddie at his side.

Eddie cowered in the passenger seat. “Please slow down,” he said.

Jack slowed down, but said, “Toy Town,” once more. “The supposed location of the supposedly landed spaceship. Supposedly. But I thought that Toy City is Toy Town, just grown bigger.”

“What a lovely way you have with words,” Eddie said. “Toy City is Toy Town grown bigger. But not quite in the same location. From what I’ve heard of the original Toy Town, it was an idyllic, paradisical sort of place, nestling against a sunny hillside – always sunny, of course, I don’t think it ever rained there.”

“I’m sure it must have,” said Jack, taking another corner in a dangerous fashion and sending Eddie sprawling.

“Seat belts,” Eddie said as he climbed once more onto his seat and glared a glare at Jack.

“What would those be?” Jack asked.

“Something I’ve just invented, for strapping yourself into your seat in a car.”

“Sounds dangerous,” said Jack. “You might get trapped or something, say if the car were to go over a cliff and into a river, or something. Am I going the right way? And tell me more about Toy Town.”

“It’s a bit of a way yet, and you are going the right way and the car will need a few more windings-up before we get there. But, as I say, it was the original town built for toys and P.P.P.s, from the original kit, if you believe what the followers of the Big Box Fella, He Come, Jack-in-the-box cult do. Toys lived there in harmony and happiness. Then there were more toys and suburbs were built and then places for the toys to work in were built beyond these, and then homes for the rich who made money out of these enterprises beyond this. And so on and so forth and eventually up grew Toy City, of evil reputation. Folk sort of moved away from Toy Town – it fell out of favour, reminded them of their humble beginnings. The desire for progress and evolution forced them out of their simple paradise to search for a more sophisticated lifestyle, so they came to live and work in Toy City.”

“I don’t quite follow the logic of all that.” Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “But it’s still there, is it? The original Toy Town? Who lives there now?”

“I think it’s a bit of a ghost town now.” And Eddie shivered. “You hear stories about odd folk who live there. Outcasts. I thought of going there myself after I lost my job as mayor. They make movies there, I believe.”

“Movies?” said Jack, and he grinned towards Eddie. “I’ve always wanted to be in a movie.”

“Since when?” Eddie raised an imaginary eyebrow. “This is the first I’ve heard of such a thing.”

“You mean you’ve never wanted to be in a movie?”

“Have you ever seen a Toy City movie, Jack?”

Jack shook his head. “I haven’t,” he said, “but I’ll bet they’re much the same as the movies I watched in the town where I grew up. Action and adventure.”

Eddie laughed. Loudly. “Action and Adventure?” he managed to say. “Not a bit of it – they are as dull as. Biopics, they’re called. Always about prominent P.P.P.s, with constant remakes. If I watch that Jack and Jill go up that damned hill one more time, I’ll puke.”

“He does fall down and break his crown – that must be quite exciting.”

Eddie sighed and he was so sick of sighing. “Trust me, Jack,” he said, “they’re dull. Dull, dull, dull.”

“So why does anyone go to see them?”