The Divers' Game

by Jesse Ball

  Ari reached up and touched her face.

  If you need me, just tug. I’m right here. And Rez is on the other side. Either one of us will help you—or even if you don’t need help—if you just want to talk or have company. We’re here.

  The little girl tried to think of something to say. She didn’t want the conversation to end.

  Do you think they will let me keep my dress?

  I don’t know. They must—it was sewn just for you. Who else could fit in it?

  Lessen climbed down from the pallet and curled up in the blanket with Ari.

  She switched off the flashlight, and the theater creaked like a ship. All around there were voices murmuring, and here and there things glowing, who knows what or how. Lessen buried her cheek into Ari’s neck, hiding her face like a criminal.

  My little dear, said Ari, stroking her hair. My sad little darling.

  IN A ROOM ABOVE, THE MAN WHO WAS TO PLAY THE magistrate, the man who had played the magistrate three times before, the man who felt he would never cease to play the magistrate, although he was not a magistrate, hated magistrates, he sat with his beard wrapped around him like a cloak. He had two empty bottles, one to the left and one to the right. He sat in a chair, and opposite him in another chair sat the paper Infanta. He was giving her a long lecture.

  I know you have your charms, and I know that you are for the most part a very comprehensive version of a child, but there are secrets I must share with you, and one is: you may not be enough. You are not always enough. So you must try to do your job as well as you can. You must be as much a real girl as you can be, and when the crowd gets their hands on you and tears you to bits, you must scream and scream, and wriggle and tremble. You must go stiff and weep like a board. You must bleed if you can. Because there is a rage in the crowd, and if you cannot bear it all, if you cannot . . .

  A woman in a gray skirt came into the room then. She peered around and then switched on the overhead light.

  Giving her the speech, eh?

  She walked around the seat from which the Infanta stared flawlessly forward. Her face was clean and full of hope. Her eyes glistened and did not blink.

  You have no fear. But it will be a long day, the woman said, patting the doll on its childlike shoulder.

  LESSEN WOKE IN THE NIGHT AND SAT UP. WHERE WAS she? It was somewhere she had never been. She drew up her lungs and shoulders to scream, but then a slight familiarity touched her. Who was this warm person? She remembered everything, and yet the strangeness of the theater, with its endless, never-to-be-seen ceiling and its strange miasmas, left her trembling. She felt pressed against the ground, and she pulled at the woman on the ground, who woke, and sat up, saw what was going on for what it was, and curled herself around the little girl.

  Lessen began to cry, and as she cried, she became sadder and wilder, and more helpless and almost angry, and then completely weak and empty and then sad again. They lay there, and the little girl whispered in the woman’s ear.

  What will it be like tomorrow?

  Ari lay flat on the ground wrapped in the thin blanket, and Lessen was now above her looking down, their faces as close as can be.

  I remember the last festival. It was burning hot. I woke that morning and I was covered in sweat. I must have been twelve, eleven or twelve. Everyone had already left the apartment, and when I went out into the apartment block it was empty too. But when I got to the street, a wave of noise rolled over me, and there it was: the mob, so many people you can’t begin to know who is who or how or why. And what’s more, you join them. You run into the crowd, and it is all elbows and arms and legs. You aren’t crushed, it isn’t that way at all. In fact you don’t even have to hold yourself up anymore. The crowd carries you, and one moment you are in one street, the next moment in another. You don’t control anything. You just find yourself places, and you shout when people shout, scream when people scream. When there are things to throw, you throw them. If people, you weep. You are less alone than you have ever been, and in the midst of all that, something is cutting through the crowd, coming up the street, and it is a wooden ship fifteen feet high, and on it there is something happening. What is it that is happening up there? What is it?

  Ari caressed Lessen’s face, and Lessen wormed in closer.

  But why me?

  It’s because, because they don’t know what you’ll do. No one knows what you might do. That’s what being a queen is.

  2

  The Divers’ Game

  It was like this, they would say something like, Tell us where he is, and then the boy would spit or say nothing, or look away, and then they would hit him or throw him against a wall or stamp their feet. Then there would be more of the tell-us-where-he-is-ing and more of the hitting, more of the stamping. They weren’t hitting him very hard, were they? He was just a boy, an older boy certainly, but a boy all the same. And the two of them were men, and rather large men at that. Maybe they weren’t actually hitting him. Maybe they were just threatening him. They kept saying they’d hit him. That was it. From outside the door it sounded bad. Yeah, sooner or later it was going to start, just you bet.

  In the hall, one of the two men was talking to someone. He said,

  We don’t know yet. He won’t say. Don’t worry. There’s nothing to worry about yet. They’re just kids. He’ll turn up.

  This man had yellow hair like old garbage and a very loud voice. He was fatter than you would want him to be, and he came up very close to the people he was speaking to because he knew they didn’t like it. We can say that he smelled just fine, though. His feet were small and he moved rather quickly. All in all a hard man to deal with.

  He went back into the room.

  The boy was sniveling and sitting on the edge of a table. When the man came back in he stopped sniveling, like, some kind of pride or something. He thought better of it, though, or lost control, because a few more snivels came.

  Why does it have to be so hard? You were taking care of Ollie. That was your job. For the day you were to take care of Ollie. So where is he? Where is the boy you were supposed to take care of?

  At the other end of the room there was another table, and the second man was sitting at it writing something down. He stood up.

  Do you think anyone cares about you? The reason you were allowed in this house in the first place is because you were Ollie’s playmate. He looked up to you. How’s that?

  The first man pulled the boy’s feet and dumped him onto the ground. The boy’s back and head rapped against the floor, and he cried out.

  I’m sorry I did that, said the man.

  He helped the boy up.

  I’m really sorry.

  He shoved the boy and the boy fell down again. The man yanked him back up to his feet.

  I’m sorry I did that. We just, we want you to tell us where Ollie is. You won’t tell. Come on. Why won’t you.

  I don’t know. I don’t know where he is! We were supposed to meet by the statue at Garstal and Matby. Maybe he’s there.

  You said that already, but we know you weren’t there. Don’t lie. You think we don’t know what we know—but you don’t know how we know what we know or who tells us things—it’d break your shitty little brain. So just come clean. Tell us the truth.

  It’s not a lie. I said we were supposed to meet. I didn’t say I went. We were. We were. Why don’t you go check the statue? See if he’s there. I’m telling you. It’s all the truth. I told you. Why don’t you believe me? Yesterday morning I came here, I picked up Ollie. He said he wanted to go to the arcades. He loves it there. We go to the stalls his father owns. He sinks them, seven at a time, and we can make it all back and more. Every time we’ve gone down there, and it’s no problem. Last week, the week before, the week before that. You know—you’ve seen me bring him back. You know. So we went down there, and we were there for some hours, and when I looked for him he was gone. Just like that. I went through every stall, and he wasn’t there. I didn’t ask for help because may
be he didn’t want to be found. I don’t know. When we first got there I told him meet me by Garstal and Matby if we get separated, but then when we did get separated he didn’t come. Or at least Satler said he didn’t show up. I mean, you’re right that I wasn’t there. I wasn’t. I left Satler to meet him. What’s wrong with that? Satler’s his friend too.

  What’s wrong with that?

  The man shook his head.

  That was three o’clock, the boy sniffed. Three o’clock! He could be anywhere by now. That’s not my fault. You got to let me go. I didn’t do anything. Do what you want to my dad, he’s a louse, but let me go.

  The men looked at each other. The yellow-haired one waited for the other to decide.

  The second man wrote something in his notebook. He nodded.

  What do you think?

  A third man was sitting on the floor by the window. His shoes and shirt had been pulled off and were tied around his neck, who knows why.

  Briggs, what do you think? He’s your son, is he lying?

  I don’t know. He lies all the time. I’m really sorry. You got to tell Mr. Spencer how sorry I am. I just didn’t know the boys were doing this. I didn’t know they were going off alone. Tell Mr. Spencer that, I mean, he’s got to know that. Eben, tell them where Ollie is, please tell them. Don’t you understand what’s happening?

  Briggs, if this is some blackmailing scheme, I’m telling you, we will dump your body in a bush somewhere. No one cares.

  Briggs let out a wail. He insisted it was no blackmailing scheme. If it had been, wouldn’t they have worked it out better? And anyway, Eben was just a wild kid. Ollie was too. With the two of them, who knew what they’d been up to. Ollie was probably fine. He would be back any minute, walking in the door. Briggs tried to make them see it—Ollie would just walk back in the door and everything would be fine. Like it was any other day but today.

  Chester interrupted him. He tapped his notebook against his wrist impatiently.

  When does your wife come back to the house?

  My wife? Ughh. Ah, usually, she, she would be there about, ah, no, but today—it’s the parade, so, she might not be back for hours, maybe not till the nighttime.

  Do you know where she is? Maybe she can get something out of this clown.

  He aimed a kick at the boy, who was now on the floor, but the boy cringed and the foot stopped short.

  All right then. There’s nothing for it. Garstal and Matby. Let’s go.

  THE BOY PICTURED THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW HAIR standing too close to a window, and he imagined himself shoving the man out. How that would be! He’d just laugh and laugh and maybe even call something after him. What would be the best thing to say?

  THEY GOT OUT TO THE STREET, AND THERE WERE HEADS as far as the eye could see. Not even bodies, just heads. Some wore hats, some wore glasses. Some were high up, others lower. The heads jostled and trembled, and sometimes waves passed through when something exciting or terrible happened nearby. It was a crowd, and it took up all of that street and all of the next street and all of the street after that. If that were the world, it would have stopped there, but it didn’t, it went on, street after street. The parade was coming. The parade was somewhere nearby. They were in the parade. The parade had happened. It was about to happen. Had anyone seen it? There was a rumor someone had seen the procession a few blocks north, and that set off a ripple that trampled two people so badly, they had to be pulled to the edge and laid on a stoop. But some did go a few blocks north, and who knows, maybe it came to nothing. Carson and Chester elbowed their way through and dragged Eben after them. It was a sign of something that they could make any progress at all.

  First they went along DeKhan Street as if they were headed to the bus depot, but at Wessel they took a right. Carson’s grip on Eben’s wrist was like iron. There was no chance he could wriggle out, so he skittered after the two men as they marched resolutely forward, elbowing and shoving their way.

  Of all the fucking days it had to be, said Carson.

  What, you don’t like a parade?

  They came around the corner of Wessel and Averbeig, threading their way through food vendors and stalls selling fake gas masks and flags with anything on them. That’s when Eben saw it.

  The parade! Look.

  IT WAS COMING DOWN AVERBEIG, THE GROUCHERS were running there with their brooms, hitting whoever came close and clearing the path. The float was a greenish white color and covered in scales of some cheap material that glimmered like eyes. Atop it were dozens of people in costumes, and there at the front, a throne, and on the throne, the Infanta! She was all in red, and she stood out from the parade like a lacerated cheek. She was pointing a scepter, and the grouchers were doing whatever she said. It just got worse wherever she pointed. Some people were running in a stampede away from the float, and Eben wondered why. Was it better to be close or farther away? But he saw the grouchers were dragging people onto the float and stripping off their clothes. The Infanta was jumping around. No one could stop her. She pointed out an old woman, and they pulled her up onto the float and the Infanta made her crouch on all fours and howl. People hung from windows and shouted with delight. Others began to break down the doors along the street and rush into the houses. A painful wrench on his arm: Eben was pulled around a corner, and that was the last he saw of it.

  We’ll go down that alley. There are too many people—this is exhausting. I mean the old man says do it so we’ll do it, but it is no fun.

  You having fun? Carson asked Eben.

  No.

  Because if you were, I’d say I’ll break your fucking arm. We better find Ollie soon, or you’ll regret it. Thing is we know you had it in for him.

  Chester nodded.

  He told his father. He said you didn’t like him. Said you and your other friend . . .

  Satler, said Carson, chiming in.

  Yeah, Satler. You and that little prick were always giving him a hard time. Spencer said should we do something about it, but Ollie said no. He’d work it out, and that’s right. That’s the right way to handle it. But then what happens? Where’s Ollie? No one knows.

  Maybe this shit knows, said Carson. I think he and his fuckup dad want a payout. That’s what I think.

  Do you want a payout? Do you?

  They came to an alley that ran behind a hospital. Through a window they saw the beleaguered face of a nurse.

  Bad day to be a doctor, said Chester.

  Funny for you to say it. The man practically keeps them in business. Here now, here we are.

  They crossed a road that had been blocked off but was now mostly empty, and passed over a freight crossing to something like a meat market. Beyond it was the broad entrance to an abattoir—the famous slaughter yard, now in disuse. It was full of garbage, just a dump.

  Past that, they came to a square. There was a statue of a man with an enormous top hat.

  Well, here we are.

  ONE WALL OF THE SQUARE WAS COVERED IN MURALS. The murals showed heroic guards in gas masks standing in great swirling clouds of yellow and green. The faces of people with branded cheeks were in various states of discomfort and death at the guards’ feet and wherever the smoke curled to show what lay beneath. Of course, all three had passed it so many times, they could no longer see it.

  That’s the statue, said Eben. Maybe . . .

  But the entire square was empty. There was no one there. No one at all.

  The two men sat heavily on the steps.

  We’re going to have a talk, said Carson, and something good better come out of it.

  CHILDREN DON’T LIE. NO CHILD HAS EVER TOLD A LIE. Because the world they live in is not the same one we inhabit. So if all of the things they know are different from all the things we know, then how could they lie? In essence we are always talking about one thing when they are talking about another. What they can do is try to make life as nice as possible, and they do this by trying to identify the things they can say that might convince anyone with any wherewith
al to make things better. Children are just water flowing downstream. There is no meaning to be taken from their words.

  What’s more—adults are the same way! We are all just desperate to have more of what’s nice, and we’ll say anything to get it. We’ll do anything, be anything, say anything, just in order to reach the world that we believe in. Even selfless people do this—the world that they want to reach is just one in which they’re punished.

  So if that’s how things always are, then what could it possibly mean to say that one thing is a lie and another thing is true?

  Something like this was running through Chester’s head as he sat there on the steps. He took out his notebook and wrote on it the words

  Four o’clock. Spencer.

  He showed this to Eben.

  Can you read? Can you read, Eben?

  Eben looked at it.

  That’s what happens at four P.M. We take you to Spencer, and god knows what he will do. If you don’t like us, if you know us and don’t like us, well, let me tell you, you don’t know Spencer and you won’t like him, not what he’ll do. He assured me in the hall, didn’t he, didn’t he just, he said, I know the boy and his father are up to something. Find it out. You know your father owes Spencer a lot of money. Who owns your father’s store?

  My father.

  Wrong. Spencer owns it. Who owns the merchandise in that store?

  My father.

  Nope. Spencer owns it. And who has to deal with the shortfall when your idiot father loses money every month for the last two years? So now you see—it really does look like it. And that’s what Spencer knows. That’s what he knows about you.

  Which brings us around to the question again, said Chester. Where are you keeping Ollie? Does your mother have him? We tossed your house. He isn’t there.

  Tossed the house? laughed Carson. We tossed the whole damn street.

  Eben looked very small standing beneath the two men who in turn looked tiny beneath the statue with its huge hat, and the statue was made small by the blocks around it and the quad, and the quad was made small by the green fields around it, the high fences, the city beyond, and the city was small in the vastness of debris and devastation that is the world, and of course, the world was the smallest of all, the very smallest, for if you get even a little ways away, you wouldn’t know it was yours. You wouldn’t have the first idea how to get back to it.