Chapter 8: The Fishpond

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Ava needs a lieutenant. Big M’s got one, the Old Cockney’s got one. She needs someone on the inside. In onside. Someone she can trust, someone she can believe, someone she can control. Someone with neurones, but not too many.

So Ava makes a choice.

Arranged around a table: Ava, hungry; two Guild members, guardians of the rules; a novice bureaucrat, in Ava’s pocket; another faceless one, out of the game. And the Keeper. Shit.

In the pond. Four interns. This is how Ava selects her prey, satisfies her hunger. Interns coming willingly to Ava’s table. Ava controls the bread, the bait. The Guild hate her for it but the interns play the game. Know they must smile and prostrate themselves. Spy upon their own, do Ava’s bidding, find gold through Ava’s patronage.

Why is the Keeper there? Ava suspects a Trojan, tries to control the invitations to the meal. The Cockney insists on the horse. The Keeper can play the game but must remember how to be Greek. Keep Ava satiated but the revolution safe. So he says. But always remember the Cockney’s love of the game.

They play with the interns. They try to snare them, land them for Ava to feed upon. They like the ones that fight, struggle to be landed. Ava prefers the young and the easy. The ones she can manipulate. The ones she can grow fat on. It’s a contest for no contest.

Most inhabitants of Planet Psychotherapy will tell you that the way to manage a stupid person is make them feel clever. The way to manage Ava is to make her feel powerful and clever. Surrounded by the Guild members she reels in her prey. Smile at her, praise her selection. Assess the danger as each fish is fought, weighed and measured. Three to be thrown back, one to be fried.

One intern is thrown back immediately. Ava likes him, finds him a tasty snack. But even Ava knows the Guild members will never let her keep this one. One out of three works well. Cortex tells her not to argue this choice. What to do? He is the Keeper’s first choice. Damage limitation time. Agree, stroke Ava’s pride, gently join her against the Guild members. Acquiesce gracefully with Ava. A team. Play the Greek.

Three left. Only two in it for the Guild members. Again, the Guild are stronger. The third is the Keeper’s favourite, an incipient revolutionary. Weak and easy to bring over. The second clever, but even more naïve than the Naïve Banker. Number one a danger. The strongest, to be feared. To be resisted at all costs.

The Keeper watches Ava closely. She too fears competition. The Guild members want number one. An alliance with Ava will save the day. The Keeper gives her words to use. Now it is Ava, the Keeper and the novice bureaucrat against the Guild. They back down. There is another choice.

Two left. The Guild members stick. More alliance time with Ava. The revolution can live with their choice. The Keeper looses the incipient revolutionary but gains a lightweight sprat. One more naïve fish will not touch him. Bury him in Ava’s plans. She warms to the idea of a young fish to fatten up. Food for the larder, to be stored and devoured later.

Poor Ava. There will be no later.

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