Good Omens

g’lactic policemen, going round tellin’ everyone to live in universal harmony and stuff.”
    There was a moment’s silence while they pondered this waste of perfectly good UFOs.
    â€œWhat I’ve always wondered,” said Brian, “is why they call ’em UFOs when they know they’re flying saucers. I mean, they’re Identified Flying Objects then.”
    â€œIt’s ’cos the goverment hushes it all up,” said Adam. “Millions of flying saucers landin’ all the time and the goverment keeps hushing it up.”
    â€œWhy?” said Wensleydale.
    Adam hesitated. His reading hadn’t provided a quick explanation for this; New Aquarian just took it as the foundation of belief, both of itself and its readers, that the government hushed everything up.
    â€œâ€™Cos they’re the goverment ,” said Adam simply. “ That ’s what goverments do. They’ve got this great big building in London full of books of all the things they’ve hushed up. When the Prime Minister gets in to work in the morning, the first thing he does is go through the big list of everything that’s happened in the night and put this big red stamp on them.”
    â€œI bet he has a cup of tea first, and then reads the paper,” said Wensleydale, who had on one memorable occasion during the holidays gone unexpectedly into his father’s office, where he had formed certain impressions. “And talks about what was on TV last night.”
    â€œWell, orlright, but after that he gets out the book and the big stamp.”
    â€œWhich says ‘Hush It Up,’” said Pepper.
    â€œIt says Top Secret,” said Adam, resenting this attempt at bipartisan creativity. “It’s like nucular power stations. They keep blowin’ up all the time but no one ever finds out ’cos the goverment hushes it up.”
    â€œThey don’t keep blowing all the time,” said Wensleydale severely. “My father says they’re dead safe and mean we don’t have to live in a greenhouse. Anyway, there’s a big picture of one in my comic 26 and it doesn’t say anything about it blowing up.”
    â€œYes,” said Brian, “but you lent me that comic afterwards and I know what type of picture it was.”
    Wensleydale hesitated, and then said in a voice heavy with badly tried patience, “Brian, just because it says Exploded Diagram—”
    There was the usual brief scuffle.
    â€œLook,” said Adam severely. “Do you want me to tell you about the Aquarium Age, or not?”
    The fight, never very serious amongst the siblinghood of the Them, subsided.
    â€œRight,” said Adam. He scratched his head. “Now you’ve made me forget where I’ve got to,” he complained.
    â€œFlyin’ saucers,” said Brian.
    â€œRight. Right. Well, if you do see a flying UFO, these goverment men come and tell you off,” said Adam, getting back into his stride. “In a big black car. It happens all the time in America.”
    The Them nodded sagely. Of this at least they had no doubt. America was, to them, the place that good people went to when they died. They were prepared to believe that just about anything could happen in America.
    â€œProb’ly causes traffic jams,” said Adam, “all these men in black cars, going about telling people off for seeing UFOs. They tell you that if you go on seeing ’em, you’ll have a Nasty Accident.”
    â€œProb’ly get run over by a big black car,” said Brian, picking at a scab on a dirty knee. He brightened up. “Do you know,” he said, “my cousin said that in America there’s shops that sell thirty-nine different flavors of ice cream?”
    This even silenced Adam, briefly.
    â€œThere aren’t thirty-nine flavors of ice cream,” said Pepper. “There aren’t thirty-nine flavors in the whole world.”
    â€œThere could be, if you mixed them up,” said Wensleydale, blinking owlishly. “You know. Strawberry and chocolate. Chocolate and vanilla.” He sought for more English flavors. “Strawberry and vanilla and chocolate,” he added, lamely.
    â€œAnd then there’s Atlantis,” said Adam loudly.
    He had their interest there. They enjoyed Atlantis. Cities that sank under the sea were right up the Them’s street. They listened intently to a jumbled account of pyramids,