Left Luggage

We are on a railway platform, surrounded by our luggage, looking for the correct line.

The Socialist magician has discovered that he is expected to address a conference on "Socialist Magic: The way forward for the 1990s, and well beyond, perhaps even into the twenty first century, if we get that far though the way things are going I'd advise you not to hold your breath, especially if you actually are a socialist magician - after all, there's not exactly a career structure is there - in fact what kind of nutter even thinks of going into this sort of business these days. I thought you had more sense" A title that sums up his deepest concerns very well.

However, there is a problem. Ian's soul, which has come to him in the form of a talking, floating, onion, has made his ideology disappear. The ideology, of course, took the form of a pack of cards. What's more, Ian has no idea of the location of the conference.

Ian has a small, open fronted box with the word, "enquiries" printed at the top. Inside is a tube which he takes out and shows empty. Replaces tube. Knocks on door at top of box. Voice from inside says "Come in." Opens door to find Lenin-head.

CLERK: Hello.

IAN: Hello. Is this the lost property office?

CLERK: That's right. Property is theft, but lost property is a legitimate way to make a living within capitalist society. That's our motto.

IAN: I wonder if you could help me.

CLERK: What do you want, then.

IAN: I've lost some luggage. You see, I have to go on a very important journey, to attend a conference, but I seem to have lost both the location of the conference and my ideology.

CLERK: To lose just the conference would be a misfortune, but to lose a whole ideology seems like carelessness. Can you describe this ideology?

IAN: It was in the form of a pack of cards, with various philosophical mottos written on them.

CLERK: What did you use it for?

IAN: For arriving at a consistent view of the world. And for helping me to do my magic tricks. Look, without it, this rope trick becomes just another rope trick. It has no political significance whatsoever.

CLERK: It seems to me that what you need is the line.

IAN: The line?

CLERK: Yes. The right-on line.

IAN: No, surely the line is immaterial.

CLERK: That's where you are mistaken. The line is very material indeed. It is made of tempered steel. You don't get much more material than that.

IAN: But the line itself is unimportant. I couldn't care less if there was no line involved at all. It's where I'm going to that matters.

CLERK: Oh no. It's the line that's important, not the destination. Talking about the destination is at best a diversion, and at worst downright dangerous.

IAN: Dangerous?

CLERK: Of course. The whole journey is fraught with danger. And having found the correct line, your task is by no means complete. You have to stay on it.

IAN: Is that difficult?

CLERK: Very. There are constant temptations. At every juncture you will be presented with many choices, only one of which is correct. And of course there are times when the line changes without you realising, so that you find that what you thought was the right line all along is now no longer the right line, and never was the right line, and in fact you were not actually travelling on it, although it may have appeared to some mistaken people thoat you were. All very difficult and dangerous. Some people have disappeared after travelling along the wrong line.

IAN: But what if I were to stay on the correct line, get to the end of it, and then find I was somewhere where I didn't want to be?

CLERK: If you are on the correct line, it follows that you must be in the right place.

IAN: But if I haven't thought about where I'm going ...

CLERK: Look, if it turns out that having followed the correct line, as determined by the advice I may give you, you find yourself in the wrong place, the line itself is not to blame. Nor is the architect of that line, or the functionaries who guided you along the way. No. If you find yourself in the wrong place it is clear where the blame must lie.

IAN: Where?

CLERK: On the surrounding landscape, which has failed to move as it was supposed and expected to.

IAN: So if the journey doesn't go as we intended, we blame the landscape?

CLERK: The only thing we can blame, really.

IAN: All right. Can you give me some advice about the correct line?

CLERK: I'm afraid not.

IAN: Why?

CLERK: All services have been temporarily suspended.

IAN: Why's that?

CLERK: Engineering work.

IAN: What sort of engineering work?

CLERK: Social engineering work on the line.

IAN: So what am I supposed to do?

CLERK: Get a ticket.

Eventually, Ian finds himself in the waiting room, where various icons of the left, along with a talking version of Munch's painting The Scream and Ian himself as a rabbi, squabble among themselves about what should be discussed at the conference. After a discussion with a future version of himself (on a video screen) Ian begins to make the means to move from the waiting room at last.

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