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  The national government issued an order for all residents of Marine City to leave the island. Furious, Fedora Last declared her intention to disobey the order. It was “tyrannical interference in the affairs of a local authority” and a “serious challenge to feminism”. “I will not obey the order. Marine City is not tilting.”

  The tilt worsened with each passing day. On Wednesday it was eighteen degrees, on Thursday it was twenty. Soon, the power had failed and telephone links were broken. On Thursday evening, Marine Bridge collapsed into the sea with a great reverberating boom. With that, the road connection to the metropolis was lost.

  Professor McLogick’s prediction that buildings would collapse was, in fact, inaccurate. The only building to fall was Marine City Hall, which was built of brick. Most steel-reinforced concrete buildings had upright metal sections welded to the steel base of the City, replacing the usual pile-driven foundations. But now those buildings were starting to become warped. Of course, lifts stopped working. Doors would not open once closed, nor close once opened. So, for fear of being trapped inside their homes, residents started to leave their doors open. Even so, the buildings somehow stayed upright. But the shift in their centre of gravity only served to accelerate the tilt in Marine City. On Friday, the angle reached twenty-three degrees. At such an acute angle, even pavements that were originally flat could no longer be walked on. Well, “walk” was hardly the word anyway – people would be sliding and falling as they crept along the roads. They also had to be wary of objects falling from above. Children’s toys, shoes, kitchenware, and sundry household goods falling from verandas were one thing. But sometimes even dogs or people would come tumbling down, or pianos would crash through iron railings and plummet to the ground. Which was not such a laughing matter. Soon, it was normal to see housewives, who’d popped out for a spot of shopping, returning home with bloody injuries and their clothing in shreds.

  Several buildings along the coast at the southwestern end of Marine City – including a children’s amusement centre, the Toximere Clinic, and a poodle parlour – were soon submerged. A nearby road that ran from north to south sloped diagonally into the sea. Sometimes cars or people would slide sideways off the camber of the road and simply disappear under the water. For this reason, the area came to be constantly patrolled by police boats. As well as saving people who came sliding down the road, they also had the admirable task of rescuing desperate Marine City residents who tried to escape the City secretly at night and ferrying them over to the mainland. Helicopters circled above the City during the day, urging residents to leave and telling them where the police boats were waiting.

  “Damn. It could at least have collapsed while I was at work. Then I needn’t have come home!”

  Caprice Le Mesurier dragged Rod, still grumbling thus as he gazed out through the window of their apartment – which now leant at an angle of twenty-six degrees – at the straits into which Marine Bridge had collapsed, back into bed on Saturday morning.

  “What are you moaning about? Come here, I said.”

  “But it’s every morning these days!”

  “What about it?! You haven’t anything better to do, have you?!”

  The Le Mesurier residence was on the northeastern side of the building, at the far end of an open walkway on the eleventh floor. As the couple entered the throes of ecstasy, the nails that fastened the legs of their bed to the floor came loose, causing the bed to slide out of the bedroom with considerable force. It travelled across the living room and out through the front door (which had of course been left open) onto the walkway, where it struck a woman and hurled her high over the railings, before finally colliding with the iron railings at the southwestern end. The railings stopped the bed, but the momentum sent Rod and Caprice, still in their coital embrace, flying naked through the air.

  Miss Loyalty, who could no longer get to work, was appointed Chief of Police to replace the late Caprice Le Mesurier. Nothing could have suited her better. Since the only remaining police staff were two female deskworkers, she donned the uniform herself, correctly tilted her body at an angle of twenty-six degrees to the south-southwest, and ran around Marine City investigating incidents and accidents as if considerations such as gravity were not an issue. If she spotted anyone trying to leave the City, she would take out her pistol and fire shots at them. She remained active even at night, when she would be involved in spectacular gunfights with the police boats as she tried to stop them carrying escapees to the mainland. With this, those left on the island lost their last remaining means of escape.

  The alcohol requirement of the poetess Stille Hungova increased. If anything, the drink took effect more quickly now that she was living in a tilting world; she was more or less in a permanent state of inebriation. One day, she went out in search of more alcohol, and started to negotiate the southwest-facing stairs of her apartment building. As the stairs were originally inclined at forty-two degrees, the angle was now more than seventy degrees. She immediately fell, hit the road, bounced twice on its surface, then started sliding along it. Wearing an Oriental gown, she continued to slide along in her wholly unseemly state, then, after sinking six metres into the sea on the already submerged road, gently floated back to the surface. The crew of a tourist pleasureboat, carrying fifty-six passengers who callously wanted to see the tilting Marine City for themselves, threw out a life belt from a safe distance in an attempt to rescue her. No sooner had she been hauled up on deck than she started badgering the onlookers for alcohol, amazing all and sundry with her sheer pluck and courage.

  In no time at all, the tilt had increased to forty degrees. Soon, people no longer knew whether they were going up- or downstairs. People who slipped in the street found themselves not so much sliding as actually falling down the road. By now, the only people remaining in Marine City were the Mayor Fedora Last, the Chief of Police Miss Loyalty, and thirteen other women. The only man left was the carpenter Stubber Nasamule. Determined to see the end of Marine City, he’d made his wife and children leave for the mainland, while he himself enjoyed the sight of the City gradually sinking under the sea. He fashioned a rope walkway that allowed him to crawl back and forth along the road from his home to the supermarket, where goods could now be taken for free. He also made handholds and footholds here and there on other roads to prevent slippage. He even made some on request for the remaining women. Even then, he himself slipped on occasion, once sliding tens of yards. But he was always sure to keep the rope tied securely around his body. Even if he were to fall into the sea, he was confident of his ability to swim.

  Some of the remaining women didn’t need to trouble Stubber at all, relying on their own wits to devise means of motion. One of them found a way of moving from building to building using ropes. But such measures were out of the question for Fedora Last, on account of her obesity. Finally, she came to a decision and ordered Miss Loyalty to take her to the most northerly apartment building in Marine City. It was now clear that, once the tilt reached forty-five degrees, it would only be a matter of time before the city capsized completely. Under orders from Fedora Last, Miss Loyalty chained the Mayor’s body to a water tower at the top of the building.

  Actually, the government hadn’t expected Marine City to tilt this far, and had tended to take a rather optimistic view of things. The assumption was that, once the sunken south-southwest section of Marine City’s base reached the bottom of the bay – which itself should only be sixty metres deep, at the deepest point – the tilting would naturally stop. But when the angle approached forty-five degrees, there was now a very real possibility that the whole island could capsize. Nobody understood why the bottom of the bay had become so deep. Not even the author knew. Some speculated that the base had sunk into the mud layer at the bottom of the bay, and was gouging out the mud. But the mud layer couldn’t possibly continue for a depth of several miles, and it was therefore decided, after all, that the reason was unknown. So, the debate now turned to urgent measures to prevent the City fr
om completely turning over.

  At last, the day had come when Marine City was predicted to capsize completely. An air force rescue team in a 26-seater V-107/A helicopter came to pick up the last survivors. One of its occupants was Rory O’Storm, who’d volunteered to persuade the remaining residents. The helicopter descended into the middle of the residential area and hovered at a height of two metres while staying more or less parallel to the ground. The rescue operation started. Realizing that to stay on the island would mean certain death, the thirteen housewives responded to persuasion and came out one by one. Stubber Nasamule followed suit.

  It was almost midday. After passing forty-five degrees, the angle of inclination quickly started shifting to ninety degrees. Buildings began to make strange creaking, grating noises in unison, and objects began to fall at random onto the helicopter from buildings in the northeast.

  The V-107/A had successfully picked up the thirteen women and Stubber Nasamule, along with two dogs and five cats, and was about to start its ascent, when Miss Loyalty, her body correctly inclined at 72.8 degrees to the south-southwest-by-west, came racing out of an apartment building to the northeast, popping away with her pistol, which she aimed at the helicopter’s rotor. Rory O’Storm, judging her to be no longer human but some kind of demon, shot her dead.

  The helicopter pulled away and set off towards the roof of the apartment building at the northeastern end of the City. The intention was to persuade Fedora Last, still chained to the iron frame of the water tower there, to give herself up. Rory O’Storm called out to her.

  “Come any closer and I’ll shoot!” she screamed back, brandishing a pistol that Miss Loyalty must have given her. “I’ll have none of your meddling here!”

  “Mayor. If you stay here you will die!” Rory O’Storm tried his hardest to explain. “Please leave with us. Marine City can always be rebuilt.”

  “Oh yes?!” the Mayor shouted back. She was looking up from what was virtually the summit of Marine City, which now protruded vertically from the sea on its side. “You men will just have a good laugh and say we told you so! Of course it won’t be rebuilt!”

  “The angle has reached ninety degrees. Mayor. In a few seconds you will be sinking upside down in the sea. It won’t be nice at all.”

  “Shut up!” She fired her pistol at the helicopter.

  Dwooooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrhhhh!

  The collapse of the century had started. With a deafening roar, the northern half of Marine City plummeted towards the sea.

  “I’m not going to die!” Fedora Last screeched yet, as she plunged seawards head first. “Even if I sink on this side, I’ll float straight back up on the other side, me and Marine City. I’ll show you!”

  “It’s not a waterwheel!” Rory O’Storm yelled from the helicopter, which continued to follow her down. “You can still save yourself with the rope. Throw the gun away. Don’t waste your life!”

  “Who says I’m going to die?! You fools! I’m not going to die, I am not! I’m going to float back up agebbo gabbo gobbo! Blublublublublub! Glugluglug, gluglug glugluglug!”

  Upside down, Fedora Last disappeared under the sea. With that, the City capsized completely, sending up a massive column of spray hundreds of feet high.

  Marine City floated upside down in the bay like a gigantic chocolate cake, its rust-coloured base exposed to view. After reaching an angle of 180 degrees, the City did not complete a turn of 360 degrees. It did not refloat itself. And Mayor Fedora Last was never seen or heard of again.

  Bravo Herr Mozart!

  The real name of the great composer Mozart was Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Gottlieb Amadé Amadeus Mozart.

  Mozart was born at the age of three. The reason for this is not known. He was born in his father’s house at Salzburg – probably because he didn’t have a mother.

  It is said that, as soon as he was born, Mozart sat at a piano belonging to someone called Klavier and played a three-note chord. As we may judge from this surviving anecdote, Mozart only had three fingers.

  As proof of his genius, we have the Nannerl Music Book, which Mozart composed for his sister at the age of four. This included eight minuets, designed to help his sister practise playing an instrument called the “Nannerl”. Köchel names the composer of these minuets as a certain “Wolfgängerl”. This was probably Mozart’s doppelgängerl.

  A friend of Mozart’s father was a violinist called Schachtner. His violin was made of butter, which gradually melted, making its tone one-eighth lower than that of other violins. So Schachtner gave up and started playing the trumpet instead.

  Once, Schachtner played his trumpet in front of Mozart. The boy was so shocked that he dropped dead on the spot. But he came back to life straight afterwards.

  One day, when Mozart’s father and Schachtner got together to play a trio, the four-year-old Mozart asked if he could join in. His father refused, saying he hadn’t learnt to play the violin yet. Mozart had a tantrum, so his father reluctantly let him have his way. The child proceeded to play the second violin with his right hand and the first with his left. What’s more, he played all six of Wenzel’s compositions at the same time.

  Mozart still didn’t know how to use a pen when he was five. The score of a concerto composed by Mozart as a five-year-old is so splattered with ink, and this ink is so smeared over the page by the child’s fingers, that it is unreadable. When he saw this, Mozart’s father wept in despair. That’s why, if this concerto were ever performed, it would truly be a miracle.

  When he was six, Mozart was taken on a concert tour of Vienna by his father. There, he was invited to play for the Empress Maria Theresa and the Emperor Francis I at the Palace of Schönbrunn. During the performance, Mozart is said to have covered the keyboard with a cloth and played with one finger. It would seem that, by this time, Mozart only had one finger left.

  There were a number of princes and princesses of Mozart’s age in the Palace at this time. When Mozart slipped and fell on the polished parquet floor of the Palace, one of the girls helped him up. In his joy, Mozart promised, “I will surely make you my wife!”

  The girl’s name was Marie Antoinette. She took the promise seriously, and waited for him. But Mozart never came to claim his bride. She lost patience and went off to marry Louis XVI of France instead.

  Even then, she still held a secret passion for Mozart. When he died in 1791, her grief made her provoke the people into starting the French Revolution. Stepping up to the guillotine herself, she ordered the executioner to behead her, thereby committing assisted suicide.

  When he was eight, Mozart travelled to London. There, tutored by Johann Christian Bach among others, he composed a number of pieces including the ‘Londoner Skizzenbuch’, ‘K19a’, and ‘Köchel-Einstein 15a-ss’.

  Mozart received his first ever commission at the age of ten. He composed a piece called ‘Licenza’ for two patrons, Recitativo and Aria. But it’s not very good.

  In the following year, Mozart performed the ‘Obligation of the First Commandment’ for Apollo and Hyacinthus. Nobody seems to know exactly what this was.

  In the autumn of Mozart’s eleventh year, Maria Josepha, ninth daughter of the Empress Maria Theresa, was to marry King Ferdinand IV of Naples. When Mozart heard of this, he was furious (he’d mistaken her for Marie Antoinette). Though suffering from smallpox, he went back to Vienna to stop the wedding. Maria Josepha caught smallpox from Mozart and died.

  Mozart seems to have had an amorous nature. As young as twelve, he fell in love with a vain, foolish girl called Buffa, with whom he is said to have been consumed from spring to summer. Of course, he had various obstacles to overcome here.

  When he was fourteen, Mozart went to Rome. There, he was profoundly moved on hearing a piece called ‘Miserere’ in a well-known chapel. That same evening, he wrote a composition of his own. But it was exactly the same as the ‘Miserere’ he’d heard in the afternoon, and was therefore never recognized as his own work.
/>   In Rome, Pope Clement XIV made Mozart a “Knight of the Golden Spur”. But Mozart was physically weak. There is no mention of him performing as a knight after this, so we may infer that he refused the honour.

  At the age of seventeen, Mozart again went to Vienna. There lived Joseph Haydn, who became engulfed in one of the whirlwinds that plagued the city. Mozart was also affected by it, and suffered serious injury. This whirlwind is known in German as “Sturm und Drang”.

  Mozart is thought to have had some kind of extrasensory perception. When he was twenty-one, he had a premonition that the soprano Josepha Duschek was about to pay a visit from Prague, exclaiming “Ah! Io previdi” (Hey! I saw it coming!).

  At twenty-two, Mozart fell in love with all four daughters of a man named Fridolin Weber. Although little is known of Mozart’s relationships with these four, common sense would suggest that it was merely an orgy, at most (sexual morals were not so strict in those days). Mozart’s favourite was the second daughter, Aloysia, but in the end he married the third, Constanze. This would suggest very strongly that it had indeed been an orgy.

  In the same year, Mozart composed the symphony known as ‘K297’, as well as ‘Andante’ and a prelude called ‘Missing’.