Fearless

by Tim Lott

A few days later, Little Fearless stood by the rubbish tips again, waiting for Stench to spot her – which she did.

  She grabbed Little Fearless by the collar of her musty tweed jacket and shook her. “So there you are. The great thief. I should have told on you.”

  Little Fearless knew that the reason she hadn’t was because then the Controller would know that Stench had helped her. But she pretended to be grateful anyway.

  “Thank you. You were brave and loyal not to betray me to the Controller.”

  Stench let go of Little Fearless’s collar and took a pace backwards. “A lot of good it did me. Where’s the Device? You didn’t get it, did you?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve brought you something else, to try and make amends. It’s something else that X45 found under the rubbish with the Device.” And with this, she brought out from her inside pocket the silver wristwatch which had once belonged to her father.

  Stench’s eyes lit up. She grabbed the watch greedily and examined it.

  Little Fearless felt a lurch in her heart, as if another piece of it were being wrenched away. She felt she was giving up part of her very self with the watch. But there was nothing for it – not if she was going to return to the City.

  “Nice. Super nice,” said Stench, strapping it on her hefty wrist. It was too small, so she punched a crude hole in the exquisite leather with the point of the clasp, bending it in the process. Little Fearless hid her sadness and tried to seem excited.

  “But what about the Device?” asked Stench again, now regarding the watch critically. “This watch is all very well and good, but it’s not going to be nearly enough to get me out of here.”

  “The shop where I stole the Device from last time had closed down,” said Little Fearless. “But I know where there is another one. It’s near. I just need to go back once more.”

  Stench looked doubtful.

  “I’ve done it before, X12, and I can do it again,” said Little Fearless. “What can the Controller do about it? Nothing. If I’m back here on time – and I will be – nothing bad will happen.”

  “I don’t know,” muttered Stench. “What if you get found out again?”

  “What if I am? You didn’t get punished – only the Y and Z girls. And that wasn’t so bad anyway. A haircut – big deal.”

  “You could squeal on me, to save yourself.”

  “I didn’t last time. I came back, like I said I would. You’ve got this magnificent watch. Soon you’ll have something even more precious.”

  Stench concentrated. Her thoughts were like struggling swimmers in a deep, swirling torrent of appetites and desires, and she fought to find a useful one. The craving for the Device swept away everything in its path. She wanted it. She had to have it. And with it, and with the treasure it would reveal, she could fill that hole in her heart where love and hope once were. She didn’t want to face the truth – that there weren’t enough treasures in the world to fill that dark place.

  “Be here tonight,” said Stench briskly. “They are coming to take the rubbish away at sunset. Just make sure you’re here before that.”

  And with that, she marched off, sniffing the odours in the air briskly as if she were walking in a meadow in spring.

  That evening, Little Fearless returned.

  Since the escape, the X girls had doubled their patrols, and Stench was nervous. Her round, hefty face was filmed with sweat as she lifted Little Fearless into the container. Little Fearless burrowed down to the bottom of the rubbish. She crouched under the layers of filth and stink. This time she had the idea of tying a handkerchief over her mouth and nose to try to stem the smell, but it wasn’t very effective. Still, it didn’t seem as awful as last time – maybe she was just getting used to it.

  Nothing happened for about half an hour. She had almost convinced herself that the rubbish lorry wasn’t coming, when she heard Stench hiss. Through the echo of the metal container walls her voice sounded thin and mechanical.

  “The lorry is late. It’ll be here in a moment. Stay put. And stay quiet.”

  Then, almost immediately, Little Fearless heard another voice – an ugly, strident, whingeing voice.

  “This rubbish smells disgusting. Why doesn’t rubbish smell nice? Why doesn’t Stench look after it properly so that it’s not always rotting away? Can’t she pick up the maggots and get rid of them? Look, there’s a rat. Filthy things. I hate having to come over here. I get all the worst jobs. I’m cold. I’m tired. I’m fed up with everything.”

  It was Bellyache. Then Little Fearless heard Lady Luck’s voice, sweet and menacing as usual.

  “Stop complaining, X23. Things could be worse. You could be put in charge of the rubbish tips for a start. In fact, now I think about it, you’d be ideal.”

  Bellyache fell silent. Lady Luck continued talking as they reached the spot where Stench was standing, beside the rubbish container that concealed Little Fearless.

  “But it’s hard to imagine anyone doing such a fine job as old Stench. She loves her rubbish, don’t you, Stench?”

  “Yes, X1.”

  “Yes, Stench is the princess of everything rotten, broken-down and thrown away. Found anything valuable tonight, Princess?”

  “No, X1.”

  “Look at you, lardarse. You seem very hot and sweaty. You must have been working extremely hard.”

  “I have, X1. It’s work that makes us real people, the Controller says,” said Stench, attempting an ingratiating smile.

  As before, Little Fearless had a view through the hole in the container wall. She could see Lady Luck tossing her coin up and down.

  There was a long silence.

  “You seem nervous,” observed Lady Luck, scrutinizing Stench’s still-sweating face carefully.

  “Nervous? Why would I be nervous?”

  “I really don’t know. Perhaps you’re up to something. Perhaps you’re trying to hide something. Perhaps you really have found something valuable.”

  “Oh no. I’ve found nothing at all.”

  Little Fearless could see Stench, like an idiot, staring dumbly at the container where she was hiding. She held her breath. The stupid X girl was going to give her away. She saw Lady Luck follow Stench’s gaze, until it seemed that she was staring directly into Little Fearless’s blue eye.

  “Something’s not right here. I think we should search the rubbish bins. Don’t you, Bellyache?”

  Bellyache looked the container up and down, and wrinkled her nose at the smell. “Well, I don’t know if it’s really worth it. I don’t expect there’s much to see; anyway, it’s late and—”

  Lady Luck interrupted Bellyache. “I think we – you – should have a look.”

  Little Fearless glanced around her desperately. Her eyes alighted on a sack of decaying chicken heads that was giving out a terrible smell, even though it was closed. Holding her nose, she quietly opened the sack. The smell that came out was appalling. A foul stink immediately drifted upwards and out to where the three X girls were standing.

  “For the love of Eidolon, what is that terrible smell?” complained Lady Luck, taking a step backwards. Stench and Bellyache followed suit. “Get in there and have a look, would you, Bellyache? I still think Stench is hiding something.” Lady Luck covered her nose with a handkerchief.

  Bellyache looked horrified. “My clothes are all clean. I don’t want to get them dirty. I don’t want to smell like a rotten chicken. It’s not fair. I get all the worst work. Then I’ll have to have a bath. I hate baths. They make you—”

  “Oh, shut up, Bellyache,” snapped Lady Luck. She put away the handkerchief and started tossing her silver coin up and down again. Her eyes traced its arc. “Tell you what, you sparkling ray of sunshine. I’ll give you a chance. Heads, you get in there and search it. Tails, we leave Princess Puke in peace to guard all her skanky treasure.”

  She threw her silver coin high into the air, only to miss it when it fell. It came to rest a few feet from where Little Fearless was hiding. To her horror, she cou
ld see that it was heads.

  Lady Luck picked it up and examined it. Little Fearless braced herself. It was all over. Now she would never find anybody’s family.

  Lady Luck smiled sweetly – which Bellyache knew meant trouble. X1 opened her small, delicate mouth to announce the result.

  Then she paused. She had another hour of patrol with Bellyache, and it was bad enough having to listen to her complain all the time in her klaxon voice without her smelling like a pile of festering poultry. And it would make her moaning even worse.

  “Tails,” said Lady Luck, hiding the coin from Bellyache then flipping it back in the air, and this time catching it.

  “A bit of luck for a change,” said Bellyache sulkily. “That’s not like me. I’m never lucky. I bet it means that now I’ve had a bit of luck today, I’ll be really unlucky tomorrow. Twice as unlucky as usual, I expect. And I’m already the unluckiest girl in the Institute.”

  The two X girls wandered off in the direction of the Food Block. The drone of Bellyache’s voice went on and on until it disappeared. Stench and Little Fearless were alone again.

  Now she heard Stench hissing to her. “The lorry’s here. Get ready.”

  Little Fearless heard the rubbish lorry drawing up outside the Institute. As before, she felt the container being wheeled towards the gates, then a bump as it passed through the entrance, where it was raised and emptied. She tumbled out, her fall broken this time by a rancid mattress. Her journey to the City had begun again.

  The lorry hurtled along. Poking her head out of the back, Little Fearless followed its progress as it made its way towards the City. Through scrubland and along empty roads, then the darkness began to be punctuated by lights and signs, and muttering, smoke-belching crowds of other vehicles.

  Eventually Little Fearless saw a sign:

  YOU ARE ABOUT TO ENTER SECTOR FOUR.

  SECTOR FOUR IS SPONSORED BY THE EPSILON CORPORATION IN PARTNERSHIP WITH THE CITY BOSS.

  A few minutes later, the lorry slowed down so suddenly that she almost lost her balance and fell. It came to a halt, and the engine was switched off. Little Fearless craned her neck and saw a large sign: BUY OMEGA GAZOIL AND GO FASTER. She saw the man with the scar and the scrubby beard vault out of his cab. She had a few seconds to make her escape while he filled up with gazo. She jumped, hit the ground, and slid immediately on a slick of gazoil, falling and soaking the leg of her trousers. She let out a cry, and thought she saw the man turn and stare. So she leaped up and fled, and soon she was away from the gazoil station and running down an ordinary street.

  She was tempted to knock on the nearest door and spill out her story. Yet she didn’t feel it would be very wise just to burst into somebody’s home while they were watching their vidscreen to tell them a tale that they would be unlikely to believe.

  She followed the map carefully, and within twenty minutes she’d found the street where Soapdish’s parents lived – Enterprise Lane. It was a flat, plain road, and the dwellings were poor, run-down, and very modest in size. Scrubby trees lined the pavements. She worked her way down the street: 5, 39, 51. Soapdish’s parents lived at number 73.

  Then the houses simply stopped. The remainder had been demolished. Instead there was a huge refreshment zone selling hot java juice and taninine. Business people in suits that all looked the same were sitting inside, not talking but working – scribbling on paper, staring at screens and tapping at keyboards. Serving staff handed out drinks in polystyrene cups and sandwiches wrapped in plastic in return for a few credits. Little Fearless watched them, amazed at the smiles that never left their faces as they served the customers. Were they paid to grin like monkeys?

  Little Fearless sat on the ground and buried her head in her hands. She didn’t have a clue what to do. After a minute or two, she pulled herself together and took the map out of her pocket, to try to work out the way to Angel Square. Suddenly she heard an entirely unexpected noise: loud applause. She looked up and saw a great spire beyond the refreshment zone. She remembered what Soapdish had said about there being one of the largest worship zones in the City at the end of her road.

  She followed the noise. It was coming from a large hall which was attached to a church – the Fifteenth Church of Eidolon, more precisely, which was sponsored by the Theta Corporation, according to the sign. Outside was a poster that announced:

  THETA 15 WORSHIP ZONE.

  THE CITY BOSS SPEAKS – TONIGHT.

  Despite herself, Little Fearless could not resist peeping inside. She was curious to see what the great City Boss looked like in the flesh.

  She crept in through a door with a sign on it that read FIRE DOOR: KEEP UNLOCKED. Immediately to her left, she saw a security guard with his face momentarily turned away. To her right were some dark stairs that led up to a small deserted balcony, a metal grille barring the entrance. Below the grille was a tiny gap, and Little Fearless wriggled her way underneath in order to watch the gathering unobserved.

  The hall was crammed full of people, their faces turned towards the podium at the end. Up on the stage was the man Little Fearless had seen on the vidscreen at the Institute many times – tall, perfectly groomed and with a winning yet grave smile. It was the City Boss. The expression on every face in the audience was one of respect and admiration. City flags had been hung all around the hall, their symbols of the flexed arm, the clock, the eye and the bundle of sticks lit by hidden spotlights.

  The City Boss was speaking very firmly and clearly, with not a trace of doubt or uncertainty in his voice. He had a way of waving his hands around as he spoke that was hypnotic.

  “Some people say things are complicated,” he was saying, “but to me, and, I think, to anyone who possesses common sense, they are simple and straightforward. Any child could understand the way things are.”

  Little Fearless’s ears pricked up at this. She was a child, so she hoped it would be possible for her to understand what it was he was going to say. She felt she knew so little about the world that she was eager to learn anything she could.

  “There are people who are like us. And there are people who are not. There are many people, in fact, who are not like us. Too many. Who do not share our values. Our beliefs. Our way of life. And I don’t care what the airy-fairies and the artsy-fartsies and the wishy-washies say. They are not even people in the same way we are people. For they are not Eidolon’s people.”

  At this comment, which Little Fearless thought was extraordinarily ignorant, the audience erupted with shouts of approval. Why on earth aren’t they laughing at him? thought Little Fearless. How can people be anything other than people?

  “Of course, I am all for toleration. For moderation. For integration. For modernization,” continued the City Boss.

  Many in the audience now muttered approvingly: “Hear! Hear!” and “Quite right.”

  “We would not be good people if we did not believe these things. However, the trouble with people like us is that people like them” – he pronounced “them” very sharply, as if it were a word that could cut flesh – “think we are a soft touch. Because we are good. So they try and take advantage of us. They try and sneak into our City so they can take our jobs, and then when they don’t have jobs, they try and take our charity. And if they can’t take either – or sometimes, even if they take both – they try and blow us up with their bombs in the name of Ormazd.

  “Well, I for one have decided that I have been quite understanding enough for quite long enough!”

  A roar of approval. Little Fearless felt very puzzled. How could anyone be too understanding? To not understand is simply to be ignorant, she thought.

  “We must do something soon, or these people who are not people like us will breed and multiply and take us over completely. Then they will do to us what we have no choice but to start doing to them in order to stop them doing it to us.”

  The audience seemed a bit baffled by this, and only a few scattered cheers went up. The City Boss grinned broadly nevertheless. The
n Little Fearless noticed a hand go up in the audience. The man to whom the hand belonged stood up. He was wearing a uniform and looked puzzled and sad. To her amazement, she saw it was Tattle’s father.

  “I see I have a questioner,” said the City Boss. “Excellent. Ah, a member of our fine and loyal police service. What is it, Officer?”

  “I was just wondering,” said the policeman, rather nervously. “I’m a bit confused. If we do bad things to the bad people before they do it to us, well … won’t we be just as bad as the bad people we are trying to stop, even though we are good?”

  There was silence, then a few isolated boos. One man shouted out, “Good words make history; bad words make misery!” Some began to mutter about traitors and airy-fairies and wishy-washies.

  The City Boss spoke, his voice calm, measured and reasonable. “A very interesting question, Officer. The point you seem to be – very understandably – missing is that we would not have to behave in what looks like a bad way if the bad people hadn’t forced us to stop being good by being so bad themselves.”

  A cheer went up. The policeman looked sad and confused, as did Little Fearless. Now the City Boss was speaking even louder than before, and punching the air with his fists.

  “We must be gentle, but tough as nails. We must be kind, but cruel as winter. We must be tolerant – but absolutely without mercy.”

  She’d had enough of this. Little Fearless turned, scrambled under the grille and began to head back down the stairs. Suddenly she noticed a small stone corridor. There was a sign above it which read TO THE CHURCH.

  The Church

  And I say unto you, go forth

  and slay the unbeliever in the

  name of Ormazd the Almighty.

  From the Book of Ormazd

  There is but one god who made heaven

  and earth and all things, and that god

  is Eidolon, lord of creation.

  From the Testament of Eidolon

  The church was huge and bitterly cold. There were statues carved in wall recesses, and paintings of what the worshippers must have thought their god looked like – rather imposing and pleased with himself, like a celestial version of the City Boss. At the furthest end, behind the altar, was a small door with light showing around the edges.