by Stine, Hank
‘What about you?’
‘Bosh. An old man like myself? No one pays any attention to me.’
‘Thank you, Admiral,’ he said.
‘Ah…here. Set up the board, while I find the wine.’
They played for some half-hour in silence.
‘You there, Number Six. We know you’re there. We know everything about you.’ The television across the room had come on, and a man’s face took form. Though the background (a wall-sized bookcase and lamp) were in normal colour, the face had a bluish, almost purple cast, lips dark as dried blood. The man had close-cropped hair, a bullet shaped head, small feral features and a sharp smile.
‘Not everything surely?’
‘We’ve had enough of your boarding-school humour, too. Times have changed. We can no longer afford the freedom you enjoyed in the past. We’ve allowed you certain privileges before. That’s over now. You’ve got to get in line like the rest of us. The age of the individual is past. This is the age of the common man. There was room for your kind once. No more. We must all march together, the same step, the same direction, the same goals. This is the road to progress.’
‘An excellent move, Admiral. I have rarely seen a rook used to such advantage.’
‘Nothing to it, lad Just a sharp eye and an orderly mind.’
‘Number Six, answer me. This minute! I want to talk to you. In fact, I want to see you right now, in my office.’
‘Might I have another glass of wine?’
‘Certainly, Number Six. Allow me.’
‘You too, Number Three Hundred seven. We’ve had our eye on you for quite some time. You had better mend your ways.’
‘Number Three Hundred seven. Is that your number? I didn’t know that.’
‘Just call me “Admiral”.’
‘Of course.’
‘The world has been tamed. There is no room left for rebels. We have a peaceful Village. Our citizens are content. I will not allow you to disrupt them. You’re setting a bad example for our youth. They are becoming upset and uncertain. We cannot allow that. You must be stopped.’
‘Excuse me a moment, lad.’ The Admiral rose and went into the kitchen. He came out carrying a large pewter vase. He tilted the television set face down.
‘What are you doing, Number Three Hundred seven? You can’t shut me off—’
The Admiral poured the water from the vase into the back of the set. There was a sharp glare of electricity and the voice went dead.
‘We can expect a repair crew momentarily.’
‘Right you are, lad. They won’t leave you alone a minute in this damned place.’
The doorbell rang.
‘Good after—’ She caught herself and stared up at him through the darkened lenses of her glasses.
‘Number Six,’ the Admiral said, coming forward. ‘And this is Number Seven. She’s a newcomer.’
They made themselves comfortable.
‘You surprise me, Admiral’
She lifted her sunglasses and looked at him thoughtfully. ‘The Admiral’s been good to me. I ran into him my first day here. I was upset.’ She had fine, sharp features, clear youthful skin, and wistful, disappointed eyes.
‘Eh? That’s all right, lass. Think nothing of it. We were all put off a bit, our first day here.’
‘Your television…have you dismantled it? I tried that with mine, but they came right away and repaired it. There’s no way to shut it off.’
‘A little butter to make it run smooth.’
‘Yes.’ She gave him a final, wondering glance and then replaced her glasses. ‘It is rather Alice in Wonderlandish, Number Six.’
‘You’re an American?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s an—’
Outside they heard the high, piercing warble of a repair truck.
The door was flung open and four men came in: two of them wore blue uniforms and severe expressions; the other two wore rumpled green jumpsuits and carried rectangular metal repair kits.
‘Number Six?’ said one of the men in blue.
The repairmen went to work on the set.
‘You, mate. I’m talking to you.’ He pointed a hairy finger.
‘Yes.’
‘Come with us.
‘All right.’ He turned to the girl. She tilted her head up to look at him. His reflection stared back from the lenses: a tall substantial looking man in a dark suit. ‘Number Seven.’
‘Number Six,’ she replied.
‘Thank you, Admiral. I enjoyed the game.’
‘I’ll see you later, lad.’ The old man’s eyes were apprehensive.
‘Be seeing you.’
‘Come on, mate.’
Number 2 looked up, frowning. ‘Good afternoon, Number Six. I trust you were not inconvenienced.’
‘Not at all.’
‘Good. I’ll take that as a sign of co-operation. I shall expect to see a great deal more of it from you, now that I am in office.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’
Should he? or was this just one more slight-of-hand? Then, for a moment, he could almost (like a ghost image in the far recesses of his mind) remember this face, this voice, this precise tilt of head and gleam of demonic eye. Then, as he reached, it was gone, like mist, before daylight of reason.
‘No.’
‘I was—’
Number 4!
‘—Number Four then.’
Yes. And for a moment the period stood out with utter clarity. There was a sense of water, the sea, a small boat, a quarter mile of dirt track, the use of his car…Realities he could almost, but not quite make come clear, but which, if he could penetrate their centre, would be his. Then the vision was gone, only a dim impression remaining like a hauntingly familiar scent.
‘You weren’t so highly placed then.’
‘I am now. That is what concerns us. That and your intractable attitude. My predecessors have been too lenient with you. They sought to win your co-operation with kindness. I’ve had experience with your peculiar kind of mentality before. I know how to deal with it. You will co-operate or you will obey, but you will change. Have I made myself clear?’
‘Quite.’
‘But’—his voice was built for harshness; it could not easily make the transition to conciliation—‘things could be made easier for you. You could be set free. If only—’
‘I’d tell you why I resigned?’
‘I don’t like that attitude of yours, Number Six. And I intend to do something about it.’ He looked back down at some papers. ‘Dismissed.’
The rain fell heavier and heavier, whispering over the ground and drawing premature twilight across buildings and shrubs. Purple clouds boiled across the sky, running before the wind. Leaves whipped up about him and the rain stung his face.
He turned the collar of his coat up against his neck and went down the street to the tobacco shop. It was dark and shuttered, a CLOSED sign hanging in the window. He glanced at his watch: four thirty-five.
He walked down away from the shop and went home.
Number Seven was waiting on the steps.
May I come in?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I was curious. Exactly what do they do when they are displeased?’
‘It depends.’ He took her coat and put it in the closet, switched on the stereo.
‘On what?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t seem to have come into any harm.’
‘Not this time.’
They sat down.
‘You have before?’
‘On occasion.’
‘What was it like?’
‘Would you care for tea, a drink?’
‘Not now, thank you.’ She took off her glasses. ‘In a while.’
‘I started to ask you something earlier.’
‘Yes…Number Six is it? I’m not very good with numbers.’
He smiled.
She laughed and crossed her legs. ‘Y
es, it is rather absurd, isn’t it. I wasn’t very good with names either. Just faces.’
‘Number Six.’
‘Of course. I always remember them when I hear them and think myself a fool for forgetting.’
‘How—’
‘How did I come here?’ She raised her eyes and met his. ‘I was going to ask you the same thing. You see, I haven’t learned much, really. Nobody here will talk, except the Admiral. I like him. He’s the only person I’ve met here I feel I can trust.’
‘I feel very much the same.’
‘And I haven’t been able to get in touch with the authorities—Number Two, I think he’s called.’
‘Yes.’
‘And it’s been rather hard, all in all. I tried to get out, of course, but that’s almost impossible. There’s no train or bus or car. And when you try to walk out, those…I don’t know—they’re like balloons, only I think they’re alive—they stop you. And they’re heavy.’
‘Guardians.’
‘Is that what they’re called? How appropriate. Anyway, there doesn’t seem to be any way out, not easily, and the natives won’t tell me anything, and the Admiral’s rather vague. I thought perhaps, well, you looked decisive. That’s a rare quality anywhere. And I thought, Sandra, that’s my real name, Sandra Champaign. Ridiculous isn’t it? But it’s the truth, I swear it. Sandra, I said to myself, maybe he doesn’t know anything, and maybe he does, and maybe he’s one of the ones responsible for your being here, and maybe he isn’t, but you’ve got to talk to someone sometime and he looks worthwhile.’
‘I see.’
‘Who goes first? What’s your name?’
‘You might not believe it either. It’s the British equivalent of John Smith.’
‘Then perhaps we had better stick to numbers.’
‘Perhaps we had, Number Seven.’
‘I’ll go first, if you like, but I’d like that cup of tea, now.’
I don’t talk like this all the time,’ she said when he’d brought in the service.
‘I didn’t imagine you did.’
‘It’s…I don’t know, like giving up cigarettes. There’s a tension, it crawls right up and gets inside you and fills you with a kind of evil energy. Do they have grass here, do you know?’ She cocked her head and watched him with a half-amused curiosity.
‘No I don’t. How old are you?’
‘Twenty-five.’ There was something appealing and pathetic in her eyes. ‘I saw some kids making a film around town. I imagine they’d know if anyone would.’
‘Your reason for being here?’
‘I don’t know’—she leaned her head to one side and looked at him again—‘if there is a reason for my being here. But what happened was this: I was hitching by plane from Los Angeles to New York. Dylan is giving a free concert at Woodstock.’
‘Hitch-hiking by plane?’
‘It’s something I learned when I was married. My husband was a very successful insurance broker and so we were given a lot of credit cards. Anyway, one day he came home and said he couldn’t stand it any more at the office, that the way we were living was sick and that we had to go out and find out more about life and ourselves. We used our cards and went around the country. We were with the Poor People’s March in Washington when the troops came in and levelled their shacks. We used to sit outside in the evenings and look through the smog, rolling dope and talking. After a while, we split up. He just dropped out of sight, and since he wouldn’t go back to work, there was no way they could collect their money. I was in Florida so I went to the airport and after a while this gay cat took me to his mansion in the Bahamas.’ She shivered. ‘I’m talking too much. I better drink some of this tea. Delicious. God, I’d like some grass. Got to come back down to reality. This place is too much.’
‘You were in Los Angeles—’
‘Yeah, and this spade cat, he came up and said I looked like I was going to New York to see Dylan and he had a plane and he’d like some company to keep him awake. He was loaded—a TV star, I think—and he was going there to give acid away. Just for the vibes, you know?’
He stared back at her.
‘So I got in his plane, and we went up, and I began to get sleepy, and he said, relax, go to sleep, he’d wake me up after a while. I did and I woke up here.’
‘Remarkable.’
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘It’s no less likely than my story.’
‘Say.’ She looked around. ‘Your place is groovier than mine. I mean, I haven’t got a stereo. And that’s a good one.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why is that?’
‘I asked.’
‘And they gave it to you.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘How did you get here, anyway?’
‘I had a job, a job in…security.’
‘You were a spy?’
‘Something like that.’
She smiled wistfully. ‘I’ve known rock stars and dope dealers, but never a spy.’
‘I resigned.’
‘Why?’
‘I’d rather not say.’
‘I can see that.’
‘It was my refusal that brought me here. It’s a rather bizarre detention camp, as far as I can make out.’
‘A detention camp?’
‘For a certain kind of person. Men and women for whom their government has the highest regard, but who possess information which is thought too delicate to risk in the world at large.’
‘But surely, not all of these people…’
‘Not all of them. Some, as far as I have been able to determine, are what they seem.’
‘And of course some aren’t either, but are the watchers.’
‘Apparently.’
‘Then what am I doing here?’
‘Exactly what I was wondering.’
Do you come here often at this hour?’
‘Yes. Quite often.’
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it.’
‘Yes, very.’
They stood, not quite touching, watching the steam rise from the ocean, a rose mist above bronze metallic waves. Dawn had turned the western sky ivory, and the morning breeze, chill and damp, blew up, tugging at their clothing. A few grey birds wheeled across the sky, levelled and shot past in a great beating of wings.
She turned to him. ‘People here don’t trust each other very much.’
He started to speak.
‘Oh, I see the reasons. But…people can’t live like that. It isn’t good for them. They become hostile and remote, willing to do anything. Their lives and other people’s lives become valueless and meaningless. I can see that it’s even happening to you.’
A bird cried.
‘You don’t like that, do you? But it’s true. You’re like a boxer out of training—I knew a boxer once, lived with him in New Orleans. You’re not fit. You’re restless and uneasy, out of your element Do you really think you could have retired?’
‘Yes.’
‘Some people are like that. They can relax as hard as they work. Not me, though. I wish I could.’
He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at her.
‘I’ve got to get out of here, you know.’ Her voice was sharper, desperate. ‘This place is no good for me. No good for anyone.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Don’t—’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard all this many times before.’
‘And yet, you don’t look like one of them. I can tell a lot from a man’s face. And you don’t look like one of the sheep, either. I don’t understand you or the Admiral. I would have thought either one of you would have escaped by now.’
‘It’s harder than it looks.’
‘Is it? I thought it might be. But you do want to escape, don’t you?’
‘I will escape.’
‘You sound so positive. When?’
‘I don’t know. When the right time comes.’
/>
‘And when will that be?’
He shrugged again.
‘Hey, there! Number Six.’
They turned.
It was the blond, gangling Number Five Sixty-nine.
‘Number Five Sixty-nine,’ he said, ‘Number Seven. Number Seven, Number Five Sixty-nine.’
‘Hello, Number Seven.’ He looked up. ‘Number Two’s really out to get you.’
‘How flattering.’
‘No, mate, I’m serious. Me sister, Number Seventy-three, she’s ’is secretary, and she’s heard. He give orders you was to be picked up and brought to trial.’
‘On what charge?’
‘Search me. But I do know this: Me and my mates, we been thinking. This being called Numbers, that’s for the straights. Get me—the establishment. Names is where it’s at. And we been watching you. You don’t put up with much. You don’t take no bull—pardon me, miss.’
‘You know where I can get some grass?’ she said.
‘Oh, wow, yeah, sure. See me later, we’re growing some up just east of town.’ He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face. ‘Like I was saying, you don’t put up with too much, and well…we dig that, get me? We think you’re okay. If we can help you we will. But from now on, we’re gonna be more like you. You know, independent.’
‘Far out.’ She smiled.
‘Well…I gotta be on my way, Number Twenty-four wants to see me. In some kind of trouble, I think. A nice bloke, but careless. Good day.’ He went back up the slope and walked away.
‘You seem to be quite popular.’
‘In demand, at any rate.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Have breakfast. Care to join me?’
‘Oh yes. This looks interesting. What will they do to you, do you think?’
‘I don’t.’
They mounted the steps to the restaurant terrace and went in to the steamy warmth of the dining room. He drew out a chair.
The corners of her mouth quirked. ‘Are all British men so polite?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t give a lot away, do you?’
Before he could answer, she was looking out the window.
Number One Twenty-seven appeared beside them, producing a pad from the pocket of her uniform and staring down at the table. Suddenly she turned and looked straight at him. ‘Oh, Number Six. It’s all right. Really it’s all right. I forgive you. I do. I understand now. Can’t we just be friends and forget it?’