Pack of lies

I have always been excited about receiving letters or packages in the post, it's something I have never quite grown out of. To see my name handwritten on postcards, or perfectly printed inside the little transparent windows of official correspondence sends my pulse a-racing. It is often junk mail, or a quarterly bill, but there is always just the slightest chance that I am about to receive some life changing news. No doubt it is due to all the films and books I have digested over the years; the poignant letter that arrives, alas too late! after we already know that the sender has not survived, or that which tells of a distant aunt with a fabulous inheritance waiting for me and my birthmark to claim. The black edged telegram, a Dear John, a thousand identical missives delivered by owls. And this morning there it was, face down on the mat as if it were shy and did not want to call attention to itself. False modesty born of self confidence. I turned it over and held my breath as I recognised my name. At last, three days later than expected, my Pack of Lies had arrived. Nothing about the plain brown envelope would have led you to suspect that within those bubble wrapped walls lay one of the fundamental ingredients of human knowledge. I had been a little apprehensive at first, fearing that the packaging would give itself away, the way sexual toys came with the words FOR ADULTS ONLY stamped all over them. But I had to hand it to the graphic designers, this dull government style envelope was totally incognito. I hid it inside my bag and left for work. It was like smuggling drugs or industrial diamonds. I imagined that everyone on the bus had x-ray specs, or that my colleagues had a sixth sense and suspected, no, knew that I had that parcel in my briefcase. Did it look heavier than usual? Did my eye twitch? Was I over- relaxed and oddly friendly? I yearned to get back home, back to the privacy of my own flat, and steam it open. I had the self will to shower and dine before easing the contents out onto my bed. There were four separate packs, each one wrapped in cellophane: Introduction, Elemental, Intermediate and Advanced. I had the self will to start with the Introduction. The cellophane had a tiny red strip running around it near the top, and somehow the inventor of this ingenious idea had hoodwinked the packaging department into thinking that if one pulled hard, thus, the thing would be open in a jiffy. I ended up going to the kitchen for a knife. The Introduction was more philosophical than I had expected, with such headings as What is a Lie? Is it True we All Lie? Are Lies Justifiable? and the like. I skipped it. I wanted to get to grips with something a little more practical. The Elemental group started with White Lies. It sounded like any social gathering, with suggestions like ' have you lost weight?' or ' I think it looks rather modern' to substitute the less diplomatic 'fatty' and 'freak'. But there was nothing new here, even the local vicar was well-rehearsed in this kind of rot, so I moved on. Next was Editing. An example. You go out with your work friends, you have a meal, you drink too much, you flirt with the new girl at the office, you realise too late that you have gone too far, you go home. Your wife asks ' So, what did you get up to last night?', and you say, 'Oh, we went for a meal,

had a few drinks, one too many I'm afraid, and so I got a taxi home.' Only if she asks, 'Did you flirt with that new girl?' do you move on to Denial. Denial is fun, but can be treacherous ground. This is what most people believe to be really and truly lying. 'Well, did you or did you not flirt with her?' 'No!' It doesn't require much preparation, but you should have nerves of steel and a devil may care attitude to succeed. Basic stuff, so I turned the knife on Intermediate. There was a warning here: Only after you have mastered all the lessons in the Elemental pack should you move on to the Intermediate level. I felt I was ready. This was more like it. These lies demanded planning, had to be prepared well in advance. The trick was to create a vacuum, a gap which needed to be filled, then supply the receiver with exactly what they wanted to hear. There were a number of sub-categories Manipulation, Doubt, Disinformation, How to Spot a Liar, but they were keen to point out that at this stage all these skills were intricately interwoven. Needless to say White Lies, Editing and Denial would all be used in the run up, and the whole scheme would need to be carefully coordinated for final success. It would seem that History was full of examples of the Intermediate level, from Richard III to George W. In this field the confidence trickster was also to be found, as were bankers, socialites and religious leaders. Among others! Insidious comments should be sown, rumours started, cynical help offered, depth charges scattered and surprise feigned when the poor victim's boat was eventually blown to smithereens. Patience was essential as the destruction of an adversary could take years to materialise. But the rewards could be gratifyingly enormous. It was getting late, and my neck ached from bending over the cards, but I could not stop now. Just one pack left - Advanced. My self will abandoned me remorselessly, and this time the little red strip worked. Another warning, this time in red bold type - ' You are about to receive highly sensitive material. Strictly for authorised personnel only. You are reminded that as a civil servant you are bound by the Official Secrets Act. Improper use of any of the material here within contained will be dealt with severely.' Sounded promising. I turned over the first card and read - 'It should be pointed out that the very idea that lies exist is, in itself, a lie. It presupposes the notion of truth, of inalterable fact, and that is impossible given the relative nature of perception and the passing of time.' Pardon? This was beginning to smack of the Introduction and was not what I had expected at all. I had been hoping that at last the mask would be ripped off, that Life would be stripped bare for me to contemplate in all its crudity. I hastily flipped through the rest of them. Institutionalised Lies. I skim read. Once again the idea of relativity and the passage of time. It asked 'Is the Idea of White Supremacy a Lie?', but I didn't really understand the answer. It seemed to suggest that while it lasted, it was true, but when challenged, it started to lose veracity and enter the realms of falsehood. 'All Men are Equal', it claimed, is true as long as people accept it as theory, but untrue once Humanity begins to demand that this be put into practice. This was frustrating. Had I gone to such lengths to get my hands on this material for nothing? I scattered the Advanced cards over the bed. Possible Dangers. 'The status quo should be respected. Most historical upheavals have been the result

of persistently questioning the established order. It is advisable to accept the reigning world order as the best way to protect the general public from unnecessary suffering.' Government propaganda! I was horrified. The snake charmer was being charmed by the snake! It was then that it dawned on me. The Pack of Lies was, of course, a pack of lies. How nave of me to think that those in the know would share with me their hard earned knowledge. I ran through the Advanced cards again. Yes, there it was, hidden under the title The World Needs Leaders, a small official chip with with a location device accurate up to 200 metres, to make sure they knew exactly who had the Pack now, and where it was to be found. Very crafty. I popped the lot back into the envelope, put it into my overcoat pocket, and went for a stroll. The next morning I watched as the squad cars arrived. Uniformed men took up position in front of the block of flats, and a number of plain clothed detectives entered the main doors. Some minutes later they reappeared with a young woman in her thirties, evidently distraught at her unexpected arrest. It came as no surprise to the police, though, they had been watching her for some time, having been tipped off anonymously. They had it on good authority that she had been after a copy of the Pack of Lies, and would go to any lengths to lay her hands on such valuable information. She had apparently usurped the credentials and identity of a bona fide civil servant who lived in the flats opposite hers, had forged his signature and had the Pack delivered to his address. She had then surreptitiously taken the package back to her own lodgings for perusal. Her mistake had been to use the identity of someone who was Unauthorised Personnel. The cards were found hidden under a plant on her back balcony. 'It wasn't me! I am innocent!' she called. Tell it to the Marines.