Perilous

by Janet Edwards

The inevitable moment came when we had to attempt it ourselves. I dutifully set my machine to use several colours, fed in a piece of cloth, and sneaked a look across at Shanna. She was already running her machine, delicately trailing her fingers across the control screen to guide the design, and I saw her cloth start emerging covered with glorious blue and silver swirls that were highlighted with traces of purple.

  I took a deep breath, started my own machine running, and tried to copy what Shanna was doing to guide the design. I was prepared for the result to be bad, but even so I was shocked by the discordant colours of the cloth that emerged. I’d been thinking about flowerbeds in parks when I chose red, purple and green, but somehow the colours that were bright and cheerful in a flowerbed looked garish on my cloth.

  I glanced across at Atticus, and was even more depressed to see the cloth appearing from his machine was covered in a staid but perfectly acceptable design in blue and grey stripes.

  “I’m useless,” I muttered.

  The activity leader appeared at my elbow. “There’s no need to be despondent, Amber. This activity is only relevant to fabric designers.”

  I sighed. “It’s not just this activity though. I’m useless at absolutely everything.”

  “You’re a very competent swimmer,” said the activity leader. “You may not have the height and build to achieve competition standard, but you still enjoy the benefits of high physical fitness. You’ve also got an exceptional sense of balance.”

  “I don’t see how a good sense of balance will help me in Lottery.”

  “The Teen Level activity sessions are mainly focused around developing creative skills and sporting ability,” said the activity leader, “but these are only relevant to a subset of the possible professions in the Hive. There are tens of thousands of other professions that involve basic innate abilities such as logical reasoning and social skills.”

  I must have heard activity leaders make a variation of this speech a hundred times by now. I listened in resigned silence as he continued.

  “The assessment process is immensely complex, and its verdict is unpredictable, which is how it came to be named Lottery. Its tests will determine all your strengths, and you will be matched to the profession that is most suitable for you and valuable to the Hive, so you still have every chance of becoming high level.”

  His standard speech complete, the activity leader hurried off to help Casper feed the cloth into his machine and explain the controls again. I stared down at the horrible red, purple, and green disaster in front of me and groaned. In my first few years on Teen Level, I’d happily believed the activity leaders when they said that failing at the activities didn’t matter, and that I still had every chance of becoming high level. Now the reassuring words just seemed like empty platitudes.

  The painful session inevitably ended with our activity leader calling Shanna’s name. He handed her a gold card, while the rest of us applauded. Shanna was my best friend, but I couldn’t help thinking of how many gold cards she’d accumulated over the years, and how she openly admitted she didn’t have time to attend even half of the advanced sessions.

  It wasn’t that I resented Shanna’s good fortune, but it emphasized my own lack of talent. It was certain that Lottery would be sending me down the Hive; the only question was how far. I should be grateful if I ended up on Level 93, rather than as a Level 99 Sewage Technician.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re very quiet,” said Atticus, as we rode along on the express belt. “You didn’t eat much lunch either. If you don’t want to go on this date with me, Amber, then just admit it. We can forget the whole idea.”

  “I do want to go on a date with you,” I said hastily, “but I find Light and Dark pageants a bit scary. Please don’t laugh if I scream.”

  “I won’t laugh. I get scared myself when the lights go out, especially during the pageants before Halloween when I know the dark forces will win. This is a Carnival pageant though, so we can reassure ourselves that light will triumph.”

  Carnival and Halloween were the twin Hive festivals of light and darkness, of life and death, and which force triumphed in the Light and Dark pageants reflected that. Other people were afraid of the periods of darkness, and the actors playing creatures from the Halloween stories, but my fears were centred on something else.

  Explaining that to Atticus could get complicated, so I just nodded in response. We left the belt system, joined the vast queue outside the Blue Zone Arena, and eventually got inside.

  I’d been to the arena dozens of times during my years on Teen Level. The arrangement of the interior varied depending on the event. This time there were no seats at all, only a long length of stage in the centre of the vast open space. Atticus and I were caught up in a crowd of other teens, and I found myself standing right next to the stage.

  Atticus pulled a face at me. “I wasn’t planning to get quite this close to the action. Do you want to move further away?”

  I turned and saw a group of hasties were putting up white barriers to divide the audience into sections. “The crowd control safety barriers are already up, so we’d better stay where we are.”

  A few minutes later, the lights in the arena started dimming. There were terrified gasps from all around me as it gradually grew darker than the Hive corridors at night, darker than a park on the moon and stars programme, darker than the minimum room light setting, and on down to total blackness.

  “It won’t be dark for long,” Atticus whispered tensely. “I can hold your hand if you’re scared.”

  I felt his hand brushing against mine. “I’m not afraid of the dark,” I said.

  “Really? I thought everyone was afraid of the dark. Well, can I hold your hand because I’m scared?”

  I giggled and took his hand. It felt oddly intimate to be standing so close together, with our hands linked in the darkness.

  There was a sudden glow at the far end of the stage, as golden walls appeared that symbolized the Hive. The actress playing the light angel stood in front of them, her costume and outspread wings shining silver.

  “Oh no,” said Atticus. “They usually set up this end of the stage as the Hive walls, and the far end as Outside. They must have changed it this year. That explains why we ended up so close to the stage. The biggest crowds will be down the other end.”

  I bit my lip rather than try to speak. I wasn’t scared of the dark, but I was terrified of the horrors of Outside.

  The distant figure of the light angel brandished a glowing golden sword in defence of the Hive walls. “High up!” she cried.

  “High up!” I joined in the answering shout of the audience.

  Dark shapes were moving on our end of the stage now. Monstrous creatures with red glowing eyes. They made weird, high-pitched cries, which rose to a climax as a tall, cloaked figure wearing a red-eyed helm rose up from under the stage. There were squeals of panic from all around me. The hunter of souls, the nightmare central figure of all the Halloween stories, was here.

  “Come to me, my cursed ones, my scavengers of darkness, my demonic pack,” he called, in a harsh, distorted voice. “We will hunt souls this night and recruit them to swell our numbers.”

  He blew his hunting horn. The pack responded with inhuman cries, and loped across to gather round him. They acted out exaggerated sniffing, and led him across to the edge of the stage to be met with yells of fear from the audience. I peered sideways, and saw the crowd rapidly pulling back from the stage. The pack made snarling noises of frustration at losing their prey, before turning away to hunt an imaginary scent trail to further along the stage.

  The act was repeated there, and a third and fourth time in other places, and then came the moment I’d been dreading. A glow was appearing almost in front of me. Truesun was rising up from under the stage!

  I knew this wasn’t the real Truesun that ruled the daytime outside the security of the Hive. It was just an actress in a costume, so I couldn’t be blinded if I looked at it, but I was still
terrified. I let go of Atticus’s hand, and tried to move backwards, but the crowd was trapping me against the stage.

  The glow grew brighter, and then a brilliantly lit golden headdress appeared. I had my eyes fixed on it, oblivious to anything else, until something touched my shoulder. I turned to see the hunter of souls looking down at me. In the light of the rising Truesun, I caught a glimpse of the actor’s startled face under the red-eyed helm.

  “Waste it! I must be losing my touch.” He turned away, cowering and shading his eyes from the light of the rising Truesun, before running with his pack to hide in the darkest corner of the stage.

  I realized I was standing alone in the centre of an empty space, and the nearby teens were all staring at me. I looked round for Atticus, and saw him standing a few paces back from the stage. He gave a nervous laugh and came back to my side.

  “I thought you said you got scared during the Light and Dark pageants. I’ve never seen anyone stare straight into the eyes of the hunter of souls before.”

  “I’m not scared of the hunter of souls or his pack,” I said. “I know they’re just myths from Halloween stories. I’m scared of the Truesun, because that truly does exist outside the Hive.”

  I looked anxiously back at the stage. The Truesun was dancing round the stage in her dazzling headdress. As she moved towards me, I felt my heart start racing. I closed my eyes and pressed my face against Atticus’s shoulder.

  “You really are terrified,” he said, in a bewildered voice, and put his arms protectively round me. “There’s no need to worry. The actress playing the Truesun isn’t going to risk coming near you after the way you faced the hunter of souls without flinching.”

  I didn’t reply. I couldn’t speak. I stayed with my eyes tight shut in the safety of the darkness and warmth of Atticus’s shoulder. Finally, he spoke again.

  “The Truesun has gone back under the stage. You’re safe now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure,” he said.

  I turned to face the stage again, and cautiously opened my eyes. Yes, the Truesun had set, and the hunter of souls was back in the centre of the stage with his pack. They played at frightening the audience for a couple of minutes, and then a new figure appeared from under the stage. The dark angel, with his red and black costume, and his black wings outstretched, turned to face the audience and raised his red, glowing sword.

  “Low down!” he cried, in a harsh voice.

  The hunter of souls and his pack bowed to their champion, while the audience booed him. The dark angel waved his sword angrily at the crowd, and strode towards the golden walls of the Hive. The light angel came forward to meet him and blocked his path.

  “We were lovers once,” said the dark angel. “Join me in the darkness.”

  The light angel shook her head. “We were lovers once. Join me in the light.”

  The dark angel shook his head in turn, and then looked upwards. “I call for justice!”

  A new figure, wearing unrelieved black and carrying a great sword on his back, was lowered down from the ceiling to stand between them. “You called for justice, and I am here. What is your plea?”

  “Twice a year, I have the right to challenge those who banished me,” said the dark angel.

  “You have that right,” said the figure of justice.

  “Twice a year, I stand against his challenge,” said the light angel.

  “You also have that right. Let the combat begin.”

  Justice was lifted back up to vanish into the ceiling, and the two angels stepped forward. Their swords met with a loud clash, and they went through a dramatic combat routine that sent the hunter of souls and his pack scurrying clear of them.

  At one point, the light angel was sent sprawling and lost her sword, but there wasn’t any genuine suspense for the audience. We all knew that the dark angel would win in the pageants before Halloween, while the light angel would be victorious in the ones before Carnival.

  The fight scene duly reached its climax, with the dark angel on his knees and the light angel’s sword at his throat.

  “Spare my life,” pleaded the dark angel.

  “Why should I spare you?” asked the light angel. “We are forever divided by our choices.”

  “We are forever divided, but forever one,” said the dark angel. “There can be no light without darkness, and no darkness without light.”

  The light angel lowered her sword. “Go then.”

  The dark angel scrambled to his feet and fled, with the hunter of souls and the pack chasing after their defeated champion. They hurried down some stairs to vanish under the stage, and the light angel raised her sword in triumph.

  “High up!” she cried.

  “High up!” The crowd responded.

  The light angel slowly paraded the length of the stage and back, celebrating her victory, and then the golden gates in the Hive wall opened. A group of people dressed in silver and gold came running out. “High up,” they cried, and started tossing shimmering streamers to the crowd.

  Eager hands reached up from the audience, grabbing for the streamers. I wasn’t going to try to get a streamer myself, because taller people with a longer reach always got them first, but a silver-clad man came running up, knelt at the edge of the stage in front of me, and thrust a streamer into my hands. “Why didn’t I scare you earlier?”

  I stared at him in confusion, and then recognized his face and his voice as those of the hunter of souls. At Halloween, the dark angel would win the combat, and the hunter of souls and his pack would stay on stage and distribute red streamers to the crowd. Now I realized that at Carnival, those same actors would go under the stage for a rapid change of costume, and appear again as the victorious forces of light handing out silver and gold streamers.

  “I was distracted by the Truesun rising,” I said.

  He looked puzzled, but the forces of light were gathering at the centre of the stage, and he stood and went to join them.

  “Light is victorious,” cried the light angel. “Let us go forth and tell the Hive to celebrate with Carnival!”

  The light angel raised her sword high, and ran down the steps from the stage and through a gap in the crowd. The forces of light ran after her, cheering, and the waiting hasties moved forward to remove barriers so one section of the crowd after another was set free to chase after them in a long procession.

  “High up!” we shouted, waving our streamers as we ran out of the Arena.

  Chapter Twelve

  The light angel led the procession round a nearby shopping area, and through the local park, before stopping to climb on a park bench and flourish her sword. “Happy Carnival to you all, and may those of you entering the Lottery of 2531 all be high up!”

  “High up!” the crowd responded for the last time, before turning and drifting back towards the nearby park exit. There was a major belt system interchange just outside, with a group of hasties making sure that the crowd formed an orderly line rather than all trying to get onto the belts at once. When Atticus and I had reached the head of the queue, and moved across to the express belt, Atticus turned to face me.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re so scared of the Truesun.”

  The mere mention of the Truesun was enough to make me grumpy and defensive. “It’s like my fear of heights. It’s because of something that happened to me when I was a child.”

  “What happened to you?” asked Atticus.

  Blurred memories of my infant terror surfaced. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “I’ll do my best to understand.”

  “When I say it’s hard to explain, I mean that I hate talking about it,” I snapped at him. “I’ve already told you I’m scared of the Truesun. Why can’t you just accept that and shut up about it?”

  Atticus lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else. Will you be going to the activity session tomorrow morning?”

  “No. It’s about making clay pots and
I hate the feel of wet clay. I’m beginning to think I should give up going to activity sessions anyway. I’m used to being bad at them, but I was totally disastrous at this morning’s machine embroidery. My cloth looked like it was covered in vomit.”

  “I was just as bad as you.”

  “Your design looked perfectly respectable.”

  “Only because I cheated,” said Atticus.

  “What? How could you have cheated?”

  “I chose the minimum two colours, the totally safe ones of blue and grey, and I didn’t touch the cloth design controls at all so it came out in the default stripes.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t realized it worked that way.” I hesitated for a moment. “Something funny happened on my way back from getting my head injury treated. I reached the bulkhead doors between Turquoise Zone and Blue Zone just as they closed for the three-monthly test, so I got stuck on the Turquoise side.”

  “I’m not seeing the joke,” said Atticus.

  “My head was hurting. I saw a set of chairs, so I went and sat down with some other teens.”

  “I’m still not seeing the joke.”

  “A Turquoise Zone activity leader arrived, and I discovered I’d gatecrashed his class’s lecture on bulkhead doors.”

  Atticus laughed. “That reminds me of something that happened last year. Forge invited me to his swimming team party. When I arrived, nobody was dancing, and I couldn’t see Forge or Shanna anywhere. The other peculiar thing was that everyone was tall and thin.”

  He paused. “I finally discovered I’d gone to the wrong community centre and walked into a meeting of the Blue Zone teen high jump team. I hope your activity leader wasn’t as sarcastic about your mistake as the high jump team were about mine.”

  “The activity leader wasn’t sarcastic at all. He thought my accident had stopped me from getting to my own class’s lecture, and I was so desperately eager to learn about bulkhead doors that I’d decided to listen to his class’s lecture instead.”

  “I expect it was very boring, but at least you got to sit down until the bulkhead doors opened.”